Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 16 October 2010, 19:58:38 »
Edit post Quote Delete

When nuclear war spells the end of society as we know it, a new elite class rises from the ashes to pick up the mantle of the old world.  Bathed in opulence and luxury and gifted with a natural ability to survive nuclear holocaust, these new aristocrats established a global monarchy situated in the ruins of what used to be Paris, France and dedicated to restoring order to the chaos brought on by disaster. 

The new nobility is composed of a small collection of families possessing a wide variety of small magical abilities, and a single man, the most powerful of the group, emerged to take up the title of High King.  Yet, this seemingly supernatural and perfect human beings are not without their inherent vices.  Their mysterious powers predispose them to mental instability, and their young lives and resistance to disease provide plenty of opportunities for corruption and drama to rival the legends of the previous Dark Ages.

While most of the rest of the population is too dazed and desperate for stability to protest a virtual return to absolutism, there exist still those who remember the days before the ruin of the free world.  But how can a handful of ragtag rebels hope to overthrow the tightly woven group of royals in possession of both wealth and magic?

Opulence and luxury beyond your wildest dreams… gilded halls and chambers composed completely of silver, beautiful women clad in diamonds, and handsome men with crystals in their eyes. 

Enter into a world of mystery, intrigue and deception dark enough to make you look for the lightswitch.


The Aristocracy

High King Lucien, a man so intoxicated with power that he’ll do just about anything to keep it, is one of the few people alive who could only ever feel comfortable when standing on the top of the world. Histrionic, narcissistic, and completely barking mad, he's wholeheartedly convinced of his divine right to rule over the ruins of the decimated planet. Part of this confidence comes from his gift: the simple, subtle, yet utterly destructive power to slip his image into dreams. A whisper of a touch is all it takes for Lucien to incept himself into a person's subconscious fantasies, which he can then manipulate to achieve his own ends. It's not a power of persuasion per se, as each person is affected differently by their subconscious, but Lucien has all but perfected the art of the Harvest, as he calls it. Plant the seeds and reap the rewards later on. As the knowledge of this ability would undermine its effectiveness, Lucien has never told anyone about the extent of his power. He claims to be able to know what people dream of, which is effective enough in its way. If anyone were to find out that Lucien was actually causing the dreams, the foundation of his power would crumble.  Lucien does not consider himself unjust or evil, he really believes that the system he and his peers have created is the right thing to do for the world. Aristocracy is the natural order, every species from alpacas to zebras operates under a system where the strongest look out for the others. This conviction that might is right is what makes Lucien so dangerous, as he upholds the rule with a fist of pure platinum- punishments for those who would undermine his regime are swift and grotesque. His personal favorite is to keep a heretic in his court as a servant or even as a courtier. The prisoner will serve him, dine with his family, hunt with him, and generally live the life of any normal person...until the day when Lucien gets bored. Then he kills them, plain and simple. Might take a day, might take seven years. But those who cross Lucien will live with the fear of death hanging over their head, haunting their dreams, keeping them paralyzed with the knowledge that they are shackled to King Lucien's dubious mercy. {played by Lucien}

Crown Prince William, the heir to the throne who hasn’t forgotten the original goal of the new regime, isn't the most normal  of the aristocrats. With the fact that he remembers that this new aristocracy is to restore order to the post-apocalyptic world and the fact that he fosters a love for all sorts of history and knowledge, he is all for setting up a working regime that doesn't thrive on exploitation. However, being human, what his ideals are and what he actually does are two entirely different realms of thought. His blood is instilled with the power to help him help control emotions, like an elite form of empathy - this results in a calm demeanor and a person that is entirely too good with his emotional stability and the ability to negotiate. With his uncanny ability to sense and help control the mood of a room comes a price - fits of depression and paranoia visit him intermittently at night. The only people who know of these fits are his two siblings. {played by Quintessentially Old Lillian_Potter}

Princess Eden, the elder princess, is a perfectionist who just can’t seem to cope when things don’t go her way.  She was born shortly after her father consolidated his power and brought the entire world under his control following the nuclear holocaust.  Her bloodline enables her to detect other people’s lies, and, as a result, she is an exceptional liar herself.  Her desire—her need—to be flawless is what drives her, and she often feels herself crumbling under the pressure of her position.  She wants more than anything to impress her father and therefore win his love, as she has long since given up on her mother.  Her periods of chilling serenity are punctuated by frightening fits of violence and insanity.  The only people who know of her mental instability are her brother and her handmaiden. {played by mnaberrie}

Princess Olivia, the younger princess, is a fiery young woman who only wants someone to love.  She's always looked up to her older siblings, both so often calm in public even when they were torn up inside.  She's never been that way, though it's not for lack of trying.  She wants to have decorum and dignity the way she's supposed to, but she just can't seem to learn them.  Instead, she wears her heart on her sleeve.  She also goes passionately after what she wants, throwing her whole self into whatever she's doing.  As she's grown up, she's learned some impulse control, and she's gotten a little better at staying quiet and hiding the degree of her feelings, even when she can't hide the feelings themselves.  She's also developed her own ability - she can see the connections between people without effort.  Secret affairs are no secret to Olivia, and she sees the relationships that could be as clearly as she sees the ones that are, making her an excellent matchmaker.  For everyone except herself.  She doesn't know why her abilities stop working when aimed at herself, but they do.  She's always surrounded by people who have someone to love, even if they haven't found each other yet.  Sometimes, this gives her hope for her own love life - if so many people have matches, surely she does too.  Sometimes, it just makes her bitter.  Why is it that everyone else has hope for happiness, and she's in the dark?  Only her siblings and her handmaiden know how bad it can get, when she sinks deeply into depression, bitterness, and intense anger.  Rationality goes out the door, and while she's not particularly violent, she can be quite destructive when she's not in her right mind. {played by summerlinde}

Duchess Elaine Ciann of Rautha  is a chilling young woman who is obsessed with death. She was a small child during the nuclear war and ever since she survived that event, she has found that she has an ability that heals any injuries she recieves almost instantly. She doesn't know the extent of her power, though, so she has no idea whether or not she is able to die. Of course, she would never test that theory, but the fact that she could possibly escape death has led her to become obsessed with learning more about it. She often spends time in dungeons or hospitals, just watching people as they near death, trying to understand exactly what is happening to them and wondering if she would survive it. She has also begun to wonder what she would choose to do if she did live forever. She begins to study the king, awed by the power that he wields and hoping that she too could one day possess such dominance. {played by Bright Shadows}

Count Marcellus, a violent young warrior with a habit of skinning his victims, is usually called "Mark" for short, Marcellus is one of the most despised members of the aristocracy.  He knows this, but he feels like it really isn't his fault.  He was only 16 when the war started, but he'd told the recruiters he was 18, and they were so desperate to win that even if they knew, they didn't much care he was lying.  After the war, he scrambled for power, quickly fell in line with Lucien, and became part of the hated ruling class through his abilities as a fighter.  His magical ability, though, is something else.  He hears the voices of the dead speaking to him.  Many of them are dead by his hand.  None of them like him.  Haunted day and night by voices he can't drown out, Marcellus drinks heavily and becomes very violent.  He wants to be better.  When he's saner, he tries to stay sober as well, hoping that if he doesn't kill anyone else, there won't be any new people added to the chorus of screaming voices that torments him.  When it drives him crazier again, he lashes out and, for a few moments, achieves a blood-splattered quiet, drowning the voices in alcohol and pain and the rushing sound of death, which he can hear coming even when it's not for him.  After the fighting ends, though, it all comes rushing back, worse than ever, the voices so loud and death so near that the voices of the dead seem to blur into the world of the living.  That's when he runs away to a back room of his castle, to look at his "trophies."  For the last few years, he's kept the skin of everyone he's killed so that he can look at them again and be sure they're dead and gone and can't hurt him anymore, no matter how many threats and insults they throw at him. {played by summerlinde}

High Queen Alexandra was born and raised in a life of nobility was not as easy as one would hope. Had it not been for Alexandra's extremely blue blooded and prestigious lineage, there would be no way of excusing the dark secret that fueled her ambition. At a young age, despite the small trust fund bestowed upon her, her father depleted the family's riches. All she had was her name. She charmingly pushed and forced her way through the highest of social circles to land her the ultimate prize - the King. Faking a pregnancy seemed the only moral thing to do in order the receive the crown atop her head. And when she did finally produce Eden and Olivia, it was to maintain her stability as reigning queen. These daughters were the heirs to her husband’s lands and he could no longer harm the hand that brought them into this world. No, but she could. Disgusted at their overly dainty and damsel like nature, she sees her daughters as waifs. Sweetly, she will treat everyone around her like gold - but this Queen needs no handmaiden. All she needs is her King to fiercely maintain the power and strength that should have been hers since birth. The Queen’s supernatural blood allows her to detect the moral strength of someone.  Thus, while the back is turned, Alexandra makes sure that Olivia, Eden, and anyone else who appears weak will not succeed to see the following morning. {played by hidden.trick}

Lady Françoise van Brammerhaussen of Marton is a close cousin of princesses Eden and Olivia. The war had taken most of her friends and neighbors lives, even her mother's. Francoise was thus left furious and without hope. For without her title she could not survive physically, and without her mother she could not emotionally. And while she loves her father more than life itself, he wields an enormous secret. This secret will not only secure stability for the Brammerhaussen name, but give it riches unprecedented. However, what Francoise does not realise is that she as at the short end of the proverbial stick.  Rumors of a pending engagement between Lady Francoise and Prince William are widespread, but whether or not the rumors have any truth behind them remains to be seen.  Francoise’s special ability allows her to read the thoughts of any human being with no more than a soft touch.  They say with adolescence comes rebellion, but Francoise is now a young woman, and she's only begun her reign of terror. {played by hidden.trick}

Duke Cygnus Leonas of Eriwynne, the twin brother of King Lucien, has always felt that Lucien was unfairly blessed, and hasn’t given up on getting even with his twin. When they were very young, Cygnus was as close as anyone had ever been to Lucien, and the two had seemed to have their own way of communicating without even speaking aloud. As they grew older, they quickly grew apart, Cygnus having no patience for his brother’s lack of emotion. During one of the earliest battles in the war, well before the bombs were dropped, Cygnus lost a leg acting under Lucien’s command. And while he was recovering from that injury, he also lost his chance to woo the lady Alexandra. Lucien caused him to lose everything that was important to him, and he intends to get his revenge when the opportunity arises. Cygnus is telekinetic and can move nearby objects with a simple thought. He is also somewhat telepathic, able to protect his mind from psychic intrusions.{Lillian_Potter}

The Commoners

Arcadia Murray, handmaiden to the elder princess, is a mousy young woman frequently abused by her mistress and has lived a life of misery. When she was a young girl, her mother was killed in a fire that destroyed the family's entire home and left Arcadia with deep burn scars disfiguring the right side of her face. Having lost everything he owned, her father was forced to sell her off to work for the Royal family. For the first year or so, she worked in the stables or in the kitchen or anywhere else that work needed to be done. As she reached adolescence, she was assigned to be the handmaiden to Princess Eden. She hadn't thought that her life could become any more miserable, but she was wrong. Waiting on the Princess' beck and call, Arcadia hardly had a moment's rest and she was mistreated at the hands of the "superior" aristocrat. In the few spare moments she can find, she often sneaks into the Royal library to read. She dreams of a better life, like those she reads about, but feels that there is no way out of the painful world she is forced to call reality. {played by Lillian_Potter}

Rita McAllister, the handmaiden to the younger princess, is a hopeless romantic and her mistress’s confidant.  She  had to earn the family's trust. When she was a young girl she would snoop around the courtyards and try to find little secrets she could leak to the public. She was a snitch for her father who was a strong believer in taking down the "Royal". They were simple people before Rita's mother was taken away, and relatively happy together. Rita only has small memories of this, along with the sweet messages from her mother talking of loves power, but from the moment her mother was missing Rita was trailing and finding new ways to interrupt the system. The present is extremely different than her life before, Rita works for the family her father despised, but only because she was caught listening in on the kings most private business. She was then thrown into jail, and slowly made her way through the ranks. First she was a gardener, the most dirty and hard work, especially since the soil was mixed with human parts and garbage. Then she moved to being a cook, and so on until she was the youngest daughters handmaiden. Now she works for the Princess, waiting on her every movement. There is some joy to this job however, Rita still has places to sneak and find information for the Princess. Her passion for gossip and and spreading a bad word around is still there as she seems as innocent as a ladybug. {played by supertoastgirl}

Logan Prescott, the Duke’s Valet, is an idealistic young man who knows that someday, there will be a revolution, and it is only a matter of time before everything is back to the way it is supposed to be. A simple valet, he has convictions in the human spirit, knowing that as long as they can persevere, they can also overthrow the shackles of a monarchy insensitive to the needs of the common public. Logan is a very artistic soul and very poetic. He also has been known for being very spirited and can easily get swept up in something. When he believes in something he has no doubts, and he will fearless and without a second thought, put his life on the line for that belief. He is very emotional, almost always at one extreme or another, though he is more often pleasant than not. He does not want to be pushed towards violence, but he acknowledges that if that is what it has to come down to, then he will do so vivaciously. {played by VoldysgoneMoldy Lillian_Potter}

Mason Volkov, the king’s chauffeur, is a cynical servant who’s all but given up hope for mankind.  Mason was a child at the time of the nuclear holocaust, and he has been raised on stories of what life had been like for his parents, both of whom had been university professors, before High King Lucien came to power.  He was plucked from the depths of poverty to serve as the king's chauffeur at the age of eighteen because of his uncanny skills in conducting any kind of mode of transportation.  Tall and strong, Mason gave up fighting when he saw for himself to immense power that the king wielded, even among the other aristocrats.  Though he yearns for a return to the democracy of his parents' stories, what Mason wants most is to survive, and he'll do it in the easiest way possible.  He has no real loyalty to anyone.  {played by mnaberrie}

Naomi Justice, the kitchen maid, is an outspoken young woman lucky to have a job, but you will never hear her say so. She has never been one to admit a weakness of any sort and she would not do that now. Born out of extreme poverty and in a large family, Naomi has seen the worst and most desperate sides of humanity. After the nuclear war, she was left as an orphan and a singular being, no more siblings nor adults in her life to take care of her. She took an attitude of power and strength and from then on out decided she would take care of herself. She is a bold young woman, unafraid to call a crow a crow, or to try to stop what she thinks is unfair. She remembers society before and she sees where it is leading now. She has a quick wit and a quicker tongue and she does not use them sparingly. This street-smarts type of girl delves into all worlds or reading and thought, knowing that if she were ever to make any sort of difference, she needed all the help she could get. {played by VoldysgoneMoldy}

Deiter Gatsby, a former leader of the Academy, a since-quashed uprising that grew large enough to warrant royal attention- was the last great threat to the reign that had ever existed in the course of the New History. While the rest of his comrades were executed, Deiter, who had achieved celebrity status due to his reputation as a violent revolutionary, was kept alive to serve in the king's court as a factotum. He keeps Lucien's schedule, organizes events, hires staff, manages the household, and generally maintains the tenuous balance of court life. For seven years, he has performed this task well and has become something of a staple in the royal palace. Courtiers would know him as one of the King's "favorites" and would otherwise acknowledge him as a particularly esteemed servant. Lucien upholds this image, ensuring that Deiter is treated with respect and keeping him as a close confidant. Despite the fact that his position is elevated in the grand scheme of the world, Deiter has never, ever forgiven the royals for slaughtering his friends and maintains a seething hatred for the entire court. His smile is wide, eyes are bright, and his demeanor charming and sunny, but if he had the chance, he would burn the entire royal pavilion to the ground. Every last one. With one massive exception. {played by Lucien}


Quote
  • King Lucien would ‘entertain’ Duchess Elaine in order to get his hands on her power.
  • Prince William likes both Arcadia Murray and Rita McAllister.
  • Princess Eden has had a crush on Count Marcellus for years, but now she prefers Dieter Gatsby.
  • Princess Olivia is in love with Logan Prescott, but she also likes Dieter Gatsby—though she doesn’t realize it.
  • Duchess Elaine is fascinated by Count Marcellus, but she also has feelings for King Lucien.
  • Count Marcellus likes Duchess Elaine.
  • Arcadia Murray is attracted to Mason Volkov.
  • Dieter Gatsby is in love with Princess Eden.
  • Naomi Justice likes Prince William.
  • Logan Prescott has feelings for both Princess Olivia and Arcadia Murray.
  • Rita McAllister is attracted to both Prince William and Logan Prescott.
  • Mason Volkov is drawn to Princess Olivia until he realizes how poorly her sister treats Arcadia Murray.

This is what I want you to do… write a paragraph long enough to give sufficient information about the character you wish to play.  I have purposely been very vague and want you to fill in the blanks and give your character more life.  Post that bio here along with a picture for your character.

Here’s something a little different… when you decide who your character will be romantically attracted to (it could be more than one other character), I want you to send me an owl.  Please, don’t post it in your bio!  I want this part to be completely random and totally messed up… it’s more fun that way!  Knowing that your character is attracted to theirs might influence other roleplayers in making up their minds.  I will disclose that information right before we start.

And, no, we don’t necessarily need to fill every character.  However, as I have posted many options, I do not anticipate accepting OCs.


« Last Edit: 04 March 2011, 22:06:19 »


Quintessentially Old
Anonymous
Ministry of Magic
Charms Consultant

« 16 October 2010, 21:14:47 »
Quote

William, the crown prince, isn't the most normal of the aristocrats. With the fact that he remembers that this new aristocracy is to restore order to the post-apocalyptic world and the fact that he fosters a love for all sorts of history and knowledge, he is all for setting up a working regime that doesn't thrive on exploitation. However, being human, what his ideals are and what he actually does are two entirely different realms of thought. His blood is instilled with the power to help him help control emotions, like an elite form of empathy - this results in a calm demeanour and a person that is entirely too good with his emotional stability and the ability to negotiate. With his uncanny ability to sense and help control the mood of a room comes a price - fits of depression and paranoia visit him intermittently at night. The only people who know of these fits are his two siblings.



Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 16 October 2010, 21:42:49 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Added!  Thanks for signing up.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 16 October 2010, 23:13:37 »
Quote

Princess Olivia has always looked up to her older siblings, both so often calm in public even when they were torn up inside.  She's never been that way, though it's not for lack of trying.  She wants to have decorum and dignity the way she's supposed to, but she just can't seem to learn them.  Instead, she wears her heart on her sleeve.  She also goes passionately after what she wants, throwing her whole self into whatever she's doing.  As she's grown up, she's learned some impluse control, and she's gotten a little better at staying quiet and hiding the degree of her feelings, even when she can't hide the feelings themselves.  She's also developed her own ability - she can see the connections between people without effort.  Secret affairs are no secret to Olivia, and she sees the relationships that could be as clearly as she sees the ones that are, making her an excellent matchmaker.  For everyone except herself.  She doesn't know why her abilities stop working when aimed at herself, but they do.  She's always surrounded by people who have someone to love, even if they haven't found each other yet.  Sometimes, this gives her hope for her own love life - if so many people have matches, surely she does too.  Sometimes, it just makes her bitter.  Why is it that everyone else has hope for happiness, and she's in the dark?  Only her siblings and her handmaiden know how bad it can get, when she sinks deeply into depression, bitterness, and intense anger.  Rationality goes out the door, and while she's not particularly violent, she can be quite destructive when she's not in her right mind.


« Last Edit: 02 December 2010, 22:17:58 »

Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 17 October 2010, 00:06:21 »
Quote

Arcadia Murray has lived a life of misery. When she was a young girl, her mother was killed in a fire that destroyed the family's entire home and left Arcadia with deep burn scars disfiguring the right side of her face. Having lost everything he owned, her father was forced to sell her off to work for the Royal family. For the first year or so, she worked in the stables or in the kitchen or anywhere else that work needed to be done. As she reached adolescence, she was assigned to be the handmaiden to Princess Eden. She hadn't thought that her life could become any more miserable, but she was wrong. Waiting on the Princess' beck and call, Arcadia hardly had a moment's rest and she was mistreated at the hands of the "superior" aristocrat. In the few spare moments she can find, she often sneaks into the Royal library to read. She dreams of a better life, like those she reads about, but feels that there is no way out of the painful world she is forced to call reality.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 17 October 2010, 05:33:30 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Got you both!  Just don't forget to message me.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 17 October 2010, 13:16:23 »
Quote

King Lucien is one of the few people alive who could only ever feel comfortable when standing on the top of the world. Histrionic, narcissistic, and completely barking mad, he's wholeheartedly convinced of his divine right to rule over the ruins of the decimated planet. Part of this confidence comes from his gift-the simple, subtle, yet utterly destructive power to slip his image into dreams. A whisper of a touch is all it takes for Lucien to incept himself into a person's subconscious fantasies, which he can then manipulate to achieve his own ends. It's not a power of persuasion per se, as each person is affected differently by their subconscious, but Lucien has all but perfected the art of the Harvest, as he calls it. Plant the seeds and reap the rewards later on. As the knowledge of this ability would undermine its effectiveness, Lucien has never told anyone about the extent of his power. He claims to be able to know what people dream of, which is effective enough in its way. If anyone were to find out that Lucien was actually causing the dreams, the foundation of his power would crumble.
Lucien does not consider himself unjust or evil, he really believes that the system he and his peers have created is the right thing to do for the world. Aristocracy is the natural order, every species from alpacas to zebras operates under a system where the strongest look out for the others. This conviction that might is right is what makes Lucien so dangerous, as he upholds the rule with a fist of pure platinum- punishments for those who would undermine his regime are swift and grotesque. His personal favorite is to keep a heretic in his court as a servant or even as a courtier. The prisoner will serve him, dine with his family, hunt with him, and generally live the life of any normal person...until the day when Lucien gets bored. Then he kills them, plain and simple. Might take a day, might take seven years. But those who cross Lucien will live with the fear of death hanging over their head, haunting their dreams, keeping them paralyzed with the knowledge that they are shackled to King Lucien's dubious mercy.


« Last Edit: 17 October 2010, 21:29:19 »


just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Anana OL
Played by supertoastgirl

« 17 October 2010, 13:56:52 »
Quote

Rita McAllister had to earn the family's trust. When she was a young girl she would snoop around the courtyards and try to find little secrets she could leak to the public. She was a snitch for her father who was a strong believer in taking down the "Royal". They were simple people before Rita's mother was taken away, and relatively happy together. Rita only has small memories of this, along with the sweet messages from her mother talking of loves power, but from the moment her mother was missing Rita was trailing and finding new ways to interrupt the system. The present is extremely different than her life before, Rita works for the family her father despised, but only because she was caught listening in on the kings most private business. She was then thrown into jail, and slowly made her way through the ranks. First she was a gardener, the most dirty and hard work, especially since the soil was mixed with human parts and garbage. Then she moved to being a cook, and so on until she was the youngest daughters handmaiden. Now she works for the Princess, waiting on her every movement. There is some joy to this job however, Rita still has places to sneak and find information for the Princess. Her passion for gossip and and spreading a bad word around is still there as she seems as innocent as a ladybug.


« Last Edit: 17 October 2010, 17:29:18 »


Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 17 October 2010, 17:43:21 »
Edit post Quote Delete

You guys are both in.  I have to run out right now, though, so I'll edit the first post when I get back.

I'm hoping we can get a few more male roles filled before we start.  I'm probably going to double, so you guys are all welcome to as well.




IrrisitablyInsane
Played by VoldysgoneMoldy



Hogwarts Student
Sixth Year
Gryffindor

« 17 October 2010, 20:32:31 »
Quote

I would not mind doubling! =D

Naomi Justice is lucky to be able to have a job at all, but you will never hear her say so. She has never been one to admit a weakness of any sort and she would not do that now. Born out of extreme poverty and in a large family, Naomi has seen the worst and most desperate sides of humanity. After the nuclear war, she was left as an orphan and a singular being, no more siblings nor adults in her life to take care of her. She took an attitude of power and strength and from then on out decided she would take care of herself. She is a bold young woman, unafraid to call a crow a crow, or to try to stop what she thinks is unfair. She remembers society before and she sees where it is leading now. She has a quick wit and a quicker tongue and she does not use them sparingly. This street-smarts type of girl delves into all worlds or reading and thought, knowing that if she were ever to make any sort of difference, she needed all the help she could get.

Logan Prescott knows that someday, there will be a revolution, and it is only a matter of time before everything is back to the way it is supposed to be. A simple valet, he has convictions in the human spirit, knowing that as long as they can persevere, they can also overthrow the shackles of a monarchy insensitive to the needs of the common public. Logan is a very artistic soul and very poetic. He also has been known for being very spirited and can easily get swept up in something. When he believes in something he has no doubts, and he will fearless and without a second thought, put his life on the line for that belief. He is very emotional, almost always at one extreme or another, though he is more often pleasant than not. He does not want to be pushed towards violence, but he acknowledges that if that is what it has to come down to, then he will do so vivaciously.


« Last Edit: 17 October 2010, 22:08:13 »


Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 17 October 2010, 21:27:49 »
Quote

I wouldn't mind doubling over with one of the prisoners I mentioned in Lucien's bio. An informant for the revolution, if you will. I've also changed my playby for King Lucien. Jeremy Brett is fantastic but when it comes to stone-cold foxy villainy you can't beat Benedict Cumberbatch.

Deiter Gatsby- A former leader of the Academy, a since-quashed uprising that grew large enough to warrant royal attention- the last great threat to the reign that had ever existed in the course of the New History. While the rest of his comrades were executed, Deiter, who had achieved celebrity status due to his reputation as a violent revolutionary, was kept alive to serve in the king's court as a factotum. He keeps Lucien's schedule, organizes events, hires staff, manages the household, and generally maintains the tenuous balance of court life. For seven years, he has performed this task well and has become something of a staple in the royal palace. Courtiers would know him as one of the King's "favorites" and would otherwise acknowledge him as a particularly esteemed servant. Lucien upholds this image, ensuring that Deiter is treated with respect and keeping him as a close confidant. Despite the fact that his position is elevated in the grand scheme of the world, Deiter has never, ever forgiven the royals for slaughtering his friends and maintains a seething hatred for the entire court. His smile is wide, eyes are bright, and his demeanor charming and sunny, but if he had the chance, he would burn the entire royal pavilion to the ground. Every last one. With one massive exception...




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 17 October 2010, 22:06:28 »
Quote

Duchess Elaine Ciann of Rautha is a chilling young woman who is obsessed with death. She was a small child during the nuclear war and ever since she survived that event, she has found that she has an ability that heals any injuries she recieves almost instantly. She doesn't know the extent of her power, though, so she has no idea whether or not she is able to die. Of course, she would never test that theory, but the fact that she could possibly escape death has led her to become obsessed with learning more about it. She often spends time in dungeons or hospitals, just watching people as they near death, trying to understand exactly what is happening to them and wondering if she would survive it. She has also begun to wonder what she would choose to do if she did live forever. She begins to study the king, awed by the power that he wields and hoping that she too could one day possess such dominance.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 17 October 2010, 22:16:13 »
Edit post Quote Delete

I like it.  I like it all a lot.  You guys are all in.  (Including our OC because he ties in so well with the rest of the plot.)  I think we'll be able to start soon.  I'll throw up a second character sometime tomorrow.  

Oh, and if you haven't messaged me yet, I encourage you to do so soon.  I suppose it's not exactly necessary, but I think this'll add some more fun to things.




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 17 October 2010, 22:21:25 »
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*squees*  I love Matt Smith!!
*cough*  Anyway . . .  I can double, too, if you wouldn't mind my taking the Count.

Count Marcellus- Usually called "Mark" for short, Count Marcellus is one of the most despised members of the aristocracy.  He knows this, but he feels like it really isn't his fault.  He was only 16 when the war started, but he'd told the recruiters he was 18, and they were so desperate to win that even if they knew, they didn't much care he was lying.  After the war, he scrambled for power, quickly fell in line with Lucien, and became part of the hated ruling class through his abilities as a fighter.  His magical ability, though, is something else.  He hears the voices of the dead speaking to him.  Many of them are dead by his hand.  None of them like him.  Haunted day and night by voices he can't drown out, Marcellus drinks heavily and becomes very violent.  He wants to be better.  When he's saner, he tries to stay sober as well, hoping that if he doesn't kill anyone else, there won't be any new people added to the chorus of screaming voices that torments him.  When it drives him crazier again, he lashes out and, for a few moments, achieves a blood-splattered quiet, drowning the voices in alcohol and pain and the rushing sound of death, which he can hear coming even when it's not for him.  After the fighting ends, though, it all comes rushing back, worse than ever, the voices so loud and death so near that the voices of the dead seem to blur into the world of the living.  That's when he runs away to a back room of his castle, to look at his "trophies."  For the last few years, he's kept the skin of everyone he's killed so that he can look at them again and be sure they're dead and gone and can't hurt him anymore, no matter how many threats and insults they throw at him.


« Last Edit: 17 October 2010, 22:25:45 »

IrrisitablyInsane
Played by VoldysgoneMoldy



Hogwarts Student
Sixth Year
Gryffindor

« 17 October 2010, 22:24:37 »
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Your link didn't work... Just so you know. Haha




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 17 October 2010, 22:28:31 »
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Yeah, sorry, I wanted to post it so she'd see it before she had to pick a character to double as, so I posted it without actually putting a url there, 'cause I didn't have the picture yet.  I do now, though!  So it should work.



Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 18 October 2010, 06:21:04 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Haha, no worries.  I've got you.

EDIT: I took the king's chauffeur so that we now have an equal number of aristocrats and commoners... because I am OCD like that.  I'll put up the first post sometime later today, but people are still welcome to claim the three remaining nobles.

EDIT (again): Here are the romantic attachments that you guys have sent me.  This isn't to say that your character can't change their mind throughout the course of the roleplay, though.

Quote
  • King Lucien would ‘entertain’ Duchess Elaine in order to get his hands on her power.
  • Prince William likes both Arcadia Murray and Rita McAllister.
  • Princess Eden has had a crush on Count Marcellus for years, but now she prefers Dieter Gatsby.
  • Princess Olivia is in love with Logan Prescott, but she also likes Dieter Gatsby—though she doesn’t realize it.
  • Duchess Elaine is fascinated by Count Marcellus, but she also has feelings for King Lucien.
  • Count Marcellus likes Duchess Elaine.
  • Arcadia Murray is attracted to Mason Volkov.
  • Dieter Gatsby is in love with Princess Eden.
  • Naomi Justice likes Prince William.
  • Logan Prescott has feelings for both Princess Olivia and Arcadia Murray.
  • Rita McAllister is attracted to both Prince William and Logan Prescott.
  • Mason Volkov is drawn to Princess Olivia until he realizes how poorly her sister treats Arcadia Murray.


« Last Edit: 18 October 2010, 13:15:47 »


Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 18 October 2010, 14:23:00 »
Edit post Quote Delete

The world had never seen parties like this… the luxury and wanton excess of the modern world mixed with all of the splendor and lavishness of the old medieval courts.

The grand palace of the High King had risen like a phoenix from the ashes of the world destroyed by nuclear war, and it was now inhabited by the select group of supernatural humans who had been lucky enough to survive the disastrous consequences of the actions of their race.  The High King derived his right to rule from his power—for surely he had been chosen to survive where so many others had died for a purpose.  Surely, it was the will of whatever god existed that he govern the people in this, their time of need.

The palace was constructed according to the old styles of former kings, echoing the days of glory and monarchal majesty.  Constructed from vast quantities of gray stone salvaged from the wreckages of the old buildings that had once stood proudly throughout Europe, the High King’s residence boasted an obscene amount of square feet, unbelievably high ceilings and marvelous, awe-inspiring turrets.  Lucien’s banner hung from the highest tower, and the beginnings of a big city were situated not far off.  If one were to stand in the streets of that town, it would be impossible to miss the imposing vision of the High King’s palace watching from a distance.

That night, fireworks silhouetted the outline of the castle against the star-filled sky, and the most elite courtiers of the new world order were in attendance.  Tonight, a party was to be held that would forever set the standard of all great feasts and balls.  High King Lucien was celebrating his birthday that evening, and no one would be allowed to overlook it, least of all his children.

Princess Eden was the middle child.  Her older brother, Crown Prince William, would inherit their father’s empire when (if) he finally passed away.  Her younger sister, Princess Olivia, was so obsessed with the fairytale stories of true love that she thought of little else.  Princess Eden often felt so isolated from all of her family that it seemed to her that she was the only person in that vast palace.  Her mother cared nothing for any of them, and William and Olivia each had their own concerns… which left her father.  Eden knew that her drive for perfection was little more than a plea for his attention, and, even though he showed her time and time again how cruel and cold he could be, she still longed for his love.

It wasn’t a surprise that Princess Eden always appeared to be as perfect as she liked to think that she was.  Over the years, she had become increasingly skilled at concealing her imperfections and asserting her dominance on the political scene.  However, all of that outward perfection came with a price that very few people knew about.  For all intents and purposes, however, Princess Eden was as cool as a cucumber and utterly flawless… she had to be, or she would lose her father’s favor.

Her drive for perfection extended to her appearance as well—Princess Eden absolutely refused to be seen in public unless she was one hundred percent satisfied with what she looked like.  Her makeup was always beyond reproach, and her hair, an uncommon golden-brown color, was always arranged just so.  Of course, the princess was in possession of a wardrobe that would have been envied by even the most famous of Hollywood starlets. 

That night, predictably, was no exception.  Poised at the top of the grand staircase, Princess Eden gave off the impression of being covered in ice.  Her long, graceful dress was a shimmery, silvery blue, and it was decorated with so many small diamonds that she seemed to sparkle when the light hit her just right.  As if that wasn’t enough adornment, she wore matching elbow-length gloves and a beautiful diamond necklace that drew attention to her low neckline.  The way that she carried herself added to her elegance, and she had a certain way of looking around that seemed to suggest that everyone else was merely lucky to be in her presence.

Her father’s daughter indeed.

As she descended down the stairs and entered the entrance hall, Eden scanned the crowd like a hawk for any noteworthy faces. Her father, evidently, would make a grand entrance when he was ready, but that didn’t mean that there was no one else of interest in attendance.  She recognized all of the faces, of course, as she had set out to know the courtiers and their individual weaknesses some time ago as a part of her quest for perfection.  She couldn’t read their relationships like Olivia could, but she was able to call a lie from a mile away.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 18 October 2010, 14:59:41 »
Quote

Random thought - since we don't have a Duke, can we maybe make Logan someone else's valet?
Olivia waited until her sister was well into the party to make her own entrance - she knew how much looking perfect mattered to Eden, and she didn't want to mar her sister's perfect entrance with her own imperfect one.  She was limping a little, for one, ever since she'd slipped and fallen down stairs earlier, when she was running after Dieter to ask him for the umpteenth time who would be coming to the party - which was everyone, so there wasn't much point in asking.  But she'd had to make sure, over and over, that a certain someone would be there.  She wasn't sure what Dieter thought her angle was, but what she really wanted to know wasn't which courtiers would be there, but which servants would be accompanying them.

Olivia had never been good at keeping her mouth shut when she was supposed to, and she'd had loads of conversations with people so below her station that a proper princess like Eden probably wouldn't even know their names.  One of those people she shouldn't know was Logan Prescott, a mere valet who was, as far as she could tell, perfect.  He was poetic, lively, and most of all, adorable.  And she had to know his master would be here so she could be excited about this night instead of worrying that she'd be lonely and hopeless and have to hide it.

But whether he was coming or not, she had to try to hide her limp, and the scrape down her left arm where it had hit on the edge of one of the stone steps, beside the carpet runner that ran down the middle.  Olivia never wore gloves if she could help it, because she inevitably stained them with wine or grass or dirt or something, so she'd been forced into long sleeves to hide the scrape instead.  She liked this dress, even if it was only her second-best, but it was a little too hot in here for long sleeves.  At least in her opinion.  But she'd just have to tough it out.  Maybe she could find an excuse to run off where she could roll them up.

Her own grand entrance was focused less on looking elegant than on not falling down the stairs again.  She knew she didn't really have to worry now that she wasn't going at a break-neck pace, but she was still nervous.  Falling earlier had been a little scary and she was already sore enough without falling down another flight of stairs.  Her dress left her shoulders bare, sleeves starting at the same height as her bodice and running down to her wrists, where they fit tightly.  The bodice was tight, but not quite so revealing as her sisters because it had to be high enough to hold most of the weight of the dress up, and then it opened into a long skirt that draped on the floor so that she had to pick it up a little to navigate the stairs without fear of tripping on them.  The whole dress was a delightful purple color, almost a little pinkish, with subtle embroidery in the same color thread marking the smooth silk with flowers at the top of the bodice, a narrow strip at the waist, and creeping upward from the bottom edge of the skirt like she was wading through a field of wildflowers.  Her best dress had been emerald green, with silver embroidery and a few emeralds set in, but it had also been short-sleeved, and it hadn't gone with her one remaining pair of unstained gloves, which were a bright shade of crimson to match the dress that had been her best until the bootheels of one of her shorter dance partners had shredded the fine fabric when she tried to dip him just to see if she could.  She couldn't, they'd toppled over in a pile on the floor, and that had been that.  So she knew her sister was out-shining her, but that was really only to be expected anyway.

She made it down the stairs safely, which was a huge relief, and walked out onto the floor, looking for drama to become a part of.  Surely, there was a set of star-crossed lovers somewhere she could get dancing with each other.  Or a friend to talk to.  Or a cheating husband to out.  She just had to find them, or this would be a boring party, and what kind of tribute to her father's birthday would it be if it was boring?


« Last Edit: 02 December 2010, 22:17:39 »

Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 18 October 2010, 15:29:42 »
Quote

As each courtier descended the grand staircase that led down to the ballroom, a voice called out their name and title to introduce their importance to the glittering celebrants that swept and posed across the gargantuan parquet floor. Duke so-and-so of Camilliard, Lady such-and-such of House Meer…each name was called out with celerity- and the clear voice that rang out above the sounds of the party was that of the High King’s factotum. Deiter Gatsby stood at the top of the stairs like an extremely ineffective-looking bouncer in coattails; he kept the list of the Somebodys clutched in his hand but rarely consulted it, choosing instead to draw on his powerful memory of the who’s who and what’s what in court to identify the shimmering visions to which he alone could grant passage to the celebration below. It was an odd sort of power for an odd sort of man and he knew that if looks could kill then those he got from the courtiers he turned away would have smote him where he stood, but his station was protected with the highest security insurance on the planet.

Nobody could harm a single hair on his well-coiffed head. Not the low-ranking Lady who could have set him on fire with a snap of her fingers, not even the disgraced Duke who could have telekinetically brought the entire room crumbling down to crush his body. They could only sneer and turn back to their limousines and Rolls Royce cars, cursing the so-called impertinence of a powerless wretch like Deiter Gatsby but knowing all too well the unspoken rule that was practically tattooed across his wide forehead. Your King alone has power over this man’s life and death. No one save me shall end him, and even then only when I declare that it will happen.

It was an odd situation to be in, an odd situation for an odd man. Deiter had reflected on his situation earlier that night when helping King Lucien to dress. The King had emerged from behind a screen with two jackets held out against his bare torso, comparing the colors to see which would set him off most attractively. Deiter had chosen the blue and Lucien had agreed, after which the king had sent him off to perform his duties at the door- “Go off then, Deiter, and do your job. I’ll most likely kill you after the ball.”

He always said that. At least five times a day. “Go check on my son; make sure he’s ready for the hunt today. I’m liable to shoot you when we get on the field.” “You always know how I like my eggs, Deiter, I’d be lost if I had to rely on the chefs. Remind me to kill you after breakfast when I get around to it.” Deiter figured that it was the closest thing he would ever get to a “Thank you” coming from Lucien.

And so here he was, three hours away from yet another missed appointment with the business end of Lucien’s sword, announcing the names of every gorgeous, diamond-encrusted woman and her striking beau that passed by. Marquis Odessa of Touluth, Lord Vesper of Canaan. They were all familiar to Deiter’s human eyes. Familiar and exquisite in their supernatural beauty. Familiar, exquisite, and repulsive.

It was all becoming a bit tedious for the young factotum, but some very important nobles hadn’t yet arrived and so he was rooted to his spot. Dressed only slightly less opulently then the courtiers he served, Deiter struck a surprisingly imposing figure at the top of the stairs. He was, as many of the court ladies (and a few of the select men) had noted, unusually handsome for a commoner. A wide, angular face and deepset green eyes lent him a very pleasant countenance, and his reputation of being charming (for a human) often preceded him in courtly life. He was dressed in a formal mean manization of the King’s livery, a midnight blue suit with a silver vest bound around his long torso. The four thin, sapphire rings on his fingers echoed his situation within the court- when Deiter had come to serve Lucien those rings belonged to others.

When the first one “absconded,” Lucien had transferred the ring to Deiter as a symbol of his survival. Two more of his fellow prisoner-slaves had “left” as well, and Deiter was gifted with their rings within the hour. There was another one in the palace somewhere; a musician of some sort that Deiter was sure wouldn’t last long. He looked down at his decorated hands and wondered, with nary a pang of guilt in his chest, where he would put that ring when he got it. Maybe he should start stacking them. There was a rebellion in Glikkus that had been snuffed out recently. Maybe he could just start sticking one on each finger until he had ten. Maybe then Lucien would kill him.

His  morbid reverie was broken by a change in the crowd’s tone. Where there had been laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses there was a hush and something akin to a collective murmur as all eyes were locked on the figure that was descending to join Deiter on the stairtop.


“The Princess Eden.” Deiter could hardly make the Princess’s name out in more than a whisper and was momentarily glad for the magical augmentation that had been applied to his voice. He couldn’t have possible said her name any louder as he hardly had the breath to say it as softly as he did. Princess Eden was an angel, a goddess, a vision looking like nothing he’d ever seen before. His expression of absolute adoration was likely on visible on his face for a second, after which he found it easy to recompose himself by clearing his throat. He bowed low to acknowledge Eden’s station and watched her as she floated down the stairs. It was an odd love for an odd man; the death-slave obsessed with his jailer’s daughter, but Eden had only ever occupied a place of absolute perfection in his eyes. My love, I am a revolutionary but if you were the queen…I would be a monarchist until the day I die.

Which, by the looks of things, was probably going to be sometime around next Thursday.

Deiter managed to hide his feelings for Eden by a clever system of answering all of her relevant questions with questions- the girl’s ability to detect lies made a straight statements altogether too dangerous to attempt. As for her sister, who could sniff out the relations between other people like a hound going after a hare, he’d made sure to cultivate a certain amount of affection for all things of beauty. He had been an artist, once. An aesthetic. As far as anyone knew, he got emotionally worked up over the sight of a painting of a particularly lovely piece of jewelry. The Princess Eden. God, and she was gorgeous.

Speaking of the younger Princess, little Olivia followed her sister shortly afterward in the party. He announced her name with a particular crow of pride in his voice- he winked at the princess and whispered an unaugmented “good luck” to the clumsy royal as she pattered down the stairs. He noted the change of sleeves and nodded in appreciation. Good call, royal dresser. Good call indeed. He liked Olivia, he genuinely did. She was a bit dizzy and romantic and he could appreciate that. He smiled after her, the way a brother or an uncle would, and watched the little one (though not so little anymore, was she?) disappear into the milling crowd of courtiers.

Now that the flow of royals had slowed down to a trickle, Deiter took to scanning the crowd for Eden. Was she dancing? Chatting? Drinking? Being courted? He couldn’t find her streak of silver in the crowd of glittering nobles and stopped trying, lest he look ridiculous. Finish the announcements, prepare for Lucien’s speech, check on the status of the banquet, make sure the cake was ready….and then he would have earned his night’s liberty from Lucien. Then he could join the party, guide Olivia through the first few dances to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her steps, and finally, finally, finally find Eden. How bloody Biblical was that?


« Last Edit: 18 October 2010, 18:03:09 »


just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
IrrisitablyInsane
Played by VoldysgoneMoldy



Hogwarts Student
Sixth Year
Gryffindor

« 18 October 2010, 17:51:14 »
Quote

Lucien, I am loving the Pricess Bride reference! XD

Naomi was out of place in such a majestic, elegant setting that was sure, for never had their been a young woman so contrary to those words. Nor was it an accident. Naomi loathed formalities and she did not find much reason to smile about the aristocracy either, which ensured that she would be feeling out of place all night. The only reason she was there was... Well, she was not sure why she really was there. At least the other servants had reasons. They directly served someone. She, however, was at the beck and call of them, the lowliest of the lowly, the smallest mouse on the food chain. Though, her personality was far from mouse like. Though forced to appear like a lady tonight, she would not hesitate to talk like her usual self...

Naomi was dressed in a orange-brown simple, shorter gown, with no special additions to the outfit. She was not supposed to look nice; she was supposed to look presentable, but also so that if someone were to spill something, she would be there to clean it up before it went noticed. Her frizzy, un-tameable hair was as such, though she had been told by people from the past that this was hardly a vice. Her pale cheek remained so, for she was not one to put on extensive makeup, though she had the habit of smearing a charcoalish grey color on her eyelids to make her grey-blue eyes pop. The look was topped by brown leather boots, which were to enable that she could attend to her duties if need be.

Past her duties, she had only one other reason to attend- well one that she would admit anyway. Though she loathed most of the aristocracy, she loved to meld within them and hear their hypocritical tales. Of how things were so much better, how even the poorer classes knew that everyone was better off. And she wondered, waiting for her opportunity, for when she was roped into a conversation and her tongue would unfurl in a fury of hellfire and political talk. Most of the dukes and duchesses and lords and ladies attending usually thought she would agree, curtsy, and thank them for being so dictatorial. Well, not this maid. She had never been so complacent and she was not planning to start now. No, if she was asked her opinion, woe on he who asked it, for she would give it.

She strode in, catching the end of Olivia's grand enterance. She skittered past the top of the stairs, needing to get around to the smaller staircase on the other side of the landing so as not to appear more important than she was. Sure, she did not mind being frank and candid, but she also really needed the job. She passed by Deiter and the corner of her mouth went up as she flicked up her eyebrows, greeting the fellow servant with the usual mysterious look in her eye. "Wish me luck," she murmured as she approached. "I'm about to enter the lion's den." She quickly past him.

She made her way around the corner of the landing and continued on, approaching the smaller, less central, less grand staircase towards the side of the room, walking close to the wall, so that the people from below could not see her. She felt her eyes continually drawing towards the main floor where all of the nobles and aristocrats were milling about, like water buffalo gathering around the banks of a quickly dissolving oasis. She scolded herself and made her eyes look forward. First off, it was foolish to look so hopefully. Second off, he was sure to be one of the last to enter. And third off, it was foolish!

She made her way down the staircase unceremoniously, chewing her lip with a bored expression as she descended deeper and deeper into the main room, giving her the feeling of actually walking down into a pit or some sort of den. Though, this was much more fashionable, of course, all to her distaste. Her wished for a peacoat or something... Then she would be able to ball up her hands into pockets, but now she had to deal with the impracticality of the gown... She plunged into the masses of people.




Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 18 October 2010, 20:18:24 »
Quote

The road was long and dark and dangerous, despite its familiarity. Every turn, every boulder, every hill could hide some bandit or assassin. At any moment, the classic-style Bentley could overturn or the area could explode with gunfire. Her driver, of course, would be killed instantly. But Elaine... What would become of Elaine? She didn’t know. And it was this not knowing that made her envision death threats at every turn.

If she knew that it was impossible for her to die, then she would think nothing of it. And if she knew that it was possible, then she would have accepted that death is inevitable in all lives and she would be able to go through her allotted time without worrying overmuch. But somehow, in the not knowing, she had to imagine every possible way that death could come. It wasn’t that she was afraid, she just wanted to know what was coming and what would happen to her when it happened.

In truth, the route from her manor in Rautha to the King’s palace was steadily patrolled by guardsmen and one of the safest regions in the kingdom. No matter how much her advisors reminded her of this fact, however, Elaine could never stop envisioning a mercenary leaping out from hiding and throwing a grenade under the vehicle.

The car came to a stop, and Elaine’s heart skipped a beat before she realized that, rather than an attack, their halt was based upon their arrival at the palace. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before her driver stepped around and opened her door. She forced a smile, although she couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be for him to have a knife hidden under his coat.

She paused for a moment before climbing out, using the only coping method she knew. Whenever she felt concerned that she was under threat, she reminded herself how much easier it would be for her attacker to be killed. She reminded herself that there was a chance she might be impossible to kill, but the man before her would most certainly die if a knife was slipped between his ribs. Instead of thinking about how she could be killed, she remembered how others could be killed, and she somehow took a twisted comfort in that fact.

Reassured, she broadened her smile, and took the driver’s hand as she stepped elegantly out of the vehicle. The skirt of her gown swirled around her, the deep blood-red material flowing elegantly as she strode through the towering entrance of the palace wall. She kept her hand on the driver’s arm until she reached the top of the stairs, as she had and desired no other escort, but he bowed away as soon as she came into view of the rest of the ball attendants down below.

For a moment, as she looked down at the immense crowd, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of worry, thousands of possibilities crowding into her mind – everything from archers hidden along the balcony to a sudden earthquake striking the building. Again, however, she forced herself to remember that it would be any the hundreds of others around her that were killed. She might very well survive. She had a better chance than anyone.

As her name was announced, however, she watched those who turned to look her way and she scanned them in search of two faces in particular. The Duke Marcellus was to be among the guests tonight, and she was very much looking forward to talking with him, as she always found him intriguing. But he was her second goal tonight. Her primary intent was even higher on the pecking order of things. In fact, he sat at the very top.

King Lucien was the ultimate being in this day and age. Power all but radiated from him, and his every desire became reality. His foes stood no chance and his allies vaulted to power, as long as they remained loyal. She imagined he must feel safe, knowing that everyone feared him and would do his bidding. Of course, he could be considered a potential target for assassins if anyone was that idiotic, but he had enough people forcibly loyal to him that his life would never truly be at risk. That was what she would like to think anyhow. And she wanted to be like that. She wanted to be safe and secure and protected. And she had to admit, she had always been attracted to more mature men than those her own age.

She joined the crowd, smiling genteelly and greeting those who merited her attention as she passed, but she saw no sign of the king. Yet. Of course, he would be here in his own good time. The celebration was in his honor, and she was sure he was simply waiting to make the most impressive entrance he could. That would be all right for now if Marcellus was around to speak with, but she had not yet seen him. Her eyes flickered over towards the side of the room, thinking that she had seen movement in the shadows against the wall, her paranoia trying to return in the absence of a decent distraction.


« Last Edit: 05 March 2011, 19:36:28 »


Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 18 October 2010, 22:11:30 »
Quote

Darkness fills a world wrought with pain and strife. Landscapes of grey taint the vision of every man’s gaze towards the future. We look, wishing to see hope ahead, but we cannot see through the dense fog that surrounds us. We stumble forward, only to find that we have fallen further back. Day and night seem no different to us, as the darkness invades every aspect of our lives. Rest comes no better to us in the shadows of the haunted night than it does while slaving away in the shadows of the stormy day.

The Blessed Few who walk these halls, however, face no such inhibitions. These beings see the world in bright light, a light that may very well emanate from their own selves. They see a world painted with bright colors and smiled upon by a sun of pure gold. They tower above the others: powerful demi-gods ruling over the land they have conquered with unwavering supremacy.

It is in the home of these demi-gods that I reside, but I possess no power like theirs. In a palace full of diamonds, I am a scrap of filthy coal, hidden away because I am leftover and unimproved, while the gems shine with a glory that rivals the brightest star. I will never so much as twinkle.  I am not like them and never can be. So it is that I slide about in the background, hidden from view while they are the faces that are presented to the world.

Perhaps I could have been beautiful. Never at the level of the rulers, as I have none of the strength they all seem to boast, but I might have been lovely nonetheless. I remember when I was very young, before the fire that cost me my home and my family, my father would sometimes tell me I was pretty. “Cadie,” he would say, using my childhood nickname. “How very much you look like your mother! When you grow, you will be the most beautiful woman in the world, just as she is now.” My mother would always laugh and scold him for exaggerating, but the blush in her cheeks would betray her happiness.

But I have not been Cadie now for over ten years now. Distraught with grief at the loss of my mother and facing starvation for himself and his child, he sacrificed me to the nobles in order to save his life and mine, no matter how miserable it may now be. Here I answer to “girl” more often than anything. I know that he was acting in my interest, at least partly, but I can at times not help but feel a bitterness towards my father for subjecting me to this life.

Tonight, the Stars of this world are all gathered within the palace – beautiful butterflies flitting about the diamond tower. My mistress wears a gown that cost as much money as would feed an entire small family for a lifetime. Meanwhile, I will spend the night dressed in the finest garments I own, a gown that nearly betrays my status with its beauty in my eyes, though it pales next to that of the Princess. But she is the goddess and I, only a stone on the road compared to her worth. So it has been, so it will be evermore.



Arcadia sighed and closed the loosely bound pages of her journal and tucked it under the thin sheet that served as her blanket.  When she had finished helping the Princess prepare for the night’s festivities, she had found one of her incredibly rare moments alone, during which she had been able to write out some of the thoughts that had been swirling through her mind throughout the past week. The Princess would arrive to the ball alone, of course. Arcadia and any of the other servants in the palace were considered only an eyesore and, though they would all be needed at the ball to serve food and the like, they were to be as invisible as was possible so as not to draw any attention.

The girl looked at the cracked mirror propped up against the wall beside her cot, instinctively reaching to pull her hair out from behind her right ear so that it would hang down over her right cheek in hopes of hiding her burn. She knew she ought to have tried to style her hair somehow, as she was supposed to be dressed as formally as was possible for a commoner. But the most she felt comfortable doing was to brush it out and add a thin braid to show that she had at least put some effort into her appearance. It would still be better than pulling her hair back and allowing her scars to become fully visible.

She knew she would soon be expected to rejoin the Princess. Thirty minutes was all the time she had been granted to prepare herself for the ball once Eden had departed, and that time was more than half gone by now. She slipped out of her brown work dress, frowning slightly at the thin, faded appearance of the materials constructing both the dress and the layer of undergarments she wore underneath. It would not be long, she knew, before tears developed in the fabric and she would have to find a way to mend or patch them in her limited free time.

The gown she was now lifting carefully down from a hanger on the wall, however, was much better quality. It was a pale blue, and, while far from the beauty of even the lowest noble’s finery, it was still better than any other piece of clothing Arcadia herself had ever worn. It had been given to her two years before for occasions such as this, and it was still in near-perfect condition since it was so rarely worn. She couldn’t resist a slight smile as the soft material slipped down over her, the shape of the bodice matching her natural outline in a way her loose work clothing never did.

The dress left her shoulders bare and the neckline dropped low enough to cause the girl to blush slightly, but she knew that it was technically still far more modest than what would be worn by the vast majority of the women in attendance at the ball. The pale blue did not stand out against her skin at all, but neither did it make her look off color in any way. She looked much more elegant than she ever did under normal circumstances, but she would be utterly unremarkable when next to the beautiful nobles. Which was, of course, the point. She was supposed to available to Princess Eden, but remain invisible to the others in attendance.

She gazed at her reflection for a moment longer, decided that she was as ready as she could be, and turned to leave the room. In only a few minutes, she was at the base of the servants’ staircase. As she stood at a side entrance to the ballroom, she took a deep breath, dreading having to go inside. Even under ordinary circumstances , the splendor of the nobles made her feel dirty with inferiority. They were beautiful and powerful and strong, like the characters out of the books that Arcadia read when she could manage to steal away to the royal library. Next to them, she was pathetic and small and insignificant. But without order, the world would fall apart, and this was her lot in life.

She sighed, straightened her shoulders, and then slipped inside, moving alongside the wall as she moved closer to where she could see Princess Eden shining even brighter than the other angelic-looking nobles. And now her duties began. She had to be ready to respond the moment the Princess needed anything. No more, no less. She might be standing still for the entire night without being addressed once, or she could be sent running errand after errand without a moment to catch her breath – it simply depended upon what suited the Princess’ fancy that night. She wouldn’t have a moment to herself until the meal, when she would be dismissed for an hour or so, as there would be plenty of other servants at hand. Perhaps then she would be able to slip outside and find a certain someone that she had been hoping to speak with. But that would come much later. For now, she was trapped here, watching silently as the aristocrats danced past.


« Last Edit: 23 October 2010, 15:50:09 »


OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 18 October 2010, 22:54:12 »
Quote

Mark was never sure how he felt about these things.  The parties, the balls, the shows of wealth.  He liked the noise of them, and the way the noise drowned out the - other noise - but he couldn't help remembering, when jammed in with all those people, that they were mortal too.  They'd be so easy to kill, some of them.  The royals themselves, even.  Reading other people's dreams?  Knowing if they told the truth?  Seeing how they were connected?  Useless in a fight.  And the Prince could defend himself against someone attacking in anger, turning their rage away from him, but he couldn't stop someone really determined that way.

And now he realized he was thinking about things he shouldn't think about again.  Somehow, the king would know he'd thought it, even though it was merely a passing fancy.  The voices in his head were calm, though.  So it was almost worth walking that line.  Kill him. the voices murmured, Kill the wicked king.  But he wouldn't, and he knew it.  Lucien was scary enough in life.  He didn't need to hear his booming voice from beyond the grave.  And anyway, no one really knew for sure if people's powers still worked after they died.  At least, he didn't, and there really wasn't anyone else to know.  He was the only one who heard the voices.

Silencing the voices wasn't possible, and doing what they wanted wasn't an option.  Avoiding the ball wasn't an option either, as much as he hated it.  The voices in his head would recognize people who'd been part of their deaths, and then they'd yell and scream and howl and demand that he kill them.  And then he would retreat into the thickest part of the crowd, or stand as close to the band as he could, and try to drown them out, and then he'd drink a little, and then he'd drink a little more, and then he'd start losing it, and then his valet would bundle him up and take him home, and he'd probably get close to killing the guy, but the voices would stop him at the last moment, and then he'd wind up in his room at home, curled up in a ball and shaking like he was going to explode.

But Lucien had said to be here.  So here he was, velvet doublet feeling as stiff as a chain around his neck, his sleeves too ruffled, his pants too tight, and everything too close around him.  He'd gotten here as late as he'd thought he could get away with, brushed past the king's factotum, who he still didn't trust after all these years, lumbered down the stairs almost more quickly than he could be announced, and made a bee-line for the corner beside the musicians, occasionally asking them to play louder or faster or more excitingly only to be told over and over again that the king had specifically chosen their set list and told them it was not to be changed.

It was almost enough to drive him to the drinks tables.  The voices in his head were still there, and they were still cranky, and they were still telling him to kill people.  But the way the bandleader quivered every time he had to tell Marcellus that he couldn't change the set list made them stop talking about death and start talking about how he should be leaving the poor man alone and how he was an awful person, and mean, and petty, and violent, and he had no business going out into public and scaring innocent folk like that.  And that was ok, because he was used to that.  They always told him he was an awful person and mean and wild and violent and he didn't deserve to live.  It was the talk of more killing, and the full-voiced screaming as they saw their murderers that were really hard to tune out.

But then something happened to drive the thought of drinking right out of his head.  She arrived.  The Duchess Elaine.  The most beautiful woman in the world.  And the only one he wasn't afraid would die and wind up in his head with all the rest, screaming at him for all of eternity.  His heart skipped a beat, which was silly, and the voices in his head jeered at him, reminding him that she was 10 years younger and he was scarred and ugly and insane, and that she'd never like him anyway.  And he didn't know whether to believe them or not, but he couldn't help wondering what it would be like if she did love him.  As stupid as that was.

Shut up, he muttered under his breath to the voices no one else could hear.  I'm going to go talk to her.  She's going to laugh at you.  The next voice overlapped the first.  To your face!  She's going to laugh to your face.  They kept coming.  She might even slap his face.  Wouldn't that be a sight?  He tried to shove the voices out of his head.  Yeah, just imagine his big stupid face after she did it!  It worked about as well as it ever did, which was not at all.  But he was moving now, weaving through the crowd of people after a flash of bloodred silk he knew was hers, because the color of her dress had seemed perfect, as she hovered at the top of the stairs looking like some sort of dark angel.  He himself was in dark blue because his tailor said it was the color most appropriate for the most settings, and he was too cheap to buy more than one or two suits when he didn't like going anywhere that required one to begin with.

Finally, he caught up to her, calling out Elaine! before realizing he had nothing to say to her, per se.  He was sure he could come up with something, even though the voices in his head, who'd realized the same thing, had redoubled their taunting and were now even louder.  As he stood beside her, though, he found himself drawing a blank.  Hello.  The voices were snickering as he bowed politely to her.  But it was a start.  He forced his hand to stay by his side rather than pushing his hair back nervously.  He didn't want to look weak.  And the voices would just laugh at him more mercilessly for his embarrassment.  How are you this fine evening?



Quintessentially Old
Anonymous
Ministry of Magic
Charms Consultant

« 19 October 2010, 00:24:43 »
Quote

Grandeur.

That's one thing the aristocracy had right. They could attempt to assert their authority over the newest incarnation of the peasant class, but, while that might be working for now, the one thing they absolutely could do was throw a grandiose party. The banquet hall had been prepared for days before the event, as the High King's birthday ball, it was doubtlessly supposed to be nothing short of impressive, preferably leaning on the side of "overkill." Because, after all, the birthday of the King was something that wasn't likely to go unnoticed. However, it remained to be seen which side noticed it more, the side celebrating that joys of life, or those that fervently wished for a change in regime.

Intrigue.

That was the other thing that the aristocracy had down pat. No doubt would the night end with words exchanged among the attendees, colouring the visions and opinions of those that attended the ball. Did you see what that girl was doing? Wasn't she a duchess? Dancing with a commoner? How scandalous. And wasn't that drunk man the count? And wasn't that the priest off to the side chatting up some young lady? The countless gossips and circulating rumours, truths, and blatantly told bold-faced lies would be circulating throughout the court the following morning. Such was life in the aristocracy. No one was safe from any sort of rumour, it was a fact that one learned to accept early on. And rarely did they mean anything more than something for the ladies in waiting to talk about while their ladies went about their business in the castle.

His perfectly tailored suit fit his body perfectly. The jacket was worn exactly right, buttons buttoned, the tail flaring at the perfect moment. The perfectly smooth shirt underneath marred by nothing, the top button undone to give the appearance of ease, the appearance of a roguish, carefree man. One who did not have too much on his shoulders at the moment. The pants worn perfectly as well, the dark material pleated in the front than ran perfectly into the contours of his impeccably shined shoes. This was a benefit of his status. His expensive taste in clothing wasn't such an expense. He just had the clothes he wanted made.

People were milling about. Lots of people. Lots and lots. It was a good thing, he supposed. A good turnout meant a lot of people paid enough attention to the aristocracy. Which was a good thing, right? Right. He recognised faces. Both from the upper and lower classes, his father's servant. The favoured one. Deiter. That was it. The one that his father threatened to kill on a regular basis. William supposed that it was much like the "I swear..." statements that always ended in a gruesome threat of violence against the intended, which, of course, never came even close to fruition. Because if they did, the world would have a severely lowered population. Sibling fights could destroy households if threats were made good upon. And that just wouldn't be good, now would it?

Dukes. Duchesses. Counts. Ladies. His sisters. Ladies in waiting. Servants. So many bodies pressed into the banquet room. Finally having his curiosity of the attendees sated, William descended the stairs, his body fading into the group of people already present. Of course, not that stayed faded in the crowd worked for one of such a high stature as he. The attire of the highest nobles always outshined anything that the rest of the people could come close to wearing. It was a benefit, if you liked putting on clothes. It was a curse if you would rather have slid into something comfortable and spent your time doing something other than a ball. Balls were for two things: courting and networking. And often they ended up being the same thing. And, honestly, William wasn't looking for either of these things at the moment.

And perhaps the best part of his night was that he was quite normal at the moment. No mood swings. No crushing depression or paranoia. He was quite stable. And therefore was much better equipped to enjoy the night at hand. Perhaps, since he wasn't interested in courting any woman to bring to his father's house, he might find some young lady in need of a dance. Perhaps he might just swing along to the beat with some other noble, that would at least make his father happy. And keeping the King happy was in everyone's best interest, really. Who wanted a King angry at you? And, perhaps even more important, was the family balance. A familial problem would draw lines among the children, the father, and any relative that felt the need to stick their head into the situation. Which, of course, would generally end... badly.

And so William bled into the sea of faces, easily recognisable. He was one of the most important people in the aristocracy, if he did say so himself (and he did). But nevertheless, he was lost in a sea of people, all smiling gaily along with the music and he let his own emotions be carried away with theirs. No need for manipulation. If he were feeling fine, the crowd was feeling fine, there was no need to change the way that those around him were. Not yet. Perhaps if something were to happen, if something were to go awry. Then he could just manipulate the others easily, make it a different atmosphere. But now? No. It was a party. A ball. A gala. An event. These things were times of happiness and full of food, drink and dance.

No need to ruin that.



Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 19 October 2010, 08:48:53 »
Quote

Elaine! At the sound of her name, a vision passed before her eyes in a flash: she turned towards the speaker just in time to be met by a dagger to the heart. She saw herself swaying in place, pulling the weapon back out, staring at the blood on her chest, waiting to see if the wound would close or not. Who would have thrown the dagger? It could be anyone in attendance. Why? Perhaps as part of a rebellion, or jealousy, or to take her land. Could she have prevented it? There was no way to tell. There were so many unknowns, so many possibilities, every one of them more worrisome than the last.

Yet, in spite of the images she saw, she turned nonetheless, her red dress swirling around her as she did so. She held her breath, stiffening slightly, half-expecting some similar attack to actually happen. But the face she saw before her was no assassin. Or, at least, not at the moment. A gentle smile made its way onto her face as she viewed the face of the man that so many feared and that she did not. My dear Count Marcellus! It is indeed a pleasure to see you tonight.

She couldn’t miss the glances of a few of the other guests who were near enough to hear this comment. While he was accepted as a member of the aristocracy, there were many who would rather be as far from the man as possible. But not Elaine. To Elaine, he was a source of answers. He was so utterly familiar with death, that she felt he must be able to reveal to her how it happened, and whether her powers would prevent it.

Perhaps, with the paranoia that so often plagued her, she should be more afraid of Marcellus than anyone else. But she wasn’t. Every other person in this grand hall could be a threat. Marcellus simply was a threat. If Elaine angered some other noble, there was no knowing how they would react. Say perhaps Lady Aurora felt that Elaine was dancing too intimately with her husband, Lord Darrius, at some point during the festivities. Would she simply turn her rage into hateful gossip about the woman, or would her thoughts take a more sinister turn towards revenge? It was impossible to predict.

But Marcellus could be predicted, at least to an extent. If she angered him enough, for whatever reason, she had no doubt that he would take out that anger in a search for blood. He was famous for it. Those that he did not want alive did not remain alive. If he chose to do so, he could seek to kill her, and then she would find out once and for all whether that was possible. She would finally understand whether or not her powers would protect her from death.

If they did not, then would no longer have to worry about the issue. She did not desire to die and she was just as wary of what might lie beyond this world as anyone else. But that was a secondary concern, and she couldn’t worry about what happened after death until she determined whether death was a possibility. It was, however, enough to keep her from trying to taking her own life. As much as she wanted to know, she couldn’t risk actually losing her life at her own hand for that information. And so the cycle went on.

With a moment’s difficulty, she finally managed to return her thoughts to the moment at hand. Her eyes moved over Marcellus, taking in his appearance. His attire was far more elaborate than on any ordinary occasion, as it should be for such an event. The elaborate sleeves somewhat hid the daunting muscles of his arms, which was, admittedly, a bit of a shame. But the doublet of dark blue suited him well and drew her eyes upward towards his face. His hair was swept aside just right to show off his striking features. He was not quite classically handsome, but she found him impressive nonetheless.

Her eyes lingered a moment longer on the slight scars marring his face, as she kept in mind that she herself would never bear such scars. It made her more confident to realize that even Marcellus, who was more powerful than most, was still susceptible to injury, while Elaine was not. And that seemed to increase the chances that she could also escape death, while he could not. Still not a certainty, by any means, but it did help a bit.

How are you this fine evening? She smiled charmingly at him, stepping closer so that they could better hear each other amongst the crowd. Well enough. She had not been there long enough to truly form any sort of opinion, but her night had certainly gotten better now that she had found at least one of the men that she had wanted so much to see. Better now that I have proper company. The others do bore me so. A bit blunt, but she didn’t particularly care who heard her.

She couldn’t worry about anyone any more than she already did, so it didn’t matter if they knew she didn’t like being around them. But no one was really paying them any mind at this point anyhow. So far as she was concerned, she and Marcellus might as well be alone in this hall for this conversation at the moment. He was strong enough and feared enough that no one would dare attack him, at least not here in public, which gave her a certain security when she was near him as well. No one else mattered, and no one else would. At least, not until the King made his entrance. Then she would have to split her attention. But for the moment, Marcellus was the only one that mattered.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 19 October 2010, 11:10:24 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Princess Eden had grown up at court, and, over the years, she had become extremely comfortable in social settings like this one.  She knew that she was beautiful, and she knew that she was always in the public eye in some way, shape or form.  The collective, awed murmur uttered by the crowd when they first saw her assured her that things had not changed from one party to the next.  The women would be envious and the men would be speechless… all because she was perfect.

Or she seemed to be anyway.  That moment of stunned muttering and appreciative silence when she had first appeared at the top of the stairs… that was part of the payoff, part of the reason why she spent so much time and energy trying to be flawless.  She had to be charming, strong and beautiful… all while concealing the growing storm of insanity behind her eyes.  It was physically and mentally exhausting, this drive for perfection, but Eden refused to let up for even a moment.

She would be perfect.  She had to be perfect.

While her usual group of pathetic suitors from well to do families tried to work up the courage to approach her, Eden took the opportunity to simply observe those around her in hopes of discovering someone more interesting to talk to.  She found the young men who usually sought her out dull and largely boring, and she was famous for not paying much attention to them.  After all, it was much easier to be charming when she was actually interested in her company.  She tried, but she continuously failed to find anything of value in any of the young men who tried to court her.

And why should she have?  She was perfect… a shining, shimmering, perfect princess.  Even though they were aristocrats, they were still below her—and oh-so boring.

For the longest time, Eden had been infatuated with the notorious Count Marcellus, whose entrance she noted with a smile.  She was many years younger than he was, it was true, but he had been famous while she was growing up.  Plus, the fact that the rest of the noble class completely disapproved of him transformed him into the bad boy that she couldn’t help but have a crush on.  Since then, she had grown out of her silly infatuation, but, even now, she felt herself getting jealous as she watched him make a beeline for Duchess Elaine.  Eden was exceptionally good at controlling her expression, but anyone who knew her very well would be able to tell that something had ruffled her feathers.

What did Elaine have that she didn’t have?  Eden was, as the princess, wealthier and, in her own humble opinion, much prettier as well.  The choice should have been clear.

However, it wasn’t like it mattered.  Eden, in her quest for perfection, couldn’t be seen flirting with someone like Marcellus anyway.  He was far too unpopular.  She shifted her attention quickly, accepting a glass of champagne from Mason Volkov, her father’ chauffeur.  The transportation specialist had apparently been forced into carrying drinks and helping the waiters serve hors d’oeuvres.  Holding the glass daintily in her gloved fingers, Eden took a few sips.  She was always conscious of how much alcohol she consumed.  Too much and she would loss control.

She let her gaze wander again, pointedly refusing to even glance back in Marcellus’s direction.  Her siblings had both arrived, and her watchful eyes caught glimpses of a couple of servants as well.  Having come to the conclusion that nothing insanely interesting was going on at the moment, Eden’s attention fell on Dieter Gatsby, the man unfortunate enough to be her father’s new toy.

She wouldn’t deny that Dieter was uncommonly handsome for a commoner, much less a revolutionary, and she had to admit that she found him very intriguing.  He needed to be smart to have survived this long under the constant threat of her father’s fatal punishment, and he was clever enough to hold her attention when they spoke.  Not many people—aristocrats or commoners—thought to avoid giving her straight answers because she could call their lies.  But it was pointless, wasn’t it?  It would be easier to marry Marcellus than it would be to marry Dieter.  He would probably be dead within the week, and if not that, then certainly within the month.


“Princess!” a voice called behind her.  Eden turned gracefully, the light reflecting off her dress as she did so, and sighed surreptitiously when she laid eyes on the young nobleman approaching her.  She had to hand it to them, she thought as she forced one of those radiant smiles, they were persistent.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 19 October 2010, 17:07:49 »
Quote

When King Lucien walked into the ballroom, the floor was empty and the lights were dark. His unsteady steps echoed monstrously in the wide stone expanse of the hall as he descended the steps; the air in the room was cold, a few of the glass windows at the front of the palace had been knocked out with stones. It was winter, and the chilly wind blew tiny particulates of snow in through the panes of broken glass- they tumbled and swirled on the floor like icy dancers until they sunk too far down and melted. There had been a ball here at some point in the night, long banquet tables draped with blue cloth were overturned and pushed up against the walls- chairs with silk cushions had their stuffing ripped out and lay scattered in pieces. The chandeliers had all come down, with each link in their chains snapping and sending their tinkling crystals crashing down on the floor.

“Come and face me, you coward!” Lucien roared out into the echoing wind.

He walked up to the circular bandstand in the middle of the floor and climbed up onto it with some difficulty. A stabbing pain in his torso reminded him of his priorities. He opened up his dinner jacket to reveal a bright wet bloom of red sprouting against the stark white of his shirt- he’d been shot. At the top of the stairs, a man appeared. Count Noel, a courtier in his palace, one of the idiots who’d been harboring revolutionist sympathies.


“The King is dead,” the man said coldly as he joined the bleeding Lucien on the bandstand, “Long live the-” CRACK.

And really, what was he going to say? Long live the King? No, no, no, that was just too much. There was no time for this- Lucien had a ball to attend. Lucien surged up and grabbed the man by the neck. Noel struggled against the king’s grip but Lucien held his throat fast between his wide palms. He began to struggle and sputter as the ballroom began to spin back into place- the pieces of glass began to fly back into their places in the windowpanes, the lights began to blink on one at a time, and the chandeliers slowly ascended back into their lofty positions. The dying man’s legs were twitching their last while chairs mended themselves and shot back into their place at the upturned tables.


“I will never die,” Lucien reminded the Count in his last moments of consciousness. The light in the ballroom grew brighter and brighter in the man’s vision as the image of the King flickered and dimmed. “I will never die, and you will die, and you will always remember that.” After a moment’s deliberation, he added, “Also, get a haircut.”

~*~

In one of the castle dungeons, a man named Noel awoke to see that his cell door had been left open. For all intents and purposes, he was free to go. He wouldn’t have the spirit to rebel again, not after that. He paused before he left his prisoner’s quarters- had he dreamed? He couldn’t remember, for the life of him he couldn’t even remember. A glimpse of his own reflection in a suit of armor made the Count wince. Wow. He needed a haircut.


While Noel was being released, Lucien, the Dreamwalker, was waking up in his bedroom. The King was already dressed in his clothes for the party- an impeccable black tuxedo with the banner of the kingdom slung across his shoulders. Decorations and honors were pinned to his breast, blue stripes and blazing silver stars as symbols as his status as the High King of the novo mundus, the Commander in Chief of the Collective World Legion, the Author of the Pax Global, and any of the various other titles he’d wisely appointed to himself. Despite the fact that he’d been dozing in the armchair in front of a waning fire, his pants had not wrinkled. They wouldn’t dare. There were no servants in the room to attend him, as he had forbidden anyone to be in his chamber while he was sleeping, so he stood up solitarily and kicked ash over the last of the fire’s dying embers.

King Lucien proceeded through the halls of his palace alone and unguarded- it was his preferred state. The kings of the past had needed military men and burly guards to surround them at all times to prove that they were safe and powerful. It was a common image- to get to me you have to get through all of them. A common image and a stupid one. The image of King Lucien turning the corner of his hallway and climbing down to stand at the top of the grand staircase completely alone, one man standing solo in the face of his entire world- that was an effective symbol. To get to him you would have to get through him. Just him. Just do the smart thing and let somebody else try first.

The ballroom would have done well to go completely silent when he appeared at the top of the stairs. Lucien was a striking figure, and even though today was his birthday any single courtier would be hard-pressed to come up with an answer to the proverbial question: how old was the king? He seemed, as he had always seemed, ageless, as if time itself was too scared to touch him with her damaging caress. He was in his perpetual early forties, despite the fact that the math didn’t quite add up on that. His wavy dark hair was completely unmarred by a single stand of grey, and it was still as thick and full as the day it had grown. His face was formed with handsome features: a strong nose, thick lips, and the finest, highest cheekbones a person could ever imagine, but despite his beauty his countenance was cold. Beautiful and untouchable, like a statue he stood six feet tall with skin as pale as stone, with the famously fierce gaze of his slanted silver-blue eyes perpetually giving off the impression that his frigid visage was just barely holding back a fiery, animalistic nature.


“My friends,” he began definitively. Before the world had ended and the land been redivided, Lucien had been English. Good English, not grubby English. Despite the fact that in the new world regional dialects had been discouraged in the name of solidarity, his clipped pronunciation remained completely untouched. And so when he spoke in his low, booming tone, his breeding bled through even in the sound of his vowels. “Birthdays often serve as those rare moments when we can pause from the bustle of our daily lives to reflect on the years that have passed. I am a lucky man.”

As he spoke, he walked down the stairs nonchalantly, as if speaking in front of the collected hundreds was no different than addressing a close friend or a confidante. That was part of his charm- he could at any moment appear both terrifying and entirely affable. Such is the dichotomy of the sociopath. “I am blessed to have with me today my only son and heir, William-” he gestured out into the crowd to his handsome eldest son. “My beautiful daughters,” a benevolent gaze was saved particularly for both of the princesses, “and all of my closest friends.”

The king had reached the bottom of the stairs and passed undaunted through an aisle the crowd had the good sense to create- he was walking towards the bandstand, but of course the ballroom looked so different now. “Some of you might think of the old world’s traditions and ask: ‘What gift do you give a man who has everything?’” He smiled and took a place on the bandstand- the conductor stepped down. “The answer, my darlings, is nothing. For the man who has everything will send you back with tribute of his own. That is the spirit of the gift, and this is the truth.” With that, he motioned for his Factotum to come and bring over one of his most prized possessions- a Stradivarius violin from Old Venice. Lucien stood in the center of the bandstand, hoisted the priceless instrument up onto his shoulder and began to play a beautiful pavane- the orchestra joined in after a short solo. Of course his playing was flawless, he was a virtuoso. He played through the song with ease and absolute grace, his nimble fingers dancing up and down the neck of the gorgeous instrument propped just under his chin. When he finished, he let one long note ring out into the ballroom space and didn’t even bother to bow. The applause would have come even if he were a terrible player. It was good to be the king.


I also just wanted to make the note, I don't think I was clear before, but Deiter has been serving the royal family in an intimate capacity for a little over seven years. Think Zazu in the Lion King. So He's not exactly a new addition or an unfamiliar face to any of the nobles/royals. Just sayin'. Woohoo Madness Reigns!


« Last Edit: 19 October 2010, 17:19:26 »


just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Just Smile
Anonymous

« 19 October 2010, 18:13:21 »
Quote

For now, I am going to skirt the fact of who Logan's works for... If someone would like to "claim" him, please let me know.

Logan Prescott's lanky legs unfolded beneath him as he approached the party, a bright gleam in his eager eyes, his young face alight with opportunity. He could not say he loathed the aristocracy; too many if them had done too many acts of kindness. But he could loathe what they stood for, and he believed that they could reform, whether by force or reasoning. And tonight was a chance that he could use the latter as weight in any conversations he may or may not have with the nobles that would be attending the party. If he ever had a chance to inspire some change, it would be now.

Something about Logan inspired confidence in people. Perhaps it was his honest eyes or his innocent face, or the attitudes that he carried that said deep down, people did want to do the right thing, they were just not always sure how to do just that. More likely was his inherent confidence and humility, his easy going laugh, and the jokes that he seemed to procure with just the slightest of prompting. He was a charmer, and perhaps this was why he was able to stir the hearts of strangers in taverns, promising that the time was indeed right for a revolution.

He had to serve his master, of course, but he had long learned that those duties were not cumbersome unless he allowed them to become so. And tonight his only duties would be to be with earshot of his master in case he was needed and to look snazzy. And in black slacks, a long-sleeved blue shirt, a loose black vest, and blue-and-black striped tie, the latter half of his responsibilities were fulfilled. His short hair was groomed properly, his clean face shaved to look younger. Basically, he looked like a responsible young man.

He walked through the throngs of people gathered in the main hall, having entered with the discretion only a noble's servant would be able to master. He could not stop his eyes from scanning the crowd. It was true. His reasons for attending were not all employment and politically related. In all honesty, he always liked the chance to be able to see all of the beautiful women in attendance, but he could not wait to see two faces in particular. Princess Olivia, in so many ways untouchable, and yet always so alluring. And then Arcadia, who seemed so fragile and tragic...

At least she was approachable to him. But at the moment he could not find her, wishing only for some casual pleasantries. He heard an array of tempting political tidbits, all of which drew to him, but he could not pause his distracted mind to get it on the right track long enough to for any political banter nor-

He spotted Princess Olivia, and saw that she had not diminished in beauty in any sense since he had last seen her, and he wished it could feel more natural to approach her as though there were no class distinctions to separate them. But he could not, and there was the itching feeling that he should be searching for Arcadia, who was much more attainable and seemed as though she would need him more. He knew she was treated rather poorly and felt she deserved more worthy company. He was sure Princess Olivia could do better than him, though.

He realized he would start looking like a fool rather quickly if he continued walking about like a hopeful, and partially rejected puppy, searching out the women who probably did not want him searching for them in the first place. He needed to focus on his work first, realize that this was a professional matter, and also a political one, one where he could find out information needed to continue to charm those in the taverns that he had so quickly inspired. They needed him, as did his master. Social embarrassment could wait.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 19 October 2010, 22:08:00 »
Quote

Olivia was looking out at the world with her magic eyes when her father arrived, focused on the power that drew lines between the members of the crowd into a complex web she could usually manipulate if given enough time to work it all out, but which she rarely had the energy to untangle in her mind without getting bored with it.  And so as she turned toward her father, she saw him not as she usually did, unfiltered with anything else, but through his connections with others.  Her father was the absolute ruler, the High King adored and hated, the hero of a new age and a villain in the eyes of the old one.  Everyone in the room was connected to him in some way, linked to him with hate or love or fear or history, and so many of the connection lines in her magic vision were clustered around him that she couldn't see him at all.

Closing her eyes against the tight confusion of it, she pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to drive back a massive headache that was already coming from that one glance.  She'd overstepped her powers.  As she looked back up, reopening her eyes, she forced her powers to turn off as much as possible, something she usually didn't bother to do.  She knew she was lucky that she could shut off her powers, as much effort as it took.  So many aristocrats couldn't.  She could still see the strongest relationships, the ones with the thickest lines of the deepest red or green or black or gleaming gold, which at the moment were few and far between, but the confusion was gone, and the only connections around her father that were still strong enough to see were the two thick blue lines between him and her siblings that meant he was their father and he loved them.  She liked to believe that there was one leading to her, too, but she couldn't prove it.  It was just what she had to believe if she didn't want to start going crazy around the edges.

Once she could see straight again, she realized that she was supposed to be acting like the proper princess again.  As usual.  Dashing forward a little less demurely than she maybe should have, she took her place beside the stairs as her father got to the bottom of them, then followed him more sedately up to the stage, standing beside the bandstand and resisting the urge to lean against it, or even worse, to hop up and sit on the edge of the stage.  She had always loved it when her dad played his violin, infrequent as those occasions were, but tonight she couldn't quite keep her attention on him.  The many eyes boring into her were too much of a distraction.  Did any of those eyes love her?  Did any of them hate her?  How many were real friends, and how many were just nice to the princess on the outside?  Were they watching her because they were watching the king and she was standing near him?  Or were they watching her for her own sake?

Olivia wanted to believe that if she could just learn to see the web of connections that surrounded her own body, she would see all of those relationships, except maybe the hate.  She wanted to believe her web would be a gleaming circle of purple for friendship, red for love real and reciprocated, black for people with crushes on her, and most of all, she wanted to believe it was shot through with the thin gold strands that meant the possibility of true love if she could only pursue it.  But if she did look, all she would see was empty air as everyone else's connections arched past her on their way to the people they loved and liked and hated and vaguely knew in shadowy, unimportant grey lines that told her nothing besides the fact that there was some political connection she may or may not know about.

She was relieved when her father stopped playing, and the applause jolted her out of her thoughts.  Now maybe she could fade back into the crowd a little and not have to feel like everyone was watching her, judging her and wishing she were more like her sister.  Or whatever they thought.  But she knew they liked her sister.  She usually tried not to examine her family members, because she hated it so much when they used their own powers against her, but a single glance at any room was sure to show a dozen lines of adoration aimed at Eden.  Olivia just had to hope she had half so many.  She tried to force herself to stand still, but she couldn't help fidgeting a little as she clapped.  Was her father done with his show yet?

Anana OL
Played by supertoastgirl

« 19 October 2010, 22:39:31 »
Quote

The bright lights and flying colors and laughter. The swooned ladies and bubbly drinks served with little accents. Parties were something that Rita could never get tired of, unlike most commoners who had a hatred in their gut for the everlasting events. But to Rita these events were glorious, they were full of sheer bliss and dancing until the soles of their satin or leather shoes were worn thin, and even though she was usually doing the bidding of her lady it was still enjoyable. She just loved the crowd and the opportunity for a good ear to hear the latest scandal.

These scandals usually consisted of an aristocrat courting a simple and just commoner. Some were about commoners standing up for themselves, but those usually ended in tragedy. While others were just rubbish words of thieves, important lies and politics. People would talk nonsense of this, and Rita herself started some nasty rumors. She was glad that no one had the will to trace back their gossip yet, very grateful indeed. She was sure that if someone found that an uproar had been started by a commoner she would be thrown into jail, and maybe something even worse.

There was never a dull moment here in the palace. Whispers and murmurs were constantly being exchanged and violence would break out here and there. There was plenty to go around, and Rita never failed to entertain the stunning Princess Olivia, who often got bored of a steady life. As strange as it may seem, Rita had a fondness of Olivia. Of course she waited and acted upon her every need, but somehow Rita felt like a friend to her. Maybe it was the secrets she told her, even though none of these secrets consisted of herself. Or maybe it was because Rita saw the way Princess Eden treated her handmaiden and was content.

These scrambled thoughts flooded Rita's mind as she had her moment alone. It was one of those lively moments away from being a servant. She had the chance to clean herself up, and look presentable for the party. Princess Olivia had just been sent on her way to announced and recognized by beautiful and rich people full of light. Now was the moment of silence, Rita could collect her thoughts and become herself without perched eyes watching over her. A rosy and hot emotion came over her that made her wish that she too were an aristocratic, but then she was washed over with a pale green sick feeling, guilty for thinking such a thing. It was selfish of her to want something like that, her father had tried to put a stop to them until he had died.

It was all very confusing how Rita felt without the input of others.

A bristled brush struggled through her knotted hair that hadn't been throughly combed for at least a week. She had little time to dillydally on the fact that she would never truly look her best in hand-me-down gowns and a hairstyle put together at the last moment. That was alright though, Rita wasn't a guest at the party, she was a mere backdrop. Someone to stay out of the way and help when needed. Her hair lay lifeless at the edges of her face before she swept into a bun that was as neat as possible, her bangs dropping in their usual place. Rita undressed herself before reaching into a wardrobe that had a broken door and gathered her dress for the night. As if she had another choice, Rita pretended that this was the best dress for the event. She slipped the thing on, and it showed to fit her quite nicely, hugging what curves she had left and dropped in the back to show off her spine and shoulders. The design was pleasant enough, although nothing a noble would wear as the color was a fading emerald color that now looked more like dirty forest color.

Rita looked as good as she could, wanting to impress not only those who might look her way, or ask for assistance, but for the Prince. It was silly to have such affection toward the man, she knew very little about him, but found him extremely intriguing. Rita was foolish in many ways, this being one of them.

The time was up, and Rita made her way to the ball. Her feet still tucked in her working shoes, although barely noticeable over the layers of her dress that swept the floor. By the time she traveled through the castle, turning sharp corners and going down spiral staircases to take a back way, which no one would acknowledge her entrance through. It was a sudden rush of heat and noise. The party had truly begun when the king did his little show, laughter springing from their bellies, Rita had only caught part of it becoming lost in time and place.

The crowds did not faze her, and the way she usually looked for her Princess was subdued when she caught a glance of Prince William. He was mingling and looked as if he was enjoying himself, this made a stupid little smile flash on Rita's lips before she realized what she was doing. She was doing what every girl always did, there was no doubt that most girls in this kingdom swooned over The Crown Prince. Rita shook her head, her heart was something that was seemed to always get in the way of survival, she then presumed her duty, catching up with Princess Olivia.


"My lady." She said in a low voice, greeting her the way that she always did. And now she would listen closely, and watch like a hawk. This room was swirling with rumors and reputation killers, and yet they all seemed bright and happy.




Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 20 October 2010, 08:30:26 »
Edit post Quote Delete

He was a clever fox… Mason had to hand that much to him, at least.  Few people could get up in front of the world’s best and brag about having everything they could offer him and come off sounding like he was giving them a treat with just his presence.

Mason had been the employ of High King Lucien for several years now, and, while it wasn’t a pleasure cruise of any sort, at least he wasn’t one of the poor souls brought into the palace to entertain the snake before he was finally killed out of boredom.  No, Mason was lucky enough to be a legitimate servant, meaning that he received a salary and enjoyed a relatively stable lifestyle—as long as he remained servile and loyal to his master until the end of time.  After all, it was impossible to predict when Lucien would finally die.  He seemed to have not aged a day for years now.  For all Mason knew, the king would live forever.

What a frightening future it was going to be.

Mason’s father had, conveniently, been head of the history department at some prestigious university in America before nuclear war destroyed the world as they knew it.  Before anyone could make sense of what was happening amidst all the destruction and turmoil, Lucien had already risen from the ashes of the old world.  Mason didn’t know exactly what the devil’s special ability was, but he certainly didn’t buy the whole dreams thing.  Knowing what people dreamed about wasn’t enough to take the whole world in your hand and keep it there, though it was possible that it was enough to frighten them and discourage revolutionaries.  Walking through dreams was a new kind of thought police.

But the truly sad thing was that there was nothing anyone could do about it.  Lucien’s power was too strong to be opposed by anyone at that moment—not while the aristocracy was loyal to him and the lower class was too frightened out of the wits to even raised a finger against his tyranny.  Volkov senior had told his son how these kinds of political situations worked in the past.  The commoners simply weren’t riled up enough to rebel.  Besides, they wanted stability, and that was what Lucien could offer.  He could protect them, for a price.  They had to give up their freedom first.

And Mason?  Mason wasn’t stupid enough to go around trying to incite rebellion when the time wasn’t right.  The atmosphere wasn’t conducive to revolution at the moment, and anyone who didn’t see that was doomed to suicide.  It was pointless to resist and doing so would always result in death.  Perhaps not immediately, as demonstrated by Dieter Gatsby, but it would come eventually to all who dared stand against Lucien and his mob of supernatural lapdogs.

So in the meantime Mason would focus on surviving, as he had resigned himself to the fact that things weren’t likely to change anytime soon.  He would drive the king around in his fancy cars, fly him from place to place in his fancy planes and even help him cruise around the world in his fancy boats.  The mode of transport didn’t matter—Mason could do it all.  He was good with machines, and he loved the idea of travelling, of moving forward.  The king’s excessive wealth disgusted him, but he could overlook that knowing that he was getting some of it.  He was routinely better dressed than other servants, and he could almost pass for a nobleman that night.

If it hadn’t been for the tray of drinks he was carrying.

He couldn’t deny that his master had a certain way with words; the man was a manipulator by nature, and Mason had to respect that even though he loathed the tyranny of the whole thing.  One look at the guests’ faces told him that they had all failed to see through their wonderful king’s empty words and treacherous claims.  More than once, Mason had wondered if Lucien didn’t weave some kind of magic spell with that violin.  He really was something.

After pausing appropriately out of respect to his master, Mason resumed his rounds.  He offered champagne to aristocrat after aristocrat, all while smiling dutifully.  As soon as this party was over, he was going to drink whatever alcohol was left.



OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 20 October 2010, 17:08:02 »
Quote

My dear Count Marcellus!  It is indeed a pleasure to see you tonight.  Mark's heart raced at the words, the jeering voices in his head almost drowned out by the pounding in his ears.  Then she told him she was doing well and he wanted to say something like "That's good," or "I'm glad," but he couldn't because she went on to say that she was even better now that she was in his company.  The voices laughed, but his own happiness turned it into a joyful sound, rather than a mocking one as his heart surged up in his chest.  The others do bore me so.  She thought the others were boring.  But she didn't think he was!  That must mean she thought he was interesting!  Part of him felt ridiculous, like a man of his age shouldn't be hanging on the every word of a woman so much younger than himself - but it didn't seem like such a stretch now as it had a few years ago.  The voices, now chattering about his lack of conversation skills, charm, poise, or suaveness, reminded him that he had to say something.  He managed They are a bit dull, aren't they? before something happened to stop their conversation entirely - the king walked in.

With all the voices in his head chattering away, he didn't notice the sudden silence within the room, but he did notice everyone turning toward the stairs.  He did the same, turning to find, as he'd expected, the High King himself standing at the top of the steps, looking Marcellus's age, or even younger, in spite of the fact that he was actually much older.  The voices exploded into a fury of noise, their words tumbling over each other in a shrill tumult he could make no sense of at all.  As much as they hated him, they hated King Lucien more.  It was his orders, more often than anything, that had killed them.  It was his new world order that had crushed their old one.  It was his power that had overwhelmed them and their families.

Marcellus clapped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the noise as it drove him nearly to his knees.  It didn't work.  The shouting was all in his head, the roiling mass of hatred and anger chipping away at him like a solid, living thing trying to burst out of his head, cracking out like a bird from an egg to attack the King and his aristocrats and destroy them all.  But they couldn't, and Marcellus knew that.  They were dead.  They were powerless.  He found himself shaking, wishing he could run back to his closet of trophies and remind himself of the very deadness of them.  He wished he could drive a knife into his own head to kill the voices.  But he couldn't.  He would just kill himself.

As the King descended the stairs, Marcellus forced his hands down to his side, his eyes going unfocused with the pain and the stress of the voices screaming away.  He straightened his spine, standing stiffly at attention, because he knew anything less than the military position he'd trained his body to hold at all costs was sure to crumble.  Even so, he was panting with the effort of keeping up the image of a properly respectful courtier.  He himself respected and admired the King, both for his power and for his ability to make people like him until he turned on them.  But the voices didn't, and they were louder, much louder, than the voice of his own conscience.  Calm down.  Calm down.  Calm down. he whispered, softly but angrily, hoping that saying the words out loud would give them some kind of power against the tide of voices that swirled over his head, and that hearing his own voice with his real physical ears would help him keep the other voices under control.

He didn't hear a word of Lucien's speech.  He didn't hear a note of his song.  All he heard was the roar of voices that were his own personal hell to fight off.  But he kept on his feet, and he kept a smile - stiff, unnatural, and frozen, but a smile nonetheless - on his face.  He kept himself from leaping toward the king with the dagger in his boot, or from screaming himself.  He stayed the way he was supposed to be, glazed eyes turned toward the king as if he were rapt with attention.  And then it was over.  Applause rang out loudly, and he took the excuse to run to the nearest exit, a side door into a small hallway he assumed was some kind of back passageway for the servants.

Shaking, he collapsed to the floor, leaning against the wall in the near-darkness with his knees pulled tight to his chest as he rocked back and forth, the voices shouting and screaming and howling, but finally beginning to grow quieter in the darkness.  For a few moments, it was even worse.  As the voices separated from a merged noise to individual speakers, he was surrounded by stories of death and despair - all the awful things the king had done, and all the awful things he himself had done at the king's bidding.  The voices were bitter.  They were angry.  They were louder than they were sometimes, and they were intense.  But he could think again.  He breathed deeply in and out, regaining control.  He was ok now.  He'd go back in there, and he'd find a quiet corner where no more than a few people at a time were likely to come within his line of sight, and only a few of the voices would shriek while the rest kept to their usual quiet bitterness.  And sometimes they'd rile each other up and he'd have to leave again.  But as long as he could stay away from Lucien, or at least prepare himself before he saw him, he would be ok.  He hoped.  He prayed.



Quintessentially Old
Anonymous
Ministry of Magic
Charms Consultant

« 20 October 2010, 16:36:27 »
Quote

The party was picking up.

William had been going around making nice with the other nobility and aristocracy that had shown up to party. He even passed along words to the commoners that he floated past. He wasn't so separated from the goings on of the kingdom, as his father. He preferred to make himself well known and well liked, or so he hoped. Of course, his knack for reading and tweaking the emotions of a room was a rather fortunate tool. Even if things went sour, he could tweak the emotions for the rest of the conversation, at least. And who knew, their memory might just lie to them and leave them with the impression that he was a nice guy. After all, fear wasn't the only way to rule.

His eyes flitted past servants, dukes and counts, duchesses and countesses, his sisters and their handmaidens, and other familiar faces as he worked his way around, talking to all the right people in all of the right ways. It seemed to his eye that they were beginning to succumb to the party. Words flowed much more freely now that they had been there, and there were less inhibitions past the greeting stage of the conversations. It was, after all, court. And formalities had to be addressed. He pressed his way to a table manned by a servant or two. He gestured towards a bottle of wine, and soon thereafter a glass of the deepest red was in his hand.

Perfect timing too, his father had arrived. It surely meant a speech, or music. His father was one for the show, whether with words or with notes. A sip of wine passed his lips. Simply wonderful. Of course, only the best wine was served at the King's ball. Food like this was rare, even for the aristocracy.

William had the sense he was being watched. Well, that was well-founded. After being referenced by the King, even if it was your father, in a speech, it had the effect of having those near you turn their heads to spare a glance your way. His head inclined to his father, in acknowledgement, or at least recognition. Something of the sort. And his father's speech continued. His sisters. The idea that no one needed to give him a gift, after all, he was king.

And then he played.

Minutes later applause rang out through the crowd. Once again, the King had completely convinced the crowd of his sincerity. And had even given them the gift of beautiful music. William smiled to himself as he brought the glass of wine to his lips to finish what remained of it. Replacing the glass on the table William continued on his pathway through the crowd. The party had gone back into party-mode. No longer was the main focus the king, despite that it was his birthday. The party was back to what it was, a social event with tons of people all congregated into one place.

He stopped for a moment at various points during his movement, asking how this family was doing. Thanking these people for coming to his father's ball. It was like being a hostess, this nobility. It was a game of pleasing those that mattered, until you were the king. And when you were the king you still had to please them, you just did it underhandedly so that you made your own will seem to be theirs as well. It was a game, politics. A game.

His eyes roaming for the moment instead of his body (he had stopped for another drink); his eyes spotted Princess Olivia and Rita McAllister. Something flashed across his eyes for a moment, more than recognition. Some sort of interest. It was there. But it was well under control, seeing as he was, in fact, the Crown Prince, and she was, in fact, a commoner and his sister's maiden. The same look flitted across his fact at the sighting of Princess Eden and Arcadia Murray. But the same reasons for the suppression remained.

It wasn't proper, this... Well, whatever it was. It wasn't proper for an aristocrat to have the slightest interest beyond exploitation in a commoner. Of course, this thinking was rather contrary to what they were supposed to be doing. Helping them. Not exploiting. But here they sat, in veritable paradise while most of the commoners dreamt of being in the castle for such an event.

Well... That was another price of grandeur.

Separation.



Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 20 October 2010, 18:32:34 »
Quote

Olivia was reaching the conclusion that she could go back to the party now, when her handmaiden Rita showed up at her elbow, as if to confirm it.  My lady.  Olivia turned to look at her, face splitting into a genuine grin.  She and Rita couldn't be best friends.  Not the way Olivia wished they could.  Not with the master-servant relationship overwriting it.  Olivia was pretty sure that if she could see the line between them, it would be half the purple of friendship and half the gray of a logical, emotionless feudal relationship.  Dusky, sort of.  Like the purple mountains turned in the shadows, which was sometimes quite purple and sometimes not purple at all.  She liked to think Rita would have one like that toward her.  But then, she couldn't see them.  Maybe she was fooling herself.  Maybe it would just be a boring, flat old gray line like everyone else she didn't really know.

But those were depressing thoughts, and this was a party!  So Olivia went straight into the happiest thing she could think of.  A little light gossip.  Did you see Count Marcellus and Duchess Elaine?  They were totally talking earlier!  Ever since Olivia had discovered a few years ago that her sister had a crush on the man who skinned people, she'd been trying to find someone else for him to be with.  At the time, he didn't seem to know, himself, who he might like to be with, and feelings that hadn't developed yet weren't visible to her, except in very rare circumstances.  She herself had been able to figure it out easily, even without seeing the connections there.  He and Elaine were obviously meant for each other.  They were both so creepy!  It was like a matched set of voodoo dolls or something.  And now she could see that the infatuation lines between them that had been hinting at existence for a while were really, truly there.  And that made her feel smart.  And happy for them both, of course.

There were a few other gossip-worthy things going on around them too, but this was obviously the most important one to tell Rita about, who after all couldn't see the lines the way she could.  Olivia had been obsessed with that particular relationship for a while, and she and Rita had talked about it before.  Besides which, Olivia knew enough about court life the way it really was to force herself, most of the time, to ignore relationships and infatuations between the nobility and the servants, even though she herself was desperately in love with a valet.  So her sister's crush on the Count had been, for a while, the only relationship of note within her family at all.  She was glad to see that Eden's crush on him was fading, though it made her sad that her sister was displacing that feeling onto Dieter.  Dieter was awesome, but everyone knew Eden was perfect, and perfect princesses didn't marry servants no matter how much they wanted to or how awesome the servants were.

She was sure Dieter would be by here any minute to dance the first few songs with her, like he always did.  Sometimes, it was irritating, but mostly she knew he meant well.  It was sad to think that her sister couldn't be with someone who was so kind and clever and steady and responsible.  All the things her sister needed in a guy if he was ever going to live up to being with her.  And if Eden couldn't be with a guy like that, who everyone recognized as important in spite of his station, what chance did she really have if she wanted to be with a mere valet?  True, she'd only talked to him once, but she was just sure that Logan was perfect.  He was so tall and handsome and funny and charming!

But she was not going to mention that to Rita.  They might be friends, but Olivia didn't want Rita figuring out how awesome Logan was and stealing him away from her.  It was selfish, but it was the way she felt, and she didn't see anything wrong with that.  It was hard enough knowing she couldn't, or at least shouldn't, do anything about how she felt even without having to watch someone who could do it get there in her place.  Sometimes Olivia wished she weren't so special and didn't have any powers.  If she didn't know how so many people connected to each other, it wouldn't be so frustrating wondering how they connected to her, it would just be a normal thing to wonder.  And then if she didn't have powers, she probably wouldn't be a princess and then she could marry whomever she liked.  And she could talk to all kinds of people she wasn't supposed to talk to now.  She usually did it anyway, of course, but not when other people were around.  And that made her feel like a bad person, talking to someone only when there weren't any other aristocrats around.  But she couldn't help it.  She was lively and friendly and loved talking to people and was going to do so whenever she could.  She was also the princess.  She'd just have to make those two things fit into the same person.  She didn't have a choice.


« Last Edit: 02 December 2010, 22:17:02 »

Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 21 October 2010, 00:54:59 »
Quote

As the High King played his expert pavane, Deiter Gatsby handed his list off to one of the lesser servants he had under his command and slipped off to the castle kitchens. Anyone who dared arrive after King Lucien would be turned away, but if they were just too important then his replacement would know to direct them to a side staircase. No introduction, just go in and shut up. Don’t draw attention to yourself, we’re mad enough already.

The kitchens staff was obscenely busy- despite the fact that the elaborate banquet had preceded the ball by a few hours, they still had sweets and drinks and chocolates to crank out fresh and hot for the guests to enjoy. It was Deiter’s role as a majordomo to ensure that everything was going smoothly- the cake was going to be rolled out soon, the fondant wasn’t dented. Everything was well. That was good, that was fine. It was all fine. Which meant that he could go.

Deiter resurfaced on the ballroom floor just as Lucien was finishing his performance. The entire room erupted in applause as the king climbed down from the bandstand and joined their ranks- while his master mingled, Deiter scanned the room for four very, very important people. The first in his mind but last on his list was Eden- he was determined to keep an eye on her. It wasn’t so much that Lucien didn’t trust her not to do anything stupid, because he did, but the King always liked to have a full report of how his daughters comported themselves during the ball. William he had faith in, because he was always fine at these sorts of things (and how well he did his job, maintaining the emotion of the event with the exacting finger of a maestro conducting an orchestra), but the daughters were always a different story.

Eden was dangerous because she was so beautiful. Deiter had known that from the moment he was dragged into the King’s throne room seven years ago. He had been twenty-three and bloody and bruised and beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken, his face practically rearranged but the sight of the young princess had made him forget everything else but her face. His pain vanished, his hatred abetted in the face of her perfect countenance. And because she was young he had felt completely disgusted with himself but in the seven years that had passed since then she had grown into the exquisite creature he witnessed today; in looking at the hundreds of heads that turned wherever she moved, he didn’t feel quite so strange about admiring her anymore. He had seven years of repressed love and admiration pressing at the boundaries of his chest and tonight, amongst the glamour and the crystalline perfection of the ball he had planned, it felt like he could hardly do anything else but feel for her.

The only problem was that he had to. The way he ached for the perfect, cold princess had to take second place to his extant duties. Deiter had to find Olivia and guide her through the first dance as per Lucien’s edict. It was funny, he thought sometimes, that a man in his position could be teaching a Princess how to execute a proper galliard, but he was her dance master. It was just another one of those jobs that Lucien had commanded he perform. Learn how to dance, teach it to the children, and make sure they don’t mess up in front of everybody. He caught sight of Olivia’s purple dress in amongst the dimmer gowns and approached her gracefully. As if right on cue, the band in the center of the room began to strike up a lively tune.


“Princess Olivia, if I may?” He bowed to his master’s daughter in a playful obsequy. Deiter never felt as if he had to be very formal with Olivia. Out of all the royal children, she seemed to be the most down to earth (and that was saying something, considering the fact that she always had her head up in the clouds). She was affable and genial and rarely ever cruel like Eden. When Deiter was introduced into court life Olivia was a very small girl and he had watched her grow with all of the affection he could muster for a man in his situation. A part of him wondered what would happen if, perhaps, Olivia could have been her sister’s age and Eden the younger. A very, very small part.

“Remember to keep your arms straight, and to spot the wall on the turns so you don’t fall over. You’ll be brilliant,” he whispered in her ear as he gestured out towards the dance floor. He looked at the young princess and noticed, not for the first time, the lost expression she tended to adopt when surrounded by the assembled court. It had to be difficult for her, standing in her sister’s shadow, least favored by her father, only just old enough to start being noticed by people as a legitimate component of the court. Her expression made him want to say something to reassure her. “You’re beautiful. Tonight. By the way.” And he made to lead her out onto the floor.

Oh, right. The other two people Deiter was supposed to keep an eye out for. The Duchess Elaine and Count Marcellus. Elaine wasn’t necessarily a court regular but the King had received some interesting news regarding her rumored ability to regenerate her wounds. Deiter was meant to ensure that she didn’t leave early, that she remained in the palace at least for the next morning’s hunt. Marcellus was…well. Deiter always had to watch Marcellus. Despite his inconsistencies, Lucien afforded the violent young Count a large amount of trust. He was a powerful, dangerous creature and Lucien usually preferred to keep things like that close to him. Preferably on a leash, but Lucien allowed Mark to operate solitarily to keep him occupied. Tonight, Marcellus was an obstacle. He stood in the way of Lucien’s little operation tonight. As Deiter assumed his position on the dance floor, he made a quick swipe at his breast pocket to make sure that the dirk he kept bound in safety wrappers was still there. By the end of the night that knife was going to be sticking out of somebody’s back.

Good thing it wasn’t the end of the night yet.





« Last Edit: 21 October 2010, 08:09:15 »


just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 21 October 2010, 08:51:07 »
Quote

The band started playing again, loudly, before Rita could answer, and the dancing started up on the other side of the floor.  As if on cue, Dieter was beside her, appearing as if out of nowhere in that way he had.  Dieter could simply melt away and reappear somewhere else, and Olivia had no idea how he did it, but she wished she could figure it out so she could do it too.  Imagine the things she could hear that way!  Hair flopping a little, he bowed to her in that oddly jokey way they had between them, and she responded with the most dignified curtsy she could muster, her nose way in the air like she'd thought it should be when she was small, not the way it was really properly done.  That was another thing they had between them.

Taking his hand, Olivia let him lead her out on to the dance floor.  She knew from experience that if she led, even in so small a decision as where to stand, she and her partner were sure to end up too close to another couple and step on them.  It didn't always stop her, but with Dieter . . . well, she just didn't want to screw up.  Remember to keep your arms straight, and to spot the wall on the turns so you don’t fall over.  You’ll be brilliant.  She rolled her eyes.  You're beautiful.  Tonight.  By the way.  She grinned brightly.  Thanks!  Dieter didn't say things like that unless he meant them.  At least, she didn't think he did.  Sure, he probably lied sometimes, he had to to stay alive with her dad so mad at him all the time.  (As if she'd let her dad kill him now!)  But she liked to think he didn't lie to her.  After all, she'd told him all kinds of things she'd never told anyone else.  Like that she'd been the one who broke her mother's fancy vase, rather than one of the servants, or that she'd snuck out with the car and tried to drive it, but she couldn't get it out of the driveway without stalling, or that she'd made a new friend of the lower class that she shouldn't have been talking to at all.

As Dieter led her through the first few steps of the dance, Olivia started rambling again.  She'd always hated all the rules of fancy court dancing.  Step with this foot on this beat.  Twirl for this long.  Come back to your partner this way.  Don't go where your lead's arm doesn't take you.  If she didn't talk, she'd just get bored.  You know Dieter, I'm not 12 anymore.  I have been to a ball before.  She still remembered her first ball, when she'd been so scared of all the strangers surrounding her, terrified that they wouldn't like her or that she'd mess up and step on someone very important on the dance floor, or that she'd spill punch on the lady who lit people on fire, or a thousand other things.  She'd been holding onto Dieter so tightly in the first few dances that she'd hardly been able to dance at all, and she was pretty sure she'd seen him shaking out his fingers afterward, like she'd crushed his hands.  In her classes with him the next day, though, he'd said she'd done just fine for someone at her first ever ball.

Olivia had learned lots of things from Dieter.  As her father's factotum, he was basically a jack-of-all-trades, and anything that needed to be done usually fell on him.  As one of the people here in the castle to be punished, a lot of what he had to do was the stuff no one else wanted to.  And getting Olivia to sit down, shut up, and learn something was one of those things.  She'd had at least 5 different tutors in nearly every subject she was supposed to learn, but they inevitably left because she was "wild" or "incorrigible" or "unteachable."  But Dieter, her perpetual substitute, was a better teacher anyway.  He wasn't like those other teachers who thought they were so smart just because they had degrees or spoke Latin or were older than her.  Dieter did think he was smart, of course, but that was only because Dieter was smart.  Brilliant, actually.  Olivia wished she knew what had happened to him, how her dad had stopped his revolution when, as far as she could tell, Dieter could do anything.  But then she remembered the crushed bodies of her dad's enemies, so often not shielded from her young eyes as they served as examples to everyone else, and she decided she didn't want to know.  The story had ended badly and she didn't want to have to hear the part where bad things happened to Dieter, because she didn't want bad things to happen to Dieter ever.

Sometimes, the thought that her dad might kill her favorite teacher and confidant kept her awake at night, but Olivia knew exactly what she was going to do if it ever came to that.  She was going to stop it.  And that was all there was to it.  She didn't know if her dad loved her or not, but she did know that he couldn't afford to kill his own daughter over a servant, not even a high-ranking, high-profile one like Dieter Gatsby.  It would make him look like he wasn't in control.  So she would beg and plead and cry and mope and whine and, most of all, threaten not to ever learn anything ever again without him, or ever behave herself at all, even a little.  And her dad would take her at her word, because he'd figured out ages ago that mostly she only learned things when Dieter was teaching them anyway.  Except music.  She'd managed mostly to keep music tutors around because as much as she liked to make up her own songs instead of playing the ones written out for her, improv in music wasn't nearly as bad as making things up as she went along in subjects like math, and once she'd realized that sometimes the written music could be prettier than anything she could make up anyhow, it was only her scales and arpeggios and other boring warmups and exercises that caused contention.

But the point was, that she was getting a little old to be holding her dance master's hand all the time.  Math was still. . . well, it was math, and she wasn't very good at it, and she was pretty sure if she was ever queen, which she wouldn't be because she was the youngest, she would just make Dieter do all her math for her anyway.  And probably plenty of other stuff too.  But dancing?  Dancing she felt like she could do, even if she did like her own steps better than the real ones and wish she could make things up on the fly.  And anyway, I'm a great dancer, she continued.  I'm probably better than you.  I mean, you're not even an aristocrat.  But then she stepped on his foot, blushed like a fire engine, and decided she was glad it was Dieter she was dancing with after all.


« Last Edit: 02 December 2010, 22:17:17 »

Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 21 October 2010, 13:02:58 »
Quote

Just as Marcellus began to reply, a sudden hush fell over the crowd and Elaine’s heart leapt, knowing precisely what the silence meant, even before she turned towards the grand stairwell. She felt a chill running through her veins at the very sight of King Lucien standing at the very top of the stairs, towering above the entire crowd. Even if she had wanted to, she would not be able to draw her eyes away from him – he was so utterly captivating that nothing else could even begin to tempt her attention away.

She barely even noticed Marcellus’ movement behind her, but she could not divide her focus even minutely to consider him at that moment. Marcellus was intriguing and fierce, but he would always be second to her. The king was everything that Marcellus was and so much more. The man exuded strength and nobility from every fiber of his being. Standing there amongst the crowd, looking up at the king, she could not help but feel like a small child as she gazed up at the most powerful man in the world.

He stood before hundreds and hundreds of people, most of whom had powers that would frighten any normal mortal and certainly had Elaine extremely worried for her own well-being. And by any right, he should have much more to be concerned about than she did. After all, the worst that could really be said about Elaine was that she was fairly unsociable and perhaps rather depressing at times. But she had never killed anyone or done much of anything to make anyone terribly angry at her. That didn’t stop her own paranoia, of course, but the point was that the king had done things to make people angry.

He was responsible for more deaths than anyone would ever dare to begin to calculate. The number of men and women killed at his command or even at his hand was surely higher than she could imagine. Commoners and aristocrats alike had fallen because they had spoken against the king or acted against him or simply because he was displeased at the time. And every one of those dead must have relatives and friends who would be out for revenge if this had been any other man.

Yet despite all that, he stood there with no guards, no armor, no defense except his reputation. Anyone who dared could have snuck in a gun and fired at him just now, or rigged a bomb on the staircase, or any number of other possible assassination attempts. But no one dared. And no one would ever dare, Elaine was sure. King Lucien was untouchable. He was all-powerful. Among the throngs of aristocrats with their own abilities, it was the king who was in control of all of them. His word was instantaneous law, and no one hesitated before acting to do his will. It might be Elaine that had powers of healing, but it was King Lucien who seemed to be invincible.

It was impossible for Elaine not to be awed, even if that had been all there had been to say about the king. But there was more. It wasn’t just power and politics that made the man appealing. Elaine knew that King Lucien must be at least twenty years her senior. After all, he had been one of the leaders in the war, though she had been only a small child at the time. But none of that age was reflected by his body. He was completely physically fit, not a single flaw to his form. He moved with all the grace of a young man, without even the slightest hint of hesitation as he slowly began to descend the stairs. And his face was impossibly handsome. No artist could create a portrait more striking than the visage of the king. Elaine couldn’t help but long to be near the man.

That was more than enough to justify the way that Elaine’s heart was beating madly within her chest, the way her pulse had quickened and she felt that she could barely breathe beneath the weight of her desire. With a man like that, she would have nothing to worry about. No one even considered threatening the king. After all, a man who could see your dreams would know your intentions long before you even started to put them into motion. He was completely and utterly safe, protected simply by being himself.

And any Lady that he chose would be protected as well. At Lucien’s side, she would never have a single fear or worry. Her only concern would be pleasing him, and that was a task she would undertake with nothing but joy. Elaine would make an exquisite queen. She was, after all, beautiful, for one thing, and that was one of the few things that truly mattered to the aristocrats as far as their lady was concerned. The king protected the people and made sure that they lived as prosperously as possible. His queen’s only task was to be at his side and to impress the subjects.

Unfortunately, Lucien already had a queen. The woman was dull and self-centered and frivolous, in Elaine’s personal opinion, but she was, in fact, the queen. Still, that didn’t mean that Elaine didn’t have a chance. If Lucien wanted it to happen, there would be a way for Elaine to replace the woman. Or she could just be his mistress. As much as that thought shouldn’t appeal to her, as long as she was close enough to be under Lucien’s protection and to be able to be near him, she really didn’t care what title went along with it. She would feel safe and utterly happy for the first time since she was a child, and that was all that she really cared about.

Elaine continued watching, completely awed, as Lucien continued to the base of the stairs, his deep voice filling the silent hall effortlessly, the sweet, low tones causing her heart to flutter again. She didn’t even feel foolish for feeling like a love-struck teenager. In this case, it was worth it. Even more so once he began to play the violin. The man was perfect in every way. As if his strength and power and handsome features weren’t enough, he was a musical genius as well. What more could she possibly ask for? She just had to find a way to make him want her as well. Marcellus was completely forgotten now. Her focus now was finding a way to draw the king’s favor by the end of the night.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 23 October 2010, 11:08:53 »
Edit post Quote Delete

That was the kind of perfection that Eden was striving for.

Out of the king’s three children, Eden was probably the one who took after him the most.  His control, confidence, grace and chilling air of regal superiority were all qualities that she herself possessed, though she painfully knew that she still had a lot of progress to make before she would deign to compare herself to her father in anything more public than the privacy of her mind.  She wanted him to love her, and she wouldn’t accomplish that goal without being humble where he was concerned.

Conversely, she had to work on projecting an image of herself as something so divinely high and unreachable that the aristocracy and the common people would believe that she truly was a superior being.  From the looks on their faces when their attention was directed completely at her father, it was safe to assume that they already believed that their king was some kind of god.  It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to believe that the daughter of this god was a divine entity herself.

But not even Eden dared to look away from her father when he made his grand appearance.  His speech was flawless and compelling, and the song he played on the Stradivarius was impeccable and hypnotic.  The elder princess was perhaps even more under his spell than some of the lesser aristocrats and the peasants.  Everything she did revolved around pleasing him, impressing him.  She needed to be perfect to win his attention, and she hoped that, if she could maintain her perfect for long enough, she would thereby win the love of her father. 

It was said that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, and that was the name of Eden’s game.  She had to be charming, but aloof and off limits.  She had to be beloved by the people, but also dangerously mysterious.  She had to be beautiful and elegant enough to seem like a supernatural being, but she also had to be their princess.  Between her constant drive for perfection and her predisposition for mental instability, was it any wonder that her cool and composed exterior was only a mask beneath which a pot of boiling insanity was threatening to overflow.

Eden, however, was in control of herself for the moment, and it had been several months since her last incident.  The incidents themselves were, naturally, kept secret.  The only reason her handmaiden Arcadia knew was because Eden had a penchant for abusing the wretch when things got bad, and the only reason her brother William knew was because he was good with calming people down and Eden had given instruction that he be sent for when she started to slip.  She didn’t think that her father knew—she hoped that he didn’t—but she had no way of knowing for certain.  Even though she could detect lies, she couldn’t just ask him.  Plus, High King Lucien knew many things he wasn’t supposed to know.

When her father concluded his show, Eden found herself once again in the company of one of her boring suitors… boring meaning that she could read him like an open book.  She knew when he was lying, and he was predisposed to tell the boring truth anyway since her special ability wasn’t a secret.  Yet, Eden played her role well and accepted with a kind of detached enthusiasm when the band began to play and he (predictably) asked her to dance.  She couldn’t help noticing his lack of grace and poise, and she was grateful that it probably wouldn’t be long before some other hopeful asked to cut in.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 23 October 2010, 11:48:06 »
Quote

Lucien had always known that he was not built according to the specifications of the standard model. Even before he discovered his ability to create and intercept the darkest and most mysterious recesses of the human mind, there was an acute awareness of this something-different that had defined him since birth. The concepts that most people define their lives by- love, friendship, pleasure, anguish, depression, joy- none of them had ever registered, not for a single, thieving moment, in his world. He looked out into the destruction of the nuclear war and felt as blank as a sheaf of white paper. His parents had succumbed to radiation poisoning, his extended family melted from the bones outward right in front of him and he didn’t blink an eye. If anything, he had been annoyed at the global reaction to the war. People were dying- that’s all right. That’s what people do. It wasn’t a big deal.

People mistook his coldness for bravery. Standing out in the ruins of the world with nary a falter in his step. The strongest, the most courageous man in the world survived the catastrophe; who else should lead them? And in his logic Lucien had led them. He had restored the planet according to what had made sense to him. The hierarchies and systems cleverly designed by the stony logic of a high-functioning sociopath. He made the world in his own image, cold and logical, with no room for the emotional frivolities that had destroyed humanity’s last failed attempt at order. Those who insisted on harboring the emotional ideals of freedom and righteousness had no place here anymore.

And that line of thinking had landed him here. At a ball celebrating a day that wasn’t even his real birthday. With people he called friends but cared nothing for and imbeciles who were stupid enough to consider him their enemy and too cowardly to do anything about it. He caught sight of his eldest daughter, Eden, as she was asked to dance by a noble of lower blood and rank. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. While he could not love, his narcissism allowed Lucien to view all of his progeny as direct extensions of himself. All three encapsulated something he valued about his own personage- William was charming and powerful, he could suppress his emotions and manipulate those of others. A useful skill. Eden was his image. Glacial, beautiful, untouchable and at every moment aware that all eyes were on her. She had a very solid grip on what it took to be a public figure, something he was sure she had learned from emulating his example. And then there was Olivia. Imperfect, clumsy, impossible Olivia. Lucien was very much aware that she was the only one of his children who was liable to do anything stupid enough to damage his power, but he also knew that she played an important role in court life. She humanized the royal family. She was the dissident, the unpredictable (yet entirely controlled) force that brought the entire operation back down to earth. His element of surprise, the part of the king that knew that in order to keep the hearts of his people in the palm of his hand, he sometimes had to do something completely unexpected, like break out a violin and play at his own birthday ball.

Lucien was greeting all of the nobles who had the gall to approach him, shaking their hands and basking in their well-wishes like a cat lying out in the sun. It wasn’t so much that it pleased him to know that these people were under his spell as much as it reassured him that he was doing the right thing. Of course, his custom of shaking nobles by the hand instead of insisting on a bow served a different purpose. He was recording their psychological imprints, absorbing just a tiny amount of their psychic energy to store in case he had to use it against them later. His brain was a virtual library of energy imprints- hundreds upon hundreds of potential candidates for the Harvest kept away until he needed to recall them and slip into their dreams. When he finally finished getting through all of the important people he had to touch, a flash of red caught his eye. The only red gown in the ballroom. Without seeing her face, Lucien knew that he had just witnessed the vision that was
Duchess Elaine.

Lucien had Deiter to thank for the degree of certainty to which he could verify his conclusion. His factotum had arranged for the women in the House of Rautha to send him word when the Duchess had chosen her gown for the upcoming ball and had taken measures to ensure that nobody else wore the same color. Lucien wasn’t even sure if Elaine had noticed that she was the only one at the ball wearing red, but it didn’t escape his notice. Not at all. One might wonder why the King would bother going to such great measures to ensure that he could pick out the Duchess from afar, and the answer was simple. He was, although he didn’t quite look it, getting on in years. His eyesight, once absolutely celeritous, was falling prey to the mutinous cataract. Of course he couldn’t wear glasses at a ball, so he had gone without his spectacles for the duration of the evening and had devised the trick with the gown to ensure that he would not miss the Duchess due to his own bodily failings.

He didn’t dare approach her; instead he wound his way through the crowd in such a way that an interception of their paths was unavoidable. When she finally caught up to him, he feigned surprise.


“Well, aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 23 October 2010, 16:17:52 »
Quote

Beauty, charm, elegance, confidence. Swirling gowns, romantic dances, eager suitors, joyful music. The hall was filled with all the wonders of this world. The women were gorgeous, then men were handsome, the atmosphere was electric. Everything about the place gave an air of perfection that seemed nigh impossible. All the invited guests seemed so wonderfully happy.

Arcadia smiled faintly as she gazed out over the crowd. She couldn’t deny that she loved such events. The beauty and majesty of it all seemed almost too much to be real. As she watched, the scene became the embodiment of events in the books she had read. Balls held in fantastic castles came to life right before her eyes, dances that words could not fully describe were performed the whole night long, the romance that the characters always found was all around her.

And at the center of it all, Princess Eden stood out like an angel putting even the most stunning guests to shame with her radiance. The light reflected off of the diamonds on her gown and around her neck, making her appear to truly give off a light of her own. Every man that laid eyes on her was instantly stricken, though only a few seemed able to work up the courage to act on their adoration and ask the Princess to dance.

Arcadia sighed softly as she thought of how easily her mistress was able to turn away so many men, when Arcadia knew that she herself would never receive a second glance from any of them. What else could be expected, though? Eden was, to all those in attendance, absolutely perfect. Arcadia was one of the few who knew that such perfection could fade away at times when she was out of the public’s eye.

She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of what was to come that night. It had been months since the Princess had lost control, but this was exactly the sort of event that always triggered her most difficult outbursts. Arcadia knew that the occasional fits of rage were the price of her apparent perfection. Eden put all her efforts into making sure that she never made even the slightest misstep, and it put a great strain on the young woman.

The only way she seemed to be able to deal with that stress was to lash out, and Arcadia was the outlet for the Princess’ built-up emotions. Her job was to help the Princess at all times, in whatever way possible, and taking the brunt of Eden’s rage was a part of that. Tonight would be painful and miserable, but it was necessary. The way that the Princess was right now, so wondrous and so beautiful, would not be possible without a release for her suppressed feelings.

That would all come later, though. For now, there was no need to think of such things. There was no avoiding what would happen at the ball, and it was best to simply be happy as long as the celebration was still going on. She looked back out over the crowd, trying to stop herself from imagining how she would look in a dress like what the noblewomen were wearing. But for a moment, she couldn’t help but picture herself with no scars, her hair pulled up in elegant curls, a jewel-covered skirt swirling out as she spun on the dance floor in the arms of a handsome young man. She knew it could never be, but the idea of it still shone in her mind. If only things were different...

But they were not different and never would be. She forced herself to push away such fantasies and focus on the events at hand. That task was made much easier by the sudden appearance of the most powerful aristocrat of all those assembled. King Lucien. Humbly, Arcadia instantly bowed her head, staring at the ground as the King descended the stairs and spoke to his guests. She didn’t dare look up again until the king had finished his performance and stepped down to join the crowd.

When she did again look up, the first face she saw was that of a handsome young man, but not one of the nobles. She smiled slightly at the sight of Mason Volkov, a fellow employee of the royal family. Since Mason’s arrival at the palace, Arcadia had enjoyed the rare occasions when she was able to speak with him, as brief as such encounters usually were. She considered him a friend and she wished she was able to spend more time with him.

But then, she supposed, she wished she had more time to do anything that wasn’t a part of her duties. The fact remained, however, that she was bound to her mistress – her own needs and desires were subservient to the will of the Princess. Mason, too, was restricted by his work, so the chances of develop their relationship to anything more than a few words exchanged every once in a while were slim to none. Suppressing a sigh, she turned her gaze away from him, looking to Princess Eden once more to be certain that the Princess didn’t need anything from her at the moment.


« Last Edit: 17 March 2011, 10:18:51 »


Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 23 October 2010, 19:40:27 »
Quote

As much as she wanted to simply rush up to speak to the King, that wasn’t how things worked. Elaine couldn’t make a fool of herself by throwing herself at him – she had to be a bit more subtle than that. And so she remained among the crowd, moving as calmly as was possible when one was surrounded by hundreds of possible killers. She hated feeling as though every breath could be her last, hated not knowing. That was why it was so important to her to be near the king. If she was certain of her immortality, he would be nothing more than an impressive leader to her, rather than the necessity that she now felt he was.

She forced herself to keep up a smile, stopping for the conversations that were required to seem polite. At one point, she even had to accept the request of a dance from a renouned Duke. She could barely even concentrate on the music, for the moment he placed one hand on her back and took her hand in the other, she could think of nothing but the many different ways in which either or both of them could be killed – a chandelier falling, the man stabbing a poison-filled dart through her skin or even simply reaching up and snapping her neck, for he was large enough to do so.

But the dance finally ended and, though she was no less worried about potential dangers as she continued slowly through the crowd, they were at least different and less likely fears now that she was out of the man’s grasp. As she finished a conversation with a particularly obnoxious countess, she glanced up to check her progress and was pleased to see that she was now much closer to the King. Luckily, by some strange fortune, his route seemed to be bringing him closer to her as she worked her way in his direction.

She felt a surge of frustration as a young lord requested a dance, but he was of a low enough rank that she could afford to refuse him, using the excuse that she was feeling faint and needed to find something to eat. He looked disappointed, of course, but even if she wasn’t trying to reach King Lucien at that moment, she would have ignored the lord anyhow – he was clearly younger than she was, and she was only interested in more mature men.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes as the young man sulked away, she turned, gasping slightly as she suddenly found herself face to face with King Lucien himself. Well, aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday? She managed to keep her composure, smiling genteelly as she replied. Of course, my lord King. She sank into an elegant curtsy, for even if it wasn’t required, showing her respect in such a way while others did not ought to make her stand out in his mind. And it couldn’t hurt for him to have an extra moment just to look at her as she bowed.

With the utmost sincerity, I wish you a splendid birthday, King Lucien. She stood again, hoping desperately that he would not simply pass by when she finished speaking. You have given us all so much. I do hope you are able to take as much joy from this night as I am. And she did mean that. King Lucien was highly respected by all, and Elaine would have wished him happiness even without the added feelings of adoration she felt towards him.

She realized, as she spoke that her worries had already left her. Just being near the King was enough to drive away her paranoia, as she had known it would. Nothing could happen to her while she was with the King. Now, she simply felt happy to be at the ball, and the crowds of people were nothing more than fellow nobles, no longer lethal threats. It was this peace that she wanted more than anything. This was why she so longed to claim the King’s attention.


« Last Edit: 24 October 2010, 15:02:24 »


Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 26 October 2010, 07:59:18 »
Edit post Quote Delete

“She does look absolutely stunning tonight, doesn’t she?” Mason asked, appearing behind Arcadia Murray, Princess Eden’s maidservant, without much fanfare or warning.  “How long did her hair take?  And that dress… how many families could be fed with the money if it were sold?” 

Having recently given away the last glass of champagne on his tray, the chauffeur-turned-waiter had caught sight of Arcadia, with whom he had always been friendly.  He didn’t have a habit of sneaking up on people persay, but it wasn’t very difficult to sneak up on someone at a ball.  People were chatting constantly, and the music was even louder than the dull roar of endless conversation.  Mason’s naturally soft footfalls were lost in the din, just as anyone’s footsteps would have disappeared beneath the levels and levels of distracting noise.

He had followed Arcadia’s gaze quite predictably to her mistress: the Princess Eden, the elder daughter of his own master, High King Lucien.  No sane man could ever deny that Eden was beautiful.  It was a fact, not an opinion.  She knew exactly how to enhance her already pleasing physical features, and the effect on the typical male population was obvious.  Not even Mason, who was completely disillusioned about the allure of royalty, could honestly say that he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t fall under Eden’s spell if she randomly decided to pay attention to him.

So it was probably a good thing that that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.  The last thing Mason wanted was to get involved with a girl like Eden.  Olivia on the other hand…

Olivia wasn’t quite like her sister.  It was true that she didn’t have the same raw kind of appeal that Eden did, but Olivia was attractive in her own right.  She always seemed so warm and personable… much more approachable and friendly than her poised and almost icy sister.  The younger princess seemed to be immune to the corrupting power of wealth and influence.  Had it been acceptable for a waiter to dance with a princess, Mason wouldn’t have hesitated in asking for a dance with Olivia.  However, that was not the case, so Mason wouldn’t dwell on the fact.

Then there was Arcadia, the somewhat mousy handmaiden to Princess Eden.  In Mason’s opinion, she wasn’t as pretty as either one of the princesses, but she was certainly not hard on the eyes.  Arcadia was quiet and a bit of wallflower, which made her the ideal servant in the eyes of the current regime.  She could easily fade into the background at events such as this, and she certainly couldn’t even hope to outshine her lovely mistress.  Mason suspected that Arcadia wasn’t very happy… he didn’t know what it was, but she always seemed… sad.

Of course, the idea that Princess Eden, the perfect, ideal princess, could be prone to the violent fits that Arcadia was worried about at present.  The idea of such a thing was inconceivable.


“It’s shameful, don’t you agree?” he asked, returning his attention to the sparkling diamonds of Eden’s gown.



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 31 October 2010, 12:02:27 »
Quote

The sudden voice startled Arcadia, causing her to turn rather quickly to see who had appeared behind her. She was quickly calmed, however, to see that it was Mason at her side. Automatically, her fingers moved to play with the ends of her hair, tugging to make sure that the long locks covered the worst of the burn on her cheek. It wasn’t like she thought Mason didn’t know about her burns – it wasn’t really something that could be missed – but it was simply habit for her to try to minimize the amount of disfigured skin that was visible.

But Mason wasn’t addressing her appearance anyhow. His attention was on Eden, as was that of almost every man in the ballroom. That was the point, of course – it wasn’t by accident that eyes were drawn to her mistress. She does look absolutely stunning tonight, doesn’t she? Arcadia nodded. She always does... Any time Eden was seen by anyone, she made sure that she was absolutely perfect. It was simply how she was. And, with all the power that the Princess had, Arcadia supposed, she deserved it.

How long did her hair take? She gave a slight smile, for this was something she could take a bit of pride in. An hour, perhaps a bit more... And that didn’t count the time to wash the Princess’ hair with the fancy shampoos and conditioners or to set it curlers and the rest of the prep work. Of course, Eden would look gorgeous even with her hair down, but the young handmaiden did have a bit of a natural talent in being able to arrange her mistress’ hair just right.

She had faint memories of playing with her mother’s hair when she was very young, and when she first came to the palace, she had often spent time with other young maids twisting their hair into elegant knots and braids just for fun. She had never had any formal training, but her thin, dexterous fingers were always able to hold curls in the perfect position and slip pins into exactly the right place to achieve the desired look. And tonight, she was particularly pleased with the outcome.

When Mason spoke again, however, he didn’t sound quite as impressed with the Princess. And that dress... How many families could be fed with the money if it were sold? She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how to respond to that. In truth, she had been thinking rather the same thing when she’d been writing in her journal earlier. But she could never admit such a thing out loud. It was true that the gown was worth more than some villages made in a year, and that the money could be a life-saving blessing to many throughout the land.

At the same time, however, she would never speak a word against the Royal Family, or any of the aristocracy, really. Besides, she always had to find the good in what the Princess did. Because if she said anything in Eden’s presence that was contrary to her true feelings, the Princess would know. Arcadia could not lie in front of her mistress, and so she had to find ways to accept the situations and to justify any faults that could be claimed against her actions.

In the case of the dress, though, she didn’t actually find it all that hard to excuse. Eden had always been the real-life personification of the characters Arcadia read about in the dusty old books of the library. In those stories, a beautiful young girl could suddenly be presented with a magnificent gown by a fairy godmother or by some other magic. Eden was the perfect picture of such beauty, and though magic and fairies weren’t real, the princess’ gown was still exactly what would have been provided in those stories. And just like the young heroine always deserved the attention that was drawn by their new appearance, so too did Eden deserve the laud that was bestowed upon her at these events.

It’s shameful, don’t you agree? What? Shame was that last thing that Arcadia thought could be applied to the Princess. And even if it could, to say such a thing out in the open like this was an incredibly dangerous thing to do. Arcadia looked around quickly, making sure that no one was near enough to hear. Not that anyone would have been paying attention to two servants, but she was still concerned. No. No, it’s... it’s just how things are, Mason.

She knew that Mason had always been a bit more on the skeptical side, but she was just surprised that he would make such a bold statement. To criticize the Royal Family in any way was dangerous, even if you didn’t work for them. And, anyhow, she didn’t agree with him. How could the two of them, simple peasants, cast doubts upon the mighty aristocracy, with all their might and their special powers? Their world had an order to it, and that order was that the mortals were subservient to those with advanced abilities – it was simply the way things were, she couldn’t imagine that that would ever change.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 02 November 2010, 13:17:02 »
Quote

King Lucien smiled when he heard the Duchess’s rehearsed speech wishing him everything she thought a King would want to be wished on his birthday. He didn’t need his youngest daughter’s power to induce Elaine’s feelings from her behavior.

Head tilted at a twenty-seven degree angle, sharp intake of breath at first sight and signs of a flush forced away from her cheeks. Speech is stilted but the smile is genuine; she’s nervous but has the confidence and conviction to make her ends arrive. She’s beautiful, which means that she may be susceptible to vanity or is tired of being appreciated for her physical appearance. Correct method of approach in keeping with necessary social codifications and adjusted for status:

When Elaine finished speaking he returned the favor of her kindness with a smile of his own. “Thank you, Elaine,” and the first name was used with no low expectation of how its effect may be perceived, “but my night could not be anything but joyful. Still, I take your wishes to heart.” With that, Lucien scooped Elaine’s hand and kissed it gently; a gesture of favor that was just rare enough to make the recipient feel singled out and orthodox enough not to merit suspicion of favoritism. Despite his looks and charm, Lucien did not have the reputation for taking advantage of his…advantages. Where some kings would keep mistresses or bestow favors on the women he found most beautiful, Lucien maintained a passive stance on all things female in his court. This passivity was born out of his natural state, the coldness of which included a complete lack of anything closely resembling a libido. Of course he had managed to have three children with his wife because genetically speaking, heirs are a necessary part of any lineage system, but the steamier recesses of the human condition eluded him in their entirety.

His fingertips gathered gently under Elaine’s and he brought her hand to his mouth, all the while maintaining what appeared to be eye contact with the stunning duchess. While she was distracted, he collected her subconscious imprint and stored it in his mind for later. It wouldn’t do to seduce the duchess like a common Casanova. No, he’d keep his composure now, leave her alone for the rest of the night, and come back to visit her while she slumbered. In the two seconds it took for him to complete the kiss, he had all of the information he needed and had sent a signal to his factotum; he locked eyes with Deiter, who was still correcting Olivia’s posture on the dance floor, and nodded slightly. I’ve done my part; the rest is up to you. Kill her.

Lucien returned Elaine’s hand and looked out onto the whirlwind of color and music that was his party. “I hope you enjoy the ball, Duchess,” was all he said before disappearing back into the crowd. Being King was bloody exhausting. All of the people he had to control, spending every waking moment in the spotlight, making decisions, and making it seem like having the entire globe in the palm of his hand was easy. Every waking moment spent watched, and ever sleeping moment spent chasing people through the darkest recesses of their dreams, never really giving his mind a rest. Seducing women, killing men, vice versa, manipulating,  playing symbolic games of chess, leaving people wondering why the Voice of God in their heads had an English accent…there had been a time when it had took its toll on him. Lucien would fall asleep every night and fear that when he woke up he’d find a grey hair, a wrinkled face, something that would diminish his ability to do his job and forever remain in the public eye. It was a creeping terror, an all-encompassing fear that echoed around in his empty chest- it had to be remedied.

It was around that time that a noble with the ability to maintain his youth showed up in court. A man from the Former Egypt who had been alive for two hundred years, with skin and hair and flesh that never aged. His power was in his body, and it had taken Lucien five years of research and experimentation to figure out how to separate and duplicate the essence that gave him the power to stay young. He had succeeded, and while the procedure hadn’t killed the Egyptian, Lucien had done away with him to ensure that his secret would never be revealed. His dual powers- one of the mind, one of the body, were enough to keep him looking well and healthy for centuries.

Of course, looking well and being well were two different things. Lucien felt himself aging- his body responded badly to minor injuries, his joints were swollen, his eyesight slowly going. He needed a new power, something that could rejuvenate his blood, make him heal faster so he could fix all of the things that were going wrong inside. Then he would be perfect and perhaps immortal. The King of Kings, untouchable and literally un-harmable. Ever handsome, ever useful, ever living…it was a dream beyond anything anyone had dared to think about. And it may have been possible with Elaine. Lucien had been searching for someone with the power to heal and was delighted to hear that one of his young Duchesses was blessed with the ability he desired. Young women were easy; they were so susceptible to his persuasions, especially power-hungry harpies like Elaine of Rautha. He needed to test his theories about her power, though, before deeming her useful.

That’s where Deiter came in. He’d given his factotum instructions to get Elaine away from the party at some point in the night and to drive a dirk into her neck. If she survived, then Lucien would proceed to extract her power and keep her close to him to ensure she stayed quiet (if killing her was impossible then chaining her to his side with her silly notions of love would suffice, he supposed). If she didn’t survive…well. Surely someone would do something about the mess.


Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 03 November 2010, 14:58:14 »
Edit post Quote Delete

It’s just how things are.

That was exactly the same attitude that got people into this kind of mess in the first place.

If the peasants could simply sit back and accept their own oppression, then how could things ever change?  If everyone could just lie down and let the so-called aristocrats walk all over them, then what hope did anyone ever have for the future?  For change?  It was impossible for society to change unless the people willed it.  Obviously, the upper class wasn’t going to give up their power and wealth anytime soon.  Therefore, the ability and the responsibility to change the world rested in the hands of the oppressed class, of the peasant, serving, working class.

And what were they doing with it?  Throwing it down on the ground and stepping on it.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Mason Volkov would not hesitate to incite rebellion if he thought that there was even a minute chance of overthrowing the new monarchy—at least among the servants.  Though, come to think of it, the king himself probably even knew; that man knew everything.  Mason had grown up hearing stories about the glory of democracy and the freedom of the old world.  Unlike most of the people who had somehow survived the nuclear holocaust, Mason knew what things had been like before Lucien.  Maybe he hadn’t experienced it firsthand, but his parents had, and they spoke about the old days like they had been living in heaven.

If people didn’t know anything better, then they wouldn’t see any kind of problem with the current system.  Lucien and his fellow nobles had all been gifted with supernatural abilities—wasn’t that a sign of their superiority?  Clearly they were just meant to live this way, with the normal folks to do their bidding and make sure that they were always comfortable and never wanted for anything.

But this was not how things were supposed to be, and Mason knew it.  Something about Lucien’s regime just didn’t sit right in his soul… there was something fundamentally evil and unnatural about the whole system.

Mason, however, could do nothing without the support of the people.  They had accepted their positions as servants and secondary citizens, and he didn’t see them changing their minds anytime soon.  So what could he do?  Nothing but sit back and try to stay alive… which was how he came to be in the service of the king himself, the very man whom he hated most.  Life was ironic, wasn’t it?


“We’re not going to get anywhere with that kind of attitude, now are we?” he murmured, more to himself than to Arcadia, who may or may not have even heard him.  He sighed heavily and forced a smile.  “Such extravagant wealth… how do you justify their abuse of it, Arcadia?” he wondered aloud.  It was a rhetorical question, one he didn’t expect an answer to.

No sooner had he arrived than he was making to turn away and resume his duties.  The longer he stood around, the more likely it was that someone would notice that he was slacking off. “Nice chatting with you, dahling,” he said to the handmaiden.  “Perhaps I shall talk to you again as the night progresses.  For now, however, I see some nice young aristocrats who haven’t had enough to drink.”



Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 05 November 2010, 21:27:48 »
Edit post Quote Delete

I am excited to announce two new characters!  High Queen Alexandra and Lady Francoise van Brammerhaussen will both be played by hidden.trick (Alex), a good friend of mine.




Alexandra Winters
Played by hidden.trick

« 06 November 2010, 11:56:13 »
Quote

The High Queen had been watching the events of the still youthful night unfold her from a distance. Though she did not possess the qualities of her only son, who could control an atmosphere to the highest degree, she preferred to watch from afar, observing. It was through observation that she could precisely calculate how to create her entrance.

She had known, without doubt, that there were subjects in the kingdom that saw her as frivolous, a mere trophy wife, if you will. And to an extent, this was an image Alexandra wanted to portray. If she only appeared as flimsy as a piece of straw, when the time came to strike, her target would be taken so completely aback and off guard that they would fall surrendering with the utmost of ease.

Some had skills through touches, and senses. But her eyes did all the seeing. While people would gaze upon the illustrious and grand ball that was to celebrate her husband's birthday, her eyes saw strength, moral fibre. It was a skill she had not divulged to anyone, and would not. These secrets were not worth giving away.

She had coyly glanced in the direction of her King so politely conversing with the Duchess Elaine of Rautha. The queen needed not even to look into the eyes of the duchess, but merely her dress to know what she was up to.  Long, long ago, before the nuclear war, toward the creation of the power of film, there had been a motion picture well studied. In this movie, there was a lady famous for wearing red redress. Inappropriate, far from modesty or matronly qualities, the Duchess of Rautha had tried to play the role of Scarlett O'Hara. What the poor, unfortunate girl didn't know was that it was the High Queen that was the author of this novel tonight, and she would most happily rewrite the scene in any way she saw fit. And that could very well exclude this dainty prospect.

Now, in hindsight, Alexandra knew that if the King was even passing this woman a second glance, it was for the very reason that he could obtain something from her. The man was far from sexual, and so she saw no fear in that. But still, there clung a pang of an old femininity she had long let go of: while the King and Queen's emotions to each other had yet to be honestly revealed, she would not entertain anyone else courting the idea they could replace in any way shape or form, the role that only Alexandra would ever possess.

After all, by definition her name meant "defender of mankind". So, she would spin it to her favour. "Defender of her kind."

She stepped out of the background, and made her grand, yet sly, entrance. Enrobed in a gold gown that fitted her form, she walked down the steps blanketed in red velvet carpet and into the crowd. The dress had the faintest of a sweetheart neckline, with a gentle rouching that became more dramatic toward her waist. At this point the dress wrapped around so that it looked eternal - a constant spiral in the right direction. Jewels were not necessary to impress, and she wore her hair in a beautifully down ponytail that was curled if only to prove to everyone that jewels did not make the queen, no matter how much you dressed her up.

Call her look classy yet humble, for her subjects.


My King, would you care to take a break from your delightful guests to open some gifts?

Her hand waved to the mountain of flowing presents, but what she had really meant all along, was the opening of her gift to the King. Something, she had hoped he would enjoy.




Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 06 November 2010, 14:23:07 »
Quote

Call it fashionably late, but if Francoise could help it, she would never arrive on time for these ghastly functions. She had never understood the purpose of rejoicing in the King's birth with such riches as these. He was already far more well-endowed than any other creature walking, what could his minions possibly give him other than tokens of their false gratitude? Personally, it made her sick inside.

To prevent herself from gagging, she ran quickly to one of the kitchens staff to pick up a morsel of food. Francoise could tell that from the way that she was looked at, the servant seemed confused. Don't worry about it dear, I missed the formal dinner. My morning sickness usually comes around dinner time.


Seeing the poor boy's face turn from a poised complexion to the palest of whites, she let out a soft laugh. 'Twas nothing but a joke, darling. That's what birthday parties are for - lightheartedness. Now give me a glass of champagne and show me where the action is.

In all honesty, she felt sorry for all the working staff here. While there was the odd courtier who treated their butlers and maidens as actual people, the rank and file of the kingdom simply were just another statistic and strategic ploy for most nobility. So, keeping up with appearances, Francoise was forced to be a little less than kind with them, however, if one paid close attention, they would notice she spent more time passing small talk and pleasantries with them, than she did her own class. She had the greatest of empathy for them, and oftentimes regarded herself as an orphan who was given a title simply out of pity's sake.  To the others, she appeared a bit eclectic, eccentric, if you will. That's what they liked to call crazy rich people anyways. But simply because her dress did not touch the floor, but rather draped her knees, and her back was bare for all to see was not entirely out of character for anyone. If anything, she was one of the few openly honest noblewomen around.

Her eyes flitted across the hall to see Prince William. Almost instantly a fury brewed inside her that she may or may not be forced into marriage with him, and then she looked at him more closely. She could not deny his warm countenance and dashing looks. If she wasn't possibly pushed into marriage, he might have been the only nobility she could have ever fallen for. But as such, she did not want to be like the High Queen, merely a figurehead rather than a team player in the proper and careful ruling of a still much troubled world. There was still a very large part of her that loved the evening gowns, orchestra and fine dining that came with being noble, but when she realised that outside of fairy tales, these events were not as prim-rosed as they seemed, her heart would sink a little. Torn between rebellion and obedience, Francoise was much more dangerous than she appeared, for her emotions could be easily swung in either direction. Fortunately for her, to keep her in line, a mere touch of someone's hand could guide her straight. The key word being, of course, "could".

Noticing that the Queen has just graced her presence to her dominion, Francoise tucked out of the spotlight and hurried across the hall more toward the music. Her eyes had caught vision of someone that appeared familiar, but was unable to put her finger on whom he was. She had most definitely seen his face before, but was he a courtier or a commoner? Why was he, someone not so immediate to the royal blood line invited to such an event? Her curiosity piqued, she waited by the sidelines of the game of love and dance for him to finish with her cousin, Princess Olivia.




Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 07 November 2010, 18:07:53 »
Quote

Elaine knew it didn’t make complete sense that she felt absolutely safe with the King. After all, though no one dared speak of it, they all knew he’d been responsible for countless deaths, not even beginning to consider his actions during the war. Many people likely considered him one of the most dangerous people alive today. But she couldn’t. Marcellus was rather the same way, and although she knew that she ought to fear them both, she couldn’t. She simply didn’t have the energy.

She was constantly in a state of fear – constantly worried that someone would trip and knock over one of the suits of armor and causing it weapon to strike her or that the cooks might have done something wrong with the food and they were all going to get severe food poisoning or that one of the stupid little peasants would decide now was the time for an ill-fated rebellion and she would be caught in the crossfire. At every turn, there was some new idea of disaster or misfortune or violence. Everything she saw somehow reminded her of death. She never felt safe.

She would have gone mad if there wasn’t a way to relieve that stress, if only for the briefest moment and if only at events as rare as these. She had to have someone to make her feel safe, and it was somehow the two most deadly men she knew that served that purpose. It made no logical sense, but she didn’t care. She simply couldn’t allow herself to fear them.

So it was that she was suddenly without worry and suddenly feeling like a foolish schoolgirl instead of her usual, ever aware, ever worried self. Right now, she was perfectly content to do nothing but stand there and speak with the handsome King for the rest of the night, or longer if he allowed. The longer she remained in his presence, the longer these feelings of bliss and peace would last. At his side, she was perfectly happy, like anyone else at the ball, free to enjoy the excitement and the color and the beauty of it all.

At the use of her first name, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. The lack of title or anything else formal seemed to indicate a familiarity that could mean he took a certain interest in her. And when he took her hand in his and brought his lips against her skin, she felt her heart leap, a shiver running down her spine at the feeling. From a man who typically settled for shaking hands with his subjects, she couldn’t help but feel that this special attention must mean something.

Was there really a chance that he might have taken interest in her, that he might be willing to spend more time with her? It seemed too much to hope for, but the idea that she might be able to retain some of this peace and freedom from fear was more than she’d thought would ever be possible. She instantly began searching for something to talk about – some topic of conversation that could catch his interest and prompt him to stay at her side longer. But he continued only a moment after releasing her hand. I hope you enjoy the ball, Duchess.

And then he was gone.

At once, all the color seemed to fade from the room. Happy faces turned into dangerous facades, hiding their true intentions. The music became foreboding rather than cheerful. The decorations seemed ominous. The building seemed unstable. The people crowding close around her all turned again into assassins and murders. The world was a threat once again. She felt faint for a moment, distraught by being so suddenly plunged back into her usual darkness after that moment of relief.

But she couldn’t let herself fall apart. She knew she couldn’t. She had survived too long in this world of fear to give up now. She put on a gentle smile, raising her head high as she walked away, moving slowly towards the side of the room, trying to get out of the crowd of people without looking like she was trying to escape their presence. Trying not to look like she thought they were about to kill her.

They can die, she reminded herself. They can be injured and scarred and disabled and I cannot. They are mortal. With that thought in mind, she tried to reassure herself by thinking of a way each person she passed could perish. The thought was enough to get her to the side of the room without going into a complete panic. Once she was standing with her back against the stone wall, she was at least able to breathe again, although she still didn’t feel much better. Still, she at least couldn’t get a knife plunged into her back while she was standing like this.

She shouldn’t be hiding at the side. She had enough status that she really ought to be mingling, meeting with others and the like. Not only was it something she should be doing as a lady of the court, but there was perhaps a chance that if people knew her better, they would like her better and therefore be less inclined to try to kill her. Or perhaps they would simply find some way to take offence at her words and be more inclined to seek her demise.

Either way, she needed a moment to herself to regain her composure. As she leaned against the wall, she let her eyes wander out over the crowd, keeping up the necessary smile as she tried to slow the beating of her heart. She tried not to let her gaze linger too long on any one person, though, or else her mind would begin to wander to how many deaths that person was responsible for or what hidden abilities they might have or how long it would take them to find a way to kill her.

But there was one face that she couldn’t quite ignore. Queen Alexandra. Her eyes lingered on the woman, clad in an elegant gold dress that neither stood out overly much nor faded into the background. Elaine sighed slightly as the woman disappeared into the crowd, surely off to join her husband. Alexandra just seemed so... pointless. She was there, but she never seemed to do much of anything, from what Elaine could tell. And Elaine hadn’t the slightest idea what her power was. There again was that fear of the unknown that seemed to define the Duchess.

She sometimes wondered if she would be better off if no one knew her power. She had never actually told anyone in words, but it was still known to all. For years, her healing ability had remained a secret. She had never been quite sure if the ability would make her less of a target because it would mean she was believed to be untouchable, or if it would make her more of one because a potential attacker would want to know just how far her abilities protected her. Not knowing, she had chosen not to tell anyone and her power had remained a mystery.

Until the accident. She still couldn’t be sure if the brakes in the car had gone out on their own or if the vehicle had been tampered with, but the fact remained that her driver had suddenly been unable to slow the car down. They’d gone off the road, the Bentley rolling sideways to the bottom of the embankment before crashing into a clump of trees at the bottom. The driver was still alive, though badly injured, and Elaine had found herself trapped, the side of the car crushed down onto her legs so that she had been unable to get out of the car.

The driver had barely survived the accident, with his head bloodied from hitting the side window and cuts covering his face from broken glass. At the very least, Elaine’s legs should have been crushed, and if she had been anyone else, her face and arms should have also borne cuts and bruises. But once the metal had been pulled away, she’d stepped from the wreckage completely unscathed and it instantly became obvious that she could heal herself.

So now, whether she wanted it or not, everyone knew what she could do. Everyone else knew about her, and yet there were so many that she was uncertain of. The Queen was just one of hundreds of nobles whose special abilities remained unknown. One of hundreds whom Elaine had no method of gauging just how much of a threat they posed to her. So many unknowns. Was it any wonder she was worried? She couldn’t be certain of anything.




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 08 November 2010, 02:11:33 »
Quote

Arcadia knew that Mason wasn’t content with the current state of the world. He was not afraid to let his opinions be known, and the palace servants, at the very least, all knew that he felt that the aristocrats had overstepped their bounds. He had never tried to actually act on that outlook, thank heavens, or she had little doubt that he wouldn’t be alive today. Still, it worried her that he even considered the ideas of rebellion and that he thought that some sort of upheaval of the current system might be a good thing.

Arcadia didn’t agree. For one thing, she couldn’t. She couldn’t allow herself to have any ill-feelings towards the royal family or the other nobles because Eden would know. She had to be able to say that she agreed with her employers if any controversial subject ever came up when she was with the princess, and she had to be able to say so truthfully. There was no chance of hiding her true feelings and she therefore had to be sure that her own opinions were not something that she would need to try to hide.

But it wasn’t just that. Arcadia had never known anything other than life as a secondary being. When she was very little, she had been with her parents who had truly loved her, but they most certainly hadn’t been wealthy. Her father had been a carpenter, but what good was it to be able to carve wood when there was a count who could manipulate plants that could grow wood into any shape that was desired? It was only because of the high prices that the count charged for his work that her father had any customers at all. The peasants who couldn’t afford the count’s work still had to come to someone who had no special powers.

So they’d scraped by, her father’s customers barely able to pay more for their goods than it cost to obtain the materials with which to create them. But if it hadn’t been for the divide in the classes, the count would have been the one supplying furniture to everyone, and her father would have had no one coming to him. In a way, it was only the nobleman’s elitism that kept her father in business at all. Perhaps it was a poor excuse, but Arcadia had to find some way to justify it all.

And it wasn’t as though her family had been unhappy. Quite the opposite. She knew without a doubt that her mother and father had loved each other, and that they had loved her. Late at night, she had occasionally overheard her parents discussing how little money they had in worried tones, thinking that Arcadia was asleep. But they had always made it through in the end. They had missed a few meals every once in a while, but overall, they’d been content with their lives. Before the fire, at least.

When the blaze destroyed their home, Arcadia and her father had lost everything. Her mother was gone, their home had been turned to ashes, her father’s supplies, equipment, and current commissions had all been utterly destroyed. They had nothing left – no way to survive. And with the scars marring her face, any hope that Arcadia might have had of being married off to a well-off merchant when she came of age had probably also been erased.

If she hadn’t been sent to the castle, she and her father would both have starved, left with no source of income or support. Arcadia didn’t know if her father had been granted a single payment when she was sent to the royal palace or if he had been receiving some sort of salary from her work over time. Either way, she liked to think that he’d been able to restart his business and that he was doing well. If Mason’s strange ideas of equality were in effect, though, there would be no richer aristocrats who could have paid for her work, and there would have been no way for her father to regain his business.

She had never known anything other than this life. The stories that she read in the library weren’t often very specific on the political structures of their worlds, but a vast majority of them did feature royalty and aristocracy. It had never occurred to her, of course, that the library might be intentionally devoid of books that spoke of equality. All she knew was that everything she’d ever read and everything she’d ever experienced all fell under the same system. Mason’s ideas were completely unfamiliar, and she couldn’t see how they would actually work out in real life.

Not that she had been able to talk with him long enough to ask questions or know any of the precise details of the pre-war era he spoke of. She only knew vaguely that he was unhappy with the system of aristocrats and royalty that now ruled, and she couldn’t understand his discontent. Perhaps she could get him to explain it all to her properly at some point. But then, maybe it would be better if he didn’t. It was rare for her mistress to ask her anything about her own life, but if Eden did happen to ask what she had been doing, she would have to explain what she’d been talking to Mason about truthfully. And she most certainly did not want to get the young man into trouble.

Such extravagant wealth... how do you justify their abuse of it, Arcadia? She frowned, not sure how to reply. She wasn’t even sure what he meant by abuse. She supposed he was most likely referring to the dresses, given the previous portions of their conversation. But with such beauty before her, she couldn’t bring herself to find fault with it. When the Princess seemed so perfect, how could Arcadia try to blame her of wrongdoing? She was so much like something out of a fairy tale, the girl couldn’t help but take some happiness from the sight of her there on the dance floor.

Besides, even if the money given for the price of the gown could have been used more charitably, Arcadia still preferred this part of the night, with the Princess decorated so elaborately, to what she knew would come later. Even if it meant a thousand such dresses, Arcadia couldn’t help but wish that the ball could last forever. Even if Eden’s family was abusing their wealth, as Mason said, Arcadia was still far happier while they were showing off their wealth to the world than she was once the guests went away and the Princess was done with her expensive gown. She was dreading the events that would come after the ball, and so she wanted to enjoy this part as much as possible while it lasted. She didn’t want to be worried about excessive spending and power systems when she had so much more personal to be worried about later.

Nice chatting with you, darling. Perhaps I shall talk to you again as the night progresses. Arcadia nodded, smiling politely. She wasn’t opposed to this idea. She did wish for more opportunities to speak with the young man, and she typically enjoyed spending time with him on the rare occasions that she got the chance. And a part of her was still curious about what he wanted for the country. But another part hoped that if they did get the chance to meet again that he would steer clear of discussions over politics. She just didn’t want to have to worry any more than she already had to tonight. With that, he made his departure and Arcadia was left once again standing to one side, all but invisible to the crowds of guests as she was supposed to be.


« Last Edit: 17 March 2011, 09:58:12 »


OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 08 November 2010, 10:00:44 »
Quote

Marcellus unfolded his legs, still forcing himself to breathe deeply and calm down.  Leaning against the wall in the quiet hallway, he knew he could handle the crowd.  But he just didn't want to.  He couldn't help hoping that someone would come find him instead of him having to go out there.  Someone like Elaine.  Surely, she'd wondered why he ran off!  But the longer he sat here, the more obvious it became that she hadn't.  How could she not have noticed?  He'd had a very public near-meltdown.  The people he'd run past to get here had shrunk out of his way like he was some deadly beast loose in the room.

He groped for something, anything to give him hope.  Maybe . . . maybe she'd not seen him.  Somehow.  Maybe when they'd turned to face the king, she'd been at an angle that meant she couldn't see him.  But he knew she hadn't been.  Not really.  Not completely.  And then she should've still seen him running off.  And if she'd cared, she'd have come.  But no!  He refused to believe she didn't care about him at all.  He could count the people he thought might care about him at all on one hand, and the idea of taking someone off that already short list was devastating.

Maybe she was just scared.  Everyone, whether they cared about him or not, was at least a little scared of him sometimes.  He knew that with every fiber of his being.  Because he was afraid of himself.  And if he was afraid of himself, how could anyone else not be.  That was probably it.  Elaine was probably just waiting for him inside because she was afraid to come find him without other people around to protect her.  Everyone knew she was paranoid, which was weird since she was probably immortal.  Or at least difficult to kill, with the speed she healed up.

But what if she wasn't waiting?  What if someone else had shown up and taken her attention away?  What if at this very moment, some new interesting nobleman was sweeping her off her feet, dancing with her more gracefully than he ever could, telling her happy stories that didn't involve death, charming her and stealing her heart?  What if she wasn't following him because she didn't want to follow him?  What if she liked someone else better?  He got up and glanced out the door, but he couldn't see her from this limited vantage point.  Maybe he should wait here a little longer.  Just in case.  Maybe his valet would come find him and he could send the boy out to see how safe it was for him to go out there.

Marcellus liked Logan in spite of himself.  Liking your own servants was a dangerous business, especially when you were prone to random outbursts of violence.  Marcellus usually made a point of not liking anyone.  If you didn't like people, they couldn't betray you.  If you didn't like them, it wouldn't be hard to kill them if you were ordered to.  And if you didn't like them, it didn't hurt nearly as much if you killed them without meaning to.  If they got caught in the crossfire and died or showed up in the wrong place when he was in one of his moods, his servants could and did die quite easily.  And finding a replacement every time was harder and harder.  But the very poor people, the ones at the very bottom, they were usually too poor to care.  Eventually, people needed the money and the lodging and the food more than they did the distance from him.

But Logan was different.  Logan was charming and kind and determined to see the best in people.  He didn't shy away every time Marcellus looked in his direction.  He didn't try to avoid dangerous situations if he knew he could help.  He didn't let his master stay at parties like this once he was too drunk to be safe.  But he didn't act like he hated Marcellus, either.  He didn't glare or mutter under his breath or say dark things to the other servants when he thought his master wasn't listening.  But he didn't come, either.  Marcellus supposed the boy probably just didn't think Marcellus needed him.

Fine.  He'd go out there himself.  He couldn't keep hiding away in servants' corridors, not with the king at the party.  It would look bad, and while Lucien might not have realized Marcellus was missing yet, he was sure to notice it eventually.  Lucien noticed everything.  Taking a deep breath, Marcellus pulled his shoulders back, sucked his gut in, and walked back into the ballroom, trying to look solid and unafraid, when he was really terrified, as the voices in his head got louder again around the other people, that he would lose control.  What if Elaine was falling in love with someone else?  What if she was about to break his heart?  He couldn't have a broken heart.  Not here.  Not now.  Not in a place like this, with so many people.  He couldn't handle it.

But then he spotted her, leaning against a wall and looking as beautiful and alone as ever.  He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a nearby servant and drank half of his in one gulp.  He probably shouldn't be drinking, and he knew he probably shouldn't be drinking, but he could be this tense the whole night, either.  People would notice and some of them would read it as him being his usual freakazoid insane-murderer self, but some of them would take it to mean he was angry with Lucien or something like that, and then he'd be in trouble.  And if he didn't loosen up some, he'd just mess up with Elaine.  He'd say something dumb or not say something he should say, or she'd just get mad at him for being stiff and cold and controlled instead of saying nice things or being genuine.  He'd discovered from Logan that he liked genuine people, and he was pretty sure other people felt the same way.  

Walking up to Elaine, he offered her the second glass.  Would you like a drink?  It wasn't the suavest thing anyone had ever said, but even the voices in his head couldn't fault him too much for it.  He was being polite.  Polite was good.  Polite was manageable, usually.  Until he got really drunk, and he wasn't planning on doing that.  Then again, he never did.  But if Elaine was here - he could be good.  He could be better than he usually was, at any rate.  It would be enough.  At least, he hoped it would.  It was all he could do.



Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 08 November 2010, 12:43:49 »
Quote

Deiter held Olivia’s dainty, gloved hand in his own and led her around the floor with all the polite forcefulness of a man who knew precisely how to manage the unruly princess. A step here, a bow there, a twirl around the floor and there- the flash of a red dress standing next to the unmistakable figure of King Lucien. Deiter effortlessly changed the trajectory of his dance with Olivia to keep an eye on the exchange between his master and the Duchess of Rautha. He saw the kiss and blinked passively as he acknowledged the signal Lucien nodded to him over the Duchess’ sloping shoulder. He stepped on Olivia’s foot in a moment of distraction- and forgive him, because he was thinking about how he was going to commit a murder later that night- but recovered quickly with a whispered “Sorry, princess,” and one last beautiful swirl of Olivia’s fuchsia dress, after which the music stopped and all the dancers scrambled to reorganize themselves with more desirable partners.

The factotum bowed before his master’s daughter and kissed her hand in an awkward gesture reminiscent of Lucien’s. The image of the king kissing the woman who he had ordered to die had stuck in Deiter’s mind and disturbed him to the point of preoccupation. He looked back at where Lucien had been standing and unsurprisingly saw no one. He would be moving on, forgetting for the moment that only seconds ago he was flirting with a dead lady. Deiter felt bile rise up in the throat and all of his mounting hatreds against the King and his coldness made his head spin with a temporary, but potent rage. It happened sometimes, when his calm, collected demeanor broke in the face of some unspeakable cruelty on the part of his master. When the occasional disorganized rabble of revolutionaries were brought the palace to be executed or transformed into slaves like him, the way they looked up at him- the famous, dashing, daring revolutionary who had gotten the closest, reached the deepest into the heart of the tyrant’s power- they looked at him with eyes that begged for help. They wanted him to leap down and cut their bonds with a sword he didn’t carry, to retake the reigns of the cause he had started and lead them in a bloody castle battle that ended with some grand reorganization of the rule.

There were those who had thought to make Deiter king. That was the new rumor. Those who had fallen so far out of touch with the ideals of freedom that their idea of making a positive change was to change the face of their tyrant into something that was easier to rally around.
It was in these moments that Deiter realized what a coward he was, and it was this realization that made him sick to his stomach. He had chosen life for seven years while his compatriots died before him. He hadn’t committed suicide yet (and there was nothing to stop him) and was perfectly happy to let his entire life be dictated by the man he hated most in the world. Why did he hang on, then? Why did he carry on with the duties and the humiliation and the constant fear of Lucien’s tenuous mercy? Was it possible that after all this time he still had hope?
He was still holding Olivia’s hand. A quick glance to his side revealed the red of Elaine’s dress disappearing behind a small group of courtiers. In a moment of impassioned self-pity, Deiter drew the younger princess, the nice one, the one he could almost (almost!) trust, close to him and whispered: “Whatever I do, Olivia, remember that I’m only ever doing what I’m told. Please.” With that, he surrendered the princess to whatever eager partner wished to dance with her next and walked out into the crowd miserably. Despite the moment of brief closeness, he didn’t bother to look back at Olivia. She was a silly thing; she would forget about what he said and lose herself in the sparkles and beauty of the ball. Must be nice.

On his way away from the dance floor, Deiter took a few deep breaths and cleared his head of whatever nonsense he had been thinking before. No point in dwelling on the impossible, no point in painting yourself as a hero when you’re the worst kind of coward. The Queen had arrived, a woman with whom Deiter had very little contact. Lucien had reserved his services for personal use and didn’t like his wife to interact with most of the prisoner-slaves. It was Deiter who stayed with the King into the late hours of the night, who guarded his room while he slept and often forwent his own bed for a comfortable chair at the slumbering King’s bedside. He had no idea why Lucien valued his sleep so highly- how dangerous could walking into other people’s dreams be?- but there were rules that he was meant to obey. If Lucien cried out in his sleep, wait until a second cry and wake him up. Make sure no one disturbed him. Remove all traces of familiar scent and noise from the bedroom for the duration of the night. It was weird, Deiter had always thought so, and it had never sat right with him that he was the one who spent all night with the King while the Queen slept in in a separate chamber, never once sharing her husband’s bed.

The Queen never got to see what Lucien got up to in his bed. The cries of pain, the tossing, the writhing, the talking, the whispering. It was eerie, like a man possessed. It was something only Deiter was allowed to see and he was sure that it had something to do with Lucien trying to scare the pants off of him. It worked.

Deiter rolled his shoulders back and snatched a flute of champagne off of a nearby servant’s tray. Only it wasn’t a servant, it was Mason Volkov. The Chauffer. Deiter was intimately familiar with the man, as he had been riding shotgun in Lucien’s limousines for years now. He often chatted with Mason and had developed something of a rapport with him. He was an apathetic sort, not a revolutionary at heart or a deeply disgruntled peon. A safe acquaintance to have. “On booze duty, then?” he smiled amicably and took a tip of the world’s most expensive champagne. “Not a bad place to be, I think. All those unattended beverages once the guests have filed out must come in handy-well! Not for a driver, mind you.” He feigned a scowl of disapproval at the idea of the King’s chauffer joyriding drunk in the royal Bentley or something similarly ridiculous.

When he unfurrowed his wide brow, he noticed a lady who hadn’t been present only fifteen minutes ago. Her name escaped him, which was something new to the factotum. He knew everybody. And everybody knew him. Why was she looking at him like that? Another sip of champagne brought clarity to the situation. No, he still didn’t know who that lady was but Eden had just crossed his line of sight and god…if his heart didn’t just melt in his chest he didn’t know what had just happened…


Meanwhile...

Lucien received his queen with a perfect smile and a sweetly romantic kiss on the lips. His wife was a beautiful woman, younger than he was in years but similarly made in mind. She felt like humans did, and wept and had a heart that beat and loved, but her method of dealing with all of life’s complications was not so different from the cold King’s. She was a conniving, manipulative harpy and if he could have loved anyone in his life, he probably would have loved her. She was aesthetically pleasing to look at, so beautiful as to produce the good-looking children he’d desired to maintain his rule (although he held, in his own narcissistic way that Eden, in his opinion the most beautiful of the three, took after him physically).

Alexandra was elegant and physically stimulating enough to make most men in the kingdom call their King a lucky sod for having married her. Stoic enough to cope with his obvious emotional deficiencies. He recalled the first night after their honeymoon, where he had shown the Queen where her bedroom was and make the point that it was to be completely separate from his bedroom. His awkward reassurance that he wasn’t gay (although he later found himself under the amused impression that she wouldn’t have cared a fig if he was) and her stoic acceptance of the situation. She served her purpose well, she lived his lies and spouted a few of her own. A fitting partner for a King.


And so he kissed her in front of his court and noticed the assembled nobles sighing and whispering their approval of their holy union. What a team, two in one, pals for life. “My gifts?” he looked up at the pile of treasures taking up space on the floor of the ballroom and feigned surprise. “Is it my birthday?”he joked and lovingly allowed his wife to show him to the allotted gift-space, where he stood with no expression of expectation on his face. He simply looked happy, appeared thrilled to be there and cast the occasional practiced look of longing and overflowing, heart-wrenching adoration for the gold-swathed creature called Alexandra. People do so get attached to their pets.  






just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 08 November 2010, 22:08:48 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Why was it that every single courtier of an age similar to hers was infinitely more boring than the one before him?

Maybe it was because they were incapable of lying to her that they seemed even more droll and uninteresting than everyone else seemed to think that they were.  Most of the time, in social situations, people lied to make themselves seem more interesting, especially when they were trying to impress someone like her.  However, most of these young men had been warned by their eager, power hungry parents that lying to Princess Eden would be like picking up a rattlesnake and shaking it around.  It wasn’t something that would end well.

And they were right of course… Eden, like every other human being out there, was not fond of being lied to.  Few people realized how out of control she was capable of getting if something set her off in just the wrong way, but they were wise to be wary of her wrath.  Though they didn’t know that she was prone to mental breakdowns, they did suspect that something chilling and dangerous was lurking beneath her calm, oh-so perfect exterior.  Plus, nobody wanted to find themselves out of favor with any member of the royal family—with perhaps the exception of Olivia, all of them were capable of dealing a deadly blow.

Yet, as she listened to her particularly voluble dance partner prattle on about the state of his family’s farm—they apparently grew tomatoes—Eden couldn’t help but wonder if she wouldn’t rather be lied to.  Sometimes, the truth was just so boring

But what could she do but smile coyly and pretend to be interested?  She had an image to uphold; Princess Eden was not only beautiful and poised, but she was also perfect in every other way, meaning that she had to be charming as well.

When at last the song ended and etiquette dictated that her current partner pass her along to her next hopeful suitor, Eden smiled indulgingly at him as he kissed her gloved hand.  Truth be told, she couldn’t even recall his name.  As he walked away—no doubt realizing that he had danced with the most beautiful girl in the room first and that he couldn’t hope to improve on his first choice—she spied another young man, one particularly notorious for being painfully uninteresting, coming toward her.  Eden turned almost abruptly and surveyed the rest of the room quickly in hopes of getting out of another dreadfully dull dance.

As she had been distracted, she had completely missed her father’s encounter with Duchess Elaine as well as Count Marcellus’s brief disappearance.  Now, she saw him offering her a drink, and the small part of her heart that hadn’t yet let go of her childhood infatuation with Marcellus ached a bit before she moved on.  Her mother had arrived, heartless creature that she was.  Mysterious and interesting Dieter Gatsby was chatting with her father’s chauffeur.  She also spied her cousin, Lady Francoise, lingering on the edge of the crowd… the perfect excuse.

Pretending to have not even seen her incoming suitor, Eden made her way over to her cousin.  They weren’t particularly close, but they were friendly enough to have a conversation, and Eden would take any excuse to avoid this particular young man.  “Francoise,” she greeted her.  “It’s so nice to see you.  How long has it been?”




Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 08 November 2010, 22:09:42 »
Edit post Quote Delete

It should not have been surprising that two of the king’s most valued servants had grown to be rather close friends over the course of their servitude.  Dieter had become King Lucien’s right hand, and Mason… well, Mason was the man trusted to safely transport his Majesty from one place to the other.

Of course, it had crossed the chauffeur’s mind many times that he could very easily kill the king.  Crash a plane or a car… and poor old Lucien would be history—unless the sly fox had immortality tucked up his sleeve.  You know, Mason wouldn’t have been surprised if he happened to witness the king regenerating his body after the entire thing had been shredded in nothing more than confetti.  Of course, such a horrific accident would probably mean that Mason would die as well. 

Still, he seriously considered it several times.  It was true that Mason was a survivor by nature, someone who would do almost anything to stay alive, but that didn’t stop him from weighing the pros and cons of killing himself along with the king.  Sure, he would get rid of the man who was perhaps the biggest and baddest tyrant to have ever walked the earth, but then what would happen?  Getting rid of Lucien was unlikely to lead to a regime change if it was an isolated incident caused by a single man acting alone.  They would simply put his son William on the throne and things would continue as before.

In that way, Dieter was right and wise to describe Mason as apathetic.  He wasn’t at all happy with the situation that the world found itself in, but he knew that there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.  So he would sit back and enjoy the ride—literally—while working as the monster’s chauffeur.  He was paid relatively well, and events like this provided him with as much free alcohol as he could hold down… once they were finished of course.  He couldn’t afford to get drunk during such a party.  When the lights went down, however…


“Come on now, Dieter,” he told his friend, laughing good-naturedly as he spoke.  “We both know it’ll take more than a few drinks to make me lose my control.  Besides, don’t think I haven’t noticed that his Majesty is already home.  I doubt I’ll be called upon to drive anything tonight.”

That being said, Mason turned to examine the crowd with a heavy sigh.  What he had said to Arcadia was still bothering him… this excessive display of wealth was sickening to him.  His eyes caught glimpses of all of the aristocrats dressed with obscene extravagance.  A flash of scarlet from the Duchess of Rautha, the gold fabric of the High Queen herself, Princess Olivia’s pink dress… and the crown jewel of all of those decorated women: the Princess Eden.  Honestly, Mason shuddered to think about how much money was spent on making that dress.

“How many people do you think the diamonds on that dress could feed for a year?” he commented, nudging Dieter and gesturing toward Eden as she went over to talk to a lady whose name Mason didn’t know.  Sure, the princess was stunning, but at what cost?



Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 09 November 2010, 16:10:49 »
Quote

And I'm going to go ahead and fill up the last character spot as well...

Duke Cygnus Leonas of Eriwynne, the twin brother of King Lucien, has always felt that Lucien was unfairly blessed, and hasn’t given up on getting even with his twin. When they were very young, Cygnus was as close as anyone had ever been to Lucien, and the two had seemed to have their own way of communicating without even speaking aloud. As they grew older, they quickly grew apart, Cygnus having no patience for his brother’s lack of emotion. During one of the earliest battles in the war, well before the bombs were dropped, Cygnus lost a leg acting under Lucien’s command. And while he was recovering from that injury, he also lost his chance to woo the lady Alexandra. Lucien caused him to lose everything that was important to him, and he intends to get his revenge when the opportunity arises. Cygnus is telekinetic and can move nearby objects with a simple thought. He is also somewhat telepathic, able to protect his mind from psychic intrusions.



Lucien’s birthday ball. Well, there was a laugh. Cygnus stood in a doorway at the side of the room, leaning against the doorframe as he gazed out at the crowd of foolish nobles who had gathered here, thinking that they were celebrating the birthday of the king. It was rubbish, of course, but who would want to venture outside to go to a party in the dead of winter? No, it was much more convenient for Lucien to have a birthday in a better part of the year. And what the king wanted, the king got.

And, of course, it didn’t matter a bit that this also changed Cygnus’ birthday. He supposed he could at least be grateful that he didn’t actually share the birth date of his twin brother. Lucien had been born in the last few moments of one day and Cygnus entered the world less than an hour later, at the very start of the next morning. Still, he had to go along with this particular plan of his brother’s, pretending to anyone who bothered to recall that they were twins that he was celebrating a new age as well.

To add insult to injury, Lucien wasn’t even showing his age properly. Cygnus had the beginnings of silver entering his hair and the wrinkles developing around his eyes betrayed the fact that he was getting older. Which ought to mean that Lucien was as well. But the king couldn’t even be bothered to show that slight weakness. Some way or another, Lucien had managed to slow the process of his aging, looking years younger than his twin. As with everything else that had ever happened between the two of them, it wasn’t fair.

With a sigh, Cygnus stood upright again and stepped away from the doorway, his permanent limp from his artificial left leg almost completely disguised. He’d lost his leg years ago in the war, while he was acting on plans made by, who else, Lucien himself. The prosthetic was the best that money could buy, but it still couldn’t quite match the caliber of a real limb. Still, he was used to it, so unless someone was specifically looking for it, they wouldn’t see any signs of distorted movement.

And hopefully no one would be looking. He was hoping not to have any excess attention aimed in his direction tonight. He’d slicked his hair back, taming his usually identifying curls, and he was wearing a suit of a simple grey, with a plain black vest beneath: just elegant enough for the party, but nothing that would catch anyone’s eye. Then again, it might not even have been necessary to try to make himself less interesting.

With Lucien around, Cygnus was rarely given much notice. Even when he’d looked his actual age, Lucien had still been the more handsome of the two fraternal twins. Still, Cygnus had never understood how his brother could hold the attention of anyone in conversation when he had never seemed to have any real emotions about much of anything. He’d gotten better at pretending, of course, but Cygnus couldn’t forget that, even as a child, Lucien had failed to register the normal range of emotions. Nor could he forget how unconcerned he had seemed when he and Cygnus had been informed of their parents’ deaths.

Somehow, in spite of all that, though, the people adored him. For some reason that Cygnus had never understood, the world had the highest regard for their king. He would like to think that it was simply because they feared him. Fear could be overcome. If it was only fear that they felt, things would be able to change if they realized he could be conquered, or perhaps if they found someone that they feared more.

But that wasn’t the only cause for their dedication to the ruler. Oh, sure, there were plenty who feared the king, and rightfully so, Cygnus supposed. After all, merciful and kind were not among the list of traits usually attributed to Lucien by any means. Still, there were many who honestly seemed to think that Lucien was the best leader they could have. They were most certainly wrong – Cygnus could think of quite a few men who would do an infinitely better job – yes, himself included. But no one else seemed to realize that. And it wasn’t as though he could just change all their minds all at once.

In all honesty, though, even if he couldn’t get the general populace to see Lucien’s faults, he’d still be happy if he could change just one person’s opinion. Alexandra. He’d never understood what the queen saw in her husband, or why she’d agreed to marry Lucien in the first place. Cygnus couldn’t believe his brother possible of love, and he couldn’t imagine that he gave Alexandra any sort of personal pleasure to be with.

Cygnus had been desperate to win Alexandra’s affection when he was a young man. But before he’d had the chance to actually propose a courtship, he’d had to go off to fight in the war. Every night, he’d written a little or a poem to her, pledging his devotion and adoration. But he hadn’t sent a single one, feeling that he should speak to her about his emotions in person first. And then he’d had his leg blasted off and he’d been in the hospital for ages, and unable to walk on his own for months afterwards, and by the time he’d gotten a proper prosthetic and been able to see her again, she and Lucien were already announcing their plans to be wed.

Everything else about his brother, Cygnus might have been willing to forgive, but this was the worst offense. He’d stolen away the woman of his dreams, the one person the he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And Lucien didn’t even begin to deserve her. How could he when he was so uncaring and empty-hearted. He saw them now, across the room, standing at each other’s side, appearing to be a happy couple for the sake of the crowd. But Cygnus just couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t imagine for a moment that Lucien might have true feelings for Alexandra, certainly not anything that could begin to rival Cygnus’ devotion to the woman.

But he would find a way to change it all. Someday, somehow, he would find a way to avenge himself against his brother. Lucien would lose the crown, and he would lose Alexandra. And, if he was feeling poetic enough when it came time, he might even take his brother’s leg before he took his life. However he did it, though, he would have his revenge. He would find a way.


« Last Edit: 09 November 2010, 16:32:52 »

Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 10 November 2010, 00:03:21 »
Quote

Dieter said nothing about the insults or the fact that she'd stepped on his foot, and Olivia couldn't help feeling relieved.  But then she wondered why he hadn't said anything.  Dieter was one of the very few people at the castle who could tell her off without getting in trouble from either her or her father.  As her tutor, it had been his job for years, and as her closest confidant, she was sure he knew he could say anything to her and she wouldn't sweat it too much.  After all, she told him everything.  But Dieter didn't seem to care that she'd messed up.

Curious, Olivia made a point of getting onto the wrong foot for a while, just to see if he'd correct her, but Dieter was clearly off in another world.  Whatever he was thinking about, it must be pretty big to distract him like this.  Dieter always had a million things going on, but he was usually not distracted by it.  He always seemed to put everything he had into whatever he was doing, no matter how many other things he had to do afterward.  She wasn't sure how he did that, either.  It was just more of Dieter being Dieter, she supposed.

Looking around, she tried to find the distraction, glancing toward the stairs just in time to see her gorgeous, golden mother walking down the stairs.  Her heart beat faster and she stepped closer to Dieter, glad again that he was the one she was dancing with right now.  Her mother didn't feel.  Not much, anyway.  The lines that went outward from the Queen were almost entirely grey ones.  Ice cold, emotionless grey ones, or nearly emotionless mostly-grey ones tinged with barely-there hints of color.  Grey meant there was some kind of political or social connection.  But nothing that meant anything.  There was a blue line between Alexandra and William that said she loved her son, and a brown one between Olivia's parents that she'd never been able to explain or define, and never seen anywhere else.  Between her mother and her sister - grey.  And between her mother and herself?  Olivia didn't even need to see that line to know her mother didn't love her.  If she didn't love perfect, sparkling, brilliant Eden, how could she possibly love the awkward, bumbling, improper, rule-breaking daughter?

She knew it was silly to be afraid of her own mother, but she was.  Deathly, deathly afraid.  There were days when Olivia felt like no one loved her.  Like no one would ever love her.  But there were also days when it seemed like surely, at least some of the people who seemed to care about her were genuine rather than pretending.  She never wondered if her mother loved her, because in private, when Olivia couldn't manage to avoid her in the huge castle, her mother made little effort even to pretend to love her.  And that was terrifying.  Her mother could do anything.  And it wouldn't even be surprising.  None of the motivations that Olivia usually read around people applied to her mother, at least not the vast majority of the time.  And if she couldn't read what was driving her, she couldn't guess what she would do.

Dieter seemed not to notice that Olivia was suddenly dancing a little too close to him, or maybe he just didn't care.  It wasn't like she didn't run to him with all her problems or expect him to take care of her when she needed him.  Maybe he was just so used to having to clean up her messes and deal with her drama that one more minor freakout was just water under the bridge.  Maybe he was so jaded by her constant neediness that he didn't even want to talk to her anymore.  Olivia could feel herself spiraling out of control.  She could feel herself losing her grip on logic and sinking into the depression that said she'd never be good enough for anyone, no one would ever love her, and everyone would be happy if she just died and got out of their hair.  She didn't want to be spiraling again, but she just couldn't help it.  Even Dieter didn't care enough to pay attention to her.  And paying attention to her was practically his job half the time.

When Dieter stepped on her foot, it drew her back out of her head, at least for a moment.  Sorry, Princess.  Princess.  Dieter never called her just Princess.  Not unless he absolutely had to, at least.  It was usually just "Olivia" when he could get away with it, or "Princess Olivia" when he couldn't.  Looking straight at him, rather than past him as she thought about other things, Olivia was jolted out of her spiral by the realization that something was wrong.  Not wrong enough for Dieter to have to leave the dance to fix it, or wrong enough for him to have to pull her away into safety, or wrong enough for everyone else to be freaking out.  But something was still wrong.  He wasn't just mad at her for making fun of him, and he hadn't suddenly decided to stop liking her (or pretending to like her, at any rate.)  Something was actually wrong.  She could see it on his face.  If there was anyone she knew, it was Dieter.

He spun her out and she thought he might know she'd figured out something was up.  Twirls like this were usually her favorite dance move.  They let her skirts whirl out into gorgeous ripples of silk and the air flutter through her hair like she was flying.  But at the moment, it just annoyed her, because it kept her from asking him what was wrong.  As she whirled back toward him, the music stopped, and he bowed again, kissing her hand.  He didn't usually do that, and it just seemed to confirm her certainty that something was dreadfully wrong.

Dieter seemed upset.  Maybe even sad.  He was too quiet.  He was kissing her hand like he wasn't just her tutor, like he was her friend or something.  Suddenly, she put the pieces together.  He was going to die.  Her father had finally snapped.  He was finally going to kill Dieter.  She felt cold to her core, like the world had suddenly been drained of warmth.  Dad couldn't kill Dieter.  He couldn't.  Because Eden and William still thought of her as a little girl, the lame younger sibling they didn't want to hang out with, and the servants were afraid to be her friend because they could get in trouble, and she couldn't trust the people her own age and class to be her friend because she just didn't see them often enough.  Dieter was all she had.  He was the only one she could count on.  She couldn't know how he really felt about her, any more than she could know how anyone else felt about her, but she could count on him because it was his job to be reliable.  It was what he did.  It was what he was good at.  And after all these years, she couldn't not believe he cared about her, at least a little.  It would hurt too much.

And he couldn't get killed.  She refused to accept it.  Dieter. . . she said quietly, trying her best not to embarrass him or draw attention to their conversation for fear of messing everything up.  Before she could figure out what else to say, he pulled her close to him, so close that if she wanted to, she could put her arms around his neck like she was hugging him goodbye.  It was only the words he whispered that stopped her.  Whatever I do, Olivia, remember that I’m only ever doing what I’m told. Please.  What did that mean?  Those seemed like awfully weird last words for someone who was about to die.  But what else could be happening?

Before she could even start to work out what it meant, or ask what was going on, or tell him goodbye, Dieter passed her off to a nearby boy she'd always liked dancing with and vanished into the crowd, weaving through it more quickly than she could follow him without totally ignoring her dance partner.  Thomas was the youngest son of a nearby earl, and he was one of the few noble children who'd been almost as wild as she had when they were children.  She'd had a crush on him for a while, but he was in love with her sister, and he wasn't quite high enough socially to be a real suitor anyway, so she'd let it die off.  Now he was just fun to dance with.

But he still wasn't as interesting as whatever was going on with Dieter.  What if her father had ordered him to kill himself?  That made sense, she supposed.  It would certainly be a cruel enough end to please her father.  Yeah.  That had to be it.  As she and Thomas whirled through the dance, she peered through the crowd, looking for Dieter.  If she could stop him, maybe she could buy enough time to convince her father to change his mind.  She nearly stepped on Thomas's foot several times until she found Dieter again, talking to Mason Valkov.  That was good.  She knew where he was.  Now that she could keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't die, Olivia went back to focusing on her dance partner, who looked confused.  Are you ok, Olivia?  Yeah! she said, flashing him a big smile, Yeah, sorry.  I'm just distracted tonight, I guess.  She'd have to pay more attention to what she was doing if she didn't want to get Dieter in trouble for letting her know what was going on.  Or if she didn't want her dad figuring out that she was trying to find a way to save him.


« Last Edit: 02 December 2010, 22:16:46 »

Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 10 November 2010, 12:05:07 »
Quote

Elaine had only just gotten her heartbeat to return to an acceptable speed when she was again surprised by the sudden presence of someone beside her. She looked up sharply, her heart rate jumping again, expecting an attack until she realized that, for the second time tonight, it was Marcellus that had just approached her. Nothing to worry about. Marcellus was the only other person that she’d decided to lay aside her anxieties for. At the very least, he wasn’t there to kill her.

Marcellus – I’d wondered where you’d wandered off to. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t quite noticed his disappearance at all at the time. But now, she realized that he’d been missing for a fair amount of time now. Certainly he’d not been at her side since a while before she spoke with the king. Are you all right? Likely, he’d just been off to get a drink, but it was best to be polite and make sure that nothing was wrong.

Ah, yes, he was holding two glasses of champagne in his hands – he had just been off for refreshments. Nothing at all to worry about. Would you like a drink? Oh... She hesitated for a moment, knowing she shouldn’t turn him down, but still not entirely pleased with the idea of taking the drink. She never liked drinking anything unless she had seen the servants pour it directly from the bottle and someone else had already tested it first. It would be far too easy to slip a bit of poison into a glass of wine.

But she wasn’t worried about Marcellus killing her. He was one of the two people she didn’t fear, despite the fact that she probably ought to. Still, she’d found that she trusted him, and she wasn’t going to change that now. She needed someone she could trust. She smiled, accepting the glass from him. Thank you. She still was a bit hesitant. Even if Marcellus wasn’t trying to poison her, that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t have put something in the glass before he got it.

But that was silly, she reminded herself. Whoever poured the champagne would have had no idea who each glass would go to. And they clearly hadn’t just poisoned the whole lot of it, for Marcellus had already had a drink from his and he was still just fine. For a moment, she considered the idea that perhaps Marcellus shouldn’t be drinking at all. He had been known to have poor reactions to too much alcohol. Ah, but she wasn’t going to judge him. She sometimes wondered if she wouldn’t enjoy overindulging herself every now and then. The only thing that kept her from getting drunk, even in her own home, was the thought that she’d have a far greater chance of missing the fact that someone was trying to kill her. She couldn’t let her judgment get so far impaired that someone might be able to slip something into her drink without her noticing.

This was only champagne, though. And just one little glass. It wasn’t going to cause her to lose control of herself, and Marcellus certainly wasn’t going to be set off by this little alcohol when he usually consumed much more before his outbursts. Everything would be all right. Slowly, she raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip. It did taste quite nice – it was precisely the right temperature and she was sure the king had ensured only the best brand be used for the party. And she detected nothing that would indicate that it had been tampered with, which was the most important thing.

That is lovely. She took another small sip, knowing that it was now her duty to suggest something to talk about. She wasn’t the most sociable of people, since she was so afraid of everyone else, but she knew at least how to avoid being completely rude. She thought back, trying to remember if they’d been talking about anything specific before he’d left and she’d turned her attention to King Lucien. But, no, they really hadn’t gotten beyond greeting each other, she was fairly certain.

There was plenty that Elaine would love to talk to Marcellus about. Unfortunately, it really wasn’t the sort of thing that they could be acceptable for conversation in this sort of environment. What fascinated Elaine most about Marcellus was his affinity with death. He had killed far more often than most, and rumor had it that he went to extra lengths to ensure that his victims remained dead. She was sure he’d seen more deaths than all but a very few others in attendance tonight.

There was so much that she wanted to know about death. The more she knew, the less frightening it would be, she hoped. She knew that what scared her most had always been the unknown. She didn’t know how far her powers extended, so she was afraid of being attacked. She didn’t know if she could die, so she was terrified about what might happen. But if she knew more, if she better understood what actually happened when a person died, she might not be quite as afraid. Of course, there was no guarantee that it would free her from her paranoia, and it probably wouldn’t, in all honesty. But it was worth a try.

Unfortunately, now was not the time. They were at a party. A party celebrating the birthday of the king. They were supposed to be talking about things that were pleasant and cheerful and encouraging. Death was not a subject that fit those categories in any stretch of the imagination. So she would have to think of something else. Something that wouldn’t cause the more “delicate” ladies to faint if they were overheard talking about it.

Was your journey here pleasant enough? Inwardly, she sighed. Asking how his travels had been was not the most engaging of subjects by any means. But she had to say something, and this was at least a starting point. And hopefully, something in his answer would suggest another topic with which they could continue the conversation. And if not, she could just come up with something else, she supposed. At the very least, she’d managed to say something that wasn’t entirely depressing, so it was still better than what she usually managed to come up with.


« Last Edit: 07 December 2010, 17:29:07 »


Alexandra Winters
Played by hidden.trick

« 10 November 2010, 21:31:02 »
Quote

The High Queen received the kiss sweetly and tenderly, though inside she could never determine whether or not it was surprise or shock whenever she was given one. It felt and it looked real, and yet she knew it wasn't. It didn't bother her that much, but it was an odd sort of emotion to have. It was like having a sugar substitute in your coffee. It tasted and it looked the same, but slowly, those chemicals would either kill you inside or make you numb.

Unfortunately, those were the only two paths Alexandra had to choose, and for the most part, she teetered to numbness. Emotions were for people who could be controlled, who could not step up to the plate and take command of what was rightfully theirs. She had age on her side, a decade younger than her husband, and for what he was beginning to falter (only when compared to his twin), she more than doubly compensated. That was why the two were there for each other. The minute one began to even show the faintest signs of slipping, the other would quickly push their double image back up. Alexandra often thought to herself, what would the King be regarded as, if he had remained a solitary man? He wasn't the playboy type by any stretch of the imagination, and without a soft femininity that only she could forge, would he be as highly esteemed? Would the kingdom be what it is today?

Perish the thought, woman. You are Queen and that is all that matters. Sometimes, she had to force herself from overthinking. Just because she could judge moral character better than any living soul on this planet, didn't mean she had to go moulding and melting it in her mind. It was something you simply could not sculpt.

Before responding to her husband, she glanced over at her children. To show her public that they themselves were gifts of nature. Now that brought a smirk to Alexandra's un-aged lips. She could tell that the King held affection for them, at the very least for Eden. Alexandra, perhaps liked Eden least of all for this reason. She had power, she had beauty, and she didn't use it properly for one second. In her mind, Eden was a flake who lost all hope a long time ago when she chose to live the so-called fairy-tale life that most princesses are fed to believe. No, if there was one of the three children Alexandra could possibly love, (that is to say, if Alexandra truly understood the definition of the word love), it would be William. He was equally Alexandra and Lucien's son, and that was what made him hauntingly special. There was a finesse about him that made him worth while, at least, worth while enough for Alexandra to sleep in her own bedroom away from the mysterious noises she would hear in her husband's chambers. Bless him, he thinks I'm sleeping she would think to herself, when the noises grew loud, or some of his men came round. But she could never bring herself to admit what she heard. It was better to hold onto power until it was ready to be released as public knowledge. For the tentative moment, she held a small, upper hand.

The High Queen enfurled her arm around her King's and took him to the mountain of presents, and nodded. Please, my King. If I may show you mine first.


She led him to his throne where two man servants were making their way toward him. After the nuclear war, many of the world's finest possessions were left to ruination. The House of Windsor though kept a secret on two of their most precious items. And here they are, for you to brandish: The Jewelled Sword and the Sword of Mercy from the Crown Jewels of England.

To use a pun, it was a double-edged sword. And a mighty clever one at that. With a steel blade, finely etched in gold, diamonds, rubies and emeralds, this sword was once the personal sword of every English Sovereign. In and out of battle. It is familiarly called the sword of Offering for this very purpose.

"Receive this kingly Sword, brought now from the Altar of God, and delivered to you by the hands of us the Bishops and servants of God, though unworthy. With this sword do justice, stop the growth of iniquity, protect the Holy Church of God, help and defend widows and orphans, restore the things that are gone to decay, maintain the things that are restored, punish and reform what is amiss, and confirm what is in good order"

That is what was etched onto it, and it all sounded good. But the sheer history and magic of the sword far outweighed any do-good feelings Lucien might have possessed. Thus, with such great power bestowed on him from the Sword of Offering, she gave him the Sword of Mercy. The Sword of Mercy was a broken sword, it's blade cut off in a square symbolically to rightfully keep an angel from killing wrongfully. By giving the Sword of Mercy, Alexandra would permanently safe. She would make sure that she, and whoever held it would keep the King in check, should his power corrupt him to the point of personal danger. Again, Alexandra loved power, she married the King for it. But she wanted it securely, so that she may slumber peacefully at night. Hence, the sword of mercy.

It had taken a lot of searching, and a lot of thinking. But, it wasn't easy pretending to be a loving wife, when you had other more pressing things on your agenda.




Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 10 November 2010, 21:52:59 »
Quote

Francoise had initially been waiting to speak to the man Olivia was dancing with. But she didn't make it a point to interrupt conversation or dance, nor stand too closely to imply such a desire. She waited closer to where she could her gentlemen complain of dresses and their prices which made her quietly snort inside. The dress she wore she had made herself, and so while the fabric couldn't have been more than a hundred dollars, emotionally it was priceless. Something which, if she had stouted off to Eden or Olivia, would have resulted in a bold scoffing.

But there was something about who Olivia was dancing with. Beyond his dashing good looks, his complexion seemed warm, and unlike those of nobility that she had known. She couldn't quite peg if he was an aristocrat or not, but the point was he had been invited to such a grand birthday party, and so it was needless to doubt he was a figure of importance. Riches didn't seem to matter to him, because he was emotionally rich inside, she could feel it. She just wanted to speak to him so much, or at the very least, be able to grace his hand so that she may better read his thoughts.

Alas, to no avail. Princess Eden had curtailed her. She turned her attention swiftly to the perfect young maiden and greeted her. Eden! You are more radiant with each time I see you. It must be at least three months since our last visit. We should really see each other beyond such formal parties.


She held the girl's hand and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek when she felt a rush of thoughts swim into her head from the princess. Eden was avoiding someone. Quickly in mid-kiss her eyes opened to search the crowd, and she could only place her guess on Count Marcellus. Eden had always seemed to favour him in the most subtle of ways.

But more pressingly, Eden seemed bored. And Francoise didn't need to touch Eden to sense that. Everyone knew that the royal cousins were never so fortunate to intimately meet beyond formal gatherings, so they had no level of comfort to share between each other. Everything between her and Eden, and presumably between Eden and most guests, would be cordial and cold. And it seemed Eden was looking for a friend. Perhaps, Francoise would lead her onto the slightly more fun, rebellious side, if only she would allow herself to commit such a task.

So Francoise immediately aborted any pretty formalities for a second, and tried to make the topic of discussion more juicy. So who is our little Olivia dancing with? Francoise said with a wink.

Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 12 November 2010, 11:32:28 »
Edit post Quote Delete

True, true… uncertain.  It seemed to Eden that not even Francoise was sure whether or not she was sure about the truthfulness of that third statement.  They were cousins, yes, but that didn’t mean anything except that they were distantly related in some way.  The two young women didn’t see each other very often, and, when they did, it was almost always in instances such as this one: a crowded party celebrating a magnificent occasion.  There really was no room for an intimate conversation, just for impersonal pleasantries.

And Eden didn’t particularly mind.  She and Francoise got along well enough when they were together, but Eden didn’t feel any outstanding need to need her cousin every day, every week or even every month.  The elder princess had never gotten into the habit of keeping up with friends or anything of the sort.  It had always been her style to merely sit back and let people flock to her.  This time, however, she needed an excuse to decline a rather boring—and not very handsome—young man’s request for a dance.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pause and contemplate the risks of interrupting her while she was talking to Francoise.  After a moment, he seemed to give up the idea and she lost sight of him.

However, it would be rude and very obvious to simply end the conversation so abruptly.  Princess Eden was neither rude nor obvious.

Well, maybe she was obvious to someone like Francoise.

Then Francoise was mentioning Olivia and inquiring as to the identity of her dance partner.  Just several minutes prior, Eden had seen her younger sister was Deiter Gatsby; it was a common enough sight at these kinds of events.  Everyone who was around even semi-regularly knew that her father’s right hand man was also her sister’s tutor.  He taught her many things, including how to properly dance.  Now, Eden followed her cousin’s eyes to where Dieter was standing with her father’s chauffeur, Mason Volkov.

Mason was a handsome man in his own right, but Eden thought Dieter looked better.  Even dressed as he was, it was still obvious that the former had merely been plucked from poverty due to his merit.  No one could ever seem to wash the last bits of the lower class from Mason… whether it was something about his face, his hair or even the way he carried himself.  Dieter, however, had adapted so well to the world of wealth and extravagance that one was likely to mistake him for an aristocrat if one didn’t already know who he was. 

One like Francoise, apparently.  Her cousin didn’t need to say anything to tell Eden that she took her father’s principle servant for a nobleman.  Eden smiled at Francoise’s honest mistake, removing one of her gloves to snatch a shrimp from a passing waiter as she turned back to the other young woman.  After popping the small hors-d’ouvre into her mouth, the princess laid her bare hand on her cousin’s shoulder, letting all of her real thoughts about Dieter Gatsby flow between them.


“My, you have been absent recently, Francoise,” she teased.  “That is Dieter Gatsby.  He’s been working for my father for seven years now.  Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?”

Eden laughed softly, then, removing her hand from Francoise and replacing her glove.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 14 November 2010, 23:54:03 »
Quote

Deiter allowed his line of slight to slide over to Eden’s image as she stopped to chat with the woman he’d been unable to place. In that moment, recognition dawned over his face as he placed the young woman’s countenance in his mental rolodex of nobles. The Cousin, the Prospective, Françoise. It was not surprising to him that he’d forgotten her face despite the fact that a persistent rumor implicated her future in the royal seat because she was rarely seen in court. She was one of the smart ones, he imagined, staying away from the center of all and letting the regulating mechanism of gossip do all of her work for her. That way, when she did show up, all she had to do was be physically present to garner attention and accolades from those who would later praise her beauty, her poise, and whatever other poisonous virtues were valued by the King’s men.

And she was beautiful, as well as being poised. She could hold her own next to Eden and that was a feat in itself. She could never eclipse the princess, nobody could, and of course in Deiter’s eyes she would never measure up to the sheer flawlessness of the gorgeous Eden, but Francoise was fair enough. Fair enough indeed. 


“Be kind, Mason,” Deiter chided with a roll of his eyes. He knew how the chauffer sometimes got in his moods, subtle revolutionary moods that were best left ignored or corrected. It was a bit ballsy of him to be so outspoken in the middle of the ball though, and for his and Mason’s good Deiter took it upon himself to express the requisite displeasure. “It’s gauche to discuss money at a party.” He was surprised at how well the etiquette correction came to his lips; it was possible that he had spent so much time tutoring the oblivious Olivia that he had started to believe his own lessons. Either that or he was fully indoctrinated into Court life. What a frightening thought.

   Eden and Francoise were still talking, and if he wasn’t entirely mistaken, the Princess had gestured ever-so-slightly in his direction. Were they discussing him? Did Francoise ask after him or was Eden simply giving her a lesson in the state of the court? Either way, Deiter made a point to stand up a little straighter and look very, very disinterested. He failed, of course, and ended up fixating on what on earth the two women might be saying to each other. It was silly of him to care, of course, but that spark of youth that Deiter had tried to smother with the trappings of his old soul was cropping up. Forgive a young man his vanities, but Deiter was human after all. Not even the fear of Lucien’s wrath could entirely quash the fact that he was thirty years old, single, and handsome. The possibility of having a romance was entirely out of the question (“I may die tomorrow so let’s get coffee RIGHT NOW.”), but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a little attention.


“I’ll be right back. Try to behave while I’m gone.” Deiter downed the rest of his champagne in an impressive gulp and set the empty flute back on Mason’s tray with an air of determined finality. He straightened his jacket (what would Mason say if he know how much Deiter’s suit cost?) and approached Eden and Francoise.

“Princess Eden, if I may,” he intercepted their conversation elegantly and bowed low to the lovely Eden. “I consider it my job to ensure that all of our King’s guests are properly welcomed." With that, he turned to Francoise. “Lady Marton,” he used her land’s title to convey the maximum possible respect. “It’s a shame we haven’t been properly introduced. I am Deiter Gatsby, forever at your service.” the polite addendum, at your service, rarely had such a literal interpretation. It would have been suicide for any other servant to introduce himself to a member of the nobility in such a way but as Eden had noticed, Deiter’s person was nobler than most real nobles. He was, more or less, one of the more powerful men in the room due to Lucien’s protections.

As he introduced himself to Francoise, he found his attention constantly drawn to stupid things like the divine, slender arch of Eden’s neck or how charmingly her dress cinched around her beautiful waist. Her face, gorgeous enough without the aid of the expert makeup she had applied to supplement her goddess-like beauty, drew his gaze as if her very skin were magnetic. His face lit up when he laid eyes on her, his body language altered itself against his will to better mirror hers; not even his formidable self-control could keep such outpourings of his feelings capped inside him. Eden was still young, and Deiter couldn’t help but feel guilty for all the decidedly impure thoughts he had whenever he was around his master’s daughter. Call it obsession, call it a mania. It was only for Eden and always for Eden. Deiter kissed Francoise’s hand, completely unaware of her power.




Lucien felt differently about his brother. To his logical mind, it made perfect sense that he should stay devoid of emotion while his brother lived his life ruled by his tempestuous passions. Like two halves of a whole, they both completed and complimented each other. He remembered when they were young, before the world had fallen apart, how they would stay together and Cygnus would try to explain to him what sadness was, why people smiled. What love was supposed to feel like. Lucien had accepted the lessons and even made a great effort to comprehend them but there was no use.

He felt it when his twin brother was in the room, really felt his presence as If the orchestral music had been transposed up by an imperceptible interval. Lucien didn’t bother to search the crowd for his brother. He didn’t even have to violate Cygnus’ dreams to know that his younger twin was no longer the boy who would defend him from the idiot schoolboys who called him a freak, wasn’t anything close to the bright-eyed solider who had clasped his hand before that fateful battle and conveyed all the brotherly trust in the world with one look.

Cygnus was beyond all of that, given over to bitterness and anger- things Lucien couldn’t understand but knew the implications of. It was a shame that they had to be this way. Sociopath or not, Cygnus was his twin. From beyond their birth, the closest thing Lucien had to himself. He would lie if he said he wasn’t fond of Cygnus. He wouldn’t let anything happen to him if he could stop it and genuinely felt the loss of his brother’s leg when it happened. Still, this ghost of sentimentality wasn’t enough to cloud Lucien’s judgment. Cygnus’ bitterness made him a threat, and a dire one at that.

But for now, Lucien’s attention was consumed by the gifts of his wife. The treasures of the former British Empire, something she knew would mean a lot to him. Lucien still clung to the last vestiges of his English identity, to those days when he was simply a son of English parents who watched the coronation of the Final Queen on television. With these, Lucien felt almost nostalgically royal, as if the spirits of those monarchs were with him now, looking with favor upon his humble attempt to fix the mess they had found themselves in. Alexandra was right, this was the perfect gift. Lucien called for one of his attendants to remove the standard military rapier he had belted at this waist and replace it with his new gift- he intended to carry this token of the Queen’s affections from now until the end of his reign. It was sweet and symbolic, exactly the kind of thing the nobles ate up and took as proof of their love for each other. How charming.

Once his swords were belted at his waist, Lucien caught Alexandra in his arms and kissed her deeply- it would be another lie if this simple human interaction, the brushing of lips and pressing of mouths together wasn’t entirely stripped of its physical implications. Lucien appreciated the interplay of hormones and endorphins such a kiss could release into his body on a purely carnal level but expressed little interest beyond that. He pulled away from his pretty wife and touched her cheek affectionately. “Leave it to the perfect wife to find the perfect gift. I love you,” he said hollowly. “I love you so much.”




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Alexandra Winters
Played by hidden.trick

« 17 November 2010, 22:58:05 »
Quote

If one stood closely enough to gaze upon the royal couple, one could have seen how powerful Alexandra's gleam was as it reflected off the swords being placed onto Lucien's waist. She wasn't entirely sure how much he genuinely loved the gift, but she knew he admired and respected the thought put into it. Meaning, it was something that would please his court, and seem like it would be appealing to him. It was cheesy, romantic, and sweet all without the added guilt of eating your second helping of double chocolate cake.

And then just like that, without another moment to further swell into her thoughts about the receiving of the gift and her audience's reaction she was swept into her husbands arms. Caught off-guard, she let herself be wrapped up in the emotion of the kiss. It was startling, for she was not used to physically displaying affection with Lucien, at the very least privately, which was how they often lived their lives. In that instance, she was left only partially confused, wondering how much Lucien actually felt in that kiss. Despite her undying thirst for power, she knew that her marriage to Lucien was not without morales. She knew that if she was ever going to love someone, it would have been Lucien, and it was in these rare and shining moments that she wondered if on her lips she could actually taste love. She brushed it off, parting her lips from his to catch her breath. If she let herself get wrapped up in emotion for more than half a second, she would be worse than Olivia and Eden combined. Emotions were for weaklings, and while love might have been the only "emotion" worthy and strong enough to even be considered in Alexandra's vocabulary, she couldn't quite yet decipher where to place it in her mind. And so, she let it dangle here and there, sometimes corrupting her mind in moments like these.

To add insult to injury, the minute her lips left Lucien's, Alexandra's eyes fell on a guest that surely must have only just walked in, for she hadn't seen him earlier. Cygnus.

Why, it must have been ages since they last saw each other. He was such mysterious folk. Always in and out of the court, he seemed more akin to a snowflake in winter, falling gracefully wherever he may and disappearing with the spring sun more than anything else. How closely they resembled each other and were two different characters. Lucien, the calculated one, never lost control of a situation. Cygnus, from however little she saw of him recently, lived a live on impulse, and ate passion as his only meal. She wasn't sure if there was anything beneath the passion, but it was an intersting flag to wave.

Lucien hadn't spoken much about Cygnus unless he was brought up in conversation by someone else. She had gotten the feeling they were close at one point in their life, but something had broken such a fierce bond, and she was curious to find out. Just by staring at him, Alexandra could sense that Cygnus had an interesting moral character. His distance though, was too great as yet to determine whether interesting meant good or bad, strong or deceptive. All she knew, was that it was far from dull, and not without slyness and cleverness. After all, he was Lucien's twin.

She quickly reverted her gaze back to her husband who was doting upon her endlessly, however hollowly. She blushed an innocent rose, a colour she had mastered over the years, and wrapped her arm around his. You speak much too kindly of me, my King. You mean the world to me, I would do anything for you.


She giggled while enfurling her fingers around his, walking over to the crowd with him. It doesn't hurt either that you're easy on the eyes as well.

Saying the words "I love you" wasn't easy. She could evoke it in every other way imaginable, but she had probably said those lines maybe thrice in all her life. They were far too strong to be used in every day conversation, and most certainly they could not be faked. But, for the King, she made the greatest of efforts to prove to him and everyone else, that she did love him, somehow.




Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 18 November 2010, 12:48:29 »
Quote

Francoise sweetly sipped the glass of champagne in her hand, and tried her best to get as much out of that swift touch from Eden as possible. Even without her hand gracing Francoise's, she could tell that Eden was not the type to get too close to anyone. While the two ladies got on rather splendidly, it was clear to Francoise that Eden was more of a "second strike" sort of girl. People had to engage her for attention, and she would only return the favour if it suited her most immediate of needs.

This, of course, answered her question. She was avoiding someone. Someone who was in their vicinity whom she did not wish to exchange even the most chaste and hastened of conversations. How very curious...

Finally, Eden's eyes stopped flitting like an undecided hummingbird and landed on the topic of question: the man Olivia was dancing with. Ah, Dieter Gatsby's name did ring several bells in her mind, but she had never been able to place a face to the ever famous name. So this was the rebel-cum-right-hand-man to the King. If ever there was one thing Francoise could money on, was that the court was never without its intrigues.

Gatsby must have appreciated the flattery bestowed upon him as the two ladies looked in his direction, for not a moment later did he make his way over to the two of them. He introduced himself in the most cordial of ways and the amount of respect he gave to her was very interesting. Was he merely being his overly-formal self to maintain appearances for the King? Or was was he, perish the thought, genuine? Sincerity was such a rare find in this day and age that it seemed it went extinct long ago with the Dodo bird of yesteryear. Everyone had their own feelings inside, and yet everyone chose to persuade the rest of the world that those feelings deep inside them weren't real at all. They were a figment of the imagination, to be told perhaps in fairy tales or on tombstones.

But my, was he attractive! Perhaps it was because she had not spoken to William (who had disappeared somewhere into the crowd), or to another boy approximately her age in a while, but Dieter seemed to ooze charm. When his soft lips brushed Francoise's naked hand, beyond her own, she felt a certain magical spark about him. Alas, in that same gracing touch, did she come to understand that his heart, whether or not Eden knew it, belonged to the elder princess. Which was a shame, because, Eden didn't seem the type to need a man. She needed more of a trophy, like Alexandra. Someone who was easily manipulated and could easily portray perfection without causing any sort of infraction on her master plan.

Francoise though, could see big plans between her and Dieter. Perhaps this gala could be a fun night after all. She dressed her cheeks in a rosy blush and replied. Please Mr. Gatsby, please call me Francoise. If you are the famous right-hand-man to the King that is so highly spoken of, we must treat each other to the joys of an informal friendship. But yes, it is such a shame that each time I have visited, I have missed your presence. I hope this will not occur in the future.


Her response, however coy, was not suggestive beyond the poised nature of her personality. But she certainly would make plans to stay longer at the castle if it meant that she could learn more about Dieter, and if he could possibly get her out of this rumoured arranged marriage between her and the Prince.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 19 November 2010, 20:17:12 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Francoise was partially correct when she thought that Eden wasn’t the kind of woman that needed a man, but, at the same time, she was also partially wrong.

Because she was constantly working so hard to perfect her image of perfection, Eden was not the kind of girl who would sit around waiting for a man to come and sweep her off her feet.  She was determined to be strong, her own woman.  She wouldn’t let herself be defined by her husband or lover.  Princess Eden would not lower herself for a man; she was too perfect for that.  When she got married, she was certain that her husband would be some utterly boring fellow handpicked by her father.  She would be the more powerful figure in the relationship.

Yet that didn’t mean that Princess Eden wasn’t a young woman.  Beneath the cold but charming exterior that she projected for other people to see, she really just wanted to be loved, not just by her father but also by a man.  She wanted to be swept off her feet by some mysterious and dangerous lover.  Deep down, she wasn’t satisfied knowing that her future marriage would be painfully dull and unbelievable uninteresting.  In the end, it came down to a question of power or love.  She could either be the perfect, powerful woman that she wanted to be or she could give it up for the romance of her dreams.  The way she saw things, that was how they had to be.

That was why she knew she could never marry either one of the men at court who happened to catch her interest.  There would be an unfortunate and intolerable stigma attached to Marcellus, and then there was the fact that he had never even looked twice at her to begin with.  It was a good thing, then, that that childhood crush was well on its way out the door.  However, she knew that she could never even think about marrying Dieter either, even though he was by far the most interesting man in the room—with the exception of her father.  Her carefully cultivated image would never allow it.

Above all else, Princess Eden was lonely.  Right before she went to bed each night, after she’d sent Arcadia away and she was truly alone, she could feel the silence closing in on her.  Her own loneliness threatened to tear her brain apart and devour her body and soul.  She didn’t think that she could truly say that she was loved by anyone, or that she loved anyone.  Her mother hated her, she was distant (at best) with her siblings, she had no friends… even though she often fooled herself into thinking that her father loved her, she knew deep in her heart that she was nothing but an object to him.

But all of that emotion was locked up behind her mask of perfect charm and poise.  She smiled indulgently when Dieter bowed to her out of respect and then promptly turned his attention to Francoise.  Eden would never let anyone know, but she felt a pang of jealousy as she was passed over so quickly.  Her sin of choice was a mixture of vanity and pride, and her subscription to perfectionism forced her to wonder why he would rather talk to her cousin.  After all, she was prettier, wealthier, more charming… Perfect.  Shush, she told herself, he’s merely being polite.

The princess noted apathetically that Francoise’s words were true when she spoke to Dieter.  “Does this mean you are going to be around more often?” she asked her cousin, showing polite interest in the lady’s plans.  She turned to Dieter as if to explain, “Francoise is such a rare sight at court, Mr. Gatsby.  But surely you’ve noticed that?”




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 07 December 2010, 02:18:46 »
Quote

It was difficult to concentrate, or so Deiter thought. IT wasn’t something he found himself thinking often, despite the fact that he had never been able to consider himself a single-minded person. Even seven years ago, when he had dedicated himself to the revolution and dissolution of Lucien’s regime, his focus had always been carefully divided into compartmentalized miind0sectors of “things he had to think about.” People he cared about, strategy, dissemination of his word, statues of secrecy…Deiter supposed that this compartmentalization was essential in a leader- elsewise they’d go crazy within the week- and had initially suspected Lucien of having the same mindset. It didn’t take long for Deiter to realize that he’d been dead wrong when it came to that assessment of the King. Lucien never saw the need to compartmentalize because for him, there was only one compartment. Deiter imagined that looking into Lucien’s mind could reveal a cold, compact chunk of myselfkingdompower that was packed and frozen so tightly as to be entirely inextricable. That factotum could never be sure, though, if a mind like that was the organic product of a genius’ life or evidence that Lucien had already gone crazy a long, long time ago.

Deiter would only be half-right in all of his assumptions. Lucien didn’t need to compartmentalize because much of the mind’s many complications would be chalked up to the uncanny nuisance of emotional coloring. He thought, as he had discovered through an admirable amount of introspection, in solid, flat planes like patchwork quilts that were patterend with only the necessary colors. Everyone in his life, his troubles, his strategies, the dissemination of his word, statues of secrecy- they all had their place in the broad, flat plane, one that could be easily accessed and walked away from but never entirely gone from his thoughts. In this way, Lucien thought about everything all the time, with everything that merited his attention occupying some space simultaneously. He was not crazy, only super-sane, which if you think about it may just come up to the same thing.

The King ended the kiss with his wife after a calculated interval and waved for his servants to select a few of the gifts for him to unwrap later on in the ball. As his wife led him out into the crowd to be congratulated and fawned over, the king strained his failing eyes trying to scan the room for his brother’s dark form. He wanted to speak to him. Had a proposition for him. You never know, it could be important. He felt Alexandra’s hand, warm and fleshy and wrapped up in his own til death did they part. Rather, til death did her part. Lucien wondered abjectly what would happen to Alexandra once he had captured the secret to Elaine of Rautha’s power. She would surely age, and the gold in her hair would fade. How old would Elaine be when Alexandra died? The thought passed through his mind that he could maybe marry her, if only to keep up appearances. As soon as the thought was there, it was gone again when he felt the warm resistance of Alexandra’s hand against his own. He felt a dull ache in his chest, like where love was supposed to be but wasn’t, and followed his pretty wife to wherever she would lead him. He trusted Alexandra for things like this. That wasn’t so easy to replace. “I am rather handsome, aren’t I?” he grinned and again looked for Cygnus.


It was difficult to concentrate but Deiter did his best. Even with the heat and breath of Eden hovering so near to him, he threw the majority of his attention towards Francoise.  It turned out be be esier than expected, however, because even as he struggled to keep his mind off of murder, away from Olivia’s dancing, off the idea of dying at some point in the next five minutes, and Eden, Eden, bloody Eden…he found himself charmed by Lady Marton. It helped that she was beautiful and had a mildly idiosyncratic regal frankness that reminded him of some of the servants in the castle of whom he was particularly found. Even more helpful, and this was Deiter’s ego rearing its ugly head again, was Francoise’s apparently genuine interest in him. Despite his fashionable position at court and mysterious figure, Deiter was very rarely confronted with a noble who didn’t either hold him in badly veiled contempt or see him as a way to curry favor with the king.

“If you wouldn’t be averse to maintaining my company while you stay in the palace, I’d would consider it my duty to show you around the city and the grounds and…such,” he finished somewhat lamely and finished it up with a thin smile. It likely wasn’t quite the informal overture she’d expected based on the tone of her request, but Deiter was still a common man. Common men with no powers weren’t informal with goddesslike noblewomen, regardless of how friendly she may seem (and Deiter would be an idiot indeed if he didn’t think that Francoise may not be exactly as she seemed). They weren’t informal and they didn’t form relationships. Even the occasional noble who took interest in a commoner could never be serious about their conquest. Mixed children would often be born with undocumented, unstable powers and the nobility would be forced to take them in as one of their own gifted stock. It was an undesirable situation, one to be avoided at all costs. Deiter swallowed thinly.

Had the factotum been aware of Francoise’s power, he would have been mightily relieved to discover that he had let go of her hand long before the trajectory of his thoughts brought him to something as common and base as breeding. How distasteful. The ex-German fought through his internal monologue with a somewhat forced-looking smile, one that spoke to his marginal discomfort at being addressed by the odd new Lady with such blatant familiarity. The conversation would have been derailed had Eden not spoken up. Deiter unconsciously jumped at the opportunity to return his attention to the elder princess and resumed his stoic, I’m-not-wholeheartedly-in-love-with-everything-about you pantomime. He barely had time to register what she said before he remembered that the only way to neutralize Eden’s power was to answer her questions with questions.


“If Lady Marton has been present at court as seldomly as you say, who am I to disagree with the princess?” he smiled amicably and raised his gaze up to the carved ceiling. The band struck up a new tune, a breezy waltz that cooled the ardor of the particolored dancers who had been sweeping across the floor to another uplifting pavane. Partners were changed with seamless grace. Deiter kept his gaze away from both Eden and Francoise to avoid any traitorous, expectant looks that might creep up onto his face.




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 07 December 2010, 16:20:35 »
Quote

Cygnus walked through the ballroom slowly, his eyes gazing about the room as he went, taking in every sight. He knew it was likely that Lucien already knew he was here – not much seemed to escape the man’s notice. But, as he had intended, no one else seemed to pay him a bit of mind. It wasn’t that he had any plans to do anything drastic during the party. He would need much more time and planning before he could actually act on his desire to give his brother what he deserved. Still, it was nice to avoid the mindless prattle of the star struck noblemen and women gathered here, especially since most would want to talk about nothing other than the king himself.

He decided to first check on the children – his nieces and nephew who should have been his daughters and son. Whatever grudge he held against their father, Cygnus did have genuine feelings for Lucien’s children. They were all stunning examples of the prime of noble society. Strong, intelligent young ones who drew only favor from onlookers. Even Cygnus was impressed by them, although he had a sneaking suspicion that all could not be quite as ideal as it seemed for them. After all, they did have Lucien for a father. And, as Cygnus knew all too well how troublesome it could be to spend too much time around that particular influence.

He took a up a spot near a refreshment table, leaning casually against a stone pillar as he looked out over the crowds. Eden was, as always, quite easy to find. All that needed be done was to see which way the young men were all staring, and their gazes would invariably lead to the beautiful young princess. And tonight was no exception. Even Cygnus could not deny the beauty and attraction of the elder princess. Were she not such a close relation, he might have entertained thoughts of pursuing her even himself, though his chances would have been slim to none. But such beauty was rarely found anywhere else.

Most of Eden’s beauty, Cygnus was sure, was a reflection of her mother. Her light hair and stunning eyes were traits that he had always associated with Alexandra. Her movements were also similar in their grace, and she was charming beyond belief. But she did have a bit more of her father in her than Cygnus thought was entirely healthy. She couldn’t help, of course, that her face, rather more angular than the visages of her brother and sister, was a bit more similar in shape to Lucien’s than to Alexandra’s.

More worrisome, however, was the power that seemed to emanate from the girl at times. Her complete calmness and constant perfection reminded him a bit too much of his brother. Cygnus knew as well as anyone the importance of keeping up a respectable image while in court, but that shouldn’t have stopped Eden from just being a girl every now and then. She didn’t have to always be the perfect little ice princess that she tended to resemble whenever he saw her. He genuinely hoped that she allowed herself some time to herself, or perhaps with a friend or two, to let the façade fall and to just enjoy herself a bit. After all, she had to actually feel some emotion, even if her father’s lack of expression had had some influence on her.

Eden’s company was currently occupied, however, by a woman he recognized as a young relative of Alexandra’s and that former revolutionary that Lucien seemed so insistent upon keeping around. Cygnus had always found that odd. How could the king be so trusting of a man who had led a cause to overthrow him? Well, perhaps he didn’t trust him, per se, but to keep him so close showed a level of confidence that bordered on stupidity. Then again, it seemed to be working, as he had heard of no further attempts from the man to change the country’s leadership, and he could see the benefits of showing people how easily a traitor could be conquered and controlled. Lucien’s method did seem to be working in warding off future revolution attempts.

Sighing, he allowed his gaze to slip away from Eden. He would talk with her later, if he could find her at a time when she wasn’t occupied as she was now. Cygnus’ eyes wandered around the room until he found another of the Royal children – the Crown Prince. From what Cygnus could tell, William shared even fewer traits with his father than Eden did. And he seemed like a good enough sort. It would be interesting to know how things would be around here if Lucien ever had the decency to die, of old age if of nothing else. The lad would probably make a much better rule than Lucien.

Lad... Cygnus supposed he shouldn’t be applying that particular term to his nephew. As much as he would like to think of his brother’s son as a young boy, he had to admit that William was actually growing up quicker than he’d like to admit. And not just William: the two princesses had also matured a bit too far for him to be thinking of them just as girls. All three had come of age and, before long, they’d be arranging marriages and off to start families of their own.

We he really that old already? Cygnus had always viewed the royal children as almost his own son and daughters. They should have been, really, and he felt certain that, had it not been for Lucien’s interference, then he would have been the father of Alexandra’s three children. How he longed for that life that could have been. He’d have been living happily with his beautiful wife and perfect children, surrounded by friends instead of cooped up alone in his mountain manor for most of the year. He’d be thinking back on all the memories of them, recalling their first steps and their first words and wondering how they’d grown up so fast and looking forward to spending time with their children once he became a grandfather.

He shook himself mentally, knowing that he couldn’t dwell on all that. He couldn’t change things now. It was too late. Lucien had taken away all those dreams from him, and now all that he could possibly do was to make sure that Lucien couldn’t ruin anyone else’s lives the way he had ruined his. Realizing he’d been standing in one place for far too long, Cygnus scooped up a drink from the table next to him and started moving along through the crowd as he looked for the youngest of his brother’s progeny.

He soon found her out on the dance floor, twirling around with some young aristocrat. Cygnus didn’t really care who the boy was, he was just glad to have located his niece, and a slight smile curved his lips as he made his way over to the edge of the dancing area. He knew it wasn’t really fair to have a favorite niece, but, though he certainly cared for the other two children, Olivia had always been special to him. He knew it was likely because she looked the most like her mother. Despite Olivia’s red hair, she had still always been the most like a reflection of Alexandra out of any of the children. He couldn’t help but feel a special fondness towards someone so similar to the woman he’d loved his entire life.

The music shifted, but it looked like the boy intended to continue dancing with the princess all the same. Well, now then, that wasn’t quite fair, was it? The young man ought to learn to share. Thankfully, the musicians were still in a transitional bit, so Cygnus didn’t have to work to avoid any dancers as he stepped forward towards the two. Pardon me, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut in, lad. Without waiting for a reply, he turned, smiling to Olivia. That is, of course, if you’re willing to spare a dance for your favorite uncle, my dear. He held out his leather glove-covered hand, waiting as the music began to lead into the actual dance melody.



OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 07 December 2010, 21:51:21 »
Quote

Marcellus – I’d wondered where you’d wandered off to.  Marcellus let a grin creep across his face, unable to stop it and not much wanting to.  Are you all right?  He blushed, inciting a renewed rush of teasing from the voices, who seemed to have calmed down again from the king's entrance and the walk through the crowd, and were back to their usual level of bitterness and amused ridicule.  I'm fine, he said, trying to ignore them as Elaine came close enough to take the glass from his hand.  He was blushing a little darker now, and the voices knew it.  I was just, umm, getting the drinks, he spluttered, by way of an excuse.  It wasn't a completely believable one, because he'd been gone too long, but since she'd asked if he was ok, she must have some idea of why he'd really run off, even if she didn't know the details of his powers.  He knew some people did, but he also knew there were all sorts of rumors about him and his powers that weren't true.  

Thank you.  He managed to stop the blush and calm down a little.  You're welcome.  He liked things like "please," "thank you," "you're welcome," "nice meeting you," and all the other polite phrases you used all the time, because once you learned them, you couldn't mess them up.  Someone said "thank you," you said "you're welcome," and no one thought you sounded stupid.  She drank some of her champagne, and he took a sip of his own, not wanting to seem like he was just staring at her.  He couldn't think of anything much to say.  That is lovely.   Marcellus nodded.  His majesty does always choose the best of everything.  That was one thing Marcellus had always admired about the king.  Lucien knew exactly when to take the best things for himself, and exactly when to share them.  Even back when he'd served under Lucien during the war, he'd noticed that.

Then again, back when he was serving under Lucien in the war, his voices had been both fewer and more helpful, and had told him secrets like where Lucien was keeping things and what he'd been hiding from the rest of the army.  Marcellus could only hear dead people if he was somehow connected to their deaths, and a lot of those connections were because Lucien had caught people spying and ordered them executed.  When his powers first started to develop, he'd only been able to hear the voices of people he'd killed himself.  The ones who had heard Lucien ordering him to kill them before he did it were even, for the most part, not terribly angry.  Not for long, anyway.  But then he'd killed people in battle as a soldier, and those people were usually much more bitter.  They'd started souring the whole experience, winning the other voices to their side and beginning to torment him.  As his powers developed farther, the voices had become more and more removed from him, adding to the list of people who were angry and bitter.  Instead of hearing only the people he'd killed with his own hands, he'd begun to hear people whose deaths he'd caused indirectly, by ordering them dead, or by not helping them, or sometimes even by not being able to help them.  Those were the worst, the ones he'd looked at and realized he could do nothing significant for them.  They always wanted to know why he hadn't saved them, and they never believed him when he said they'd been too far gone.

Was your journey here pleasant enough?  Marcellus was drawn out of his reverie, but he was glad for the distraction.  Yeah! he said.  The voices teased him for sounding surprised, but he ignored them.  He didn't want to think about them.  He wanted to think about the wonderful, warm, alive Elaine, who was standing in front of him.  The wonderful, warm, alive Elaine he probably couldn't even kill if he wanted to, much less in an accident or an aimless drunken rage.  My driver got us here without too much trouble, and my current valet is quite an interesting young man and quite willing to talk to me.  Raising an eyebrow, he asked And yourself?  That sounded almost genteel, and he was so pleased by it that he rewarded himself with a sip of champagne.  A small one, so he wouldn't look like he was trying to get drunk.  Not that it was easy for him to get drunk on champagne, but he had managed it before, and he was sure plenty of people in the room remembered the incident.

I couldn't find anything specific about Lucien during the war itself, so if this doesn't work, I can edit it.


« Last Edit: 07 December 2010, 21:57:39 »

Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 08 December 2010, 09:42:10 »
Edit post Quote Delete

As someone who had always been able to distinguish truth from lies, Eden had long since gotten into the habit of immediately evaluating everything that people said to her for its truthiness.  (For example, she could instantly tell that his comment to Francoise was true.  He would consider it his duty.)  She knew instantly when she was being lied to, and she had even learned to tell when someone was only telling half of the truth.  She could see through statements, commands, explanations… but not questions.  The one thing that she was still unable to do was figure out questions.  You see, the thing about questions was that they were neither true nor false, and therefore they would always stump the young princess.

It irritated her, not being able to use her power.  She was so used to knowing instantly whether someone spoke the truth or lies that suddenly not being able to do so was infuriating.  Most people only asked her questions on occasion, so she was fairly certain that they had no ulterior motive for doing so.  Her sister wanted to know what time dinner was, Arcadia wanted to know which dress she would be wearing that evening… However, there was one person who asked her far more questions than the number of statements he told her.  That man was Dieter Gatsby.

Most of the time, his queries were innocent enough.  At that moment, for example, he could be seen as simply showing respect for her title.  After all, she was almost always right… though she would have most people believe that she was right all of the time.  His question had merit.  Who was he to disagree with the princess?  However, he asked her far too many questions for her taste, and that made her paranoid.  Was Dieter Gatsby hiding something intentionally from her?  Did he have some secret that he didn’t want her to discover?  Or was he merely avoiding giving her anything that she could evaluate just for the fun of circumventing her power?

It annoyed her, yes, but, at the same time, Eden was intrigued.  This was one of the reasons why she maintained that Dieter Gatsby was the second most interesting man in the room, second only to her father (who could be surpassed in nothing).  “Who are you, indeed,” she murmured softly, not even caring if he could hear her above the combined noise of the other party guests’ idle chatter and the band’s sweeping music.

The band who, at that very moment, reached the end of their ditty and transitioned to a waltz.  Unconsciously, Eden’s attention shifted, her mind automatically attuned to the music.  The waltz had always been her favorite out of all of the ballroom dances she’d had to learn as a child.  She glanced around the chamber quickly, her eye searching for any sign of an incoming suitor hopeful for a dance.  If she was lucky, then the more timid of them would see that she was otherwise engaged at the moment.  Those who did dare to approach her… well, she would have reason to decline if she so chose to.  Seeing nothing particularly interesting, she returned her attention to Dieter Gatsby.

The princess was vaguely aware of the awkward moment that occurs when a man is found standing with two women at the start of a waltz… as if both she and Francoise would expect him to choose between them.  However, she didn’t let it rattle her.  Furthermore, Eden certainly wasn’t the girl who would ask someone to dance; she was the one who was asked.  “Mr. Gatsby,” she began, a curious, faintly suspicious, smile appearing on her lips. “Why is it that you always seem to avoid my questions?  Have you something to hide?” she teased.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 08 December 2010, 16:34:15 »
Quote

Olivia watched Dieter whenever Thomas spun her out and she thought she could do it surreptitiously.  He stood there talking to Mason for long enough for her to almost start feeling silly.  But . . . even if he looked relaxed, that didn't mean he hadn't been acting weirdly.  He had been acting weirdly, and she refused to ignore it if it might mean trouble.  Even if he didn't really mean for her to help him.

Near the end of the song, Dieter went off to talk to Eden and her cousin Francoise.  At the sight of her gorgeous and often-absent cousin, Olivia got so excited she almost forgot to worry about Dieter.  Francoise was so cool!  Her cousin wasn't like most of the other nobles.  She did what she wanted, when she wanted.  Or at least, she seemed to.  Francoise didn't let anything stop her from talking to the people she wanted to talk to, or wearing the clothes she wanted to wear, or going to the places she wanted to go.  And she was a cousin, not a sibling, so sometimes she even noticed that Olivia wasn't a scabby-kneed little-kid loser anymore.  Not like she used to be when she was trying to tag along after them even though she couldn't keep up.

But then Dieter kissed Francoise's hand, and Olivia's eyes widened.  She'd never been shy about hugging her cousin, 'cause she never thought bad things, and she was bad at keeping secrets anyway, so it wasn't like Francoise would find out anything people didn't already know anyhow.  But most people made a point of never touching her cousin at all, not even briefly.  Whatever was bothering him, Francoise probably knew it now, too.  She wanted desperately to go over there, for about three reasons now, but she couldn't.  She had to finish the dance.  Dieter would just get mad if she ignored all those lectures he'd given her in politeness and decorum and behaving herself at court functions. 

When the song ended, though, Thomas led her into the next dance without stopping.  Maybe he was just as distracted as she was, or maybe he'd realized she was distracted and thought he could get in a second dance without her noticing, but either way, she wasn't quite sure what to do about it.  It seemed rude to just run off, but she really wanted to go talk to her cousin and see if she could find out what was going on to Dieter.

But then something happened that distracted her from all of it, even Dieter's trouble.  Pardon me, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut in, lad. said a familiar voice behind her, That is, of course, if you’re willing to spare a dance for your favorite uncle, my dear.  Olivia pulled herself out of Thomas's arms, turned around in a spin that set her dress whirling, and flung her arms around her uncle's neck, hugging him tightly.  Uncle Cygnus! she cried, Happy Birthday!

Cygnus was her favorite uncle, and not just because he was her only uncle.  Having Cygnus around always made her feel special.  He loved her mom and was jealous of her dad, which was, she admitted, awkward, but he also truly loved both of her siblings, and she was sure that he loved her, too.  Surer than she was about almost anyone else.  He didn't come around very often, usually just around their birthdays and at Christmas.  But when he did, it was magical.  He always gave the best presents, even better than her parents did, even though they were richer.  He played games and told stories and hung out with the kids like they were people too.  And best of all, Eden was their dad's favorite and William was their mother's, but Olivia thought she just might be Uncle Cygnus's favorite.  She couldn't be sure, of course, but he'd always played games with her a little more than he had with her siblings.  Then again, her siblings had played with each other, and she hadn't had anyone to play with, so it made sense.  But still.  He made her feel special.

Olivia wished she could see her uncle more often, but he was always busy, and she understood that - when she was being logical instead of emotional.  Which wasn't very often.  But a few years ago, she'd realized that even though he didn't come visit them very much, the times he did were extra special because of it, and that made everything a little better.  Uncle Cygnus was like Herr Drosselmeyer in her favorite ballet, the Nutcracker, showing up just in time for Christmas and bringing with him all the magic of the season.  She'd even told her uncle so once.  He'd laughed at the time, but underneath it he'd seemed a little sad.  At the time, she hadn't known why.  Now that she was older, she thought she might.  The Nutcracker wasn't really about Herr Drosselmeyer.  It wasn't even about the beautiful Princess Clara.  It was about Nutcracker himself, who turned into a handsome prince and saved the day, and who always looked exactly like Olivia's father.  It must sting a little, for Uncle Cygnus, that even the annual ballet was dedicated to her father instead of him.

I know Clara's not really a princess in the original Nutcracker, but I felt like Lucien might have made a few creative revisions . . . and they might be a little monarchist . . .


« Last Edit: 08 December 2010, 16:41:10 »

Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 08 December 2010, 19:35:01 »
Quote

For a while after Mason left, Arcadia puzzled over his words and tried to make sense of her own thoughts on the matter. But eventually, she decided just not to think about it anymore. Perhaps she’d dwell on the issue again at another time, but for now, there was a party going on and, even if she wasn’t really a guest, she could still let herself enjoy it. She let her thoughts dissolve away as she allowed the music to fill her mind instead. She was still keeping an eye out in case of a signal from her mistress, but other than that, she let all her cares slip away, finding herself swaying gently along with the rhythm.

As she let her imagination take over, she saw herself out on the dance floor, hand in hand with a tall young nobleman. She wore a pale pink gown of the smoothest silk and the folds of the skirt swirled out around her exquisitely as she followed his lead in an elegant dance. After a moment’s consideration, she re-imagined her dance partner as Mason. Of course, she couldn’t know if he was actually a good dancer, for the dance floor was not a place for the servants, but there was no reason she couldn’t pretend, right?

She had considered many a time before what her life might be like if she had been born a nobleman’s daughter, instead of a carpenter’s. If she had been blessed with the supernatural powers that the ruling class boasted. It was the sort of thing that she thought about only in the darkest hours of the night, when she could not fall asleep, but she had nowhere to go and no task set before her. She had decided she would most like to be able to manipulate plant life. True, she spent most of her time within these stone walls now, but she always did love the time that she could spend outside, and she felt that she would most enjoy being able to be manipulate the trees and the grass and the flowers.

Ah, but back to her imagined dance scene. She felt just as light as a feather as the two of them danced around the floor, seeming to glide across the room as other guests stopped to watch them, all smiling happily as they observed the graceful dancers. Mason lifted her into the air, spinning once around as their audience cheered in delight then started clapping as he placed her gently on the ground again. And then the music shifted into a slower waltz and the crowd dispersed as he pulled her closer towards him, and they smiled at each other as he brushed a hand tenderly against her smooth cheek.

It was beautiful and romantic and... and only a dream. Always only a dream. She quickly became all too aware of exactly how solid the ground beneath her feet was and how she didn’t actually know how to dance and how she would never look that beautiful. No, she was right where she belonged – standing in the shadows as the real nobles did the dancing. This was her place, not out there. We’re not going to get anywhere with that kind of attitude, now are we? She shook her head minutely, trying to forget Mason’s words. There was nothing wrong with the way things were now. She had to believe that things were exactly as they should be.

She looked around the room, at least letting herself enjoy how lovely and happy everyone else looked, even if she couldn’t ever hope to be amongst them. After gazing around for a bit, her eyes returned to Eden who, as she had already noted, was easily the most brilliant out of all those in attendance. She was beautiful without doing anything special; radiant just standing there in conversation with her cousin, Françoise, and, interestingly, Dieter. He was a bit of a puzzlement, really. He was a commoner, but on occasion he was allowed to act almost as a nobleman. He was trusted by the Royals, though he had been a traitor. He was alive, when all logic said he should be dead. A walking contradiction.

Not that he was really the only one here tonight that could be described as such. As she looked around some more, she noted plenty whose lives seemed paradoxical. A knight who could manipulate water and yet was said to be afraid of drowning. A duchess who could heal herself, but was paranoid that there was a death threat hidden behind every door. A prince who could control the emotions of an entire room full of people, yet never seemed to fully express his own emotions. And a servant girl who dreamed of a better life but never even considered actually pursuing a change in her circumstances.


« Last Edit: 12 December 2010, 15:27:47 »


Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 11 December 2010, 04:09:38 »
Quote

Small talk with Count Marcellus. Chatting with one of the King’s most used killing machines. What Elaine was doing right now was something that almost no one else seemed willing to do. They all knew that Marcellus’ reputation was not at all clean. Even if no one was quite sure of the specifics, there was no way to believe the man to be any form of a saint. It was the sort of thing that people somehow found out about, even when they weren’t supposed to.

And she knew that his reputation wasn’t unfounded. Actually, unlike most of the rumors that tended to fly around the court society, what was said about Marcellus probably had a fairly solid background of evidence behind it. Mostly the fact that when the man got drunk, he would start shouting about dead people and voices and things like that before going into his infamous fits of rage. It wasn’t at every party or gathering, but there had definitely been a lot more dramatic scenes involving a drunken Marcellus than anyone else that she could remember off hand.

Before she could stop herself, her eyes flitted down to the little glass in his hand. Perhaps she was being irrational. It was something that she was well practiced with, of course, with her constant paranoia. Frankly, she knew that the entire fact she was speaking with him and avoiding the rest of the guests was also completely irrational. She knew it and she didn’t care. But she still felt a pang of discomfort at the thought of him drinking right now. She wasn’t about to tell him he shouldn’t drink anything – she wasn’t his mother, for goodness sakes - but she would feel significantly more comfortable if she knew that he was saving his drinking for later in the night.

And she was still having trouble with her own drink. She’d managed one more small sip since the first one, but she still couldn’t shake the fear of a poison. It could still be there and she was just healing quickly enough that she wouldn’t notice the effects until she had taken too much and it overcame her. Or... well, she didn’t really have that much logic to support her worry, but she didn’t care. Drinking the champagne was causing her far too much worry to be worth it, even if it was the very best champagne that the king had to offer. She began trying to think of a convenient way to rid them both of the drinks.

...current valet is quite an interesting young man and quite willing to talk to me. She had missed the first bit of his words, but she got the impression he hadn’t said anything too significant – their conversation wasn’t really serious enough that she would need to be positive of every word. Thankfully, he seemed to want her to talk about her own travels, rather than respond to what had happened during his, which was good. It was manageable. Always quite a long drive, though... She hated that drive. She always hated being in vehicles, because there were so many things that could go wrong.

One would think that the fact that she had already survived one major car crash would make her less worried about what would happen during another. But every time she thought back on the accident, she didn’t think of it in terms of what she had survived. She thought about everything else that could have gone wrong that would have made it less likely for her to recover from the damage. After all, her driver had also survived the accident, and he was a commoner, without any special power. Yes, she’d escaped the minor injuries that he’d sustained, but she had already known that she could heal from small wounds. The crash gave her no insight, however, into how her body would react to truly life-threatening damages.

Never knowing. Always wanting to know. Wanting to know the truth. Wanting to never have to know. Elaine felt the beginnings of a headache, the whirl of questions and infinite unknowns becoming too much for her to handle. It was all mounding up on her, and if she was going to stop it from overtaking her entirely, she needed to try to stop worrying about it, to stop over-thinking everything so much. She needed a distraction. Trying to keep all her worries at bay, she fought to concentrate on Marcellus. He was here with her right now, in the present. If she could just think about him, concentrate on this moment of being with him, she could avoid thinking about the past and about the wretchedly unknown future.

Now then, Mark, my dear. With a coy smile, she reached out and took the cup of champagne from his hand, handing both glasses to a passing servant. There’ll be time for that later. But for now, I do believe we’ve reached the part where you’re supposed to ask me to dance. The music had just changed to the start of a new dance, which provided the perfect opportunity to use a dance as her required distraction. She could concentrate on the steps and on Marcellus and do her best not to worry about anything for as long as was possible.


« Last Edit: 09 January 2011, 00:39:19 »


Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 16 December 2010, 15:16:13 »
Quote

Before he knew it, Cygnus was caught up in his niece’s exuberant hug, and he willingly returned the embrace, grinning happily at her excitement. Uncle Cygnus! Happy birthday! He chuckled softly, stepping back so that he could see her fully. He couldn’t help but feel proud of her and how quickly she was growing up. He wasn’t really able to be around enough to actually have claimed to contribute much to her upbringing, but she had always been special to him, and he was happy for her all the same.

He knew it wasn’t really right to play favorites, but Olivia had always been the one to make him feel welcome. He couldn’t know if it was just because of the gifts that he brought to the children for every visit or if she just genuinely liked spending time with him, but from the time she was very young, she had always seemed the most excited when he had arrived. He cared for the rest of his family, of course. He wanted nothing but the best for Alexandra and the other two children. But they were always so distant – William always keeping his emotions in check; Eden maintaining an image of complete perfection; Alexandra hardly seeming to notice him, or at least not in the way that he would like.

Olivia, though, did nothing to hold back her emotions. When she was excited, you knew about it. And her smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but get excited as well. Of course, he was also glad to hear her birthday wishes for him. She never forgot, although there were plenty in the court that did. None of them were related to him, though, so he supposed perhaps it wasn’t all that big of an issue, but it still was nice to hear that someone cared. Why thank you, little one. I most certainly appreciate it.

The boy she’d been dancing with before had slipped away discreetly, as he should, and Cygnus gently took Olivia’s hands, joining the rest of the dancers in motion before they were blocking someone’s path by standing there. But not so little any more, of course. He really should stop thinking of them all automatically as young ones, but he simply couldn’t get settled into the idea of his nieces and nephew as adults, no matter how many times he had reminded himself that night. I don’t recall telling you that you were allowed to grow up this fast, Livi.

After all, once the children were fully grown and gone, what would he have to look forward to anymore? These visits were a bright spot in his usually dull life. On special occasions, he came down out of his mountain home to visit the beautiful lands where the palace was situated and got to treat Lucien’s children as if they were his own. He could pretend, in that short time, that he actually had a family, and that he was happy and content. And then he would return to the cold, monotonous life that he led, just waiting for the next opportunity to visit. A bit pathetic, perhaps, but it was his life, and he made the most of the times of happiness that he did get.

But he wasn’t to go thinking about that right now. Right now, his real home was far away and he was here instead, dancing with his lovely young niece at a party. He wasn’t going to let his every day concerns come anywhere near his thoughts just now. So, then, what have I missed since my last visit? Has there been anything exciting going on around here lately? His eyes shone with interest. He really did want to know, and he always loved the way that Olivia told stories.

She was so genuine, that it was very easy to get caught up in her stories, and to feel the emotions that she was relating as she spoke. Of course, right now, on the dance floor, he wouldn’t expect the full, detailed explanation of everything – that would come later, sometime after he’d given the children their gifts and the crowd started thinning out enough for them to really be able to sit and talk for a while. Everything in its time...



Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 01 January 2011, 19:48:05 »
Quote

Imagine that you had just past the bridge of falling into sleep. A sleep so deep that you entered a dream state. And just as you began to see the colours of the world being so rapidly built around you, just as you were being set into a story that was so close you could grab it if you reacted quickly enough, it collapsed. This was the incredibly frustrating feeling Francoise had felt when Dieter let go of her hand with such impromptu. Inside, she wanted to stamp her feet with fury and then she realised, that this was only a game. Her facial reaction never lifted, and she continued with the social niceties each were gracing the other. She would like to have more interludes with Dieter, and the princess. For while both were equally interesting in their own unique and separate forms, together, they were each holding a story that perhaps they did not even know was brewing. And Francoise was more than excited to find out what it was.

Just because she was a noble who would much rather enjoy the luxuries of being a commoner working her way up based on a system of meritocracy, didn't mean that some tendencies she exuded were inherently those satisfied by being born to privelege. Where one could spend the day lounging about, apparently doing nothing, but inherently learning so much about social and psyche behaviour. Call it an adventure, if you would.


Well then you must provide me with your version of a tour of the grounds. I have not seen the palace as a whole in many years.

Her head graced towards the small remark that Eden had pronounced under her breath, and found it amusing. There were games afoot between the two of them. Francoise only wondered how much, and what really was going on. Nonetheless, she wouldn't deny that she found Dieter attractive, and it would be nice to walk around the grounds with his arm around hers. Perhaps if anything, that alone could break off the rumoured nuptials that were to be announced between her and William. Where had he disappered to anyways throughout the ball? He seemed quite absent.

But after that statement, it felt that Francoise was beginning to be weeded out of conversation. Which she didn't particularly mind, however, before she left, she wanted to at least solidfy one date where she would re-encounter at least one of the two guests at the ball. If she was going to make some return to presence at court, she would need to start soon.


Ah, but you see, one so cunning and handsome as Mr. Gatsby only naturally must keep his wits about himself. Otherwise he would be apt to lend emotion where thought should be placed.

Save, and return.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 04 January 2011, 01:52:12 »
Quote

The sound of the waltz ebbed and flowed through Deiter’s conscious perception as Eden called him out on his questions. How much like a dance it all was, he thought in the back of his distracted mind, a dance the way the courtiers dipped and swerved around each other like cars about to collide. The princess was perceptive, surely, and gifted with an understanding that surpassed that which would be expected given her talent for sifting through lies. Deiter had hoped, and somewhat foolishly perhaps, that Eden wouldn’t have noticed his method of eluding the scope of her abilities. The interaction they had was so limited, the relationship Deiter shared with the King’s eldest daughter was nothing like the easy familiarity he enjoyed with Olivia or even the intellectual rapport he kept up with William, it might have been possible that Eden had simply lost track of the times Deiter answered her questions with questions.

And now that he knew that she had been keeping tabs on his habit, did that mean that she was paying more attention to him than Deiter had initially assumed? The thought made his heart leap up in his chest, if only for a moment. He kept his expression neutral as Francoise offered her explanation. So she thought him handsome. It should not have been too much a surprise, considering that Deiter had approached the two women out of a vainglorious burst of self-admiration, but to hear the charming noblewoman say it so bluntly still threw Deiter for a loop.


“I might admit I am neither of the two,” he said after a brief and stunned silence. “But the Princess should know that I have nothing to hide from her.” Deiter looked over at Eden and tried his hardest to phrase his words correctly, so as not to sound too impassioned or too false. It hardly mattered; she would know he was telling the truth either way.

“It is her right to hear the truth from me, should she ever want to know it. I’m sorry if I seemed impertinent, I realize now, how rude…” Deiter’s mind shut down in the face of the princess and his fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. He turned to Francoise. “After the King takes his breakfast tomorrow. Eight-thirty. I might meet you in the gardens shortly after then?” The question was rhetorical, a device designed to get the shortest possible answer, a nod or a shake of the head. A way to get out of there and quickly before everything just absolutely exploded in his face.

Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 05 January 2011, 11:55:08 »
Edit post Quote Delete

“Oh, yes,” Mason said sarcastically, to no one in particular since Deiter had left him standing there quite alone, “I wouldn’t want to be gauche.  God forbid…”

That was quite possibly the one and only thing about Deiter Gatsby that Mason absolutely could not stand.  Hypocrisy was almost as bad as tyranny in Mason’s book.

There was no denying that Deiter Gatsby was common born.  There was also no denying that he was a servant.  Yet, he acted like a nobleman, an aristocrat.  It was genius what Lucien was doing to the poor soul… taking his enemies and turning them into the very people that they had once vowed to destroy.  Perhaps Deiter didn’t even realize it, but he had become just like them, the sanctimonious, snobby, aristocratic scum who thought they had the right to rule over everyone else because they were ‘civilized’.  

‘It’s gauche to discuss money at a party.  Try to behave while I’m gone.’

Couldn’t he hear himself?  Did he really believe what he’d said?  He’d implied that Mason was incapable of behaving himself, that he was some kind of lesser, inferior being who would resort to barbarism without the guidance of the nobility.  It disgusted the chauffeur, and Mason was fairly certain that his disgust was visible on his face as he watched Deiter retreat in the direction of Princess Eden and the Lady whom Mason wasn’t familiar with.  Good Lord… he even walked like one of them.  Did he honestly think that either one of those women—especially the princess—would ever deign to entertain thoughts of a relationship with a servant?

All he was missing were the supernatural powers.  Fortunately, that was something one had to be born with.

Fortunately for them, Mason knew that acting on his contempt would lead to death.  He preferred to drown it instead.  Turning his back on Deiter, Mason plucked another of the champagne glasses from his tray and downed it in one big gulp.  He grimaced as he set the empty glass back down and turned back to the party.

He found Arcadia Murray again, hovering on the edges of the party in almost the same spot where he’d left her earlier that evening.  He hated knowing that it would be extremely difficult for her to indulge him in his anti-monarchal ravings since it was impossible to lie to her mistress, but he thought that, if anyone would entertain him, it would be Arcadia.  And someone like Mason needed to vent sometimes, especially during parties like this one.  Sometimes, he just had too many complaints to keep them bottled up inside of him.  He would likely go as insane as his masters otherwise.


“Bet you can’t wait until this is all over, eh?” he asked, bending his neck so that his lips were near her ear and she could hear him better over the sounds of the chattering nobles and the band alike.  “I know I can’t.”



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 06 January 2011, 23:42:44 »
Quote

As she continued her surveillance, Arcadia began to feel terribly alone. Everywhere she looked, she saw groups or couples; dancing together, talking together, laughing at each others’ jokes. Logic told her that she couldn’t be the only one without company, but from where she stood, she couldn’t see any other solitary figures. She could see Eden with her cousin and Dieter, the king and queen at each others’ side, women gossiping in groups, men encouraging their friends to ask a lady for a dance, graceful nobles sweeping around the dance floor...

And as much as she kept telling herself that this was the way things were supposed to be, she couldn’t rid herself of her desire to be a part of it all. To be one of them. To not be alone. Feeling cold, she rubbed her bare arms, but stopped quickly when she realized that someone was approaching her. She looked up, and a smile instantly came over her face. Mason. She remembered a moment too late to try to keep her emotions in check, and she quickly forced herself to turn the broad grin into a simpler, polite smile. Hello again.

She wasn’t about to confess out loud how glad she was of company, especially since he hadn’t even been gone very long since speaking to her the first time. But she was very pleased to have him at her side, and she silently promised herself to try to prolong the conversation this time, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone again so soon. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be missed, as there were plenty of other staff members serving food and drink around the ball room.

As Mason leaned closer towards her, Arcadia had to fight again not to let herself smile too broadly, although she succeeded this time in keeping her expression neutral. Her mind again flashed the picture of the two of them dancing at the party, dressed as nobles, as she so wished that they could. When he spoke, however, she was suddenly struggling to hide a frown instead of a smile. Bet you can’t wait until all this is over, eh? I know I can’t. She felt another chill running through her body, but it had nothing to do this time with the lack of sleeves on her dress. Of course, Mason had no idea that the very thought of the end of the ball was frightening to her.

Arcadia was not well versed in lying. It was so rare for her to be out of hearing range from her mistress, so she was nearly always forced to reveal the absolute truth. If she was upset, she could not pretend to be fine, and if she was worried about something, she could not pretend that she was looking forward to it without Eden knowing that her words were false. But, for once, Eden was not close at hand and Arcadia not only could speak an untruth, she had to. It was part of her job to keep silent about Eden’s explosive temperament after events such as these. Of course. It... it will be good to get some rest.

She tried to keep her voice steady, but uttering anything even remotely altered from the truth was so uncommon for her that the words did not come easily to her tongue. She knew that she needed to change the subject, because if he began to question her, she would have trouble hiding the fact that she was dreading the night before her. She had already probably revealed more than she should just by her hesitant reply, and she knew she would only make it more obvious that something was wrong if she had to try to come up with some fake excuse for her desire to avoid the end of the ball.

One thing was for sure about the night before her – she wouldn’t be getting much rest. Experience told her that it would be quite a while before she was able to lay comfortably enough to get real sleep. But Mason couldn’t know that. Even if she wasn’t responsible to help Eden maintain her image of perfection, she wouldn’t want to worry the chauffer when there was nothing he could do about it anyhow. It would be best just not to think about it.

And, actually, there was something that she’d been wanting to talk with him about. Mason... What’s it like in the city, outside the palace? Arcadia herself rarely left the palace – only when Eden was travelling did she venture outside of the stone walls that now surrounded them, and even then she was sometimes left here if the trip was short enough and there was no need for the servant girl. The city, of course, was not one of the places that the Princess would frequent, as she had no need to mingle with peasants, so Arcadia’s only real knowledge of the place stemmed from her faint childhood memories.

She knew that it was possible that Mason might not know any more about the people living outside the palace walls than she did. For even though he did leave the palace far more often than Arcadia, it was still typically while he was on duty, so his time had to be devoted to the will of the king and nothing more. Nonetheless, it was more of a connection with the village than Arcadia had any more, and she supposed there was still a bit of hope that he might know something about the people living there.

Do you ever get to see any of the shops? Blacksmiths or... or carpenters, perhaps? She was trying not to seem too direct, but this was really the core of her question. She had tried throughout the past ten years to pretend that she didn’t care about her father – that she had no interest in the man who had sent her to this life. But the truth was, she couldn’t stop wondering. She wanted to know that he was all right; hopefully that he had his own shop and that he was successful.

Because if not, then what was the point of her being here? What was the point of waiting on Eden’s every command and suffering her wrath when her temper grew out of control? She had to believe that there was some good coming from her life here, and the only thing she could really think of was that her father might have been able to start a new life with the money that he had received when he sent her to the palace. She liked to imagine that he had a fine shop on the main street of town and that his name was known to all as the best carpenter of the lower class. Still, she would prefer to know. It wouldn’t really make a difference in her life, but she would like at least to know that he was still alive, and preferably that things were going well for him.

Of course, the chances of Mason actually knowing anything about her father were impossibly slim, for she couldn’t really imagine any reason for him to be anywhere near the peasant shops on his journeys, much less to have talked to any of them. All the same, even if he didn’t know anything, they could still talk about things that he had seen on his journeys, and that would hopefully be enough to keep him there talking with her for a while.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 07 January 2011, 01:07:48 »
Quote

Why thank you, little one. I most certainly appreciate it  Olivia grinned as Uncle Cygnus led her into the dance, a nice medium-tempo one that had always been one of her favorites because it was fast enough to be fun, but slow enough to let you talk to your dance partner.  The best of both worlds, as far as she was concerned.  But not so little any more, of course.  I don’t recall telling you that you were allowed to grow up this fast, Livi.  She laughed.  Uncle Cygnus was the only one who called her Livi on any sort of a regular basis, and she liked the feeling of having a pet name. 

And I don't recall telling you you were allowed to grow old! she said teasingly.  It was true, though.  Her uncle looked, these days, much older than her father did, which was weird, because they were twins.  She supposed it might have to do with where they lived, though.  Here in the capital, in their shining castle and with the best doctors and scientists and the money for anything they wanted, her parents probably both had a much better chance of looking young than her uncle did stuck out in the middle of nowhere and separated from everything.  She'd never been to visit her uncle's home in the mountains, but she knew it wasn't nearly so nice there as it was here.  After all, he wasn't the king.

But those were sad thoughts, or at least sad-ish, and Livi didn't like sad thoughts.  Luckily, Uncle Cygnus interrupted those thoughts.  So, then, what have I missed since my last visit? Has there been anything exciting going on around here lately?  Exciting?  Of course there had been something exciting going on!  Something exciting was always going on around here, and her uncle knew that as well as she did.  There hadn't been anything really monumental, though, had there?  It had been so long since Uncle Cygnus was at the court that she almost couldn't remember.  In fact, just this morning, she'd been telling Dieter how much she hated it when her uncle had to be gone for so long.

Oh no!  Dieter!  As soon as the thought of him crossed her mind, she realized she hadn't checked on him since her uncle swept onto the dance floor.  And as much as she loved her uncle, he wasn't going to kill himself if she stopped paying attention to him for a split second.  Hmm. she said thoughtfully, twisting in her uncle's arms so she could look around the room, as if she were trying to think of what had happened since he'd been here last, instead of craning to see if Dieter was still talking to her sister.  He was.  That was a relief.

Turning back to her uncle, she realized she still didn't know what to talk about first.  Had he heard about the duke who'd gone crazy and thought he was a canary?  Had he seen the damage to the front gate when those peasants had spray-painted it before they were caught and executed?  Had he been here since the big ice storm knocked down her favorite climbing tree?  But then she remembered something so recent and so unimportant to the politics of the kingdom as a whole that she was sure he wouldn't have heard about it.  Oh!  I bet you didn't hear about this one, but I thought it was terribly exciting!  William's valet ran away with a scullery maid in the middle of the night and they eloped!  Her father didn't approve at all, because he doesn't trust city people and he specifically told her she couldn't marry anyone outside of the village where she grew up, but they were in love, true love and everything, and she wasn't having it.  So they left and went out into the town and got married and when her father showed up to drag her home before she could marry a city boy, they were long gone. she sighed.  It was so romantic.  In fact, the scullery maid's name was Emma, and had been a particular friend of Olivia's before she'd run off with Scott.  She'd asked Olivia to check the relationship for her before she agreed to the whole thing (it had been true love, clear as day) and Olivia had ended up orchestrating a good part of the whole thing.  If only her own love life were that simple.  But that was another sad thought, and this was a party, and sad thoughts wouldn't do.  She needed a distraction.  How about you?  Anything cool happening out in the mountains?  She forced herself to focus on her uncle so she couldn't spiral into sad thoughts, ignoring for the moment the fact that she really ought to be watching Dieter.  Dieter's potential death was another sad thought, and she couldn't think sad thoughts on top of sad thoughts.  It would just end up being trouble.  She was so busy not thinking sad thoughts that she didn't even see him leave Eden behind.


« Last Edit: 07 January 2011, 01:12:40 »

Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 07 January 2011, 15:01:48 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Eden was confused.

It was a shame that it was her cousin that was gifted with the ability to read minds with the slightest touch, because Eden really could have used her maidservant’s description of Deiter Gatsby as a walking contradiction at that moment.  The elder princess could really think of no other way to put her thoughts into words at that moment.  It was perhaps the most befuddling situation she’d ever found herself in.

Her gift told her that Deiter was telling the truth, and she knew for a fact that her gift was never wrong.  His statements—and he did give statements even though she’d half expected him to throw another question in her face—were true.  He didn’t see himself as cunning or handsome, and, because he vowed that he had nothing to hide from her, she knew that that must be true.  He thought he’d been rude, though Eden disagreed, and she had to believe that he would indeed tell her whatever he considered ‘the truth’ if she ever happened to ask him for it.

So why did he appear so flustered and nervous?  If his answers were true, and Eden was absolutely sure that they were, what was the reason for his brief moment of stunned silence or the clumsy and unsophisticated way that he was fumbling with his words?  Her gift told her that he was speaking the truth, but her other senses told her that he was indeed hiding something. 

Perhaps, she considered, he had been hiding something, something that he would very much prefer to keep to himself if he happened to be given the choice.  Perhaps, upon discovering that she might be on to him, he had changed his mind, knowing that she would be able to tell if he was lying.  Maybe there was indeed a reason that he had developed that habit of answering her questions with further questions.  It seemed that, just as the princess had suspected, there was more to Deiter Gatsby than met the eye…

And honestly Eden had only been half serious.  This was all a game, very much like a dance.  She had expected a clever retort possibly mixed with some flattery, much like what she would have received from a fellow aristocrat.  Of course, Deiter Gatsby was no aristocrat, as she was reminded in that moment.  He was a servant dressed as a nobleman, and, no matter how much he liked to pretend, he didn’t have it in him to fool everyone forever.  In a way, it was very disappointing, as Eden had hoped that he could play her game well enough to keep her on her toes.

Now, however, she was almost certain that there was something going on beneath the courtier’s disguise he wore.  He hadn’t lied to her, but he wouldn’t have become so flustered if he didn’t have some secret that he would rather not share with her.  And why did he say that it was her right to know? 

As she allowed her mind to dwell on it, Eden felt a little bit of the darkness that was always lurking in the back of her mind surge forward, encouraged by her confusion.  She closed her eyes briefly and fought it back, knowing that she would rather be seen drunk at a party than insane at one.  When she opened them again, the princess felt slightly unsteady, but she thought that she covered it all with a charming smile before anyone could notice.

In the meantime, she could see that Deiter wanted only to confirm his plans with Francoise before escaping what he surely judged to be a dangerous conversation, a feeling that only encouraged her paranoia.  She listened to his proposal with an air of detachment.  She would surely still be sleeping at eight-thirty, especially after a party like this one.  Servants, however, were not granted the luxury—and it seemed that her father wasn’t either.


“The gardens are lovely,” she commented frivolously.  She wanted to address Deiter’s odd behavior, but thought that doing so would be a bit awkward after he’d changed the subject.  She did, however, give him a look that she hoped conveyed her interest.  “As are the rest of the grounds.  You will enjoy yourself, cousin.”




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 08 January 2011, 16:24:34 »
Quote

Deiter chimed in anxiously, eager to have something to say after his carefully selected words had failed him- Eden didn’t look particularly calmed by what he had to say, and even though he had said it quickly he realized now that his ability to talk around Eden’s gift was becoming something like second nature. “I might admit that I am neither of the two”- it was a statement unto itself, it was perfectly true that Deiter might admit a lot of things, but his vanity and hidden ambitions were not necessarily disclosed in the statement. Safety trap. He had nothing to hide from her- he would certainly tell her he loved her if she asked. It was only his intention to keep his mouth shut until the question was posed to him; he was even more certain that the question would never, ever be posed under any circumstance. Another safety trap. The only thing he would have changed, if he could go back in time (like that Countess from Halifeux was alleged to be able to do), was the right. Eden was correct to be befuddled over that one. Deiter wasn’t entirely sure himself if he meant her right as a princess over a servant or her right as the person he adored most in the world…

“The gardens are astounding at this time of year. And there are sure to be new parts of the palace built since the last time you arrived, it’s been much a work in progress since the Court moved here.”

He registered Eden’s look and was proud that he didn’t fall over onto his side. What was THAT? She had never looked at him like that before- it was an inquisitive, searching little gaze that looked almost out of place on her usually glacial face. An expression that he had come to terms with seeing permanently plastered on Olivia’s- Olivia!

Deiter glanced over his shoulder to see if the Princess was keeping up with her dances. She was known to get bored and quit the floor after a while if her partners weren’t interesting. It was a habit her father despised, something he often said Eden would never do. Lucien fixated on the appearance of his daughters in a way that was rivaled only by his careful attention to his own behavior. Monitored, controlled, always graceful and always thinking about everything that needed to be thought about- He would have his children be three little Lucien’s parading around.



The King himself was giving off all the necessary signs of enjoyment. The endearing crook of his pointedly imperfect teeth was visible in a smile that reached all the way up into his eyes, which practically sparkled icy blue against his glamorous surroundings. He was working his way through the crowd with Alexandra on his arm, not paying very much attention to where he was going, only following that lilt of connectivity that suggested that Cygnus was somewhere to be found. Moving carefully in circuit that kept him away from the Elaine de Rautha (it was best if he didn’t speak to her again tonight, not until Deiter did his job) and Marcellus (a violent man; Lucien had once suspected that Marcellus shared his own bend for emotionlessness and had taken the young private under his wing once his prowess had been established….now a Count and looking more unstable than ever)…Alexandra perhaps speaking to him, him replying, aways searching away for that imperceptible Cygnus signal. It reminded him of a game they had played when they were children. You’re getting warmer…..warmer…colder…warmer. You’ve found it.

And Lucien did. He turned and saw Cygnus spinning on the dance floor with his daughter. If he had a heart, it would have softened at the sight of his grizzled younger twin keeping time with his bad leg and dark dress. It was, as Lucien likened unkindly in his head, like watching a three-legged turtle swim around in unavoidable circles. Olivia seemed happy enough, though- she liked her uncle. That was fine. He felt no competition with his brother anymore. When they had both been young and handsome, with curls in their dark hair and deep dimples in their similar cheeks, there had been something of a rivalry. Now it was more of a….cautionary comparison that Lucien made. One that emphasized the reasons his brother had to be resentful of him, some of which were so emotionally complex that Lucien literally could not comprehend them. His inability to invade Cygnus’ dreams was an annoyance to him in that regard.

His brother was one of the few people in his court that Lucien hadn’t ever Harvested. Elaine was another, but that was to be corrected soon. Alexandra was another; he hadn’t seen the need. His children he left alone for the most part, more out of a passive disregard for much of what they had to think than out of respect for their privacy. All of them, and Deiter. He didn’t bother going into Deiter’s dreams because he knew he owned the man’s soul. Deiter was afflicted with the most hilarious of human wills- the will to survive at all costs and as long as Deiter remained a coward Lucien was sure he’d have nothing to fear from him.


“Brother,” Lucien called out, his voice naturally rising above the timbre of the music and standing out despite the fact that he was hardly yelling. “Cygnus, allow my Olivia to dance with the young men her age, you’re doing my guests’ sons a disservice,” he joked. He wanted Cygnus to come out of the dancing crowd to he could grasp him in a hug, one that emphasized how much taller Lucien was than his twin and made it look like Lucien was overwhelmed with emotion at seeing Cygnus at court for the first time in so long. He could manage that. Cygnus just had to come here.


Having checked in on Olivia, Deiter returned his attention to Eden and Francoise. The conversation was dying out and like a sixteen year old schoolboy scrambling to keep his crush’s attention for just a moment longer, he continued stupidly- “Any tour of the grounds would be incomplete without a visit to one of the King’s tea parlors.” Deiter, being a German down to his bones, sometimes found Lucien’s fussy little inclusions to his palaces a little overbearing. His insistence on keeping teatime and having luncheon conservatories built around the castle for his hundreds of noble guests to dine in was one of these things but tonight, Deiter was glad for them. “Perhaps the Princess could join us once the tour is over in one of them? Of her choosing, naturally.”

And that was bold. Bold and kinda dumb.




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 09 January 2011, 13:01:55 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Now, Mason was no simpleton.  He might not have been of the noble breed that possessed the ability to detect lies upon hearing them, but he was also not particularly stupid.  He knew a bad liar when he heard one crow, and it was possible that Arcadia was one of the worst liars that he’d ever encountered in his relatively short life.

Though, come to think of it, she couldn’t have had much practice with lying.  The princess whom she served was known to be able to possess the power that Mason had no need of.  He could only imagine the penalty that a maidservant would incur for lying to her mistress—and poor Arcadia would be caught every single time she attempted to lie.  Telling the truth was a habit that the poor girl had developed in order to keep her head on her shoulders, so Mason really couldn’t blame her for being a terrible liar.

So his next question… what reason could Arcadia possibly have to lie to him about how she felt about the party’s imminent end.  Furthermore, why was she not looking forward to it?  Once the celebrations had ended, she would put the princess to bed and that would be the end of her obligations for the night.  She could sleep, probably later than she was normally allowed, since Mason was willing to bet that Princess Eden would be enjoying a good night’s sleep after such a smashing fete.

Clearly, there was something that he was missing.  He might have asked about it had Arcadia not been so quick to change the subject—an action that only further solidified his belief that she was indeed dreading the end of the ball.  Rather than questioning her further, he merely gave her a knowing look, a quizzical gaze meant to let her know that he didn’t believe her, not by a long shot.

Instead, he switched his attention to her new questions… queries about the city that surrounded the palace.


“Depending on who you ask, the city can be much like the palace, my dear,” he began.  “It matters where you go in the city.  There are parts of it where nobles live, and things in those places were very similar to things here.  But, other places, things are very different.  Not everyone likes royalty, Arcadia.  You should remember that.”

He paused for a moment, thinking back to where he’d grown up, a small town in what used to be the American South.  He still spoke with a slight accent, though most people couldn’t pinpoint its geographic location anymore.  He vaguely remembered what things used to be like, but the images and ideas that fueled his rebellious thoughts had come from his history professor parents.  Not everyone liked royalty.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever spoken to a blacksmith or carpenter, unfortunately,” he said thoughtfully.  “As chauffeur, pilot and captain, most of my dealings in the city are with trusted engineers and mechanics.  Any reason you ask?”  Don’t lie to me this time.



Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 10 January 2011, 12:28:55 »
Edit post Quote Delete

That was bold of him, and Eden had to consciously keep her eyebrows from shooting up in surprise.  Surely Deiter Gatsby knew that it was hardly protocol for a servant such as himself to invite the princess to tea.  It definitely wasn’t something that was done often.  Nobles were expected to announce their visits with servants rather than wait for an invitation while servants were expected to wait for invitations rather than doing the inviting themselves—unless they were doing it on behalf of their masters, as seemed to be the case with Francoise’s tour of the grounds.

On the other hand, it was also a bit rude to make plans in front of someone else without extending a token invitation to them, as Eden had started to feel a bit awkward and left out as her cousin and Deiter had started to solidify their plans.

If this conversation was proving anything to the princess, it was that Deiter Gatsby was not your average servant.  She’d already noted earlier that evening that he had a tendency to play the part of the aristocrat.  The way he dressed and talked and all together comported himself was indicative of the noble race.  In fact, he’d gotten so good at playing their game that sometime she wondered if he even remembered that he wasn’t one of them.  Had he forgotten that he’d once risen up in an attempt to dethrone her father?  Sometimes he seemed so much a part of their world that she couldn’t believe that he held any grudge.

That was the beauty of her father’s plans, she had realized some time ago.  He took his enemies and forced them to become the very people whom they had once detested above everything else.  Then, once they had abandoned their principles and given up their beliefs in favor of the charmed life that they lived here in the palace, he killed them in their disgrace and their shame.  He exposed them as traitors to their cause.  Eden could only imagine how demoralizing that must be for any other rebels out there.  How could they win when their leaders were so easily broken?

Now, back to the handsome man in front of her…


“I am rather fond of the Crystal Tea Room,” she replied lightly.  If she had been taken aback by his invitation, it would be almost impossible to tell now.  Her voice was just as calm and level as it always was, but her eyes still held a bit of that curiosity that she’d expressed upon coming to the conclusion that he was indeed keeping secrets.  “When you finish your tour, send a servant for me.  If I am not otherwise engaged, I will join you.”

After all, she could always make up some excuse tomorrow if she happened to decide that she didn’t want to show up after all.  Certainly no one would reproach her for breaking an appointment with a servant, even if her cousin was included in the meeting.  Besides, Eden was still interested in getting to the bottom of Deiter’s little secret.  It must have been something indeed if he’d gotten so flustered over it.

That being said, the princess suddenly became aware of just how many men were looking in her direction.  Casually, she glanced around the room, appearing completely unfazed by the attention she received on a regular basis.  Doubtlessly, they were wondering why she was spending so much time conversing with a servant and her unknown cousin rather than dancing with them.  She chuckled, a small smile gracing her lips as she turned to Francoise—after all, some of them were probably eyeing her as well.


“Come now, Francoise, we really should be getting back to the party,” Eden suggested beforing looking at Deiter again.  “Mr. Gatsby, I do believe they would have your head for occupying us for so long.”  She paused for a moment, then remarked almost absentmindedly, “Actually, I’d be curious to see what would happen if you kept us for any longer.”




Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 10 January 2011, 15:50:05 »
Quote

Two commoners eloping was something that, coming from any other person, would not have held Cygnus’s attention for even a minute. Still, as he had noted when he asked her about current events, it was the girl’s way of telling the stories that held most of their interest to him. So he smiled brightly, if only because she seemed so genuinely happy to have been part of the event. They were in love, true love and everything... And she could actually know that without a doubt.

Olivia’s power was definitely interesting, and he supposed that, if she wanted to, she could use it to become incredibly powerful politically. In fact, it was rather fascinating that she did not, to the best of her uncle’s knowledge, use her power to manipulate people through blackmail or any other such means. The fact that she was so innocent despite who her father was always struck him as remarkable. Her kindness was certainly not a trait that she had garnered from Lucien.

He often wondered how much Olivia could see about him. He knew from her stories that she could see when people were in love and other things, but he wasn’t entirely sure whether this was something she could see automatically or if she had to specifically seek such information. Did she know how much Cygnus loved her mother? Or how he despised her father? He would feel guilty if she was burdened with such information, for he assumed it would make her fairly uncomfortable. Yet she had never shown any inclination that she was bothered by his feelings, so he supposed there was a chance she simply wasn’t aware of his feelings.

How about you? Anything cool happening up in the mountains? He gave a soft, low chuckle. No, I can’t say that there is... There never was. At his home, he simply existed. His land was as well developed as it could be, although it was nothing like the exquisite lands that grew in better climates. The people had food, although it was only enough, never in excess. They raised animals that could survive in the harsh conditions, but never did they truly thrive. The only real change in daily life came in the face of small avalanches or rock slides that occasionally plagued the area, but these were rare.

I have had a bit more free time this spring, though, so I had some extra time to work on gifts. Here, a playful glint came into his eyes. He always delighted in making presents for the children for whenever he was able to visit. When they had been very little, he had made them dolls and toys to play with. Nowadays, he had to get a little more creative to make age-appropriate gifts, but he was very pleased with his creations this time around. His abilities gave him control over materials and tools with far more precision than he could ever achieve by hand, especially now that the pangs of arthritis were beginning to set in.

Before he could suggest they step off the dance floor so that he could present her gift, however, an all too familiar voice cut through the air. Brother. Instantly, Cygnus clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring at the sound of Lucien’s voice. Cygnus, allow my Olivia to dance with the young men her age, you’re doing my guests’ sons a disservice. His Olivia. Lucien didn’t deserve to be able to call this wonderful young lady his daughter. Clearly, the king couldn’t comprehend how wonderful his family was. Cygnus so longed to be in his brother’s place. It simply wasn’t fair.

He did not yet turn to face Lucien, but he did stop dancing. With a sigh, he took Olivia’s hand and kissed it gently. Duty calls, my princess. I’m afraid I’ll have to save your gift for later tonight. Of course, Cygnus had only been dancing with Olivia for less than one full song. And it wasn’t as though the boy he had sent away could have been an actual potential suitor – his family background simply wasn’t quite noble enough for a princess. Still, he couldn’t openly defy the king while he was here at Lucien’s party. Enjoy the dancing, Livi.

He gave her a gentle, parting smile, and then turned away, his limp only slightly visible as he crossed the dance floor to where Lucien waited. With Alexandra. As soon as his gaze landed on the beautiful woman, Cygnus could not make himself look away. She seemed more lovely every time he saw her. Her long golden hair, her stunning eyes, everything about her was simply radiant in Cygnus’ eyes, as always. He loved her more than anything or anyone in the world – that had been true the day he first met her, and it was just as true today. He bowed formally to the queen without dropping his gaze. M’lady. If only things had been different...

But he had a part to play, and he finally forced himself to look away from the woman of his dreams and give his attention to his brother instead. Lucien. Happy birthday. Did he mean it? No, not really. It was a formality, though, and he certainly couldn’t just tell his brother how he really felt. Someday, the tides would turn, and he would show Lucien just how much he hated him, but this was definitely not that day. The palace is as amazing as ever – I’m so happy to be here. I trust you are well?



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 15 January 2011, 21:57:08 »
Quote

Mason wasn’t fooled. Of course, Arcadia wasn’t really surprised by this fact. She simply was unable to hide the fact that she wasn’t being truthful. The look he gave her as she tried to change the subject showed very clearly that he didn’t believe her for an instant. She could feel her cheeks turning pink, but she managed to keep her eyes locked with his, shaking her head slightly – she would not discuss the issue any further. She couldn’t say anything, no matter what, and she could only hope that he would just let it go entirely.

He did, thankfully, respond to her next question, rather than trying to dwell on her faltered speech. She supposed it made sense that there were some richer parts of the city where the nobles would live. While many members of the nobility surely had their own mansions and land, there were some of lesser rank, and she could understand them living in the town. Not in the same sort of area where she had grown up, certainly, but in the areas closer to the palace, most likely.

Not everyone likes royalty, Arcadia. You should remember that. Her eyes flicked away momentarily, quickly checking that there was still no one close enough to hear his words. She bit her lip. She knew he meant well, trying to speak out for what he thought was a good cause. But this was not the time or the place for it. She kept her voice soft as she spoke. And you should remember that most everyone here right now does, Mason. He just needed to be more careful.

After that brief “warning”, however, he continued on to give his answer to her question. As she had expected, he hadn’t had any contact with carpenters. He had no reason to. As chauffeur, pilot and captain, most of my dealings in the city are with trusted engineers and mechanics. She nodded. Of course... The nobles and the commoners lived completely separate lives in all but rare cases. She was one of those exceptions, but now that she lived in the palace, she was cut off completely from her old life. There was no overlap between the two realms.

Any reason you ask? Her eyes fell to the floor and she found herself twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. It had been years since she had even mentioned her father out loud. It wasn’t really a topic that she liked to dwell on, and she was regretting bringing it up in the first place. I- She hesitated a moment longer, glancing up towards him again. When she caught sight of the determined look in his eye, though, she knew she couldn’t try to deceive him again. She couldn’t tell him about tonight, but, though it was an uncomfortable topic, she had no real reason to avoid speaking about her father.

She needed to tell him the truth. She nodded slightly as she began. It’s just, my father was a carpenter. And still is, I hope. Part of her believed that he would have contacted her if he was doing well. But then, maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t know how to get a hold of her or... or something. It was a feeble excuse, perhaps, but she just wanted to believe that everything was all right. I haven’t heard anything about him since I came here. But it doesn’t really matter. It had been so long, and she knew that she shouldn’t think too much about it. Her father shouldn’t be important to her - he wasn’t a part of her life any longer.

She was interested to know more about the city, however. Even if he hadn’t been around the peasant shops, there had to be plenty of interesting things that he had seen that he could tell her about. Are there any places there that you do like? Anywhere you enjoy going? Maybe he wasn’t pleased with the nobles, and maybe he resented his lot in life. But there had to be something about it that he could tolerate, right? She certainly hoped that he had something about his job that he could look forward to.




Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 16 January 2011, 21:11:28 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Yes, it was true.  Not everyone liked royalty, but most people at the birthday celebration of the High King did.  Arcadia was right, and it would be wise of him to watch what he said in the company of such people.  However, he sincerely doubted that anyone was paying particular attention to two servants having an innocuous conversation on the sidelines when they had themselves a party to enjoy.  The alcohol was flowing, the band was playing, and there were plenty of beautiful young girls and handsome young men to occupy anyone’s tastes.

No one was listening to anything that he had to say at that moment except for Arcadia.  Well, at least no one normal.  Even his friend Deiter had brushed off his anti-monarchal comments and abandoned him in favor of the company of two lovely aristocrats.  Besides, Mason Volkov had been around long enough for everyone to realize that he would never act on his words.  His bark was much worse than his bite, and people knew it, so he brushed off Arcadia’s subtle admonishment without even a single rebuttal.

He switched his attention instead to the answers she gave him to his question about her interest in carpenters.  At least it didn’t seem like she was lying to him again.  He had half a mind to ask her again about how she felt about this party ending with the intention of calling her out on her poor lying, but he didn’t want to torture her.  He was sure that she could handle whatever it was that had her worried.  He assumed that, if it was something that bad, she would have asked for help rather than tried poorly to cover it up.  Besides, it would be awkward to abruptly go back to the subject.  What on earth would Deiter say about his poor manners?


“No news is good news, they say,” he told her kindly, hoping to comfort her slightly.  Her concern for her father brought thoughts of his own parents to the vanguard of his mind.  

Both of his parents had been history professors in at a Texas university.  Mason had grown up on a ranch, and they’d been relatively well off.  However, not well enough off, it seemed… they weren’t in possession of the supernatural gene that would have marked them as royalty in the regime that followed the nuclear war.  Mr. and Mrs. Volkov had died shortly after the end of the war.  Mason had still been a teenager.


“It does matter,” he corrected her.  “I’m sure he’s still alive.  You’ve still got someone to live for.  My parents are dead.”

He hadn’t meant to drop that bomb on her, but he allowed his statement to be followed by heavy silence nonetheless.  He wasn’t fishing for her pity, but merely hoping to put some things into perspective for her.  Things could always be worse.  There was always something else that could go wrong… which was why Mason did a whole lot of talking without ever acting on his beliefs.  Being dead was a lot worse than being a servant—especially a well paid one.

“Since you ask,” he went on after a pause, “I enjoy my visits with the mechanics.  I like to know how things work… cars, planes… governments.”

His parents had helped him with that last one.  The only reason that a monarchy could function like this was fear.  After the nuclear disaster, the survivors were desperate for stability.  It was a pattern that repeated itself in history over and over again.  A nation—or the globe, in this case—was shattered by some kind of tragedy, and a strong leader stepped up and promised protection and prosperity.  It was exactly how the kings of old had come to power—and it was also how Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany had risen.

“I’ll bore you if I go on, though,” he told her with a sly smile.  “Besides, you don’t like it when I get all political.”



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 21 January 2011, 16:48:52 »
Quote

No news is good news, they say. Arcadia bit her lip, but she did give a gentle nod. I suppose so. Perhaps it could be true. But then again, would they really bother to tell her if something had happened to her father? Would anyone even know or care how to get a hold of her? But she didn’t want to believe that he was dead. And if he hadn’t been able to revive his business, he probably would have ended up working at the palace himself, right? And since he didn’t, then everything was probably fine. She just needed to believe the best of things.

She still felt like she shouldn’t care. It was his fault that she was here after all. Then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. They hadn’t had enough food and they had been starving. Working at the palace had been the only way for her to survive. It didn’t mean that she wasn’t still bitter about it at times, but she tried to convince herself that it just didn’t matter. It does matter, I’m sure he’s still alive.  You’ve still got someone to live for.  My parents are dead. She looked down, her stomach twisting awkwardly. I’m sorry...

Arcadia’s thoughts instantly went back to her own mother, who had been taken in the same blaze that had marred the girl’s face. Lydia, she had been called. She had had dark hair, like Arcadia, and a gentle smile and sweet voice that could make everything seem all right, no matter what was going on. Arcadia could remember running to her time and time again: after waking from a nightmare or falling and scraping her knee on a rock. As soon as she was in her mother’s arms, though, the fright or the pain had instantly begun to melt away. Now that she was gone, she had no one to turn to after a nightmare. No one to make the pain go away.

Mason began speaking again, and she lifted her head, a light smile returning to her lips as he discussed his travels. Since you ask, I enjoy my visits with the mechanics.  I like to know how things work… cars, planes… governments. She did her best to ignore that last one, focusing instead on the cars and planes. It would indeed be interesting to know how they were put together and how they worked. Arcadia knew nothing at all about how vehicles operated, and she certainly didn’t know anything about how airplanes were supposed to work.

She could still empathize a bit, though. She didn’t spend enough time around vehicles to be able to think about them much, but she did sometimes think about furniture or buildings and think about how they might have been constructed. Of course, most of the palace furniture was made by lower-level nobles who certainly did not use the same methods of building that her father had employed. Still, she remembered enough to picture how most of the couches or tables that she saw could have been made with her father’s carpentry tools.

She sighed as he commented about how she didn’t like politics. If her situation was different, she wouldn’t have so much of a problem with it. But she was always afraid that she would hear something that she would later be forced to repeat to Princess Eden, and she simply couldn’t risk that. He was smiling, so she knew he wasn’t upset with her about her reluctance to speak about the issue, but she still felt as though she needed to justify herself. I’m sorry. But you know it’s safer for us both if I don’t get involved.

She felt as though she was making the conversation awkward again, and she looked away once more, this time turning her gaze back out toward the dance floor. She had meant to be trying to find something else to say, but the sight of the dancers quickly distracted her, and she couldn’t help but continue to watch them for a bit, rather entranced by the sight. I must learn to dance like that some day... They were all so graceful. Arcadia wasn’t particularly clumsy, but when she had tried to imitate the dancers in front of the mirror in her quarters, she hadn’t even been even close to emulating the elegance of the dancers she saw at the balls. It wasn’t like servants were forbidden from dancing, as long as it was on their own time. She just never had the reason or the opportunity to ever learn. They just look so beautiful out there.




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 21 January 2011, 15:41:50 »
Quote

Always quite a long drive, though...  Marcellus nodded.  I'm lucky that I live close when His Highness wants the whole court near.  Part of him wanted to offer to let her stay at his house after the party tonight so she wouldn't have to travel all the way home so late.  But then another part of him was scared to, and the voices were reminding him that it would be inappropriate, and that people would talk, and that she'd probably say "no", and why would she want to stay at his house anyway?  Then they remarked that he'd probably be drunk anyway, and terrifying, and then she'd probably hate him if she had to stay at his house while he was drunk, and she'd probably stay for the whole party and he'd probably get violent and leave early, and he decided not to bother asking.

Then Elaine called him "Mark my dear" and before he could quite get over the pleasing surprise of it, she'd grabbed the drink right out of his hand.  See, said one of the voices, She's already uncomfortable with your drinking.  And you've hardly had anything yet.  But then she said something that proved the voice wrong.  There’ll be time for that later. But for now, I do believe we’ve reached the part where you’re supposed to ask me to dance.  She didn't want him to stop drinking, she wanted him to dance!  He always liked it when the voices turned out to be wrong.  It made it easier to ignore them for a while.

But then one of the voices reminded him that he was bad at dancing and the voices were right again.  He could feel his heartrate speeding up already, and he hadn't even agreed to the dance!  No one bothered teaching soldiers to dance, and when he was supposed to be learning after the war, so he could fit into the court better, he'd been in much worse shape than he was now, and he'd been drunk for half of his lessons and missing for the other half.  He'd been a slightly less violent drunk back then, but his teacher and the other dancers had been scared of him all the same - and for good reason.  It had been a bad deal.

And now every time he tried to dance, he ended up tripping or falling or stepping on his partner's feet, or knocking other couples over, or backing into people.  And then the voices laughed at him and he got frustrated, and then they shouted the wrong directions and he got even more confused and frustrated and he messed up more, and eventually, his partner usually dragged him back off the floor where he couldn't embarrass them anymore.  And then they usually didn't want to talk to him anymore.  So they stood on the other side of the room and laughed with their friends.  Probably about how bad a dancer he was.

But then, he couldn't really say no.  Elaine liked dancing.  And he liked Elaine.  And anyway, this was one of the dances he'd learned once.  He thought.  And it wasn't a particularly complicated one.  If he remembered correctly.  He could give it a shot.  He'd just have to do his best.  And if it went badly enough, he might be able to leave the party early without King Lucien getting mad at him.  There was disrespect toward the king, and then there was just flat-out being a disgrace yourself, and while the latter wasn't much fun, it was better than the former.

Blushing, he stammered, Oh!  Umm. . . D'you . . . D'you wanna dance? Smooth. one of the voices commented, sending the whole lot of them into another bout of laughter.  He wanted to tell them to shut up, but he thought Elaine might think he was talking to her, so he just thought it to himself as hard as he could, so the voices would hear it louder.  Gently taking one of Elaine's hands, he felt his heart race even faster.  It pounded in his ears and made it just a little bit harder to hear the voices.  Excellent!  They couldn't trip him up if he was too nervous to hear them telling him the wrong foot to be on.  Maybe he could do this.


« Last Edit: 30 January 2011, 22:46:22 »

Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 23 January 2011, 21:28:47 »
Edit post Quote Delete

In all honesty, Mason had not been intending to fish for her pity or even ask for the token apology that Arcadia gave him after he told her that his parents were dead.  It was a cold, hard fact of life that Mason himself had gotten over a long time ago.  He missed his parents; he had loved them very dearly, but he knew that nothing that he could do could possibly bring them back.  What was the use of moping about and wishing that he could change the past when it would all be nothing but a waste of time?

Therefore, he was glad that Arcadia didn’t dwell on the subject long.  Mason wouldn’t have chosen to respond to it even if the result of that action would have been intolerably uncomfortable silence.  He didn’t need the pity of Princess Eden’s maidservant.  He didn’t need the pity of anyone.

In fact, he would rather stumble down the rocky road that was discussing politics with the girl than let her fuss over him and his assumed grief over the loss of his parents.  And discussing politics with Arcadia was not something that he enjoyed doing.  He knew that she was absolutely determined to avoid the subject at all costs.  He knew that she was worried that listening to him complain about the state of the world would somehow force her to betray him to her mistress.  Like his anti-monarchal thoughts were a secret to people…

Mason didn’t doubt that King Lucien knew—or at least suspected—that his chauffeur was not a loyal supporter of his regime.  (Honestly, Mason had a terrible, sinking feeling that his liege possessed the ability to read the minds of his subjects.  Furthermore, he seemed to be able to perceive things about them of which they were not even yet aware.)  However, most of the court also seemed to realize that, if he was ever going to strike out against them, he would have done it already.

So what would her telling Princess Eden that he wasn’t fond of royalty do?  Even if he were to lose his position, he would only become Deiter Gatsby.  Everyone could see how well he was doing… chatting up beautiful ladies and acting like an aristocrat…

He supposed that her concern for him was touching, however.  Not many others would have given such thought to the matter.  She really just didn’t want to get him (or herself) in trouble.  Mason could respect that.  He was, after all, a survivor in his own right.

He cast his eyes out over the dance floor as she drew his attention to the lovely dancers performing a most lovely dance.  He had to admit that he had never really been very fond of dancing.  It wasn’t something that he’d learned in school.  As he wasn’t an aristocrat, it hadn’t been an appropriate thing for him to learn.  Moreover, he had to admit that he didn’t really see the point of it.  If one were to step back and look at it from the perspective of an outsider, it was very frivolous and silly.


“I’ve seen more beautiful things,” he remarked.  “And what is beauty if not temporary?  An illusion.  Nothing truly beautiful ever lasts.  Things change.  When you look back on this moment in the future, how silly will you seem for envying them the dance?”

He sighed heavily, marveling at his complete inability to say something that didn’t hold political undertones.  “I apologize.  You must be tired of me.  I lack the ability to be frivolous.  I shouldn’t stop you from having your fun.  If I knew how, I might ask you to dance to make up for my inclination toward making anti-monarchal statements.”



Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 25 January 2011, 23:54:53 »
Quote

At the mention of presents, Olivia couldn't help but smile.  She had no idea what Uncle Cygnus had made this year, but then, she usually didn't.  He'd always been very good at keeping secrets, her uncle.  Not always so good at keeping them from her, but plenty of people seemed to have trouble keeping secrets from Olivia.  Secret crushes, of course, were easily visible, but most of the time, the way people acted when they were hiding secret feelings about one thing was pretty close to the way they acted when they were hiding secret feelings about something else, so she was good at noticing when people were keeping something from her.  Lies could fly right over her head, half the time, but when people just avoided something, she usually noticed.  And then she did her best to pry whatever it was you weren't saying right out of your head.  That was the bit that never worked with Uncle Cygnus's presents.  No matter what she did or said, he simply refused to tell her.  And just guessing things until she got it right would never work - his presents were usually too unexpected for her to have even thought of them.  But that didn't mean she couldn't try it anyway.  She usually did.  He was probably used to it by now.  

So. . . she began, only to be interrupted by her father.  Cygnus, allow my Olivia to dance with the young men her age, you’re doing my guests’ sons a disservice,  She sighed, blowing upward into her hair so that the front bits fluttered a little.  She'd picked up the habit when she was growing out her bangs and now she couldn't ever seem to sigh without making the weird faces that used to get the hair out of her eyes.  Duty calls, my princess. I’m afraid I’ll have to save your gift for later tonight.  I guess. she said, sadly.  She didn't want to dance with the boys her age.  She wanted to dance with her uncle, who she hadn't seen in absolutely ages.  But arguing with her father was beyond useless.  It would get her nowhere but in trouble, and she wasn't quite so young or naive anymore as to think she could get away with it without her father making an example of her for the rest of the court.  You didn't question King Lucien.  You just didn't.  Not even if you were his daughter.

Enjoy the rest of the dancing, Livi.  She smiled half-heartedly.  I'll try.  Then he was walking away toward her father and Olivia was left there, alone on the dance floor and feeling like a bit of an idiot.  Normally, the man would be expected to walk her back off the floor, but when her dad called people, they came.  The king's rules outranked etiquette any day.  They were in the very middle of the song, so Olivia had to duck through the dancing couples to get back to the side.  All the men who were avid dancers were already out there, and with Lucien obviously keeping an eye on her and her dance partners, the shyer guys around the edges seemed uninclined, at the moment, to spring to her rescue.  Where was Dieter when you needed him?  Not that dancing with Dieter was any better than dancing with her uncle as far as the whole potential-suitor thing went.

Suddenly, she remembered what she'd been doing before her uncle's sudden appearance on the dance floor.  Dieter!  He was probably still in danger!  Once she'd made her way through the swirl of the full dance floor, she looked out on the crowd with her powers.  Aside from the dizzying mass of lines that was her father, Eden was usually the easiest person in the room to find.  The young men of the court almost universally adored her, with her perfect looks, icy manners, and mysterious nature.  And there she was.  About to walk away from Dieter.  Not that Olivia could go talk to him in her sister's absence.  That would just make her dad even madder.  Especially if he figured out that she was trying to distract Dieter from killing himself, as she was sure he'd been ordered to do.



Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 04 February 2011, 11:03:55 »
Quote

Before her stood one of the most feared men known to anyone here. He was a deadly fighter, an experienced killer, and her understanding was that he had been essentially a hit man for the king. His temper was legendary and nearly everyone in the court feared him. She had heard some wonder if he even possessed a soul any more. And yet, Elaine felt certain that if someone who was unaware of the man's past were to see him right now, they would never believe a word of it. She could swear his cheeks were slightly flushed, and the surprised, hesitant request reminded her more of Luke Peverell - the first boy who had ever asked her to dance when she was twelve years old - than any other dance partner she'd ever had.

I’d be delighted, Marcellus. Why was it that her life so often seemed to be the dream, while it was during her sleeping hours when everything seemed right? The dream world was supposed to be the realm where occurrences were never quite right – where something was out of place or distorted or strange. Only in dreams should she be able to hear such timid words coming from a man with a reputation such as his. Likewise, she was an oddity, fearing when she should be happy and throwing care to the wind when she should be cautious. Why was it only in her dreams where she could be happy and at peace and only upon waking that her fear of an unlikely death gripped her every thought?

Nonetheless, as odd as it seemed, her reality was that Marcellus was now walking her out to the dance floor. As they took their place, Elaine forced herself to stop thinking about the irrationality of it all and to just go with it. Abnormal events were something that she was very good at and very used to, after all. Instead, she allowed herself to smile, distracting herself by focusing on the dance. She was still a bit wary of those around her, but the fact that she was with Marcellus should provide her some protection, so she was more relaxed than she would have been with a different dance partner. Sure enough, the other dancers seemed to be giving them a fair amount of space, so she wasn’t as worried about surprise attacks, and she found herself rather enjoying the dance.

This was nice – she could handle this. As they continued, she was able to focus more on Marcellus and less on those around her and she finally reached a point where her obsessive paranoia was almost not interfering at all. She was as relaxed as she could be, and it was a very pleasant feeling to not be as worried as she usually was. If only it would last... No – even if it didn’t last, she could enjoy it right now. She made sure that she was smiling and brought her thoughts back to what was happening at that moment.

It was actually a song that she quite liked and a dance that she enjoyed. She had danced a lot more when she was younger, when she hadn’t yet come to the realization of just how many ways there were for a person to be killed. As she grew older, her paranoia had grown. But now, dancing to one of her favorites from before her time of continuous worry, she was taken back to that time as a young girl. The image was helped along by the fact that Marcellus still seemed quite awkward – reminding her some of the boys that she had dance with at that age. She was so relaxed, in fact, that as Mark spun her under his arm suddenly, she actually giggled a bit, and she couldn’t even remember when the last time that she had done that had been.

As she swung back into the basic dance position, she began to look at Marcellus in another light. There were two men in the world, it seemed, in whose company she could bear to remain without worry. And, of those two, Marcellus was the only one who had not already taken a bride for himself. That was another thing that had changed as she grew up – when she had been a young girl, she had always dreamed about an elaborate wedding and being married and even watching her own children running around the family manor. Could she have that sort of a life with Marcellus? She felt safer in his presence than with any of the other nobles, save the king, but there were other things she would have to consider as well. The majority of the court feared or even hated Marcellus and the idea of raising children alongside someone so prone to drunken rages would not be a wise one if he did not change his ways.

Oh, but there she went again, letting her thoughts turn dark and serious. For this small amount of time, she had the opportunity to just be happy and enjoy what she was doing without worrying too much, and she needed to take advantage of that. Pushing away all other thoughts, she returned her attention to the dance, smiling broadly as she twirled outward, then back into Marcellus’ arms. She had missed living like this, and for the moment, just being carefree was more than she could have asked for.




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 08 February 2011, 01:21:50 »
Quote

And what is beauty if not temporary? ... Things change. Slowly, Arcadia’s fingers moved from playing with the edges of her dark hair to touch the scar tissue covering the cheek hidden beneath the locks.  Indeed they do... She knew firsthand just how easy it was for beauty to be destroyed. But did that really make it not worth having in the first place? And would it be better not to have this ball in the first place, only because it would be over and done with at the end of the night? Yes, it was temporary, but that didn’t mean it should be done away with.

When you look back on this moment in the future, how silly will you seem for envying them the dance? No, that wasn’t right – not as far as Arcadia was concerned. She looked up at Mason at this point, no longer averting her eyes and suddenly feeling much less of the timidity that plagued her for the majority of the subject. In this matter, she was quite confident of her opinion and, though she hated to disagree with him, she felt strongly enough to voice her views on the matter. I disagree. When I look back on this moment, it will be to remind myself of better times and to hope that such times will come again. Silly? Perhaps, but why shouldn’t they be silly every once in a while?

After all, what else did she have to look forward to? What did any of the commoners have to enjoy? Their lives were so monotonous and repetitive, unable to do anything but wait on their masters. Perhaps it was different for Mason, since he got to travel around and see the rest of the country and talk with mechanics and other interesting people. But Arcadia rarely even stepped outside the walls of the palace, and there were very few people that she ever had the opportunity to have conversations with. So, yes, maybe she was being frivolous and silly to think that it was exciting to be at a ball surrounded by beauty. But she wasn’t going to give it up.

She considered saying more, but she was afraid she might slip and say something about what would most likely happen tonight after the party, so she fell silent again. At Mason’s apology, she gave a little sigh. She didn’t mean to keep making it difficult for him to discuss anything at all. She did like speaking with him – he was one of the few people that she ever spoke with. Besides which, it certainly didn’t hurt that she found him quite attractive, not that she would ever say anything about that. His sentiment about offering to dance if he could was sweet, too.

She definitely didn’t want him to leave again too soon, though, so, after a moment’s consideration, she decided that it couldn’t really hurt to listen to him. As long as they addressed it as historical information rather than suggesting an uprising, then it shouldn’t be an issue. No, it’s fine, Mason. Perhaps I’m just worrying too much... The truth was, she was fairly curious. She didn’t know how else a country would be run – she didn’t know of any other systems. King Lucien had been ruling since before she was born and none of the books in the library were about politics.

Go ahead and tell me. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Her periodic glances towards her mistress continued to tell her that the Princess needed nothing – that everything was going perfectly for Eden, as best Arcadia could tell, as it always did. How did things work before our King Lucien was born? How did the world work without a king? Someone had to make the decisions about how things were to be done, right? King Lucien was in charge of laws and taxes and all sorts of other things that she didn’t really know the details about. And if not Lucien, it would have to be someone else giving those instructions, wouldn’t it? But Mason seemed to be indicating that there was some other way than to have a king making the plans, and she was curious how that would work.




Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 10 February 2011, 22:55:50 »
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Better times?  Was this really the kind of moment that Arcadia hoped would come again?  

Mason had not been under the impression that she enjoyed balls so much that she would look forward to the next one.  As a servant, she was rarely able to dance, and she had already hinted that she had something not so pleasant to deal with at the end of the night.  Mason suspected whatever that was happened after every event like this.  How could an event in which the nobility flaunted their wealth and power over the poor commoners be the kind of thing that a maidservant would think of in the worst of times?

For Mason, this kind of shameless and extravagant display of wealth was disgraceful.  It was too bad that he was too concerned for his life to actually act on his thoughts.  Or maybe it was just a good thing for the aristocracy.

His eyebrows shot up when Arcadia invited him to indulge his political inclinations and rant about how things used to be.  Of course he would answer her.  She ought to know him well enough by now that he would never turn down a chance to speak his mind (at least to another servant).  Though, perhaps he ought to have been concerned about influencing her against her omniscient mistress.  God forbid he actually managed to convince Arcadia that he was right and this aristocrat business was wrong… she wasn’t likely to receive the same amnesty that he did.

Oh well, he decided.  She knew the risks; she wanted to hear what he had to say.  He couldn’t hold himself responsible for her curiosity.  He just hoped that she wouldn’t be the next example of curiosity killing the cat.


“There were kings, a very long time ago,” he began.  “My parents were history professors at an American university.  In the old days, monarchies were established because people needed security.  It was a dangerous world.  People were willing to sacrifice their rights in order to guarantee their safety.  The first kings came to power through military victories, usually.  However, as time went on, people began to have ideas about freedom and reason.  They began to question the divine right of kings.  The first revolutions occurred, and democracy was born.

“Can you imagine a world in which the leaders are elected, Arcadia?  That is the world in which mankind used to live.  Every man had a vote, and the man whom the people elected was the one who governed with the interests of the people at heart.  His power was checked by a legislative body that made the laws and was made up of other elected individuals.   People had all kinds of rights that are now denied to them.  In our dismay and confusion, we have fallen back to ancient ways.  Think for a moment about how our dear Lucien came to power.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “History repeats itself, Arcadia.  It’s only a matter of time.”



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 16 February 2011, 21:17:24 »
Quote

Arcadia listened, trying to understand. Her background knowledge in this area was essentially nothing, so she was sure there would be some things that he would say that she just wouldn’t quite comprehend. After all, the basis of her confusion was that she had never known of a situation where there wasn’t a king, and she didn’t know how else a country, or the world, as it may be, would operate. The king had always been in charge. The aristocrats, with their powers, had always dominated. She had no way to even imagine things being any different.

Mason, though, clearly did. His first description of the old kings made sense. After all, that was what King Lucien had done, right? He had brought together all those who were lost after the war and given security to people who had been full of fear. Her parents had rarely spoken of the war, but on the few occasions that she could remember them discussing it, they had been very solemn, and they had sounded worried, at the least, and perhaps fearful as well. She hadn’t understood at the time what war was, but she had felt from her parents’ attitudes that it was possibly the worst thing that could ever happen.

Even now her knowledge of war came from the stories that the older servants told along with some ideas that she had picked up through some of her reading. The royal library wasn’t a place for things like history books – it was a place of enjoyment, and thus the books were all fantasies or adventures or romances. But even these sometimes covered the topic of wars. She thought of the conflict between Capulets and the Montagues, and of Lady Helen of Troy who had caused a great war because of her beauty.

She did not know the reasoning behind the war that had most recently torn the world apart, but she actually had gathered that no one really knew conclusively what the cause was. All the storytellers would point to specific incidents that had indicated that war was coming or spoke of famous battles they were in, but no one ever said exactly what was supposed to have been accomplished by the fighting. In the end, though, it didn’t matter, because they had all lost. The world had been thrown into chaos, and it was Lucien who had guided them back towards civilization.

But Mason didn’t stop there. He now started explaining what had happened after the kings, and it was here that Arcadia had more trouble following his words. Elect was a term that she had seen used in books, but only as a synonym for making a choice. As in, “the princess elected to take a walk about the gardens.” Every man had a vote, and the man whom the people elected was the one who governed with the interests of the people at heart. And he thought that Lucien didn’t have the interest of the people at heart, she had to assume. Well, he certainly didn’t care about the commoners, but none of the aristocracy did. Those with powers stayed with themselves and those without stayed separate. Was that a bad thing? She was beginning to wonder...

At “legislative body”, she was thoroughly confused. From context, she had to assume that it had to do with the “elected”, or chosen, people he had spoken of, though, so although she frowned slightly, she didn’t press the issue. History repeats itself, Arcadia. It’s only a matter of time. Her fingers were now twirling her hair again as she tried to process everything. She supposed she could eventually work out all the word meanings and such. She still didn’t see what would be so different. The aristocrats would still have powers, and the others wouldn’t. Even if someone different was in charge, or multiple someones, as Mason had made it sound, she just couldn’t think of how it would change her life.

So, what would you do then, Mason? As much as she didn’t really enjoy her life here, she had no idea what she would do to take care of herself if she was suddenly away from the palace. What would be different in your life after you had elected this “legis-tive body”? Or would you be part of it instead? He would probably be a good leader. He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about, and he had a good deal of charisma about him, at least in Arcadia’s eyes. What would it be like with Mason as king? She almost giggled at the thought, just because it was so impossible. The war had been over for longer than she had been alive and nothing had changed even a bit. Why did he think it would all suddenly reverse now?




Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 24 February 2011, 14:23:51 »
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“That, my dear, would be for the people to decide,” he replied with a wink.  “That is the beauty of democracy.”

Mason had considered the situation before.  If his dreams came true in his lifetime and he lived to see the fall of Lucien and his kingdom, would he allow himself to be elected to political office?  His parents had influenced him to walk down the path of political enlightenment, and they had always told him, as a child, that he would be a marvelous leader.  He had a natural charisma, and politics was something that had always come easy to him.

The real question, as he had pointed out to Arcadia, was whether or not people would want him to be in the legislative body—or even their elected leader.  Arcadia was at least pretending to believe that he would be good for the job, as her question seemed to suggest.  However, he had no idea how the other citizens would feel.  Would they seem him as too conservative, too liberal?  Would they view him as a dangerous radical responsible for the toppling of a powerful regime?  Mason couldn’t tell the future, though he’d heard rumors that one of the nobility was in possession of that gift.  He simply didn’t know.


“The idea of a democracy,” he went on, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out dramatically over the crowd of colorful gowns and dark suits.  “The idea of a democracy is that no one comes to power that the majority of the people don’t approve of.  Think of who the majority of the people are, Arcadia.  Not the nobility.  In a democracy, we would have the power to dictate to our leaders.  Their power would depend out our support and our approval.  We would elect them to make laws in our favor, and their failure to do so would result in their loss of power.”

He paused for a moment, then looked down at Arcadia.  How much had she suffered at the hands of Lucien and his family?  How much more would she suffer before her end or the end of the kingdom?

“Can you imagine a world in which you didn’t have to be a servant?  Where you had just as much influence and power as Princess Eden?  Try for a moment.  Really try; I know it’s hard.  Think about, Arcadia.  No one would be able to abuse you.  You would have rights.  You would be protected from their cruelty.  You would be just as good as them.  Can you imagine it?”

Mason had tried to imagine it many times.  No one would be able to force him into nice clothes or stuffy parties like this one.  He could do what he wanted when he wanted it, and he wouldn’t have to worry about what he said.  Best of all, he would be free.  Free from everything.



Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 06 March 2011, 00:18:26 »
Quote

Music, champagne, and revolution. It was a good night. Logan was well used to picking out the people that he wanted to speak with. He had a sharp eye and an even sharper ear where talk of the revolution was concerned. And he already knew a fair number of those who it was safe to approach and those who it certainly wasn’t. Everything was about timing – about being in the right place at the right time with just the right words to say. And Logan was pretty good at doing just that.

By now, he had already touched base with a few of his usual contacts, those that were most dedicated to seeking a new world order. They had asked how things were going, swapped recent information, and the like, but Logan knew better than to let it look like his conversations with any of the other servants mustn’t look too serious or last for too long, lest they merit suspicion from the other guests at the ball. Instead, he kept his conversations brief and continued on his way.

Anyhow, he was more interested in a different sort of discussion. It was great that they had people who were willing to help already, but until they had more people on their side, trying to act would only result in failure. That was why Logan’s focus at these sorts of events was always to seek out those who were questioning the way things were – trying to make up their minds about how they thought things should be. These were the people that he most needed to speak with, most needed to sway towards his way of thinking.

And that was where Logan’s ability to be in the right place came in handy. He had noticed the group early on – a few young counts and lords standing off to one side, all with expressions ranging from slightly bored to slightly annoyed at having to be here. After brief consideration, he had placed them as younger sons of low-level nobles who had their own land, but not very much of it, and who were known to be more closely involved with the work of their farms. All of them gave personal attention to the business side of things at least, and some of them were known to actually work out in the fields during harvest time along with their hired hands. The sort of people who seemed more likely to be open to ideas of equality for everyone.

He had been talking with them for a good while now and things seemed to be going well. One young man in particular, a Lord Enjor, had been agreeing quite vehemently with everything Logan had suggested. And many of the others were beginning to add comments that seemed to indicate that they were seriously considering the matter. It was a good start. But now it was time for Logan to take his leave from this group. They had heard what he had to say, now he was going to give them time to talk about it amongst themselves. If he had judged them correctly, which he was pretty sure he had, they would convince themselves even more fully that Logan had the right idea of things.

As he moved on, he immediately began looking for someone, but it wasn’t another prospective revolutionary this time. No, quite the contrary – it was high time that he located Count Marcellus. He had been able to leave the man alone this long only because they hadn’t been there long enough for him to get drunk. As they got further along in the night, he would have to keep a better eye on his employer until it came time to take him home. He hated to say that it was inevitable that Marcellus would leave this party drunken and raging, but experience indicated that that would invariably be the case. He was a haunted man, and alcohol seemed to be the only thing he wished to turn to for comfort.

Two years Logan had been working for Marcellus – and he had been told by many of the other servants that that was easily a record amount time for the Count’s valets. A few had quit. Most were dead. And they were probably among Marcellus’ collection hanging in the always-locked back room. Logan’s continuously friendly smiled faltered for a moment at that thought. He had never seen inside the room and he had every intention of keeping things that way. Just the thought of being in the same building with those things kept him awake some nights, and Logan wasn’t a person who was easily scared.

Still, Logan had no intention of being killed and added to that room. The others had been stupid, and they hadn’t known how to handle Marcellus. Sure, the guy was a trained killer, but he wasn’t malicious and as long as you knew how to handle him, you could keep your head – literally. And Logan, who had spent his adolescence dodging an uncle whose alcohol intake had rivaled Marcellus’, did know how to handle the Count. He knew exactly when it was time to step in, exactly when to jump back to avoid a blow, and exactly when it was time to get Marcellus away from whatever event he was at.

Of course, it would be nice if Marcellus just didn’t drink at all, but Logan knew about the voices that haunted the older man and he knew that there were few other ways for him to seek solace. Not that the drinking actual brought solace, as the fits of rage were anything but peaceful, but it was a sort of relief for a man who could find no true freedom from his curse. There was very little else that could take Marcellus’ mind off of it all.

But as he finally caught sight of the man, Logan had to smile. Marcellus was, of all places, walking out onto the dance floor, leading with him the Duchess of Rautha. Elaine. You didn’t have to be terribly observant to see how Marcellus felt about the woman – the way he looked for her whenever he arrived at an event and how he watched her when she arrived and how he acted whenever she spoke to him. Frankly, Logan rather wondered why Marcellus hadn’t requested a proper courtship with the lady by now. Well, he supposed he could think of a few reasons, but he didn’t think it would hurt to at least try. Anyhow, it wasn’t like Marcellus was going to hurt someone with self-healing powers.

With a little smirk, he leaned back against the wall, watching the two dance. If nothing else, it meant that Marcellus didn’t have a drink in his hand for the time being, which could only be a good thing. And Elaine at least seemed to be enjoying herself. Hopefully Marcellus could let himself find some happiness in the process as well. He watched them for a moment longer until Christof, the driver for Duke Cantrell, approached and started talking about the progress his group had been making on building a printing press. Back to business.


« Last Edit: 07 March 2011, 01:16:28 »


OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 07 March 2011, 01:02:16 »
Quote

Marcellus led Elaine out onto the dance floor, happy to note that the other couples moved out of the way - well out of the way - when they saw him coming.  The voices in his head reminded him that it was because he was terrible at this, but he couldn't help feeling more confident with fewer people around him to step on.  Elaine's grip on his shoulder seemed tense, but then what did he really know?  He wasn't used to dancing, so how could he really be sure?  He stood there for a few moments, bobbing his head briefly to the music to find the beat.  He really hoped there were supposed to be four counts, because that was what he was pretty sure he heard.

As they started to move, it soon became apparent that, miraculous as it was, he'd actually managed to remember the right dance.  Or at least, the steps he was doing and the sound of the music seemed to line up ok, and Elaine didn't seem to be confused or angry.  This wasn't so bad!  Yeah, well, wait until you get on the wrong foot. said one of the voices, provoking laughter from some of the others.  Well, then I won't. he thought back at the voice.  I'll just watch somebody else's feet.  Like . . . that guy's.  Admittedly, "that guy" was not a particularly good dancer.  He was a young nobleman of perhaps 19, and his steps had the careful deliberation of someone following recently-learned patterns.  Much easier to follow than the older men and the better dancers, who added flourishes and flair and shortened some steps and lengthened others and tried to be dashing.  Marcellus was pretty sure he couldn't manage dashing.  He was mostly just going for competent.  And the kid was definitely that.

As he settled into the dance, he found himself making far fewer mistakes than usual, though the voices in his head were acting as fiendishly as ever, shouting "left" when he was supposed to be on his right foot and counting numbers that didn't go with the music.  But this dance wasn't one where everyone on the floor went in a big circle, and the boy whose feet he was watching with the corner of his eye stayed pretty close, and he was doing ok anyway.  He decided he should try to lead something fancier so Elaine wouldn't get too bored doing just the basic the steps that seemed a lot easier for her than they did for him, so he tried to lead her into a turn, but realized after she started turning that he'd done it at the wrong time and now it was awkward.  She didn't seem to mind, and somehow she made it work, but he'd gotten on the wrong foot while she turned and as he tried to get back onto the correct foot, the voices laughed at him, telling him they'd known he would screw up and he should just stop trying.

But then something magical happened.  Elaine laughed.  He blushed again, his pounding heart drowning out the voices momentarily.  With a quick glance at the kid's feet he'd been watching, he got back on the right foot, and suddenly this didn't seem so bad.  Everyone was giving him extra space, for once, and apparently, Elaine didn't care if he messed up!  He found himself laughing along, full-bellied and almost resonant.  He never sounded like that.  But then, he was happy, and he was never happy.  This moment was amazing.  Elaine swung back into the close hold and he suddenly found himself thinking about how long it had been since he was this close to a pretty girl.  Some time before the war.  And even then, he was pretty sure no girl he'd ever met was as beautiful and wonderful and kind as Elaine.  And then he remembered when it was that he'd last been this close to a girl he liked.  He'd been 15.  Younger, even, than the boy whose feet he was looking at less and less as the dance went on.

He vaguely remembered standing on the outskirts of the school gym, pimply and awkward.  He'd been tall for his age, not so strongly-built as he was now, but not scrawny either, and he hadn't figured out quite how to figure out his size yet.  He'd grown 6 inches in a short few months, his feet had grown several sizes, and he'd turned out to be a stumbling giant, bigger that the boys his own grade, and more awkward than the older boys who'd had more time to adjust to their new heights, or at least to the process of growing quickly.  He'd tripped over his feet, kicked himself on accident, bumped into people, and knocked things over.  He'd never been particularly bright, he'd never been one to really stand up for himself, and the girl who had danced with him at the school dance had only done it as a joke.  Not even smart enough to be a nerd, he'd just been a dork.  No one for a popular girl like Jenny to be dancing with.  He could still remember the homecoming king, a handsome, popular jock, cutting in with an insult and everyone laughing.  Even Jenny.  Especially Jenny.  Because, of course, she didn't want to dance with him at all.  But Elaine wasn't laughing at him.  She was laughing with him, because he could feel her hold on his shoulder relaxing and creeping, just slightly, toward his chest so that she was suddenly even a little bit closer to him instead of walking away.

After he was 15, he'd turned 16 and then a few weeks later, a guy in a store had mistaken him for 18 and he'd had a hint of an idea.  If he looked 18, maybe he could be 18.  Maybe he could get out of here.  He could leave this town behind.  He could . . . he could join the army.  The army would teach him everything.  They'd teach him how to handle these stupid too-long limbs and how to defend himself.  They'd teach him to do the things they needed him to do.  They wouldn't expect him to be smart or funny or charming or popular.  They'd just expect him to follow directions and run and shoot and do his best.  And he was pretty sure he could do that.  Besides which, when the war was over, he'd come home a hero, and all the kids at school would be sorry for picking on him.  They'd have been stuck in their lame little school while he was out doing something real.

The more he'd thought about it, the better the idea had sounded.  The news said the whole world was going to war.  It said everyone was going to die.  And if they didn't die, it listed off country after country who were sure to conquer them.  Some folks thought the news people were crazy, but most people figured they were right.  They were at least right about the war.  Even when he'd signed up, before the nukes fell, it had been obvious they were right about the war.  And say what you wanted about Marcellus, he didn't like the idea of being conquered.  So he had signed up, he'd gotten away, he'd left behind the awkward giant (mostly) and he'd become Lucien's iron fist.  He'd squashed the little boy deep down inside him, where he couldn't get in the way, he'd pretended to be older, he'd learned to smoke and drink and act tough, and he'd replaced the awkward teenager with a rough killer.  And he'd never looked back.  There was no point in looking back.  He couldn't get the little boy back, not even in the moments when he showed through, like when a group of the older soldiers had gone to brothels and he'd been too scared or young or stupid to go in, or when he'd thrown up after his first kill, or when he'd found out his home town had been destroyed and cried all night over all those stupid dead jerks one more time.

But now all of that was gone and Elaine was laughing, and he'd figured out the dance steps, as long as he didn't try anything too hard, and he'd realized she didn't care if he messed up a little, and he was a courtier instead of a killer, and for a moment, he almost wondered if he might be able to start all over again.  Maybe it wasn't too late.  Maybe he could rewrite the killer like he had the little boy.  Exhilarated by the music and the dancing and the laughter and his pounding heart and the fact that Elaine was beautiful and kind and dancing with him, the voices in his head faded into a faint background hum, like they usually only did when he was sloppily drunk or had scared them into silence with the bloody violence that usually came out of the drinking.  Maybe, just maybe, he could change.  For the first time in a long time, Marcellus felt hope.



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 15 March 2011, 18:18:56 »
Quote

Perhaps she was beginning to understand. Through the confusing swirl of unknown words and foreign concepts, she was starting to make sense of this idea of the majority. Whatever the most people wanted is what Mason was suggesting should happen. That instead of what the most important person wanted most, everyone would be the same and would have the same amount of influence. And perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea. It did seem like the best way to ensure that things were done with the benefit of all in mind.

The idea of a democracy is that no one comes to power that the majority of the people don’t approve of.  Think of who the majority of the people are, Arcadia. There was a lot to think about in what he was saying. For one, it was clear that he believed that most people didn't approve of King Lucien's rule. It sounded like it wasn't even just because he was one ruler that hadn't been "elected". Mason sounded like Lucien wouldn't even be part of the ruling body if people were voting about it. She wondered what he had done so wrong that would make him undesireable.

Certainly he was a good leader, at least in that people followed him. She didn't really know much of anything about what the king dictated outside of the castle walls, but she knew that he was credited for bringing the country up from the ashes of the war. That he was considered responsible for bringing civilization back to the world. What was it, then, that made Mason and whatever others believe that Lucien should lose his power?

He made her change her course of thought, though, when he started talking about what it would mean for her. Saying that she wouldn't be a servant any longer; that she would be equal with Princess Eden. Think about it, Arcadia. And she did. She pictured herself walking away from the palace, free to go her own way. She imagined herself in the town, in a home like the one that she had lived in as a child, living a free life. She tried to imagine Eden as a commoner, as someone no different than Arcadia, as her equal.

No one would be able to abuse you. She started to tense slightly at that, but he kept going, and she realized he just meant it as a general statement - no one knew anything about that. You would have rights.  You would be protected from their cruelty.  You would be just as good as them. It was here that the flaw in his plan finally showed up and she shook her head sadly. It's a beautiful thought, Mason. And it was. If this dream picture he was painting was possible, it would be a wonderful thing indeed.

But there was a problem. At the end of the day, though, they still have powers, and we don't. Listening to him, she couldn't help but long for the equality that he was talking about, but it just couldn't happen. Not with the way things were now. No matter what we wanted or what we voted for, they can do things that we never can. How could anyone challenge a woman who could control fire or a man who could manipulate emotions. All they had to do was use their powers and it wouldn't matter how many people wanted them out of power. They would still be in control.

She looked across the room at her mistress. Eden stood there radiating light and attracting the attention of everyone around her. She stood with poise and spoke with grace. She was the perfect princess, as always, and Arcadia was just being foolish to even consider that she could ever be equal to the king's daughter. The servant girl shook her head more firmly this time. I'm sorry. I wish I could believe it all. But I can't. I can't ever have the power of Princess Eden because I don't have a power like hers. In the end, there was nothing that could be done about that. She bit her lip, looking away. It's just not that simple, Mason.


« Last Edit: 16 March 2011, 02:02:06 »


Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 17 March 2011, 14:07:10 »
Quote

As it turned out, Christof's team was even further along with the printing press than Logan had hoped. They would be able to start publishing by the end of summer. It was a very promising thought, and the two men quickly fell into a discussion of which projects should be focused on first and how they would most easily be able to distribute their information when the time came. They couldn't be caught, of course, or the whole thing would be over before it even began, but they needed to be able to get the papers to as many people as possible.

There had been a time, he knew, before the war, when machines had been far more advanced and could have printed much more much faster than they would be able to produce. Still, their press would be a good enough for a start. They just needed to get their ideas out there - to get people thinking about equality and about how much better their world would be without this ridiculous heirarchy that kept everyone miserably in their places with no hope of ever advancing themselves.

The Earl of Fermont, where does he stand? His stables house the fastest horses on this continent. Riding horses as they delivered their pamphlets would give them a better chance of escaping if they were spotted, as guards would be most likely to be using vehicles that would be confined to travel on roads. Horses would be far more difficult to trace, as well. They had all decided that this would probably be their preferred method of delivery. They just had to get access to enough horses. If he would be willing to... to, uh...

But his entire train of thought had been utterly wiped blank. He stared into the crowd, his mouth open slightly as he watched her slipping out into the crowd, away from the dance floor. She was beautiful and sweet and he had fallen head over heels for her from the first time he saw her two years ago. Christof frowned, trying to figure out what had distracted Logan. What's the matter, lad? But he was able to follow the valet's gaze quite easily and he groaned slightly as he realized who Logan was staring at.

The princess, Logan? You can't be serious! Olivia is- I know. I know! He knew his attraction towards the girl was stupid. She was the daughter of the king, the very man that Logan and his co-conspirators hoped to take down. She was one of the highest members of the aristocracy that they hoped to undermine. She was a princess and Logan was a revolutionary.

Yet none of that could counter the fact that, when he saw her, he felt like he couldn’t breathe and his heart began to race and he could think of nothing else but her. As he watched her, her every motion entranced him. She was beautiful. Not in the same way as her sister, but in a more realistic, more approachable sort of way. She was young and friendly and kind and there was just something that captured his thoughts entirely.

He had spoken with her before. Not at a high-end function like this, of course, when everyone had their expectations about class and standing and all those foolish rules that shouldn’t even be in place. But on two separate occasions when Marcellus had been summoned to the palace, he had been waiting in the hall and she had been passing by and they had ended up in conversation for almost the entire length of the trips.

She was, frankly, one of his main reasons for being so dedicated to the ideals of equality. In those short conversations, he had seen so clearly that she was just a person. If he hadn’t known who she was, he would have had no reason to think of her any differently from anyone else. She had been sweet and inviting and genuine and lively and lovely. Why should he be unable to associate with her just because of arbitrary hierarchical assignments?

Sure, Logan was a valet. But that was just his job. It didn’t make a difference in who he truly was. In fact, most people here didn’t even know him. He almost never divulged his position because he knew that it was unimportant and he was trying to prove to others that it didn’t matter. The young lords and counts he had spoken with earlier didn’t need to know that he was a valet. All they cared about was that he spoke with clarity and confidence and that his ideas made sense.

Though it was true that Logan had been seen with Marcellus, he still wasn’t readily recognizable as a servant. He made a point to dress differently at each major event he attended and to make sure that his hair was brushed a little differently. As quickly as Marcellus had gone through valets in the past, no one really made the connection that he was the same person, even if they did notice him. And since he was really only at Marcellus’ side when the man was in a drunken craze, Logan wasn’t really the one that anyone would be looking at anyhow.

Olivia knew, since she had spoken to him away from the party setting, but he truly believed that she might be able to look past that. She seemed so trusting and so welcoming that he felt she might have a better chance than most to overlook their designated ranks in society and just see him for him. He was going to go talk to her, he decided. He didn’t care who else was here. How could he profess to believe that everyone was equal if he was going to be scared off by her title?

He checked to make sure his tie was straight, then pulled back his shoulders and began to walk forward, ignoring Christof’s protests that he was a fool. Maybe he was. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to back down now. He wove carefully between the groups of people between him and Olivia until he was just behind her. His heart was pounding, but he wasn’t about to turn back now.

What is this fair sight that my eyes have found? A single blossom alone, almost hidden in the crowded fields. Perhaps he was being too bold, but, really, what was the worst that could happen? If she turned him away, then he wouldn’t be able to speak with her, but if he didn’t try, he wouldn’t be speaking with her anyhow. How lucky I am to have been the one to find this rare flower. How are you tonight, my lady?




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 26 March 2011, 15:55:26 »
Quote

Olivia stood to the side, waiting for this song to be over so she could go dance with someone else - or so she could go find Dieter, if her parents joined in the dance and she thought her father wouldn't have such an easy time watching her anymore.  She hated the way people's fear of her father kept them away from her, especially at moments like this.  Her father had announced that she should be dancing with his guests' sons, but some of them were more suitable than others, and no one seemed to want to step up with Lucien's eye on his youngest daughter.  They were afraid he'd be angry with them if he didn't think they should be dancing with her, either.  Well, that or no one liked her.  But she could see the faintly orange tinge to the lines going toward her father, lines that said they were afraid of him.  So she was pretty sure it was the first thing and not that everyone secretly hated her.

Suddenly, a voice spoke to her out of nowhere.  What is this fair sight that my eyes have found? A single blossom alone, almost hidden in the crowded fields.  How lucky I am to have been the one to find this rare flower. How are you tonight, my lady?  She was pretty sure she knew who it was before she even turned to look, and sure enough, Duke Marcellus's charming valet was standing beside her when she did look.  Giggling, she blushed lightly and glanced over her shoulder, hoping her father wasn't looking.  Logan!  It's so good to see you!  He had no idea how good, she was sure.  He'd probably never think she loved him, because everyone knew she was a princess and her dad was going to make her marry someone noble.  But that was kind of safer, too.  He didn't know she loved him, but that meant he wouldn't laugh at her if he didn't love her back.

He would get them both in trouble if her father realized she was talking to a servant.  But she couldn't just stop talking to him or send him away!  That would be awful!  She'd been so excited earlier today when Dieter told her than Marcellus was coming, because she'd known it meant Logan would come too.  She'd been pleased to see Marcellus here because she knew it meant Logan was around somewhere.  But she hadn't gotten so far as to thinking about how she probably couldn't talk to him anyway, and now that it was actually happening even though he was a servant and he could get in trouble and he was probably scared of her dad like everyone else, she was not going to lose this opportunity.

Grabbing Logan by the arms, she dragged him onto the edge of the dance floor.  Quick!  Pretend you're a nobleman.  My dad won't know the difference if he doesn't get a good look at you.  She had no idea if he knew how to dance or not, but she also knew through experience that she could lead the dance if she wanted to.  Dieter yelled at her for it, of course, but she could do it.  Of course, now that they were on the dance floor, she realized that dancing with Logan meant touching his shoulder and holding his hand and standing close to him, and it made her blush again.  She already knew he was poetic and charming and cute, but now that they were close together, she noticed that he was tall and strong and smelled good, clean and very faintly cologned.

This might have been a terrible idea.  Her heart was flopping like a fish in her chest, and her stomach felt like it was full of creepy-crawlies.  If her dad caught her dancing with a servant, they'd be in even more trouble than if they were just talking, and suddenly her brain seemed to be going to mush, so she wasn't sure she could think of a way out of it fast enough if he did catch them.  She couldn't quite look her partner in the face, and stared intently at his shoulder instead.  Logan was probably terrified!  He was probably mad at her for dragging him out here!  This was probably terribly awkward!  She'd better say something.  But what should she say?  So. . . she sputtered, Umm. . . how've you been?



Alexandra Winters
Played by hidden.trick

« 26 March 2011, 17:06:02 »
Quote

The night had been unravelling precisely in the manner that Alexandra had wanted to. Off into a corner, Olivia's frivolities were at best charming to others, and barely tolerated by her mother. Loving from a distance, yes, that was the way to call it. At the very least Eden managed to comport herself with a steel heart and soul that really showed she was the daughter of the King and Queen. However, Eden too, showed signs of getting a little too close in comfort with the Gatsby boy. Yes, Alexandra had known that Lucien spun every enemy into the most tangled of positions, but Alexandra felt the need to keep a close eye on the boy. Even if he wasn't going to use her, their closeness was apt to the foretelling of secrets, and Eden was known to possess the heart like Olivia's, even if she dared not display it publicly. She need not use her power to detect the moral fibre of any of these three flouncing characters. For her daughters she had raised since birth, unwillingly and unfortunately, and she knew them better than they knew themselves. And if Dieter had grown so high in the ranks of Lucien's eyes, it meant that, whether he was morally strong or not, his determination was not to be underestimated. And for this, she held the three in the corner of her eye.

She had also seen Lady Francoise waltz about the room. She was a pretty young thing, and if there was ever a woman she could see to take her place, it would be her. Odd as it may seem, but from the day that Alexandra took the role of Godmother to Francoise, and held the baby up into the sunlight, she saw a strength that was unparalleled. It was this that waved Francoise back and forth from the Royal Court, unsure of where her powers should be used. In time, Alexandra had genuinely hoped that William, or anyone would convert her to stay with the court, and if the planning of a marriage between the two wasn't a motivation, then she would find other ways. Alexandra's eyes, still gleaming with interest to those whom she was speaking, managed to simultaneously search the room for her son. Far be it from her to openly admit to herself she may have feelings for her daughters, Alexandra was never one to doubt her affection for William. The apple of her eye, he was the spitting image of a younger Lucien (though Lucien already appeared far younger than his actual age). He handled the court better than Eden, for while Eden tried to steel herself, it seemed so innate to William's being. However, all that control left one to wonder what were the real thoughts inside of William. And for this, she had hoped that two confused hearts would guide each other down the correct path. If this was the only bout of maternal love within her, it was this. Whether anyone would recognise it as that though, was uncertain.

When Alexandra felt that she had distracted herself enough with the goings on of the ball room, she returned to the conversation at hand.

Cygnus. A face she had almost forgotten, and yet had never left her mind. It was so strange to see two identical men look so different. To have such different lives. She often wondered if Lucien would have led the same life as Cygnus had he lost his leg. Or would nothing stop the power-hungry monster she had married? Still, it was somewhat humbling and intriguing to see Cygnus. It showed what Lucien would really look for his age. And surprisingly, she was impressed with the way Cygnus had aged, despite all the wars and battles he had fought. Cygnus had always been a topic of curiosity for the High Queen, if only because it seemed that there seemed to be more that she could pick at to better understand her own husband. It was almost as if all the perfection of two twins went into Lucien, and whatever carried over - insecurity, weakness, emotion and soul was poured into Cygnus. Though she already had a secure place in the Royal Court, and it was more than unlikely that Lucien would go off on a spree and divorce her for some token little charmer of the day, Alexandra felt it was to her advantage to get closer to Cygnus, provided he would stay in court for a while.


Tut, tut Cygnus. First you spoil our little Olivia more than she ought, and then you seem to escape that today is your own birthday as well while wishing your brother his?

Her arm unfurled from Lucien's, if only to provide what appeared to be a warm embrace around Cygnus. At his touch, a sensation unfamiliar to her occurred, and her soul retracted immediately. Her body, followed in the cordial, perfect manner as always. It has been so long since you have come to court, I worried whether or not I should get you a present, for fear that you might not arrive to receive it!

But she had a funny feeling he would come. Cygnus never liked to be away from the action too long. And the air was thick with gay laughter, but it was all to mask tensions rising, and power turning. Something was brewing in every corner of the room, and Cygnus was never one to stray from this.

Oh, she had a gift for him. But it wasn't in the pyramid of presents for Lucien. Hers, was one you couldn't necessarily wrap up with a neat bow. But she hoped it would mean just as much to him.


« Last Edit: 26 March 2011, 20:01:44 »


Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 26 March 2011, 17:18:17 »
Quote

At this point, it was very hard for Francoise to refrain from giggling. She might have well been standing in a room at a high school party, staring at two star-crossed lovers who couldn't admit one another's feelings, and being completely oblivious that their feelings were reciprocated. But, it was not her place to do so. If anything, she wanted Eden and Dieter on her side. Francoise, though uninspired by the way Lucien was running court (although she couldn't help but feel that Alexandra did quite a bit as well), felt that she had been gone from court for too long. Rumours of her had stirred in her own home, and she had come to court under the pretense of celebrating the King's birthday, but she really wanted to know what was going on at court.

And if she could avoid William, the better. Not that she would admit that she was hiding from him. And it wasn't really hiding per se, because well, the last time she had seen him he was 14 and charging his stallion throughout the grounds. Like a warrior being called into action he had a clear mindset to recreate his father's image cell for cell. One Lucien was enough. She didn't need the added stress of being next to the Crown Prince.


I think a walk along the gardens at eight thirty sounds splendid. It should give me enough time to finish my rounds about the ball, and take in a small refreshment.

A part of Francoise desperately wanted to play matchmaker. If William was bent on becoming Lucien, she could at least give Eden and Dieter happiness, much to this dismay and fury of her parents. She didn't know very much about Dieter, but from what she gathered - and what she would tonight, she had a funny feeling, or rather, a good feeling that Dieter was not the Prince Charming either Alexandra or Lucien wanted their precious eldest daughter to marry.

And so the mischief would begin!


Dieter, A small smile crept upon her lips. I do believe I've lost sight of our precious little Olivia. Were you not in her charge this evening? I should hope she hasn't wandered too far...


« Last Edit: 26 March 2011, 17:22:36 »


Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 28 March 2011, 18:57:39 »
Quote

In the instant before Olivia started to turn, Logan was taken by the horrifying fear that she might send him away, telling him off for bad form, or that she even might just ignore his presence. He was, by the standards of the court, only a commoner, after all. Not worthy of recognition or address. But when she did face him, the cheerful sparkle in her sapphire eyes and the light, merry laugh that escaped her lips told him that she would do no such thing to him. Just another bit of proof that people, whether common born or of the highest nobility, were in the end not so different as many claimed to think.

His smile broadened as his heart lifted as she proclaimed that it was good to see him. No words could have fallen more sweetly on his ears. It seemed that fortune was smiling on him tonight. First with the counts, now with Olivia. He could only hope that the rest of the night would continue to go as well. It was probably too much to ask to imagine actually taking Marcellus home without the man being violently drunk as usual, but if things continued to go the way they were so far, maybe there was a chance. Fate was a funny thing sometimes.

Suddenly, he found that Olivia had grabbed hold of his arm and he willingly allowed himself to be pulled towards the dance floor. Quick! Pretend you’re a nobleman. He managed not to laugh, but couldn’t help but find immense humor in that command. Absolutely, Mademoiselle. As if he hadn’t been pretending already - or at least letting others assume that he was a nobleman. He would never lie and claim to be a courtier, but his manner was often rather intentionally meant to lead members of the court to believe that he was one of them. Then, when they did eventually find out his true status, they would be that much more inclined to see him as an equal, regardless of his title.

Ah, but he needn’t be thinking about politics right now. Not when he suddenly had one hand placed gently against Olivia’s back and her small hand wrapped in his other. She suggested that it was best not to let the king see them, and he quite agreed. He didn’t believe that Lucien would be able to identify him, but surely if he became curious about the man dancing with his younger daughter, he would find out who Logan was and there would be no way for that to end well.

Aside from Marcellus, though, no one else should know who he was, so he deftly caught on to the music and led the way quickly to a spot where they would be far enough away and blocked by enough other dancers that neither the king nor the duke would be able to see them clearly. As much as he would have actually enjoyed watching Marcellus dancing with Elaine, he couldn’t really afford for the count to see that his valet was dancing with the princess. Once they had reached a safe spot, he fell into one of his favorite dance steps – not too complicated, but certainly complex enough to prove that he had practiced.

Yes, Logan Prescott knew how to dance. It was something that he just really enjoyed doing. He had learned some dancing informally when he was younger, but it was just in the past two years that he had truly developed his skill. Marcellus had come to the conclusion at one point early in Logan’s employment that he needed dancing lessons to be better prepared for required events such as this one. It was, as some of the other servants informed Logan, a decision that had been made in the past, years back, right after the war. But it hadn’t gone so well and Marcellus had decided that maybe a refresher course would help. It hadn’t. And in his frustration, the count had decided to just stop showing up for the scheduled time.

Still, they had a contract with the instructor and Logan saw no reason to let the lessons go to waste, even if Marcellus refused to be the one doing the learning. He had quite willingly stepped in, using the excuse that he would be able to pass on the teaching to his master if Marcellus ever wanted him to. Marcellus never had asked him to, of course, but it had been enough of a reason to qualify Logan for some of the best dancing instruction that money could buy. He had quite enjoyed it and had easily absorbed the instruction, soon able to dance at a level at least matching most aristocrats.

It was a useful tool to have, and there had been times when he had used his dancing skills to allow him more time to speak with young ladies who he believed could be swayed towards his ideas of revolution. And the hope was that once he had planted the ideas with them, they would develop them further and pass them on to their families and friends. Everything that could help spread the ideas of freedom and equality was well worth the effort.

Right now, however, he was finding a new benefit to his skills as, for the first time in a long while, he found himself dancing with a young lady just for enjoyment and conversation. As much as he hoped Olivia might one day see him as an equal, it was not the right time to be trying to convince the Princess to become a revolutionary. No, this dance was completely free from any political prompting, and he rather liked the idea of just having fun, at least for the length of the song.

So... Um... How have you been? He was grateful that she had worded her question that way, rather than asking what he had been up to or something of the like. He really did hate lying, but he would have had little discuss about what he had been doing since his only activities outside of work involved planning with the other rebels. But how he had been doing – that he could answer. Quite well, actually. It’s been a very pleasant few months since I last saw you. That was all he had meant to say, but he found himself continuing. Though I must admit that they were dampened by the lack of conversation with you.

And there he went again, spitting out his thoughts without a bit of censor. He was usually so good about monitoring the words that came out of his mouth and carefully constructing every statement and question so that the meaning would be interpreted only as he wanted it to be. Around Olivia, though, he was finding that his heart, not his mind, was the one that kept controlling his speech. It was a dangerous condition, but there was nothing he could do to change it. She was so pure and genuine that he couldn’t force himself to keep his feelings in check.

Something in his mind whispered that protocol would suggest that he apologize for being so bold, especially with a lady of her status, but he denied the idea. His words were true and he would not beg forgiveness for them, especially not on the grounds that he was not highly ranked enough to say them. If she was upset by what he said, he would most certainly apologize for offending her, for that is something that he would truly regret. But he could not force himself to retract the completely honest statement. I hope that you have been well.


« Last Edit: 07 April 2011, 12:21:30 »


Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 28 March 2011, 20:34:12 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Mason shook his head sadly.  “That is precisely why they will continue to have such a sway over you,” he pointed out.  “You believe that they are superior, so they are.”

Because a population was a powerful thing.  Any good leader could recognize the power of his subjects; he would be a fool to overlook the way that mania could control a crowd and certain ideas could incite it to rise up against the sovereign who had, until then, attempted to govern it.  History had proven the power of the people, having shown mankind many revolutions in which the common people rose up against their oppressive leaders and abolished their governments.  The French Revolution of 1789 had been particularly famous before the Great War and the new regime, but now people didn’t even know that it existed unless they had been old enough to have learned of it before Lucien.  Now, all records of it had vanished, and it was forbidden to speak of it to anyone.

Likewise, a man like Lucien also realized that a demoralized populace was a docile one, one that was easily controlled and manipulated.  Now, High King Lucien had decided to use one singular idea to subjugate his people and make them actually believe that this was how things were supposed to be: we are better than you; we deserve to rule.  He cited their magic powers and convinced the people that they were inferior and unworthy.  Arcadia was the prime example of that.  ‘They can do things we never can.’  So what?  Did that make them any less intelligent?  Any less human?


“You’ve got to stop believing everything that people tell you, my dear,” he told her.  “They may have powers, but they can still be killed, can they not?”

He knew that he was really taking a risk her, and Arcadia was likely to demand that he stop speaking right at that moment rather than listen to him continue to go on about murdering the nobility.  Honestly, he wasn’t suggesting that they go out and kill all of them.  Some really were harmless, even kind—like Princess Olivia.  Not all of them were as dangerous as Lucien; not all of them would need to be destroyed. 

Besides, Mason knew that any such action would cost him his life.  In his opinion, it wasn’t worth it.  Any life, even life as a servant, was too precious for him to abandon on a quest that would likely not accomplish anything.  With Lucien dead, they would merely put his son on the throne and that would be that.  Things would continue like normal.  No, Mason knew that the time was not right for any action.  He needed more people on his side.

As he spoke, his eyes happened to fall on Duke Marcellus’s valet, Logan, the boy whose head was full of democratic ideals and silly, rash plots to rebel and end the monarchy.  The boy’s deal was admirable, but Mason knew that he wouldn’t get far without more support.  If everyone thought like Logan, then they could get somewhere.  In the meantime, however, Mason was unwilling to affiliate himself with what he deemed to be a lost cause.


“But I should silence myself, I suppose,” he mused.  “You’re probably thinking about asking me to leave you alone.  Don’t worry, I’ll change the subject.”  He paused for a moment, thinking, then said, “Tell me… what’s it like to be Princess Eden’s maidservant?  What lucky man does she bring back to her chambers?”



Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 01 April 2011, 22:31:49 »
Quote

Elaine couldn’t remember the last time that she had danced like this. She wasn’t even sure that she ever had. She knew this was how other people felt when they danced; the way characters in books were described when they were swirling around the dance floor in the arms of some debonair young suitor. But this was her first time really feeling that way herself. Her dance experiences were always segments of terror as she tried not to let herself tremble while continuously fearing a knife in her side or a gunshot in her back.

She hated the worry. She really did. She wanted to be able to step into a room without fearing that it was booby-trapped and she wanted to be able to ride in her car without expecting it to explode and she wanted to be able to take a drink without nearly choking because she believed it might be poisoned. She hated it more than she could ever put into words and yet there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t just decide not to be afraid – the dangers were everywhere and until she knew how they would affect her, she knew she would never stop being afraid.

Except for right now. Right now, she wasn’t scared for her life. She wasn’t scared at all. There was a faint, distant worry, but it wasn’t foremost in her mind by any means and it was far outweighed by this pleasantness that she was so unused to. She barely even noticed the fact that he wasn’t perfectly on step for the first few beats because it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she felt safe and she felt happy. She felt happy and it was unusual and wonderful and enthralling and she never wanted it to end.

Then Marcellus laughed and it was a beautiful, lively tone that reminded her a little bit of her father but mostly of Pierce Cheung, a neighbor from the war times. As a little girl, she had been fascinated by the young man, and she had never left him alone. He had been sent home from the war when he had lost an arm, though she hadn’t understood that fully at the time. All she had known was that he had the best stories and jokes and that he would usually have candy for her. Any time she had seen him out in his yard, she would instantly race outside to go talk with him. And he had been perfectly happy to humor the little girl and he had been her favorite person in the whole world and his laughter always made her smile.

Of course, the war had eventually come closer to home and her family had been forced to evacuate and there hadn’t been any laughter for a very long time. She had never seen Pierce again and her cheerful, innocent life had faded away as her powers developed in her adolescence and her fears along with them. Instead of being able to go ask her neighbor for a new joke every day, she had begun to fear the people around her and to seclude herself from them as often as she could. Laughter was no longer a part of her life.

But she was laughing now. She and Marcellus were laughing and smiling and dancing like little children and she loved it. It was so strange. Her initial attraction to Marcellus was based on her usual emotions – her fear. She had wanted to be near him because he was powerful and safe and she had wanted to talk to him because he had seen so much death and she thought that he might be able to give her some useful insight into it. All of that, however, was the least of her interests at the moment. Yes, it was important that he was safe, but it was more fascinating at the moment that he was pleasant and a bit shy and far more innocent than she could ever have expected from a man with his reputation. It was something to think about, anyway.

And now, as her eyes, sparkling with happiness, locked with his for a bit, she was suddenly struck by the realization that he truly seemed to be enjoying himself. She supposed that could explain the change in his behavior. Because she knew that he wasn’t like this most of the time. It was a fact, not just an opinion, that Count Marcellus was cold and distant to most people in the court. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration what happened when he had been drinking all night long. This wasn’t at all who he normally was and neither was she. They were two completely new people.

Something about this realization made her blush slightly. The way they seemed to be feeling the exact same things, the way that they were standing there together, the way that everyone else had left so much space around them... it just seemed like they were in their own world. Their own little universe where they were the only two planets spinning slowly and deliberately around each other. She couldn’t ever remember feeling anything like this.

A part of her balked at the idea. She was afraid of getting too carried away or of making the wrong move and making Marcellus upset with her or something else that would mess everything up. Perhaps it would be better just to retreat back and not take this chance and just keep things the way that they were. But there was another part of her that fought back fiercely against that idea. She was so happy right now and the last thing that she wanted was to give that up. She didn’t want the fear – not even the fear of making a mistake. It took all her willpower, but she managed to force the worry away, leaving only thoughts of Marcellus and the dance and the laughter and this wonderful, happy peace that she was feeling. She never wanted this to end.




Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 03 April 2011, 00:24:15 »
Quote

Quite well, actually. It’s been a very pleasant few months since I last saw you.  Olivia worked up the courage to look up at Logan again, meeting his very blue eyes with her own.  The way he looked at her made her heart flop in her chest again, even before he continued.  Though I must admit that they were dampened by the lack of conversation with you.  Her stomach joined her heart in its acrobatics.  She felt like it should be uncomfortable, feeling on edge and weird like this, but it wasn't.  It was wonderful.  She felt herself starting to blush again, and had to fight the urge to look away.  Logan's eyes stayed on hers and she couldn't quite tear her gaze away, as much as she wanted to pretend she didn't love him when he might not love her back.

I hope that you have been well.  She laughed, trying to sound like her usual self instead of like she was terrified by liking someone who might not like her.  Friendships were one thing.  If your friendships weren't real, you got hurt, but then you got over it.  But she knew exactly what happened to folks who loved people who didn't love them back.  Heartbreak was what happened.  And Olivia had no intention of having her heart broken if she could help it.  Of course, it had never been an issue before.  Not like this.  She'd had other crushes, but they'd faded, or the boys had grown into jerks, or a new crush had come along that knocked the first one out of mind.  Logan was different.  Logan made her wish she were brave enough to reach for a relationship she was unsure of.

I've been well. she said.  Not that it's hard to for life to go well when you're the princess. she added, rolling her eyes.  She loved being the princess, loved living in the castle and having the things she wanted when she wanted them and being able to do what she wanted more often than most people.  But she also knew there were lots of people who didn't have what she had.  They didn't live like she lived, and that was sad sometimes, but it was usually just disconnecting.  She knew she couldn't really understand the way life was for other people, and she knew that other people might be jealous of her or afraid of her, but they didn't really understand her.

Thinking about it, she let her eyes slide downward again, away from Logan's face.  Now she was looking at her hand on his shoulder again.  Dieter always said that if you weren't looking at your partner, you should look to the left, and for once, she was.  But then, she was dancing with a valet, so she doubted he'd be proud.  Then again, if anyone would be proud of her for refusing to stick to her station, it would be Dieter.  He'd been a revolutionary once, after all.  Suddenly, she realized that she was a little more relaxed again.  These weren't comfortable thoughts, but they didn't make her insides spin like thinking about how much she liked Logan did.

As she realized that she was relaxed, she realized that she wasn't leading the dance.  Logan was.  And he was doing it very well.  Too well, really.  If she didn't know who he was, she would have believed he was a nobleman.  Maybe even a marriageable one, she thought with another little stomach flip.  So much for being relaxed.  She'd managed to stop thinking about how tall he was, how strong he was, and how good he smelled, but now that she was thinking about how good he was at leading, she couldn't stop thinking about how warm he was, how confident and coordinated, and how good his hand felt in hers.  It was like their hands were the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, designed to fit perfectly against each other. 

The other thing she couldn't stop thinking about was his other hand on her back.  She was used to her dance partner's hands resting in the exact same spot on her back.  And that's where Logan's hand was, just like it should be.  But where she leaned into other people's hands because they would tell her where to go and what to do, she leaned into Logan's hand because she wanted him to keep holding her.  When he let go of her back to give her room to spin, she felt the absence of his hand as if part of her was missing.  Which was weird, really, since it wasn't like he was touching her skin.  He wasn't.  Some of the more daring ladies of the court might wear dresses with cutouts at the back or sides, but the court tailor didn't think that was proper for the princesses, and Olivia had never been quite as willing to show skin as her sister was.  It was impractical, and she couldn't have nearly as much fun if she was worrying about ripping her dress in the wrong place or revealing more than she meant to to the court.  But tonight, she almost wished she did have a cutout in the back.  Which as soon as she thought it, made her blush even more than she had been already.

Wild Thing
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 03 April 2011, 21:06:54 »
Quote

William stepped off the dance floor, politely excusing himself from the girl he'd just been dancing with - the daughter of one of the dukes. She seemed a little disappointed for a moment, but he quickly fixed that. After a careful nudge with his powers, her annoying little pout suddenly turned into a cheery smile as she bade him good night and turned her attention elsewhere. He nearly shook his head as he turned away, but he knew better than to let his own emotions show. He adopted his usual expression, reflecting a calm, diplomatic demeanor as he moved among the people. Just enough of a smile to tell them that they were friends and that they were quite welcome here, but still distant enough to allow him to keep going instead of being pulled into one of their conversations.

He was so bored by all of this. Sure, when he had been younger, he had loved the balls and the parties and all. And to an extent, he did still enjoy the atmosphere of it. Well, no, that wasn't quite right. He wanted to enjoy the atmosphere of it, and he would still enjoy it if it was genuine. But it wasn't. He had even rather liked using his powers to control the emotions of these social events back when he first started. Now, though, it just all seemed repetitive and fake. Every ball, year after year, had the same people, the same dances, and, thanks to him, the same emotions. His task was to make sure that everyone was content and peaceful and that they would all go away happy at the end of the night. It took a bit of work, but he was almost always successful in that mission.

But to what end? Yes everyone was content, but should they be? He couldn't help but wish that things would change. And he didn't mean just at the parties. The world had been static and unchanging for almost his entire life. His love of history had brought him to study not only the distant past, but also more recent occurrences, up through the war. He knew how everything had been destroyed; how all of the world’s wealth and structure had been annihilated when the bombs started falling. And he knew how his father had been the one to draw the people back together, to promise them a new chance at life and civilization and to lead them into a new era.

For a few years, the development had been swift and efficient. Cities were rebuilt, new roads were paved, the government had been established, and people started to live again. It had been the first step towards civilization and towards returning to the prosperity that had been so abundant before the war. Unfortunately, it had also been the only step. The population should have continued with innovations and worked towards returning to the levels of technology and advancement of the days before the war. Instead, however, they had settled into this dark-age feudal system and let themselves be content with the world the way it was.

He had seen pictures of Before, photographs of great towering skyscrapers and expansive bridges. He had read about all the technology - the phones and computers that had brought knowledge and communication to people all across the globe. To be just, some aspects of the old world had been reproduced. They had plenty of transport vehicles – cars, airplanes, and the like – that had been popular before the fighting. But they had also been used for the fighting. They had been kept in production because they were needed in combat. Once the war was over, then, it had been easy enough to shift the production techniques to create vehicles designed more for the leisure of the nobles who used them than for the practical purposes of fighting.

But other aspects of their culture had not survived in that way. He longed for the wonderfully engineered structures they had abandoned and the wealth of information that had been lost. But he also couldn’t help but think that their culture should be advancing as well. Hadn’t the original goal when his father had taken over been to reunite the people? His father had pledged to bring all the people together and bring them out of the ashes of the war. Sure enough, out of the ashes they had come, just not all of them. It did make some sense that those with powers had been the ones who took the lead in the rebuilding process. Many of them had skills that were particularly useful in reestablishing basic survival needs, so the others had fallen in behind as followers. It just didn’t really make sense that things had stayed that way. They should have gotten beyond that by now.

Perhaps he was expecting changes to come too quickly, though. Lucien was a brilliant leader, having earned the people's trust almost instantly after the war, and William was sure that the king still had the best intents for the country in mind. These sorts of things just took time. After all, in the grand scheme of things, the war hadn’t been over all that long. Initially, development had been very rapid, just out of necessity. But now that they had basic survival taken care of, the speed of advancement would naturally have slowed down significantly. Surely they would return to the way things had been Before eventually. He just couldn’t expect it to happen overnight.

All at once, he looked up, blinking as he realized that those standing closest to him in the great hall seemed to have fallen into a pensive silence. He cursed mentally, realizing that he had made the mistake of letting his own emotions leak out to those nearest to him. He hurriedly worked to fix the slip-up, sending pleasant, jovial emotions seeping outwards towards those that he had affected, then watching them as their contemplative expressions morphed into smiles and they drifted off to go pursue their various conversations. Sighing, William took a glass of champagne from a passing server, turning his powers inward upon himself and trying to lighten his own mood. This was an action that didn’t always work and usually didn’t last as long as when he used his powers on others, but it was, for the moment, effective enough. Taking a sip of his champagne, he smiled as the Count and Countess DeChancey greeted him and began talking about some bit of news they had heard floating about.


« Last Edit: 04 April 2011, 03:36:49 »

Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 04 April 2011, 12:33:02 »
Quote

Arcadia sighed as he continued to chide her. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was a way to achieve something greater by believing that you could. But she just couldn’t believe what he was saying. All of her experiences told her that the Nobles were superior. They had always been the ones in charge, they were the ones who held the power, they were the ones that she had to serve day in and day out. None of that had ever changed and she saw no reason why it ever would.

Even Mason, with his lofty ideas of equality and democracy, was still just a servant. Despite all his pretty words and the picture he painted of the impossible future, he was still no more than a driver. But that would be petty and mean to say and she stopped herself before saying the words aloud, not wanting to upset him. He was frustrating, yes, but this was still the most conversation that she had had in quite some time and, even if the subject matter was difficult, she was still glad to be talking at all.

You’ve got to stop believing everything that people tell you, my dear. She opened her mouth, about to retort with something about why she should then believe everything that he said. But he continued speaking and his next words caused her heart to skip a beat. ...They can still be killed... Mason! She gaped at him, her eyes wide as she again looked around to make sure no one was too close, her heart suddenly beating much quicker than it had been.

Their luck had continued to hold, though, it seemed, for no one nearby was reacting. But this time he had stepped over the line with his words. Mason, that’s treasonous talk. Did he want to get himself killed? It wouldn’t matter if he was actively inciting rebellion or not – if he was talking about killing nobles, that was enough at least to send him to the dungeons, if not worse. Why couldn’t he see that? Even if he didn’t accept their place in society, that wasn’t going to change laws, and it wouldn’t save him if someone overheard him saying things like that.

Besides which, she was horrified by the suggestion. She looked out across the crowds of people, her voice soft as she spoke. Life is sacred. It doesn’t matter whose life. Even if she was a servant and not a noble, and even if she couldn’t vote or any of that, she was still a person. And just because the nobles had powers and they didn’t have to work the same way Arcadia and Mason did, they were still people, too.  Images floated to her mind of standing beside her mother’s grave, the cross-shaped wooden piece that her father had carved serving as the only physical reminder of her mother’s existence. She shook her head. No one deserved that.

Mason said he would change the subject, though, and she was relieved for a brief moment, until she actually heard his questions. The first part she could answer fairly well, but she frowned sharply at the second question. For one who so disliked the aristocracy, he sure was leaning towards the same sort of gossip that so interested all the people of the court. He didn’t seem like the sort to start a rumor or scandal about Princess Eden, but it was still none of his business.

Not that any man would be coming back to the Princess’ chambers with her tonight. Eden wouldn’t be able to keep her calm long enough to last through all the night without losing her temper, and no one could ever be witness to that event except for Arcadia and, on occasion, Prince William, when he came to calm his sister down.

She couldn’t figure out what would have prompted that particular question, either. Part of her was paranoid that he might be trying to lead back towards the subject of what she wanted to avoid after the ball. She knew he wouldn’t have forgotten her blunder so easily, but she had to avoid that topic. She couldn’t just not respond, though. At least she could answer his first question. It’s not very exciting. I help her with her dresses, I do her hair, I deliver her food, run her errands...

She paused for a moment to decide on her wording as she finished. And I am her confidante - I keep her secrets. Even if Eden was going to spend tonight with one of the courtiers, Arcadia would not be sharing that information with anyone. Not even Mason. She hoped he could accept that. Surely there are thing that you know as the King’s driver that you aren’t to share with anyone. Silence on some matters can be as much a part of the job as any other task.




Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 05 April 2011, 17:36:20 »
Quote

As always seemed to happen when he was around Alexandra, Cygnus found himself fighting to use the right words. He had to keep his tongue in check, lest he let slip something he oughtn’t. He loved Alexandra so much, but it wasn’t exactly the best idea to let it known that you were head-over-heels for the king’s wife. Lucien might not be capable of loving her the way she deserved, but he had proven plenty of times that he was willing to kill people who did or said things that they shouldn’t, and Cygnus knew he might well be subject to that same fate if he overstepped his bounds too far. Being the king’s brother most likely wouldn’t be enough give him immunity.

When she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him, though, he felt his heart skip a beat and he had to fight to stop himself from losing control. He was overcome by her heavenly scent, her soft touch, her warmth as she pulled close to him. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms and to never let her go – to make this moment last for eternity. But he could not, and she pulled back away from him all too quickly, before he could even begin to lift his hands to return the embrace.

His heart was racing and his stomach was doing flips, even as she moved back away from him and began chiding him about ignoring his own birthday. Anyone else in the court, he would have considered correcting, since his birthday still wasn’t until the next day due to the oddity of the twins’ birth. But nothing Alexandra could ever said be wrong to Cygnus and it didn’t even register to him that she had misspoken. She was perfect, and he could find no wrong with anything that she ever said or did.

As for the gift, he certainly didn’t care about that. There was no object that he really wanted that could be given as a present. He had come to see Alexandra and her children, that was all. And just seeing her was gift enough for him. But he couldn’t just say that. He rephrased the sentiment quickly, giving Alexandra a genteel smile. Just being here is enough of a gift, my queen. The palace is such a wonderful change from the mountains of my home. And her glorious presence was such a wonderful change from his constant loneliness when he was away. He would never want anything more from her. I sincerely regret not being able to visit more often.

As for Lucien and Cygnus, they had made a pact long ago, back when they were but small children, that they wouldn’t get gifts for each other. The boys had had far too many instances when they had each gotten for the other the gift that they most wanted themselves. Each time, Cygnus would be far more interested in the gift he had given Lucien and vice versa and they had always ended up simply trading the items after a while so that they would both be happy. Eventually, they had come up with the idea to simply choose their own gift, rather than trying to select something that the other brother would like, since that had been so unsuccessful.

He did, however, always bring presents that he had made for the children whenever he visited. He had something for Alexandra as well, actually, though he had not yet decided whether he had the courage to give it to her or not. He certainly hoped that an opportunity would arise in which he could give her the carefully crafted bracelet, but he wouldn’t do so in front of Lucien. The night was still young, though. There was plenty of time and no knowing what the rest of the ball would bring.


« Last Edit: 05 April 2011, 17:51:41 »

Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 06 April 2011, 18:58:22 »
Quote

Deiter Gatsby did not get where he was in the King’s eye by being inattentive. It was the rare moment such at this one manufactured by the glamor and magic of the ball in which he found himself entirely distracted from his duties. Throughout his conversation with the princess and Francoise, he had been hearing contextless snippets of the conversation Mason was having with Arcadia- it wasn’t anything he was paying attention to but rather a subconscious collection of sounds that only came together when Deiter heard the chauffeur's voice rise distinctly above the timbre of the crowd. Democracy, revolution, equality- the stupid little nit!

“I would…I,” he faltered, his emotions caught somewhere between livid fury and panic at the thought of Mason spelling out a death sentence for both himself and Arcadia. He managed to reply, “as you wish,” before executing two bows in rapid succession and making his way a few yards yonder to where the servants conversed in their treasonous manner. Deiter forced himself between the two of them and kept his voice as low as he could manage- it was funny. Only in moments of unrestrained emotion did Deiter Gatsby ever actually sound like a German.

“Dummkopf!”   he hissed at Mason. “Do you want to get yourself killed or worse?” He held his left hand out to the chauffer in demonstration of what “or worse” could have possible meant. The four identical silver-and-sapphire bands that stacked like a column along Deiter’s middle finger were displayed, one for each of the prisoner slaves that had come before Deiter and had been killed at Lucien’s whim. “If you think that no one is listening to you, Volkov, you are a fool.”

He sounded angry but there was an almost manic fear behind the factotum’s eyes. He had asked himself earlier that night why he stayed alive under the King’s command and now his reaction to Mason’s foolish idealism gave him an answer. He was and always had been terrified to die. That thought was now with him always, constantly- it was the worst feeling in the world, worse than any torture a soldier could have devised.

“Forget everything he has told you, Arcadia,” he spoke more gently to the servant girl, having developed a sort of fondness-by-association for Eden’s maid whilst falling madly in love with the princess herself. The girl was disfigured and meek and blissfully ignorant of any other way in which her life could be lived- that was a gift in these days. Deiter hoped for Arcadia that she would stay a fool like Olivia; it was the best thing anyone could be under Lucian’s rule. A fool, and if you were lucky a beautiful fool.

Deiter passed a heavily jeweled hand through his hair and exhaled in an attempt to calm himself down. “I do not have time for this right now. Gott in Himmel.” He felt the weight of the knife in his jacket pocket and the hour getting darker outside the high castle windows. “Please just…disperse yourselves. Please.”



Had King Lucien been the tiniest bit savvy to the intricacies of human emotion, he would have noticed the pressure in the air and the change in the contour of Cygnus’ aging face when his Queen embraced him. This would have worried him. Instead he looked upon the display with approval. After the Queen spoke to his brother, Lucien waited a moment to survey the sight that was Cygnus. “Brother,” he said and held his arms out to wrap his twin close against his chest. Their twin hearts beat on the wrong side of each other’s chest for a few bloody beats before Lucien allowed Cygnus to step away. “It’s been too long and we have missed you.”

Lucien peered over Cygnus’ shoulder and scanned the crowd as he spoke. Elaine and Marcellus were dancing together- it might be difficult for Deiter to extricate the pair of them and complete his task safely. He hoped, in some hollow way, that his factotum didn’t get killed in his attempt to discern the extent of the Duchess’ power. It was not yet Gatsby’s time to die. “We said we would never get gifts for each other on our birthday and I’ve always been very serious about that. However, we do recall that it is not yet your birthday so consider this a brotherly favor given for no other reason save that I can’t bear to think of you cooped up in that mountain lodge like a nesting bird for the rest of the year. IF you were married I wouldn’t worry so much,” his smile was so unintentionally cruel, “but I imagine that such a thing may come to pass when you move your residence to court for the season. I’ve had a tower outfitted for you.”

The king placed an affectionate arm around Alexandra’s waist and squeezed gently. “Stay with us. It’s time you took your place as a member of the royal family.”


« Last Edit: 06 April 2011, 23:12:33 »


just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 06 April 2011, 22:16:23 »
Quote

As the song stopped and the two of them came to a halt, Marcellus felt unsure again - and with the uncertainty came the voices, rushing back as loud as ever.  He'd never heard them quiet like that before, though he hadn't been thinking about it at the time.  He'd been too focused on dancing and Elaine and the way his heart pounded in his chest to even realize the voices were gone in more than a passing half-thought way.  Now, as they rushed back into his head, making fun of his dance moves and taunting him about how he didn't know what to do now, he realized that they'd stopped while he was dancing.  Or if they hadn't, they'd at least been quiet enough to ignore.  He couldn't remember the last time they'd done that.  Not with any clarity.  The last time they'd done it, he'd been very drunk.

So. . . uhh . . . So, do you want to . . . uh . . .  He blushed, not sure what to do next.  Should he ask her for another dance?  Should he just start dancing again when the next song started?  Should he get her a drink?  He decided to let her choose.  I mean, what do you want to do now?  He'd dismissed all of his court teachers, with their fancy dances and manners and useless information, but now he almost wished he hadn't.  Maybe then he'd know what to do now.  But then, he'd never expected to have a time like now.  He'd never expected to actually meet someone who liked him, much less a beautiful woman who liked him.  He knew how people in the court saw him.  He knew how they talked about him behind his back.  The voices remembered, and they told him.

Now the voices were teasing him for being unmanly and indecisive.  They didn't have all of their usual venom, though.  They weren't being supporting.  They weren't being friendly.  They weren't even being nice, but he didn't really expect them to.  What they were was half-hearted, and it was practically a miracle.  They probably just weren't totally recovered from whatever it was that had made them shut up.  Maybe it was happiness.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy.  Before the war, probably.  Or at least before his powers started.  Not that he'd been happy very often.  Just happier than he was now.  Sometimes he felt almost like he was happy, but there was something different about it.  It wasn't like this.  It was more manic and less happy.  And it just made the voices louder.  This feeling was nothing like that.  This feeling was wonderful.  But it was leaking away now that the dance was over, and he didn't want to let it go.  Looking Elaine in the eye, he prayed with all his heart that she'd want to dance with him again.  He didn't want this moment to end.



Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 07 April 2011, 14:48:51 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Yes, it was treason.  Mason knew that very well.  Yet, he was fairly certainly that no one around them really cared what was being said, and perhaps it was a bit naïve of him.  He didn’t believe that anyone was paying any attention at all to two servants conversing on the edge of the ballroom—at least not anyone normal

Besides, sometimes Mason’s tongue had a nasty habit of running away with itself.  From time to time, the muscle seemed to take on a life of its own, forming the words to articulate the thoughts running through his mind, and this tongue was only capable of speaking the truth.  It could neither lie nor mislead; its very mission in life was to shed light on uncomfortable, seldom discussed topics, and Mason was powerless to control it.  When he got started talking about democracy, equality and freedom… well, there was no stopping him.

Either that or he was drunk.  Either one was entirely possible, considering how he’d been carting around a tray full of alcoholic beverages all evening and had not shown very much restraint in helping himself to the drinks intended for the noble class he despised so vehemently.  He really needed to get into the habit of making tick marks on her arm for every drink he had, since he’d managed to lose track of how many he’d consumed before this conversation with Arcadia had even begun.

Who knew?  It might even wind up saving his life somehow.

He was about to apologize to Arcadia for being so intrusive—he honestly didn’t really care who Princess Eden entertained; he’d been trying to make a point about how silly and frivolous that kind of conversation could be—when someone came barreling out of nowhere and started (most likely) swearing at him in German.

Well, whatdya know… apparently someone had been listening.


“Not a fool, Dieter,” he corrected him.  “A drunk.”

Even if it wasn’t true and Mason wasn’t completely wasted, it provided him with some kind of shabby excuse for letting his tongue run away with him.  It probably wouldn’t be enough to save him if anyone of any importance had heard him, but it would be better than nothing.

And, honestly?  What right did Dieter Gatsby have to call him a fool?  The man went around fraternizing with the aristocrats like he was one of them even though he was nothing but a servant.  To make matters worse, he wasn’t just a normal servant.  He was a servant that the king had marked for death after this hideous sort of humiliation and servitude was complete.  Dieter had once been a man Mason would have admired.  Now, he was just as docile and broken as clueless Arcadia.


“It’s you who’s the fool,” he went on, indignant and belligerent.  “You’d do best to remind yourself what that ring on your finger means.  You act like you’re one of them, but you’re not.  Maybe if you hadn’t been over there with the princess you could have stopped me before I made a fool of myself.  Do you really think she wanted to talk to you?  Stop deluding yourself.  You’re nothing to them.  Just like the rest of us.”



Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 07 April 2011, 18:54:11 »
Quote

Already on edge because of Mason’s dangerous conversation, Arcadia very nearly yelped with surprise when a man suddenly shoved himself between herself and the other servant. She stumbled back a few steps, her heart leaping into her throat and her face instantly turning pale, sure that they’d been overheard and that Mason was about to be carted off to the dungeons or worse for his words. Dummkopf! Oh, but she knew that voice! Dieter turned just enough that she confirmed her guess a moment later. Thank heaven it had been he who heard Mason’s words and not someone else.

She didn’t know Dieter personally. He worked for the king at a very high level. She had seen him around the palace, certainly, but she was sure his business was usually of the sort that didn’t allow him to just stop and chat. Certainly not to a servant girl, anyhow. Even now, he still seemed almost as much an aristocrat as a servant. But she knew that he had once shared some of Mason’s ideas – that was why he was in his position in the first place. At any rate, she at least assumed that he wouldn’t turn them in for their words.

Of course, he wasn’t definitely pleased with Mason. Arcadia dropped her eyes to the ground once more, her hair falling down even further in front of her face as she listened to the factotum chastising Mason for his indiscretion. And when he turned his attention to her, she bit her lip, but she nodded meekly. Dieter was right – this sort of talk could only lead to problems. Whatever better world it was that Mason dreamed of, it couldn’t be worth losing his life for. And if he kept talking the way that he had been just now, death was the only thing that would come of it.

Mason, however, apparently refused to be mollified.  When he spoke of being drunk, Arcadia’s eyes widened slightly and she looked up. Of course, she ought to have realized. He had come to her with an empty tray for drinks after all. She should have realized that he wasn’t in control of his own tongue and done something more to distract him. Now she felt like the fool for allowing him to go on the way he had. I’m so sorry. I should have... Her voice trailed off, unsure what she actually should have done differently. But she had been hardly been speaking in more than a whisper to begin with anyhow. She was now even more worried that someone might hear them and she was terrified for what would happen to Mason if they did.

Mason still hadn’t stopped talking, though. Only now it was Dieter himself who was the object of the driver’s scorn. She took another step back, not at all liking where this was going and worried that the confrontation might escalate. She looked around, but she couldn’t actually call anyone to help – that would only draw attention to them all and cause more problems. She found herself wishing for William’s ability to calm emotions or even just the knowledge of something to say that would calm the two men down. Please, Mason... She didn’t know what to ask, though. She just wanted this to end before it all got out of control.




Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 09 April 2011, 09:13:19 »
Quote

The song ended and Marcellus' feet stopped moving, so Elaine's did too. As they came to a halt, she spotted all the people around her that she had started to forget and a little bit of the fear started to creep back. But only a little. She was still with Marcellus and he was still strong and threatening and everyone tried to avoid him, so she was still safer than if she was with anyone else, so the fear was certainly minor in comparison to the way it usually was. No one would dare come after her when she was so close to the fearsome Count.

At the moment, though, he wasn't acting very fearsome. She was seeing something from him that she assumed she might be the first person to ever witness. He was sweet and unsure of himself, if a bit bumbling as a side effect, and she was more certain than ever that, though others had plenty of reason to fear Marcellus, maybe she didn't. She smiled, waiting patiently as he tried to figure what to say next and she had to stop herself from a slight giggle when he ended so indecisively. So what if he wasn't quite sure of how to proceed? This was probably a very rare sort of thing for him, just as it was for her, and he could certainly be forgiven for not being familiar with the exact protocol or etiquette on how to proceed.

She calmly took his arm, her hands resting elegantly a bit below his elbow so that he looked like he was escorting her off the dance floor while she was really was gently guiding him back towards the crowd surrounding the dance floor. Well, Marcellus. We've been dancing, so I must imagine I'm a bit flushed. Some fresh air might do me good? She paused for a moment, then, added just in case, I hear that the palace gardens are beyond compare this time of year.

Maybe it was a bit too early for a walk about the grounds, but as they stepped back into the crowd, the distant fear of them became a bit more pressing – she didn’t at all like being so close to so many people who might try to kill her. Marcellus was her protection, but there were still things that could happen that would be beyond his control. She didn’t want to go back to the side of the Great Hall either, though, because they would inevitably be offered drinks if they were just standing there talking with each other and Marcellus would accept and then she would have to accept and they would be back to the unpleasantness of her fearing poison and him inching closer to his usual drunkenness. Better to avoid all that entirely.

So, yes, maybe it was a bit early, but, really, who would miss them? She had already spoken with those highest in the court that she really needed to acknowledge. And the king, the one she had actually wanted to speak with, had barely noticed her when they met earlier, sweeping past her after only a brief moment that could barely even count as a conversation. He had kissed her hand, which had seemed so promising at the time, but she realized now that she had just been silly for reading anything into it. He was married after all, and he probably wouldn’t even give her a second glance for the rest of the night. She had been foolish to hope for anything more from him.

Marcellus, on the other hand, was right here and he was clearly interested in her and she was certainly interested in him. So she saw no real reason why they shouldn’t both continue to enjoy themselves, even if it meant excusing themselves from the party for a while. She really was interested in seeing the gardens. They were supposed to be magnificent, but she had never had the courage to venture outside when she had visited the palace in the past. The rows of bushes and trees would be the perfect way to hide an assassin. ...Or a body. But with Marcellus, though, she felt confident enough to walk the gardens without too much fear. It would be very pleasant, she was sure. So Marcellus just needed to invite her on a walk and they would be on their way.


« Last Edit: 09 April 2011, 10:23:40 »


Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 09 April 2011, 23:43:03 »
Quote

When Lucien took his turn to embrace Cygnus, the duke was bombarded with emotion again. Only this time it was hatred that filled his body. As he forced himself to return his brother's hug for the brief moment, it took a great effort to keep himself in control. It would be so easy to use his powers to pull Lucien's collar ever tighter around his neck until he suffocated. Or he could telepathically grab the champagne glass of a man standing right behind his brother, break the glass and use it like a dagger to-

But he quickly silenced that thought as he and Lucien pulled back apart. He hated thinking about killing his brother. He hated that they had gone so far from the friends that they used to be. He didn’t like the fact that he wanted Lucien dead, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about how much better things would be without his twin around. From the first time that the thought came to him, right after he had lost his leg, he hadn’t been able to shake the idea of it. Whenever he thought about Lucien, the idea of killing him haunted his mind. A deadly temptation.

He wasn’t a killer. He had been miserable at war and he had never enjoyed the fighting the way some of his fellow soldiers had. All he had wanted was to go back home to his normal life as a carefree young man trying to woo the woman of his dreams. He didn’t actually like the idea of taking another life at all. And yet he could think of little else where Lucien was concerned. He was obsessed with the thought of getting rid of his brother – of taking his place as King and as Alexandra’s husband. It was a thought that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he had tried and no matter how out of character it was for him.

It was the same with his obsession for Alexandra. He had tried – really really tried – to move on after she agreed to marry Lucien. He had forced himself to seek out the company of other women, trying to fall in love with one of them instead. But he could never get Alexandra out of his head. Any woman he spoke to paled in comparison to her and every kiss he shared with a woman seemed dull and forced as he thought of how much better it would be if it was Alexandra that he was kissing instead.  She was stuck in his mind and he couldn’t get past her. It simply wasn’t possible. It seemed at times almost like a curse. He wanted to move on with his life and to accept Alexandra’s marriage and to be on good terms with his brother again. But he just couldn’t.

So it was that Lucien’s mention of Cygnus being unmarried felt like a slap in the face. He had to work very hard not to let the surge of rage he felt appear on his face. Lucien didn’t understand. He couldn’t. He had never understood emotions properly and Cygnus knew that. But it didn’t make him feel any less furious that his brother was commenting on his single status when it was Lucien’s fault that Cygnus hadn’t married in the first place.

Lucien’s next comment tore his attention away from that, however. ...Move your residence to court for the season. I’ve had a tower outfitted for you. Cygnus blinked, completely blindsided by the suggestion. It was the last thing he would have expected to hear. At first, he was about to reject the idea automatically. He had his own land and his own home. Even if his manor wasn’t as comfortable as the palace and even if it was cold and difficult to work in the mountains all the time, it was still his life and his sustenance and he didn’t need to be supported by anyone else, his brother least of all.

But while Lucien was talking about Cygnus joining the Royal Family, Cygnus was hearing again the words that he himself had said just moments ago to Alexandra. Just being here is enough of a gift, my queen. And it was. Being close to Alexandra was what he wanted more than anything. And if he was here, then he would be close to her, and that was far more important than the warm climate or the comfortable halls or the abundant food or any of that. If he was here, then maybe he could find a way to still prove his love to her and to get her to realize how much better he would be for her than Lucien was.

And it would be easier to get rid of Lucien if they were living in the same place. Again, he hated himself for the thought, but it was absolutely true. If he was ever going to get back at his brother, this would make things much easier. Besides, it was only for a season, he had said. He would only be staying here for a few months and then, if things were still the way they were now, he would go back home and he wouldn’t be in his brother’s debt for all that long. And if he did find a way to change things and take back the life that should have been his... Well, they would just have to see how things played out.

Why, I would be delighted, my brother. As I said, nothing brings me more pleasure than being here. Here with Alexandra. He looked over at her again, his heart beating ever more fiercely as he thought about what this could mean for the two of them. This could be just the chance that he had been waiting for to win her over the way he had intended to all those years ago. This is very gracious of you both. Cygnus knew that this very well could be a turning point – the point where things finally started going his way. It was finally going to be his turn to come out on top.



Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 10 April 2011, 01:48:48 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Eden raised a delicate, perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“Well, that was odd, wasn’t it?” she remarked to her cousin when Dieter Gatsby excused himself so abruptly.  Eden knew that he was really nothing but a servant, but she had come to expect so much more from her father’s slave.  After all, he was the most adept of all the servants at imitating the nobles.  He ought to have been able to make a smoother, less awkward exit.

The princess watched with mild curiosity as he made his way over to where her maidservant was chatting with her father’s chauffeur.  Poor old Mr. Gatsby seemed quite angry about something.  For a brief moment, Eden allowed herself to wonder why—then she forced her attention back to the task of being the king’s daughter and therefore the most charming woman in the room.

With an acknowledging wave to Francoise, Eden turned back to the dance floor, where a well-bred suitor swept her away into the crowd of swirling skirts and twirling courtiers.  She caught neither his name nor his rank.  It was only a couple of moments before she found her thoughts occupied with something much more troubling.

She could feel the darkness of her latent insanity surging forward again.  Her mind was starting to become increasing addled, and the room was beginning to spin around her as she fought for control of her own brain.  She allowed the man to lead her in whatever dance it was that the band was playing, but the soft words he tried to whisper in her ear were lost in the maelstrom that was her mind.  He seemed disappointed when she didn’t respond to him and, discouraged, passed her along to the next man in line when the music changed.

Eden had to suppress the near overwhelming and very disturbing urge to claw his eyes out.

The new man was very tall, and Eden took advantage of his height by leaning her head against his chest somewhat sluggishly and closing her eyes.  All of a sudden, the noise in the room seemed unbearable, and she entertained the thought of cutting off her own ears to relieve her suffering until she realized that she was losing her grip.  Abruptly, she pulled away from the young aristocrat, apologizing profusely for her ‘fatigue’ and making a beeline for Arcadia.

Dieter Gatsby was still there, involved in what seemed like an argument with Mason Volkov, but Eden was too desperate to worry about how either one of them might perceive her.  It was clear that something was wrong, however.  The princess was very pale, and her eyes were wide and frantic.  She knew that another episode was on its way, and she needed to escape before she snapped in front of everyone.


“Arcadia,” she breathed, reaching for her maid.  “It’s happening again.”




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 10 April 2011, 12:20:10 »
Quote

As she waited anxiously in hope that the two men would cease their argument, Arcadia glanced back towards where her mistress was waiting. Only Eden wasn't there. Mentally scolding herself for not noticing the Princess moving away, Arcadia twisted around quickly, searching through the crowd, until she noticed the sparkling of Eden's diamond dress out on the dance floor. She gave a little sigh, relaxing. Nothing was wrong, she had just been invited to dance. She smiled slightly, watching the tall young man elegantly leading the Princess in the dance. They looked so lovely out there.

She was just about to turn back to Mason and Dieter when she realized that something was wrong. Arcadia's eyes widened as she saw Eden jerk back away from the man and then suddenly rush off the dance floor. No, not now. The evening had barely begun. Surely Eden wasn't panicking already! And yet, it was very clear that Eden was coming straight towards her servant girl and, as soon as she was close enough, Arcadia recognized all the symptoms of Eden’s usual fits. Her face was pale and Arcadia knew the frantic look in her eyes in an instant.

Completely ignoring the two other servants, Arcadia stepped forward, reaching to receive the Princess. Arcadia. It’s happening again. She nodded gently, giving one hand as support while wrapping her other arm behind Eden to guide her. It’s all right M’lady. This way. She pulled Eden through the crowd as discretely as possible. She could only hope that Dieter and Mason had been too involved in their own conflict to notice – she couldn’t afford either one of them getting in the way.

She knew that time was now of the essence. On plenty of occasions, the fits had waited until the guests had started to leave and Eden and her servant had already been headed back towards her chambers. It had occasionally happened like this, though, where Eden had to leave the party in a hurry. It had never before been quite this early in the night and her departure usually was still able to go without notice. In all instances, though, from the moment Eden’s panic began to set in, there wasn’t much time before she was in a full-fledged episode, and when that time came, they couldn’t be anywhere near the guests.

As she led Eden to a side hall, usually kept for servants, she was trying desperately not to go into a panic herself. She had to stay strong for Eden. Everything will be fine, Princess. They love you. You’re all right. We’ll just go back to your room... The Princess couldn’t afford to let her stunningly perfect image to slip while she was still close to the party guests. It was Arcadia’s job to help her protect the projection that Eden had worked so hard to create, no matter what it took.

Still, she knew her own hands were trembling slightly as she tried to keep her mind off of what was about to happen. Memories from previous events were pressing into her mind and she was terrified, knowing what was to come as the fit manifested itself fully. But she couldn’t dwell on that. What would happen would happen. She just had to concentrate on getting Eden to her room as quickly as possible. There was a stairwell at the end of this servants’ hall that would put them close to Eden’s chambers. She couldn’t afford to think about what would happen once they were there – she just knew that that was the safest place for Eden to be right now, so that was where they needed to go. Just try to stay calm a little longer. We’ll get away from it all.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 11 April 2011, 17:45:15 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Yes, it was getting worse.  Eden knew it with sickening certainty.  It had all happened too quickly, too early on in the evening.  Usually, she could hold until the end of the night when most people were too drunk to notice her absence anyway.  Usually, she could feel it coming on slowly, gradually, and she had more time to make a more graceful exit.  This time, however, the insanity had broken upon her like water upon rocks, and she was humiliated by the gracelessness of her exit. 

Surely someone had seen—that man she’d been dancing with, what would he think?  Mason Volkov?  Dieter Gatsby?  They would think she was mad!

Of course, Eden was mad.  Even she had to admit that.  She knew that none of this was normal, and she knew that she needed help.  The problem was that she didn’t have the strength to tell anyone else.  She couldn’t bear to think about what her father would do or say to her if he found out.  He wouldn’t be happy to see that she’d left early, but she could always come up with a plausible excuse for that.  It would be impossible to explain if she actually lost her wits in front of people.  Her image would be ruined forever. 

In her worst nightmares, she was exiled and punished severely for the horrible scene she caused.  After all, what use did her father have for an insane daughter—no matter how pretty she was?  No one would want to marry her, and she would be cast out onto the streets to grow old and die alone.  Eden lived to be perfect.  If she couldn’t be perfect, she couldn’t live.

Which was why she needed to escape at all costs right then, to get away and be alone before she completely lost control of herself.  Her body was shaking as she followed Arcadia away from the party.  She was so focused on keeping her cool that Eden was barely paying attention to the halls through which she was being taken or the soft words her maid was cooing at her as they fled.  There was a horrible ringing in her ears, and, though she saw Arcadia’s mouth move, the words never reached her ears.  She stumbled on the stairs, losing a diamond encrusted shoe in her haste to beat the fit.  She had not a moment to spare.  Time was of the essence.

When she burst into her chambers, Eden trusted Arcadia to lock the door behind them.  She trusted Arcadia with an awful lot, though—first and foremost the keeping of her darkest, most terrible secret.  The princess knew that she became violent in times like these, and she was sorry that her insanity was taken out on the poor girl, but she knew that it was something that had to be done.  Arcadia’s job was to serve her, in whatever way necessary.

Falling against one of the walls in the room, Eden kicked off her remaining shoe.  In the safety of her only sanctuary, the princess sobbed heavily, making disturbing choking sounds as she dropped the mask that had become so heavy in her dainty hands.  Knowing that the only way to make it go away was to let it run its course, she let the insanity take her mind, hoping that, this time at least, it wouldn’t last very long.

She reached out and took hold of the closest object to her—a beautiful blue vase filled with white roses.  The sound of breaking glass filled the room as it collided with the opposite wall.  Staring at the fragments of the treasure, the princess slid to the ground, dissolving into tears. 




Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 11 April 2011, 21:25:33 »
Quote

I’ve been well. Not that it’s hard for life to go well when you’re the princess. I am pleased to hear that. Despite his words, Logan was glad that he had just begun to motion to lead her into a spin at that point, because he wasn’t really sure what to make of the comment. She didn’t sound like she was trying to remind him of his place. At least he certainly hoped that that wasn’t her intent. It could be interpreted that way, though, if he wanted: things only go wrong in life for commoners, like yourself. No, he most certainly hoped that that was not her train of thought.

But then, he truly doubted that it was. For one, if she felt that way about him, then she would not be out here dancing with him, telling him to act like an aristocrat, now would she? Besides, she had rolled her eyes when she made the statement – he had seen that much before she had started to spin under his arm. That rather indicated that though things were well, she wasn’t necessarily content with the circumstances.

Now that was interesting indeed. Could the princess possibly be wishing for something other than her pristine, pampered life? Might she be thinking about adventure or at least a more normal, less controlled life? Or was Logan just reading far too much into the statement? It could be she had only meant it as a passing whim – without any deeper meaning behind the words at all.

One way or another, though, he decided just not to think about it. Dwelling on her phrasing wasn’t going to get him anywhere and he’d really rather just enjoy the dance. And he was certainly enjoying it. For a while, Olivia’s eyes were locked with his and he felt a chill throughout his entire body. Was he a fool for falling for the princess? Yes, he would admit that he was. But he was a very happy fool for the time being and he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Eventually, though, she let her gaze slide downward and he ended up watching some of the other dancers, not wanting to look like he was just staring at her. Men and women of all ages, paired off and mostly all looking like they were enjoying themselves. The music was spectacular – that was for sure. If nothing else, Lucien did know how to throw quite the party and the musicians in attendance were surely the very best in the land.

He wondered how many of them had powers. Musical ability was certainly something that transcended birthrights. Sure, the nobles might have more money to buy better quality instruments and instruction, but you couldn’t pay for raw talent. He would have to speak with some of them later if he got the chance.

They continued dancing for another minute or so without speaking, just letting the flow of the music carry them. Olivia, of course, seemed like a very good dancer – she was sure to have had the very best teachers available – and she didn’t noticeably hesitate at all when he led her into spins or turns. She almost seemed to predict his next motion in the way she was so smoothly interacting with him in the dance. To Logan, at least, they seemed like a single entity, gently spinning and floating to the soft melodies.

At one point, he thought he saw a bit of a blush in her cheeks, but he supposed that might just be from the dancing as he couldn’t think of anything else that would cause the pinkness of her skin. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, certainly. Neither of them had said anything and she definitely hadn’t stumbled or anything of the like. Maybe it was just a bit warm for her. She was in long sleeves after all. Yes, that was surely it – nothing more. He let that thought pass away as well, letting his thoughts turn happily back to the music and marvelous it was to be dancing with Olivia.

Unfortunately, every song must have its end, and this one came all too soon, especially since he and Olivia had moved onto the dance floor well after the song had started and therefore hadn’t gotten the whole length of the song. Nonetheless, he was forced to come to a standstill as the music faded away. He looked back at Olivia, expecting her to let go of him and to send him off, but she didn’t.  She didn’t even pull her hand away from his, actually.

For a moment, he looked back at her blankly, not really sure how to react. He didn’t understand her intent. But then, if she wasn’t going to send him away, then who was to say that he couldn’t ask for a full dance? The worst that she could do was say no, right? And, with the way that she wasn’t moving to leave the floor, he half wondered if that might even be what she wanted. Well, probably not – she was most likely just distracted or something - but he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass either way.

It seems we have been cheated of half the song. If you don’t mind terribly, Miss Olivia, might I ask you for this next dance as well? It was bold, but, then, his very presence amongst the nobles on the dance floor was bold. They were still well out of sight of the King and they were still a fair distance from where Marcellus and Elaine had been, so any danger of being identified seemed distant and vague. Right now, all of that was secondary to trying to manage a few precious, extra minutes near Olivia.


« Last Edit: 05 May 2011, 17:12:06 »


Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 11 April 2011, 23:18:18 »
Quote

Arcadia kept her arm around Eden as they hurried up the stairs. Eden was shaking terribly and the servant girl knew that the Princess was falling quickly into the darkness that she was always forced to fight when she was in public. Whatever curse this was that plagued Eden, Arcadia had long since learned that nothing could be done but to let it run its course. There wasn’t anything she could do to stop it and she might only make things worse by trying.

In the past, she had tried giving her wine to sip and she had tried keeping even water away from her. She had tried speaking comforting words in hopes of calming her mistress and she had tried staying silent. She had tried keeping the bedroom overly warm in hopes of putting her to sleep and she had tried leaving a window open in the colder seasons to try to distract the princess with the cold.

But no matter what she tried, none of it ever worked. Whatever it was that tortured the princess, it was beyond Arcadia’s ability to counter. Even William, when he was aware of Eden’s state of mind and tried to help out, wasn’t always able to make the darkness go away. He could make his sister react more calmly to it, but even in those instances Arcadia had been able to tell that Eden was still mentally fighting with the wretched darkness.

So she knew perfectly well that she was just going to have to last it out. If she couldn’t prevent Eden’s suffering in the first place, she could make sure that she was away from prying eyes when it happened and she could be there to provide the outlet that Eden would need to express her crazed emotions. It would be difficult for both of them, but they just had to make it through the night. By morning, Eden would have been able to win back control of her own mind and they could go on as if nothing had happened. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it could be done.

As they rushed through the stone halls, Arcadia found herself physically supporting Eden more and more, guiding her in the right direction. At one point, the princess stumbled and Arcadia saw one of the jewel-covered shoes tumble back down the stairs. So very like Cinderella, the princess in one of the books Arcadia so loved to read when she could. And just like in the story, there was no time to turn back for the shoe, for just as the fairy tale was limited by time, so too was every moment of the essence in getting Eden safely to her room.

They did make it there, though, without too much trouble. Arcadia pulled the heavy wooden door open quickly, then released Eden, allowing the princess to rush into the room while Arcadia turned to lock the door. No one could know about Eden’s condition, and the door would remain shut until the episode was completely over. The only one who would be permitted inside was Eden’s brother, if he thought to come check on his sister. But William wouldn’t expect Eden to be facing her terrors this early in the night and Arcadia did not expect him to come to the rescue any time soon.

Arcadia hung the key on a nail beside the door for safekeeping, then turned around quickly as she heard a clattering noise. Just Eden’s other shoe, now tumbling across the room. Arcadia ignore it, instead moving cautiously towards her mistress. Eden, let’s get you into your night clothes. You’ll be more comfortable that way and- Arcadia gasped as Eden flung a vase against the opposite wall, shattering it and sending glass crashing to the floor. The servant girl closed her eyes for a moment, wishing that she had thought to put the vase away earlier, before the party had begun. But there was nothing she could do about it now.

As Eden dropped to the ground, Arcadia couldn’t help but feel pity for the girl. She seemed so lost – so broken. And she didn’t deserve it at all. She did everything just the way she was expected to. She was the perfect princess for her father and for the crowds of people that so loved her. She did everything as best she could and it took a terrible toll. That was the only way that Arcadia could justify all this. It wasn’t Eden’s fault that she was haunted by this darkness. It wasn’t Eden’s fault that it took so much for Arcadia to help her through the episodes.

She watched Eden drop to the ground and she quickly hurried forward, dropping to her knees beside the older girl. Perhaps if she could get Eden to focus for just a short bit longer they could get her into bed before the fit turned her to violence. She knew it wasn’t all that likely, but she couldn’t just leave Eden there on the ground crying like that. Still, she did brace herself slightly as she reached out to take the princess’ hands.

Eden, look at me. You’ll be all right. Let’s just get you changed. They could at least get her out of the gown – that would be something. Even if it didn’t help calm Eden down, Arcadia would be in serious trouble if she allowed the gown to be damaged by not being put away properly now that they were away from the dance. Please, just let me help you.


« Last Edit: 12 April 2011, 09:48:30 »


Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 12 April 2011, 22:54:26 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Eden sniffed, wiping her eyes with her hand and effectively smudging her meticulously applied makeup—something that she would never ever have done under any other circumstances.  The black circles around her eyes made her look skeletal; now, she was far past the threshold between sanity and insanity.  She didn’t even know that she was out of her right mind, and that was when she was both dangerous and terrifying.

Arcadia’s voice came to her as if through water.  The sound was jumbled and incomprehensible.  The princess stared at her maid for several long moments before the meaning of those warped and distorted sounds became clear to her. 

Take off the damn dress.   

Well, maybe those weren’t Arcadia’s exact words, but the gist of the message was there.  Nodding three or four times more than a normal person would, Eden rose to her feet and somehow managed to undo her zipper without any help, maneuvering her arms around her body and twisting them into positions impossible for someone less flexible.  She let the top of the dress fall to her waist and shimmied out of the rest of it; the diamond coated fabric fell to the ground around her knees with a distinct metallic sound.  She stood there in her underwear for a few seconds before the next part of Arcadia’s message penetrated the dark clouds surrounding her brain.

Get changed for bed.

Stepping out of the dress, Eden walked across the hardwood floor to her closet on the other side of the room, staggering slightly as she moved.  Her head was throbbing, and her balance was off, but she could move without assistance.  The princess threw open her closet doors dramatically, then stood in front of them as if she had forgotten the reason she was there.  A couple moments later, she slipped into a thin white shift trimmed with lace and pulled on a kimono-style robe in a blue floral pattern. 

The next step was undoing her hair—she couldn’t sleep on all of those pins, now could she?  On the way to the mirror, however, a sharp pain shot up her bare foot and Eden stopped dead and let out a murderous howl.  Glaring at the floor, she examined her foot and the large shard of glass—part of the vase she’d broken not so long ago—protruding from the bottom of it.


“Arcadia!” she snarled, using the wall to hold herself upright.  Her leg was bent, making the bottom of her foot clearly visible to the younger girl as blood dripped out of the wound and fell to the floor.  “What the hell is this broken glass doing here?” she demanded.  “If you break something, clean it the hell up!”

She couldn’t even remember what happened mere minutes ago.


« Last Edit: 13 April 2011, 11:55:32 »


Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 17 April 2011, 20:24:45 »
Quote

As she looked now on the princess, Arcadia felt pity for the girl, as she often did at the start of these episodes. But, for a moment, another thought began to flicker into her mind. Some of Mason’s words from the night slipped into the forefront of her mind. And what is beauty if not temporary? ... And, indeed, anyone else looking upon the young Royal would likely not think of her as beautiful at this moment. Her makeup had smeared terribly and the look in her eyes made her face was far more likely to induce wariness rather than adoration.

Can you imagine a world... where you had just as much influence and power as Princess Eden? And right now, for just the briefest moment, she considered that thought. Because, right now, Eden didn’t look even remotely perfect the way she usually did. If she had to attract men based only on appearance right now, she would have about as much luck as Arcadia herself. Were they really so different after all? For a moment, she began to wonder. But only for a moment.

She couldn’t think that way, though. Eden was sick. This thing was not her fault and she didn’t deserve it, for this curse was only a small portion of the princess’ life. The rest of the time was when she was herself – when she was beautiful and respected and loved and perfect. That was who Eden was. This was the temporary part and Arcadia couldn’t let herself forget that. As soon as this night was over, things would go back to the way that they always were and she had to remember her place.

Eden began moving to take off the dress, though, and that was enough to pull Arcadia’s thoughts back to where they should be. She stepped forward, but Eden didn’t wait for her help. The girl started pulling at the zipper herself and she had herself out of the dress before long, then turned towards the closet. Glad that the girl seemed to be comprehending her words well enough finally, Arcadia quickly bent to pick up the gown before it could wrinkle.

She slid the hidden loops of fabric from inside over its hanger and moved to place it back in the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room from the closet – reserved only for Eden’s three best gowns. She closed the door and then hooked the latch to ensure it would stay closed. At least now the dress was safe, so that was one worry out of the way.

She looked over towards Eden and was pleased to see that the girl was slipping into her nightgown with more competence than might be expected with her current state of mind. Perhaps this truly was a mild case – Arcadia mightn’t have all that much to worry about after all. Since Eden seemed to have that part under control, the servant girl moved over to the water basin and filled the bowl half-way from the pitcher of water sitting on the shelf beside it.

She then scooped up a clean wash cloth from another shelf and dipped it into the water, then wrung it out so that it was damp enough to clean off Eden’s makeup, but so that it wouldn’t drip all over the floor in the process. Once that was done, she would be able to take down Eden’s elaborately-pinned hair and maybe, if she was very lucky, she might even be able to get the princess to bed before anything else went wrong.

Or, Eden’s sudden shriek seemed to say, maybe not. Arcadia spun around sharply, eyes widening as she realized where Eden was standing. Why in heaven’s name would she have walked onto the glass shards of the vase that she had just shattered? Fighting the urge to shake her head, Arcadia rushed forward. She nearly cringed at the sound of almost animal-like fury that laced Eden’s voice as she shouted her servant’s name, but she forced herself to remember that Eden wasn’t in control. She didn’t mean it – not really.

She bent quickly to look at the wound on the bottom of the princess’ foot. Thankfully, the bit of glass looked small and didn’t seem to have penetrated too deeply, although it had drawn blood. What the hell is this broken glass doing here? If you break something, clean it the hell up! She truly seemed to have no recollection of destroying the vase, though the deed had been only mere minutes ago. Arcadia wasn’t going to try to tell her that, though.

A thousand apologies, your highness. I swear it won’t happen again. She considered trying to get Eden to sit on her bed so that she could remove the shard, but her instincts told her that it would be better to just get it done quickly, before Eden had a chance to anticipate the operation. Deftly, she reached out and plucked the piece of glass out and then reached forward with the wash cloth, intending to wrap it around the wounded area as a bandage, assuming Eden would stay still long enough.


« Last Edit: 18 April 2011, 01:16:55 »


Francoise van B.
Played by hidden.trick



The Royal Victoria & Albert Museum
Historical Curator
« 18 April 2011, 00:05:17 »
Quote

Francoise had time enough until her interlude with Dieter in the gardens whereupon he would tell her of all the wild gossip that surely lurked these halls. It had been far too long a time since she had been gone from the palace, and everything seemed too rightly in place. It wasn't that she doubted that things couldn't change, but more of her fear that with Lucien's alarming ability to not age, he had trapped the court in a similar frozen position.

But now, Francoise stood in the ball room rather alone. The King, his brother and the Queen, though appearing to be in the midst of conversation would soon finish. She hoped that she would sneak in there to avoid some frivolous conversation with yet another courtier who would gasp and gawk at what puberty had done to most people: grow. "Goodness gracious! My, how fair and tall you've become milady! How slender your frame has maintained itself!" Yes, because in the real world, sheer looks would get you further than anything else....and even though these thoughts were dripping with sarcasm, she often feared if they really were true. Would her brains ever be noticed rather than her beauty? She had no desire to mask herself up, or to hide features, for to what purpose would that serve? Eventually she would be recognised, and it would be to her advantage to maintain this "beauty" - at least it would work to some extent on those who really were that lowly.

And then, out of the corner of her eye she sensed a figure she had long disdained to see again. The remarkably grown up and mature version of the boy she had once grown to hate with such fervour was now standing a mere few metres away. Chatting up a courtier whom he planned to bed no doubt. They were all pawns in his game of chess. Nothing without purpose was the royal family's motto, and why would it end with William? Honestly, the fact that such a name was bestowed upon the boy, who really wasn't a man was beyond her. With the name William came the images of protection, determination, resolute. But there appeared nothing resolute about him. He fitting in so perfectly with the crowd...In actuality, if one were to relate the definition of his name to him at the moment, it would not extend further than he followed in line with royal tradition. Become the name and power you were bestowed, for it is all you are. Not who you are. The first born, forever trapped in the shadow of the father who had conquered so much. Yes, William lived in the conquest of the Earth that was not his own, and unless he became his father inch for inch, he would lose all that his father had come to win.

And for that, she felt sorry for him. Though she wanted nothing to do with him. And yet, she knew, that if she remained purposefully isolate from the ballroom, that it would spark more gossip than she would have cared to entertain. There was no hope, she would have to move slightly to the side, and bring up conversation with the bloke. She heaved a small sigh, put on a forceful and forced smile, and hoped that he wouldn't annoy her too profusely.

She nodded her head to the courtier whose name she had long forgotten, and then turned to William, where she caught his gaze for a long solid moment before bowing a bit more deeply to him. Your grace.


In reality, she didn't know if she could muster anything more without bursting into a fit of laughter. There wasn't much grace about him, at all. But to call him "his highness, his royal highness," and god forbid "my prince" would have not only sent his ego into the high heavens, but she might have just quit the whole gig there and then. Still, there were intrigues afoot, and she had to maintain her part.

A part of her did, and didn't want him to touch her. She wasn't sure if she could handle the superficiality of his personal thoughts. Perhaps he should keep those to himself.




Alexandra Winters
Played by hidden.trick

« 17 April 2011, 22:25:39 »
Quote

What thoughts do you possess in that head of yours my King? If only there were a way for the Queen to have read her husband's thoughts. For it seemed far too unlikely that he had invited Cygnus for an extended stay purely out of kindness. There was a reason for him to lend such generosity in his brother's favour - but what was it? How could she have missed something so substantial?

But this was nor the time nor the place for her to show such confusion on her face. She was here right now to play the part of the Grace Kelly-esque Queen that she was, with a lot of power slipped under her barely-there-sleeves. Gracious? What utter nonsense. We have missed your presence much too long here in the royal court. We must have breakfast together tomorrow morning, the three of us. I cannot wait to redecorate your quarters to your liking. I want you very much to feel at home.


With a twinkle in her eye, she had become incredibly thirsty for knowledge. But she didn't know to whom she should speak first. Her powers would not instruct her what was in the minds of these gentlemen. No, her own feminine fibre would have to play that part tonight. But it would be interesting to see if Cygnus' morals had changed. Perhaps a change in Cygnus' morals might have been detected by Lucien...if only Lucien could understand that his wife was even more helpful to him that he could imagine. Though she had never revealed her power to him, she wanted to tug at his chords a little, to see which one would rattle first.

He lovingly took his hand off her waist and put her own arms on her hips while painting a playful pout on her face. And no one has asked me to dance this evening! How shameful. Am I really that underdressed? I brought out my best gown tonight! Her eyes wandered to the crowd to see where her children were. William seemed to chatting gaily in the centre of the room, and her daughter she could not seem to place. Though, for the life of her she could not seem to bubble or froth with care. She had raised them well, and they weren't off to any trouble that would stir or bother her. Just so long as William was doing his part, the other two were merely his trophies that he could play to his disposal.

It was between Cygnus and Lucien that she wanted to emote that she was not a pawn in their game of chess, but the Queen. The only one on the board with ultimate power. Yes, without the King, there was no game. But she could bend and form in any direction. And she would do whatever she could to maintain this. Lucien only kept his enemies this close, did he sense that Cygnus might be setting off something dangerous? Revolutionary?

She plastered a large coy smile on her face, she could hardly contain her excitement.




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 17 April 2011, 23:21:10 »
Quote

As Elaine led him gently off the dance floor, Marcellus couldn't help feeling disappointed.  The feeling washed over him, crushing the happiness he'd felt just moments before.  He should have known better than to think that this was going as well as he'd thought it was.  He should have known Elaine was just too polite to yell at him for being a bad dancer.  He should have known better than to get his hopes up.  He suddenly felt antsy, uncomfortable in his own skin.  His palms were sweaty and itched, his stomach had gone from jumpy and excited to nervous and jittery, and he needed a nice stiff drink.  None of the light champagne they'd been serving all night, either.  He needed something real in his system.  Part of him remembered that it was a bad idea and knew he'd regret it, but he just didn't care.  He didn't want to deal with the fact that he'd let himself be made a fool of again.  The voices laughed at him for thinking she'd want to dance with him more than once.  It was hardly surprising.  People were always laughing at him.  He was always messing things up, and they were always laughing.  He didn't like it.  He didn't like thinking about being laughed at now.  He didn't like remembering being laughed out when he was a kid or when he was in the army, or any of the other times in the past.  He didn't want to remember.  He didn't want to think. 

But then Elaine started talking again, and the part of him that hadn't quite given up yet, the part that wasn't angry and resentful and wounded, made him listen.  Well, Marcellus. We've been dancing, so I must imagine I'm a bit flushed. Some fresh air might do me good?  I hear that the palace gardens are beyond compare this time of year.  Really?  Surprised, he let the word slip out before he could stop it, but it didn't bother him as much this time as it had the other times he'd said dumb things tonight.  He hadn't been very suave so far and everything was maybe going alright, so a little more awkwardness couldn't hurt, could it?  He wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.  Why was she still talking to him?  Why did she still want to be around him?  What if she really did like him, like he'd thought she might before he thought she didn't again?  Even though he was still confused, he wasn't so frustrated about being confused as he usually was.  Somehow, under the confusion, he kind of felt ok.

He couldn't quite let the hope he'd felt a moment before come back.  He was afraid it would just get crushed again for real.  The need for a drink, though, was gone.  It was a weird feeling, the feeling that he didn't need a drink.  He was sure it was a good sign.  Or something.  He knew everyone hated him when he was drunk.  The courtiers, the servants, everyone.  He knew his servants said mean things about him behind his back or when they thought he was across the manor, or when they thought he was asleep.  He'd heard them at it.  He knew the courtiers said bad things about him, too.  The voices told him so.  The voices liked repeating the mean things they'd heard people say about him while they were alive.  He didn't think they'd like him any better if he stopped drinking, though.  Then they'd realize how dumb and awkward and loser-y he was.  Being scary was ok.  At least people left him alone.  At least they didn't laugh in his face.  But he could probably be scary without being drunk.  He'd just have to do something scary tonight to keep everyone from changing the way they thought of him.

The problem was, he didn't want to be scary in front of Elaine any more than he wanted to be drunk in front of her.  He wanted her to think he was smart and debonair and respectable.  Or at least that he wasn't a total screw-up and that he could be seen in public without making a fool of himself.  He wanted her to think the best of him, and for that to happen, he'd have to be on his best behavior.  So no scaring or drinking.  What he really wanted was for her to think he was better than he actually was, because he was pretty sure that was the only way she'd like him.  And he had no idea how to achieve that.  

A walk in the gardens might be a place to start, though.  Maybe if they were in the garden the voices would stop chattering away about the other people in the room who they hated almost as much as they hated him.  Maybe that would make it easier for him not to mess up.  I'd like to go for a walk, if you want to.  I've never been in the gardens at night.  He'd hardly ever been in the gardens during the day, either.  Usually, he only came here for parties or when Lucien needed something from him.  And usually if it was the former, he stayed in the ballroom until it was time to go home, and if it was the latter, he wasn't around long enough to go anywhere besides wherever Lucien was at the time.

He'd been in the garden once while Lucien had been ordering him to kill someone.  He couldn't remember who.  They all blurred together after a while.  The kills didn't.  The voices were there to remind him who he'd killed where, and when and how and sometimes even why.  But the actual orders blurred together because the voices didn't seem nearly as inclined to talk about them.  They did when Lucien was in sight, overwhelming him with a cacophony of shouted threats and accusations, but when the king wasn't visible, the voices usually focused on how much they hated Marcellus himself and how awful he was.  He remembered the garden being pretty, but mostly he'd just been concerned with not stepping on anything or tripping and falling or otherwise squashing the flowers.  Lucien's perfect, cold, catlike grace always made Marcellus feel even more like a bumbling idiot, and he worried about stupid things like knocking vases off shelves and stepping on flowers because he was sure if he did, Lucien would be mad at him.  And if there was one thing he knew, it was that he didn't want Lucien mad at him.

He didn't think Lucien would be mad at him for going into the garden at the party.  He was sure that if Elaine was suggesting it, it meant that it was allowed.  It would probably be nice.  He hadn't seen much of the garden the time he'd been in it.  And it would probably be nice in the moonlight.  Everything was pretty in the moonlight.  He bet Elaine would be extra pretty in the moonlight, too.  The more he thought about it, the more being outside seemed like a good idea.  Taking some of the initiative, he walked out to the garden, leading Elaine instead of letting her drag him along.  He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do when they were walking in the garden, but it was something new.  And while doing something new was usually just one more chance to mess up, he thought it might also be a chance to not screw up.  Maybe once they were out there he'd think of something to say and then he wouldn't be so awkward.  Maybe they could talk about the flowers.  He wondered how much Elaine knew about flowers.



Wild Thing
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 18 April 2011, 20:16:43 »
Quote

The latest young lady to have all but forcibly claimed William’s attention was Lenoria Corriarkin, the daughter of a well-known Marquis. Her family was highly enough ranked that he had to actually give her his full attention and she knew that fact quite well. And she seemed to be taking every advantage of it, especially since that same rank made her technically eligible to be considered as a future bride for the prince. She was not being very subtle about the fact that she was flirting with him, either. She kept fluttering her eyelashes and giggling at his words and touching his arm lightly every time she had any sort of an excuse.

And every time he tried to wind down the conversation to try to make his escape, she seemed to think of something new and terribly interesting that she just had to tell him all about. And she was off again on another subject and he couldn’t interrupt and he couldn’t just walk away. But he couldn’t really think of an emotion that he could press on her to get her to leave without it being obvious what he had done.

He considered making her bored with him, but she was so energetic about the conversation right now that for her to suddenly grow quiet wouldn’t be reasonable. And, anyhow, he was supposed to be keeping the guests cheerful and content, not bored, so that wouldn’t really be the best plan. Anyone watching would know what had happened, especially if one of his family members happened to catch sight of the interaction. And the girl herself would probably eventually realize what he had done when she was thinking back on the conversation later and that wouldn’t go well, either.

Which meant that he was stuck here, listening to her go on and on about how the Baron Lessalis had hired some commoners to build a wall on his property and how furious he had been when it toppled straight over less than a year later. So then he had to hold back his tongue as she ranted about shoddy workers and all that when he knew perfectly well that the workers hadn’t been the ones at fault. Lessalis lived in a swampy area where the soil wouldn’t have been able to support a wall of the size she was talking about without major work that William was sure the Baron never would have thought about.

But people simply weren’t being trained as architects or engineers anymore, so there were few that could have told him ahead of time that the wall would collapse, even if he had had the foresight to ask around and actually plan out the building project. And William was pretty sure the man had done no such planning. He had wanted the wall quickly and hadn’t even begun to think about what all that ought to entail. He didn’t feel like arguing the point with her, though, so he just nodded, acting like he was interested.

He started to breathe a sigh of relief as someone else approached and graciously inserted herself beside him, hopefully ending Lenoria’s monopoly over the prince. At first, though, he couldn’t identify the newcomer. Her face seemed hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him put a name with it, and he knew that he hadn’t seen her at any of the most recent events. All at once, though, something about the way that she moved as she started to bow told him all too clearly who she was. Francoise?

He wasn’t sure off hand exactly how long it had been since he last saw the girl, but it had definitely been quite a while. She had spent huge amounts of time at the palace during their adolescence, but they hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms. After all, he’d been a fourteen year old boy, and she had been a friend of his sisters. It had been practically his job as a sibling to pick on Eden and Olivia and therefore it had also been his job to pick on anyone who named themselves as their friend. Of course, even in the midst of his michief, he’d always been careful to make sure that his parents didn't find out, and he would have been able to force the girls to calm down if he absolutely had to in order to prevent them from telling on him.

Since he had grown out of that stage, though, he really hadn’t seen Francoise. She seemed to avoid all the major events at the palace – though he had never really cared enough to pay attention to the reasons for that. Lately, however, his thoughts had started to be drawn back towards her by, of all things, a rumor that was going around the court. Usually, he cared nothing about the word of mouth that so many other people were obsessed with, but when he started hearing things about his own intended marriage, he saw things a little differently.

The first time he had been asked about his supposedly pending marriage with Francoise, he had dismissed it out of hand. People come up with strange things sometimes and he saw no reason to believe that this particular rumor had begun as anything more than drunken ramblings of some old man with nothing better to occupy his time. After all, Francoise was his cousin – not by blood, certainly, but she was fairly closely related by marriage. And she had spent much of their childhood at the palace, acting in the place of a third sister. The thought of him marrying her seemed silly at best.

But that hadn’t been the last he’d heard of it and, over time, he had become less confident of the falsehood of that particular tale. It still didn’t seem particularly likely. After all, one would think that he would have been told if his parents really were in the process of arranging a bride for him. The rumors had not dissipated, however, and he was now to the point that he was almost willing to believe them himself. He supposed that his parents weren’t always the most predictable in their ways of addressing issues. He wasn’t quite sure he believed that his mother would leave him to find out about her plans through word of mouth, but he had eventually realized that he couldn’t rule that possibility out entirely.

One way or another, though, it was most certainly Francoise standing before him and he had to figure out how he was going to address her presence. Had she heard the same rumors that he had? He couldn’t just ask her if she thought that they were supposed to be engaged. Not to mention whether she wanted to be engaged to him. Or whether he wanted to be engaged to her. His heart was beating faster than it should as a bit of a panic began to set in. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do right now. What was he supposed to say to her? Would she expect him to ask her to dance? And what was he supposed to do about Lenoria?

Thankfully, one of those problems solved itself as Lenoria quickly excused herself, giving Francoise an odd look that he couldn’t interpret at the moment. Meanwhile, William bowed respectfully while he worked on calming himself. He willed himself to relax and, after a moment, he felt his heart rate slowing and his emotions calming down as his powers seeped through his own body. By the time he had straightened back up, the panic was gone and he was looking peacefully at the lady before him as if there was nothing terribly strange about her presence. Lady Francoise – it is an honor to welcome you back to the palace. It has been far too long since last we met. I hope you are well.


« Last Edit: 19 April 2011, 18:11:56 »

Wayward Son
Played by Lillian_Potter

« 19 April 2011, 20:28:52 »
Quote

Alexandra countered his statement fairly quickly and Cygnus’ heart leapt at her words. She had missed him being in the court? Of course, she had said “we”, but Lucien wouldn’t have missed him. He wasn’t capable of actually missing someone, just like he wasn’t capable of any other normal emotion. But Alexandra absolutely was capable of such feelings and she had missed him. Just that statement alone gave him more hope than he’d felt in a long time. Maybe there was still something he could do to win her affections.

We must have breakfast together tomorrow morning... The fact that she mentioned Lucien being there didn’t even fully register to Cygnus. His heart was soaring far above the clouds. The fact that she was arranging a meeting with him – a date, in the way that he was interpreting things – was truly amazing. No crowds, no party, just him sitting and talking with Alexandra over an elegant meal.

And then to have her suggest that she was interested in personalizing his quarters... Well, he couldn’t think of anything that would make him feel more at home than being close to Alexandra. He would have to think of a lot of things to alter so that she would have reason to spend more time there with him. Because he was sure that if he just spent enough time with her, he could show her how much better off she would be with him. How much more he loved her than Lucien ever could. This season at the castle could become his one chance to finally turn things around and he wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity.

As if that wasn’t enough, Alexandra declared that she wanted to be asked to dance. Of course Lucien wouldn’t have thought to ask her out onto the dance floor. The fool. Cygnus still couldn’t understand how he had ever wooed Alexandra in the first place. I assure you, my queen, you look quite radiant. And Cygnus would be absolutely thrilled to ask her to dance. Already his heart was racing just at the idea of it – holding her hand in his, one arm wrapped around her as they moved as one around the dance floor. Fortune was truly smiling on him tonight.

I would be honored to request a dance, Alexandra. Unfortunately, etiquette once again got in the way. He couldn’t just ask the king’s wife to dance with him without making sure that Lucien hadn’t intended to do so already. Of course, in Cygnus’ view of things, if Lucien had already passed up the opportunity, then there shouldn’t be anything stopping the younger twin from stepping in. But, at the palace, he had to follow the rules of the court. That is, unless you were going to ask her yourself, Lucien.



Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 21 April 2011, 18:25:00 »
Quote

My, oh, my, Marcellus wasn’t quite himself tonight, was he? He certainly wasn’t what she had expected, anyhow. Not that she was complaining, really. She had to admit that she did rather like the sweetness that he seemed to be showing, even if it was fairly contrary to the idea of the fierce warrior with whom she believed that she would be interacting that night. She hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in a while, and she would be totally content if she didn’t have to speak to anyone that night aside from him.

Still, his uncharacteristic, slightly bumbling mannerisms were starting to make her wonder if he really was as safe to be around as she had initially believed. She felt safe at his side because she knew that everyone knew better than to try to do anything with him around. But if he wasn’t acting the way that was expected of the hardened killer that he was known to be, then could people see it as a sign of weakness that would give them the courage to challenge him? Probably not, but just the thought was enough to let a hint of her usual paranoia begin to creep back in to her mind.

Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. The gardens would be the perfect place to hide if someone was trying to sneak around. That was why she had never before ventured outside, and she was starting to think that maybe she shouldn’t do so now, either. Behind every tree or hidden by every veil of ivy there might be an assassin or some other attacker. Or someone might have coated the flowers with some sort of poison so that when she went to breathe in their scent she would instead insert the pathogen into her system. Would her powers be able to fight off that sort of attack? She had no way of knowing.

But then he seemed to gather himself in a way that was just barely perceptible. He straightened his shoulders a bit and he seemed to stand just slightly taller. A moment later, he had taken the lead as they walked out towards the garden and she was able to just follow along rather than trying to steer him around. And just that quick reassurance was enough to put her mind back at ease. Marcellus was not weak or simple or demure – he was strong and exacting and even fearsome at times. He was himself again. No one would dare cross his path and therefore no one would be coming near her while she was with him. She had nothing to worry about.

Thankfully, she reached this conclusion just a moment before the garden itself came into view. Relaxed once again, Elaine was able to truly take in the beauty of the place in a way that she had not been able to view anything for a very long time. Where she usually looked for traps or hiding places, she now saw just the blossoms of beautiful and exotic flowers and trellises covered in hanging flowers and ivy and everything else imaginable. And as they stepped onto the carefully crafted cobblestone path that led into the garden, all the scents of the flowers reached them and she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the glorious scent.

How had she allowed herself to miss this for so long? She knew that she couldn’t get past her fears when she was alone, but it seemed so easy now that she had Marcellus at her side. He wasn’t technically a body guard, of course, but his presence seemed so bold and protective that she felt no reason to fear the world any more as long as he was there at her side. Instead, she felt free and alive and more at peace than she ever had. She wrapped her hands a little tighter around Marcellus’ arm, drawing herself a bit closer to him as they entered the flower-lined pathways.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 26 April 2011, 15:02:30 »
Edit post Quote Delete

“darn servants… good for nothing maids… never do anything right… what the hell are they here for anyway… might as well just fire them all and do things right… useless, utterly useless…”

Eden didn’t seem to hear Arcadia’s apology.  Her own insane, confused muttering was too loud in her ears for her to comprehend anything else.  When she wasn’t speaking, she heard static—white noise—in place of the room’s tense silence and her maid’s frantic apology.  The pain in her foot occupied the rest of the princess’s brain power at the moment, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.  Gripping the wall to support herself, she stared straight ahead with wild eyes circled by her smeared makeup.

In fact, she was so absorbed in the chaos of her own mind that she didn’t even notice that Arcadia was preparing to pull the shard of broken glass out of her foot.  Eden howled and lost her balance, and, though she scrambled in frantic attempts to recover it, she couldn’t regain her grip on the wall.  She seemed to fall in slow motion—and landed right onto the rest of the broken fragments of the vase.

She screamed like a banshee, writhing in pain on the ground as the shattered glass punctured her arm, side and leg.  (Luckily, she hadn’t fallen on her face or her stomach.)  All of a sudden, there was blood on the floor around her, but at least she didn’t roll over onto her back and inadvertently injure herself further.  Tears in her crazed eyes, Eden cried out in agony and reached for a handful of loose shards with her unharmed hand.


“You stupid girl!” she snarled, throwing a fistful of glass in Arcadia’s direction.  “You stupid, stupid girl!  Look at what you’ve done now!  You hateful, jealous demon...”

It kills me to write a post this short... but Eden's not thinking of much right now.  The idea is that she's not thinking.  So, yeah...  haha.




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 01 May 2011, 16:51:33 »
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Arcadia watched the next moments in horrifyingly slow motion, her breath stopping within her as she saw what she had done. She had pulled the glass shard out perfectly in one sharp motion that had been intended to minimize Eden’s pain as she stood against the stone wall. The princess’ sudden howl of pain told the servant that she had made the wrong decision, especially when she saw Eden’s hand slip away from the wall.

She tried to stand, dropping the wash cloth as she reached out to try to catch her mistress. With time slowed down the way it seemed to be, though, her body didn’t react as quickly as it should have. She felt her muscles tighten as her knees began to unbend and she started to rise off the floor, but she simultaneously watched Eden starting to fall backwards. Her own hand inched forward as Eden’s arms swung around in an attempt to regain her balance.

Arcadia was aware of the exact moment when it was clear that Eden wasn’t going to catch herself. And she realized in the next instant that she wasn’t going to be able to catch the princess. Her eyes flickered downward and she saw the rest of the glass pieces from the vase coating the area where Eden would land. And there was nothing that Arcadia could do about it.

The servant girl made it fully to her feet at the exact same moment that Eden landed atop the broken glass, letting out an unearthly scream of pain. Eyes wide in horror at what she had done, Arcadia dropped back to her knees, time now rushing back to its normal speed just when she needed more time to think. She reached forward, but she had no idea what she could possibly do to help. She did know that this had to be some of the worst pain that Eden had ever felt in her life.

Acadia’s eyes closed for a moment, as if that would somehow block out the sound of the princess’ pain. Instead of blackness, though, she was met with visions of fire. Eden’s shriek turned into memories of her own cries as she searched for her mother. As the burning ceiling collapsed above her. Flooded with memories from long ago, it took her a moment to realize that the sharp pain cutting through her skin was a current sensation and not just a remembered injury.

Gasping, she opened her eyes as the glass Eden had thrown clattered to the ground. She raised a hand and found blood just under her eyebrow where one of the vase shards had sliced across her skin. This wasn’t about her, though. Eden had fallen straight into the worst of the glass and surely now had the little pieces embedded all along her arm and side and her shouted accusations brought Arcadia’s mind quickly back to the present.

She cringed at the implication that causing the princess to fall had been intentional. She would never do anything to hurt Eden. I never- I didn’t mean... I’m so sorry! She reached out, offering a hand to help the princess sit up. Let’s get you in bed – I can fix it. It would take a lot longer now, but if she could get Eden to lie down on her uninjured side, she could clear away the glass and clean the wounds that they had left. There was a numbing salve in the medicine cabinet – an expensive paste that had been created by a master healer that would make most of the pain go away. As long as nothing more went wrong.




Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 05 May 2011, 12:49:26 »
Quote

It took every fiber of Deiter’s being not to react with the violence that had become second nature to him seven short years ago. Did Mason think he didn’t know what kind of sick lie he was living? Could the chauffer, with his slurred words and bald, half-baked idealism even begin to comprehend the extent of the cruelty that this regime was capable of? Deiter longed for the strength he had in his heyday when he was like Mason Volkov. He actively desired the gall to fight and scream and tell him off about why he lived as he did, why the twisted and human desire to live and his stupid love for a stupid princess kept him breathing for as long as he was allowed- there had been a time when Deiter commanded rebel armies and had fought alongside his men and women until he was the only one left. There had been a time when Deiter had holed up in a bunker with his seconds and been rooted out like a badger by the king’s hounds.

 It wasn’t so much that he didn’t think that a better age was worth fighting for anymore- it was just that any heart Deiter had in him had been very tactfully extinguished by the king. Call him a shell, call him a failure. It was something he chose to live with instead of die from and Mason bloody Volkov had NO right to judge him on that. So in the face of this indiscretion Deiter called up his anger, called up seven years of rage at his own humiliation and-

Flipped the tray of drinks off Mason’s hand with two deft fingers. The shattering of crystal was almost musical against the hard marble of the floor and the splash of pink champagne flooded out from the site like a diluted bloodstain…Deiter didn’t even move to save his shoes. “Clumsy.” He said cooly, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to drop on the floor in a sardonic attempt to soak up the mess. “Clean this up.” And he left, not even noticing for the moment that Arcadia had absconded with Eden.

Quivering with rage, he weaved his way through the crowd until he felt the breeze from the open windows near the garden on his face. He stepped down the large marble stairs that led down from the golden, bright pavilion of the ballroom down into the dusky crepuscular half-light of the southeast gardens and followed the practiced path to his position.

The gardens were stunning at this time of year- Lucien had arranged for the grounds near the front of the castle to be planted with flowers in shades of blue and purple so as to echo the banner of his kingdom when viewed from above. Hydrangeas, giant purple peonies, white roses and black on the same thorny bush. They were arranged in the English style, of course, as Lucien had never quite let go of his imperialist tendencies, and like all good English gardens in the middle was a hedge maze. Riddled by rills and bridges and mirrors and lamps to deceive the eye, the maze was a wonder pulled straight from a book the King had referenced but had not allowed anyone else to read. Something about rabbits and malice…or was it Alice?

He had to think, he had to think, he had to think. Elaine and Marcellus would be in the gardens by now- in all of his distraction he had kept an eye on them. He had to separate them somehow, get the Count away so he didn’t literally carve his face off for pulling a knife on Elaine. Deiter slipped into the maze and rested his back against a statue of an angel; the shadow of its stony wings and the blackness of his suit kept him hidden from the naked eye. From his pocket he produced a dark scarf, which he willingly wrapped around his head like- it amused him to think- a ninja from the old tales of Japan. He unsheathed his knife and pressed his finger experimentally against the tip; a healthy bloom of blood so dark it looked black in the light swelled on top of the surface of his skin. He wiped the heavy red droplet off on the petals of a white rose where the stain stayed there like paint. Now to wait.



Lucien eyed Cygnus with a quizzical expression. Asking his queen for her first dance on the King’s birthday? That was something more forward than he expected. He was still of course oblivious when it came to Cygnus’ feelings because that kind of blindness was his own handicap as surely as Cygnus’ lack of a leg was to him but this particular situation did strike him as odd. Could Cygnus even dance? It was one thing to walk with a gait that hid his crippled status but to move gracefully had always been more of Lucien’s forte. The handsome one, the favorite son, the graceful and genteel elder. Or so he liked to think of himself.

“Alexandra, forgive me. I was waiting for Cygnus to arrive lest I miss being the first to greet him and in my excitement in seeing my brother I have missed our cue.” He signaled to the orchestra to play one of his favorite pieces. A painfully heartbreakingly lovely variation of a flowing Liszt piece that lent itself to a romantic waltz. “Come, darling. We will walk slowly onto the floor, hand in hand. Then everyone will see us coming and scoot off to the side like ants before a drop of rain. A spotlight will shine on us and we will try very hard not to trip while everyone pontificates on how beautiful you are and the figure we strike together.” And with those odd instructions, or predictions, or maybe just a straightforward analysis of the predictability of his nobles, he led his queen out onto the floor and they began to dance.

Some kings would have resented the way Alexandra went about becoming his queen but Lucien had no problem with Alexandra’s clawing to the top. She had pretended to be pregnant in order to force Lucien into a marriage knowing it would have been unwise for him to have an illegitimate child when he was just starting out in his dictatorial campaign. Still- he wasn’t an idiot. He had been with her before they were married, when Cygnus was in the hospital after getting his leg blown off. 

He had been, in his latent way, jealous of Cygnus’ affection for Alexandra. How happy she made him, the poetry she inspired within him, the delicate play of emotions and lust and love she made his twin feel inside. It was foreign and, as Lucien observed the effects of this love on Cygnus, desirable. So when Cygnus was in too much pain to move and half-dead from infection and mourning the loss of a limb he lost fighting for his country…Lucien had easily stepped in and seduced his brother’s beloved. For whatever reason. Jealousy, or out of a curious desire to know what it felt like. It was a sheer coincidence that she turned out to be just as ambitious and conniving as he. A sheer wonderful coincidence that she and he had both picked the right horse to bet on. Clever little jerks.


“I want you to keep an eye on Cygnus,” he bent down to whisper in hear ear as if telling her some wonderfully intimate secret. “He’s spent too much time alone, I fear he may be…thinking. Be kind to him, my love. And render to me all that he tells you.” A kiss on the cheek ended his litany and the whole crowd sighed collectively like a perfectly played chord on Lucien’s priceless Stradivarius violin.




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 05 May 2011, 19:22:02 »
Quote

As the familiar song came closer and closer to its end, Olivia found herself wishing it wouldn't.  Usually at these parties, she wanted the next song to start, wanted the next thing to happen, wanted to swirl along to the next dance partner, the next conversation, the next polite court game.  Usually, she wanted to be the life of the party, to talk to everyone there, to meet as many people as she could, to catch up on the gossip, and to play matchmaker whenever she could.  Tonight, it was all fading into the background.  Tonight, she just wished . . . she wasn't sure what she wished.  Tonight, her attention was on exactly two people, Dieter and Logan.  She needed to keep Dieter alive.  She wanted to keep Logan beside her as long as she could.  And the worst part was that she wasn't sure she could do either.

She knew staying here with Logan would eventually draw attention.  Maybe not the kind of attention her sister's apparent favor for a specific boy would draw, because Olivia wasn't being pursued by half the court, but some attention.  And she couldn't draw any attention to Logan, any more than she could draw attention to Dieter if she wanted to stop him from killing himself.  She checked on Dieter again just before the song began to fade into its last notes.  He was still talking to Mason.  Good.  That was good.  As the last notes faded away, though, the other problem got bigger and bigger.  She had to stop dancing with Logan.  She had to move away and thank him for the dance and pretend she didn't like him any more than she liked anyone else.  She had to keep him safe.

The music faded out.  It was time.  She had to let go.  She had to move on.  But she couldn't.  She didn't know anyone like Logan.  He was smart and funny and charming, and unlike some of the noblemen she'd grown up with, he didn't look at her like she was his ticket to power.  She supposed not all of the court's young men felt that way.  After all, she was still friendly with several of them.  But it wasn't the same as it had been when they were children.  Her childhood friendships had all been warped with politics and power and rank, and when she looked at the boys she used to run around the courtyard with, all she could see was how different they were now, playing games of politics, trying to fit into their parents' plans and treating everyone else as if they were pieces in the game, too.  Logan wasn't like that.  When she looked at Logan, all she saw was him.  If he was charming, it was because he was charming, not because he wanted something.  After all, he wasn't stupid.  Everything about the way he talked, the way he watched the crowds, even the way he danced when he shouldn't be able to told her he was smart.  Really smart.  Maybe even as smart as Dieter.  He had to know he didn't have the power to treat her as a pawn, like she so often felt others doing.  He had to know she was bigger than that.  Didn't he?

She couldn't be sure of it, of course.  She couldn't be sure of anything, because she couldn't see the way people felt about her.  Not the way she wanted to.  But she couldn't imagine Logan being cold enough, mercenary enough to be using her.  She told herself she could keep him from breaking her heart if he didn't know he had it, but she knew it wasn't true.  It would break her heart if it turned out he was using her, like everyone else.  She had to believe he wasn't.  So she kept ahold of his hand, even in the pause between the songs, ignoring the chatter around her and trying to keep breathing, to keep herself from losing control, to keep herself from spiraling into despair as she so often did when it seemed like everyone else had someone to love and she didn't.  She couldn't risk herself and admit to Logan how she felt, but she couldn't stop believing he might at least like her, either, not while it was keeping her sane.

It seems we have been cheated of half the song. If you don’t mind terribly, Miss Olivia, might I ask you for this next dance as well?  She smiled broadly, relieved to have an excuse to keep holding onto Logan.  He had come up to her to talk to her.  He was asking her to dance now.  It must mean he liked her.  At least a little.  And it must mean he wasn't angry with her for dragging him out here when it might be dangerous.  For now, that was good enough.  She could feel the weight of despair fading away again, making her more sure she could get by.  As she raised her eyes to his face, she found herself staring into a pair of eyes as blue as her own.  The rest of her fear melted away, heart fluttering again.  I'd love to dance with you. she said, meaning every word of it and wishing, this time, that he could see that, the way she could see other people loving each other.

Just as she said the words, something happened that ruined the moment utterly.  The sudden sound of shattering glass behind them made her jump in surprise, and she knew instinctively that something was wrong.  Keeping her right hand wrapped around Logan's left, she pushed herself away from him and turned to look for the source of the noise.  Dieter.  Her teacher walked angrily away from Mason Volkov, who had apparently dropped his tray of glasses.  If she hadn't known something was wrong already, she would have known it now.  At least, she hoped she would, though she couldn't guarantee that she would have been paying any attention at all without Dieter's one small comment earlier.  She had to follow him.  She had to make sure he was ok.  But she wasn't sure how to do it without being rude to Logan.

Luckily, though, as she turned to face him the musicians struck up a song she knew was one of her father's favorites, and a familiar hush began to fall over the room, starting near her parents and moving swiftly across the room as couples moved off the floor and her parents took it like it was a stage.  Come on! she whispered, We've gotta get off the floor for the king's first dance.  She felt almost bad dragging him around again, because it was something most of the court gentlemen had stopped letting her do when they were around twelve years old.  There had been some hold-outs, it was true, but nearly everyone her age was determined, by now, to stay firmly in charge of any situation they could possibly control and to act like the nobles their parents expected them to.  Logan, though, wasn't like that.  Maybe it was just because she was the princess, or because he was a servant, or because he didn't think he had a choice, but as she wove her way through the crowd, he kept ahold of her hand and followed her.

Part of her knew she should leave Logan in the crowd and follow Dieter by herself, but she didn't really want to, so she didn't.  Somehow once she'd decided to keep dancing with him, even though it hadn't happened, she'd stopped being able to deny to herself, even a little, that she loved him.  If he broke away from her, if he went back inside where it was safe and he couldn't be caught alone with the princess, if he didn't love her or like her or want to be around her when it was dangerous to, that might be ok at the moment, because she could still keep Dieter alive without him, or she hoped she could, but if she could keep him just a little longer, if she could stay near him just a few more minutes when the party and the court and her father's watchful eye should mean she couldn't see him at all - that would be better than she could've dreamed of.

Pulling Logan with her through the door into the garden, she stopped, searching the garden for Dieter.  He was nowhere to be seen, the winding cobblestone paths through the shorter patches of flowers deserted.  He must be in the maze, then, with the tall hedges blocking her view.  She bit her lip, not sure what to do.  Now that she'd stopped, she realized she owed Logan some kind of explanation.  Something's wrong. she said quietly, taking a step closer to him so she could speak more quietly while still being heard.  Something's wrong with Dieter Gatsby.  I don't know what it is, exactly, but I have a pretty good guess at what it might be.  Glancing around them to make sure no one was listening, she added, even more quietly, I think my father has ordered him to kill himself.  He's known for years that he had a death sentence on his head.  I think my father has finally decided it's time.

The horror of the idea hit her again.  She had seen people publicly executed before.  She'd seen traitors hung as a reminder to everyone else not to cross the royal family.  She'd been shielded from a lot of the violence she knew was under the surface, but she'd been present any time it was a statement.  Even so - it had never been like this.  She'd never lost anyone she cared about, anyone she really knew.  I can't let him die, Logan.  He's . . .  She never could quite explain what Dieter was to her.  He was a teacher, a friend, a mentor.  He's always been there for me, even though I know he hates my dad for what he's done to him.  He'd never turn his back on me, and I can't just let him kill himself.


« Last Edit: 06 May 2011, 07:57:06 »

Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 06 May 2011, 18:50:24 »
Edit post Quote Delete

“No,” Eden whimpered, lying there helpless on the floor.  She squeezed her eyelids together, as if that would somehow get rid of some of the pain.  She pulled her knees to her chest, biting her bottom lip against agony.  “No!” she repeated, more insistently.  “No, no, no!”

Sorry?  Like hell, Eden believed that. 

With her mind addled, Eden wouldn’t believe for one second that her maidservant had not intentionally caused her to fall onto the shards of the shattered vase—just as she couldn’t remember that she had been the one to break it in the first place. 

According to the warped story that was writing itself in the princess’s confused brain, Arcadia had broken the vase on purpose.  The younger girl had always been jealous of Eden’s seemingly easy grace and perfection.  Arcadia envied her her beauty since she was scarred and disfigured, and the servant resented her mistress for being of a higher social class.  She couldn’t remember the unique relationship she had with her maid, the way that the younger girl was so loyal and so willing to take this horrible abuse without so much as a peep to anyone.

When she opened her eyes and realized that Arcadia was reaching for her, Eden saw nothing but a jealous villainess trying to take her alleged revenge on her for crimes she’d never committed.  Frantically, she flailed, trying to ward off what she perceived as an attack.  Blinding, she reached out for anything that she could use as a weapon.  Her delicate fingers, now red with blood, closed around one of the larger shards of the vase.  Thin and about eight inches long, it was a makeshift knife.


“Don’t touch me, you witch!” she shrieked, brandishing the broken glass like a dagger. 

Slowly and delicately, the insane princess managed to pull herself into a sitting position.  She screamed when she glanced down at her side.  The entire half of her blue robe was painted red with blood, and she was still bleeding.  The hardwood floor was stained, and she brought her free hand to her mouth as she sobbed.  Eden reached for the wall to steady herself, still gripping her sliver of glass as if it was her only lifeline, and made a couple of attempts to stand before she was successful. 

She paused for a moment, breathing heavily, and wiped her eyes, smearing blood under her eyes unintentionally.  Then, trailing blood from her injured foot, she staggered towards the bathroom.




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 07 May 2011, 09:53:49 »
Quote

As they wove their way through the paths around the outside of the garden and inward toward the maze, Marcellus wasn't really sure what to talk about.  He didn't know what to say or what to do, exactly, but for once tonight, he didn't really mind.  The voices in his head chattered on, as usual, about how he was being stiff and rude and how if he thought he was pulling off the dashing, strong, silent type, he was obviously an idiot.  He ignored them.  He may not have known what to say, but it kind of felt ok to be quiet, in spite of what the voices were telling him.  He liked the way Elaine's arm felt, hooked through his, and the way the moonlight fell on the plants and the way Elaine's eyes glittered in the starlight.  She was beautiful, and he was happy, and the voices couldn't change that.

He might have liked other girls before, vaguely and from a distance, but he'd never done anything like this before.  He'd never been brave enough when he was young, too afraid of being made fun of or insulted or turned down.  Now, of course, he was used to being made fun of and insulted and avoided, but no one would come near him for long enough for him to do things like go for walks in gardens with beautiful women.  He didn't like being made fun of any more than he used to, but it was just part of life, now, and he could handle it, sometimes, and anyway, there were ways to shut them up, when he wasn't feeling charitable and well-adjusted like this.

He almost wondered why the voices seemed to have lost their zing tonight, but then he looked over at Elaine and he thought he might know why.  At the last moment, though, his brain shied away from the thought of love and he decided that it was just because he liked her a lot and he hadn't had a real friend in a long time.  Logan, maybe, sometimes, but servants didn't really count.  Logan spent more time looking after him than really being his friend.  He liked that kid, though.  He wondered if Elaine liked her servants.  She probably had real friends, too, instead of just servants.  He'd heard other people gossiping about how she was paranoid and weird, but he didn't think she was weird at all.  He thought she was wonderful, and he was sure other people had to think so too, when they weren't being mean and petty.  People could be an awful lot like his voices sometimes, but he liked to think that while they were alive, they were sometimes nicer.  It wasn't usually true.



Mason Volkov
Played by mnaberrie

« 07 May 2011, 20:22:02 »
Edit post Quote Delete

What.  The.  Hell.

It would seem that Mason had struck a nerve to provoke such an unwarranted reaction from a man whom he had previously considered to be a friend. 

It was entirely true that the chauffeur had spoken out of turn.  Mason would admit that—eventually, when his brain wasn’t close to swimming in alcohol.  It was neither the time nor the place for him to vocalize his opinions about his master’s—the king’s—regime.  Likewise, he had been out of place to admonish Deiter in such a way.  If he had wanted to speak his mind about Deiter’s behavior, he should have done so after the party, when they were alone, or at some other more appropriate time and place.

However, there was no denying that his tirade was not without truth.  There was merit in what Mason had said, and he really did believe that Deiter was getting a little too comfortable acting like an aristocrat when he was actually no better than any of the other servants.  That was the genius in what Lucien did—turning his enemies against their own cause, transforming them into the very thing that they had previously sought to destroy…  Deiter was letting the king win.  Mason wouldn’t stand for that. 

He was of the philosophy that it was best to wait until the opportune moment to act, and currently Mason believed that acting on his beliefs would accomplish nothing but his own death.  However, that did not mean that he could condone lying down and letting them win.  He still remembered the days before the war.  He had been very young, but he could remember.  And what he couldn’t remember, his parents had told him, back in Texas, back when they were alive and their son actually had hope for the future.


“To hell with you, Gatsby!” he shouted, disgruntled and furious, as he stared down at the mess at his feet.  Princess Eden had taken Arcadia away, and Mason was too drunk, too angry, too everything to think much about how panicked the princess had seemed.  Finding himself alone save for the people staring at him and the shattered glass and spilled champagne, he had to restrain himself from lashing out at one of them.

Like hell he was going to clean it up.  It wasn’t his job to clean.  Hell, it wasn’t even his job to serve drinks in the first place!  His job was to drive the king around.  He was sick of this party anyway.

Glowering at the observers as he passed, Mason rudely pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the door.  On his way out, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine from the bar.  Then, he left.



Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 08 May 2011, 08:29:44 »
Quote

As soon as Olivia lifted her beautiful sapphire eyes to meet his gaze, something about her expression told him she was going to say yes even before he actually heard her words. Still, hearing her declare, ‘I’d love to dance with you,’ caused his heart to leap and his smile brightened automatically. She had said yes. And not even in a half-hearted or uncaring manner. She wasn’t agreeing to another dance just to pacify him or because she had nothing better to do – she had said she would love to dance with him. Love... Could that phrasing possibly mean... But he couldn’t let himself think that. He had to keep calm and not read more into her words than was probably there. She wanted to dance with him and that was all and that was fine.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, hearing only the pounding of his own heart and the echo of her words in his mind that he didn’t even register the nearby sound of breaking glass. At least, not until Olivia suddenly pulled away from him, forcing him to quickly drop the hand that had been around her waist a moment ago, although she had kept hold of his right hand. Frowning quizzically, he turned to follow her gaze and his eyes fell on Mason Volkov just in time to hear the driver’s angry shout. Logan didn’t know what was going on, but shouting like that wasn’t good – for a number of reasons.

Part of Logan’s main effort in trying to change perceptions about different classes was his determination to show the nobles that the “commoners” were truly no different from themselves. They were all just people, with the same emotions, the same ideas, the same dreams. There were so many stereotypes and assumptions in place that claimed that those without powers weren’t as smart or as self-controlled or as polite as the nobility. It was ridiculous and completely wrong, but it was hard to upend such beliefs if the only time tonight that someone noticed one of the servants was when he was yelling angrily at a coworker. It might not be fair for the lower class to have to hold to stricter standards when the actual goal was equality, but that was what they would need to do at first, at least, until they could convince people of their equality.

But Olivia had turned to face him again, just as the music started to change, and he suddenly didn’t care about Mason any more. Right now, he was no longer a leader of a planned social revolution across the globe. Standing there with Olivia, he was just a young man who was pretty sure he was desperately in love with a beautiful young lady. With his left hand starting to return to its place on her back so that he could lead her in the dance that was about to begin, he was a happy fool, completely unconcerned with any of his usual cares and thinking only about the joy of holding Olivia in his arms.

The moment didn’t last, though. Along with the change in music came a sudden shift in the entire tone and mood of the room. Voices grew quiet and people grew still and Logan’s heard plummeted as he realized that Lucien and Alexandra were moving on to the dance floor. Olivia whispered that they had to leave the floor, echoing the conclusion that he had already silently reached himself, and he followed quickly as she slipped into the crowd. He expected her just to move back enough for them to be out of sight, but she didn’t stop, even when they were a good ways into the group of people now standing perfectly still to watch the king’s first dance. He took long strides, keeping up with Olivia so that, though he was following her lead, he wasn’t trailing far enough behind to make her actually drag him along. He managed to follow her motions quickly enough that they managed to make it fully to the open doorway at the back of the room without any incident.

But why? As they stopped at the top of the marble staircase outside, looking down over the sprawling gardens, he wanted to think that maybe she had just wanted some time alone to talk with him. Or perhaps she was hoping they could dance out here where the music was floating out loud enough for them to still hear, but where no one would see them and they wouldn’t be out of line for not clearing the floor for her parents. The way that she was looking out worriedly towards the elaborate rows of flowers told him in an instant that there was something else going on. Something quite serious, judging by Olivia’s expression.

Before he could ask, she turned to him and started to explain. Something’s wrong with Dieter Gatsby. Logan blinked. The king’s factotum was very low on the list of things that he would have expected her to be concerned about. I think my father has ordered him to kill himself. Logan’s eyebrows shot up at this statement, his mind instantly reeling with all the implications and with his own thoughts and memories.

Logan had never personally met the man, but, like anyone who had even once considered the idea of revolution, he knew who he was. Gatsby had been a man very much like Logan once – hoping to change the world for the better. Their ideas of how to go about that change were quite different, but the goal was the same. To end this insane hierarchy and put all people on a level playing ground. To find freedom. But Dieter had failed and had been turned into a living, breathing warning sign to anyone who wanted to follow in his footsteps. And, demented as it was, this particular plan of the king’s was incredibly effective. Not a day went by that Logan didn’t worry that he might be condemning his friends to the same cruel fate that had met Gatsby’s followers. And though he hoped he would be brave enough to take that punishment as well and go out with some brave final declaration of hope for freedom, he occasionally wondered if he would be afraid enough of his own death to accept the same servile position that the older man had in the court.

Olivia’s panic brought him back to the situation at hand, though, as she told him that she couldn’t let Dieter kill himself. He was quite proud of her for that sentiment, but he wasn’t sure that it was necessary. He couldn’t for a moment get himself to believe that Gatsby would kill himself, no matter what he had been ordered by the king. The only reason to live the way the factotum had for the past seven years was because of the thought that it was better than being dead. Whether he thought he could eventually escape and still find a way to make a difference or just because he was too afraid to die, the only thing that Logan could imagine being strong enough motivation to keep Dieter in place at the palace was a desire to preserve his own life. And if that was the case, then he wouldn’t give up so easily the life that he had been working so long to keep.

Logan took Olivia’s hands in his. Olivia, I need you to calm down. She seemed close to hysterics, but that wouldn’t help, even if they did need to save Dieter, which Logan just couldn’t quite believe. We’ll go after him if you want, but he has no reason to kill himself. This imprisonment as a slave was in some ways the worst form of torture that Lucien had at his disposal. It was disgusting and cruel – forcing a man to give up everything he had ever believed and to enslave him to the people that he hated most. If in seven years he hasn’t killed himself to escape the king’s demented- But he stopped his vehement words midsentence. Despite all his beliefs, he had to remember that it was the king’s daughter that he was addressing right now. Verbally attacking her father, even though his words were absolutely true, was probably not the best way to get her to listen to him. It’s just – there’s no reason for him to follow such an order. Logan couldn’t imagine there being anything that would make Dieter willingly give up his life after everything he’d already been through in order to keep it.




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 08 May 2011, 16:26:08 »
Quote

Eden... Arcadia’s heart was breaking for the girl. She hated seeing the pain in the princess’ expression. Eden was never in pain. She was perfect and happy and protected all the time. It was only in these few, rare hours when Eden’s madness took over that  things could actually go wrong for the girl. And, though she had always managed to protect her mistress before, Arcadia had failed this time. Eden was hurt and bleeding and Arcadia almost believed that it was her fault. At least in part. She was supposed to prevent anything from happening to Eden during all this and she hadn’t been able to do so.

But she still believed that she could help the princess. She was the only one who could, even now. William was surely still immersed in the party and would never think to check on his sister so early in the night. And there was no one else. Arcadia was alone, so she would just have to do what she could to help Eden get through this.

The problem was, Eden didn’t want her help. Or, at least, with her mind altered like this, she couldn’t recognize that Arcadia was trying to help. Before the servant could take the other girl’s hand to help her up, Eden’s eyes turned wide with panic and she jerked away, as if she was avoiding an attacker. Eden, please- But at that moment, the princess’ hand wrapped around a particularly long piece of glass and Arcadia gasped as she saw the shard cut into Eden’s perfectly smooth hands.

In the next instant, Eden slashed the glass through the air, narrowly missing her servant as Arcadia lost her balance and fell backwards, crashing onto the hardwood floor and hitting the back of her head  against the bed frame. She managed not to cry out from the impact, but her head was immediately pounding and it took a moment before she could get her balance enough to get back to her feet, by which point Eden had already hurried off to the bathroom, leaving a streak of blood from her foot.

The sight of the blood-stained robe horrified the servant girl. She had to do something to get the glass out and wrap the wounds. But she knew from experience that it would be best to give Eden a chance to calm down. Her thought processes sometimes would change abruptly during these fits and it was best to give her a chance to forget her belief that Arcadia was trying to harm her.

Instead, the girl leaned forward on her knees again and began sweeping the broken glass pieces together with her hands. Carefully, she scooped it all into a tightly woven wastebasket beside the bed. She then checked the floor to make sure she’d gotten everything, and then she slid the basket into the corner of the closet where it would be out of the way and the glass couldn’t cause any more issues.

And now to try to tend to Eden. Arcadia moved gently towards the bathroom, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. She knew there wasn’t really anything she could do to change the way the princess perceived her just now, but she had to at least try. Eden couldn’t possibly get all the glass out on her own and if Arcadia didn’t help her, there was a chance the injuries could get infected, and they would certainly leave scars. She had to do whatever she could to prevent that – Eden was perfect and she would be devastated to have any lasting injuries because of one of her spells.

She swallowed nervously, then tapped gently on the bathroom door, pushing it open softly. Eden? I can help you. She looked up pleadingly at the older girl, desperately hoping that she could find some shred of sanity, at least for long enough for Arcadia to treat her injuries. Let me make it better. I can make the pain go away. She just had to get the  glass out and apply the numbing salve and wrap bandages over the cuts and there was still a chance that Eden would heal without any permanent scars. She could only hope.


« Last Edit: 10 May 2011, 01:07:35 »


Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 08 May 2011, 16:06:03 »
Quote

Olivia, I need you to calm down.  Her heart fluttered in her chest and for a moment, she lost track of everything.  Logan had called her Olivia.  Just Olivia.  He hadn't said "Miss Olivia," or "Princess Olivia," or "Your Highness," or "Milady," or even his occasional half-formal "Mademoiselle."  He'd called her Olivia and she never wanted him to call her anything else again.  She squeezed his hands in return, trying just to breathe, to calm down like he'd asked her to and to think about something besides the way he'd said her name like she was just a person, like he wasn't afraid of her, her position, or what she would think.  The only thing she could think of that made people brave like that was love, but that was a scary thought, because it still wasn’t proof, so she forced herself to ignore it.  Maybe he was just trying to get her attention, though most of her couldn’t quite believe that.

She forced herself to listen to his next words, like she wasn’t thinking about the way his voice had sounded saying her name or the way his hands held hers.  We’ll go after him if you want, but he has no reason to kill himself.  It sounded reasonable, sort of, but only if you didn’t know her father.  Only if you didn’t know how cruel he could be to the people who fell from his favor.  If in seven years he hasn’t killed himself to escape the king’s demented-  Logan stopped himself from saying something, holding back for the first time tonight as if he was thinking of her as the king’s daughter, like he was supposed to, like everyone always did, like she wasn’t anything but some empty cardboard cutout her father had put in place as one of his pawns.

She felt herself beginning to spiral again, like he’d cut something loose and she was plummeting back into the depression that so often threatened to engulf her.  No!  She forced herself to shake it off.  She couldn’t do that right now.  She couldn’t think about how no one loved her, how no one ever said anything real to her, how everyone was pretending to be her friend and everyone, surely, hated her underneath the pretense, for being rich or royal or not enough like her sister, like she was supposed to be.   Whether Logan liked her or not, Dieter needed her, and he had always been there for her, and even if it was only because her father had ordered him to, she couldn't bear to let him down.

It’s just – there’s no reason for him to follow such an order.  Olivia broke away from Logan, pulling her hands out of his.  Yes there is! she exclaimed, You don’t understand!  Part of her wanted to ignore this boy – this servant - who pretended to look at her like she was a person and then betrayed her again by being just like everyone else, hung up on what she was instead of who.   But she couldn’t quite do it.  She couldn’t lose the guy she’d been crushing on for so long without at least trying to prove that she was right and making him see what he was missing out on by not loving her back.  She was right and she would prove it, and then he would be sorry for ruining his chances with her, even if he never figured out why it was that she couldn’t love a guy who thought of her as the princess.

Looking him straight in the eye, she stepped closer to him, keeping her voice low in spite of her anger.  She didn’t want him in trouble, after all, not really, and shouting was sure to draw attention to the garden.  You have no idea what my father can do.  He pretends he’s the perfect, kind, generous monarch, but you can’t run a kingdom that way.  He doesn’t just execute people, you know!  I know that’s what he shows off – don’t cross me or you’ll die – and it’s true, but . . . but there’s so much else he can do!  She didn’t know the details of most of it.   Most of what she knew was just from the rumors that flew around the castle, some among the court and some among the servants and only half of them reliable, but she knew for certain that death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to you if her father was angry with you.  It wasn’t even close.

Once when she was  a child, she’d broken one of her father’s most treasured antiques from the world before the war, from one of the old monarchies – she couldn’t remember which one.  France, maybe.  Or something.  She’d been convinced that he was going to send her down to the torture chambers, she wasn’t sure why, and she’d thought through all the things she’d ever heard happened down there, and she’d gotten so scared she hadn’t come out of her room for two days, not even to eat.  Of course, her father hadn’t tortured her for it – she’d hardly gotten in trouble at all, because you didn’t punish your clearly distraught seven-year-old  very harshly for a small thing like a broken statue if you wanted to look good to the people around you.  But she remembered the moment vividly, the thousand terrible whispered stories all whirling through her mind at once, and she knew without a doubt that, facing that, Dieter might rather follow the order to die than disobey her father.

Any way Dieter could commit suicide would be much less unpleasant than my father’s punishment for refusing to kill himself when ordered to.  I’m sure of it.  She shuddered, trying not to think too hard about it.  Her father was brilliant.  Brilliant and cold and cruel.  He knew exactly how to wield power, and while Olivia knew people needed someone in charge, she also knew there were things her father did with his power that she would never approve of.  She’d never been brave enough to even think about stopping him before, of course, but Dieter was different.  There had been plenty of servants who had been fired for talking to her too much, and a few who had disappeared for various reasons.  She’d lost friends before, when they made her father mad, but none of them had been Dieter and none of them had mattered this much.

I’m not letting him kill himself, and I’m not letting my father punish him for not killing himself, because if it’s my fault Dieter’s alive, he can’t punish him for it.  He might punish me for it, but it won’t be so bad, because I’m the princess and Dieter’s . . . not.  She knew Dieter had once been a traitor.  She knew he’d tried to lead a rebellion against her father.  She knew he’d tried to kill him.  But all of that seemed impossible.  The Dieter she knew was sometimes cranky but endlessly patient.  He did every job no one wanted to do, he kept track of all the court’s going’s-on, and he still found the time to look after one clumsy, scatter-brained, scabby-kneed princess. 

Dieter was part of the household now, part of their life, practically part of her family.  She’d spent more time with him than she had with either of her parents, after all, and she spent more time with him than she did with her siblings now that they weren’t young enough to run around the castle playing games together.  He’d taught her at least a little in every subject as tutors gave up on it, showed her how to fold napkins into flowers when she told him it was her favorite part of her father’s fancy banquets, taught her how to dance, reminded her of her manners twelve times a day when she forgot to care about them, and been there for her whenever she needed him since she was 9 years old. 

Dieter’s my friend, and I’m not letting anything happen to him without at least trying to stop it. she finished vehemently, half of her wanting to turn away and half wanting to see Logan’s reaction.  She was not just her father’s daughter.  She was her own person, she was pretty sure she’d made that clear, and she bet Logan would regret treating her like a pawn now.  And if he said anything about telling her father she was undermining his authority, she’d remind the boy of her own power.  She’d never thought about it before, but she was pretty sure she could think up some pretty creative punishments of her own if she had to.


« Last Edit: 10 May 2011, 22:32:19 »

Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 10 May 2011, 09:20:45 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Crazed and confused, Eden noticed neither the harm that she had already done to Arcadia nor the harm that she was currently doing.  Her eyes were wide open, wild and frightened, and she was seeing clearly, but the problem was that her brain wasn’t correctly processing the images sent to it by her eyes.  Likewise, she barely heard the loud thud of her servant hitting the floor and the bed.  Instead, her ears were filled with confused and chaotic white noise. 

The princess cried out several times en route to the bathroom even though it was hardly more than a yard or two away.  Her leg buckled under the pain that came when she tried to put her weight on her injured foot, and she had to desperately claw at the wall to maintain her balance a couple of times, lest she fall again and injure herself further.  It was true that Eden wasn’t in her right mind, but she wasn’t crazy enough to not realize that she was hurt.  She was in self preservation mode, and, at the moment, Arcadia was a very large threat.

She closed the bathroom door behind her, hoping to put a barrier between herself at her jealous, hateful servant.  She fumbled with the doorknob for a few seconds, trying to lock it and not at all remembering that that door had never locked.  There wasn’t even a lock on it.  Then, finally giving up, she took a deep breath and let it out with a horrible sob when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Except, Eden didn’t see herself.  After all, she was beautiful.  That creature staring back at her from the other side of the mirror couldn’t possibly be her.  It was hideous.  Its hair was falling ungracefully out of the pins, and its makeup was smeared so much around its eyes that they looked sunken in like those of a corpse.  Furthermore, there was blood smeared under them, and its eyes themselves were red and puffy from crying. 

The princess shrieked and grabbed her hairbrush.  She threw it at the mirror, hard, and it shattered immediately, breaking into pieces of varying sizes.  Most of them landed in the sink below it, but a couple of them fell dangerously on the floor, where the sanity deprived Eden could not see them. 

Satisfied with herself for destroying the monster, she then shifted her attention back to herself.  Breathing heavily, she carefully extricated herself from her bloody robe, letting it fall daintily onto the floor.  At the sight of the blood and glass in her arm and down her side, Eden nearly passed out—her vision faded and she felt lightheaded for a scary moment before she regained control of herself.  Cautiously, she pulled out a couple of the large glass shards from her arm, biting her lip against the pain each time, and dropped them too onto the floor.

Her next order of business was to wash herself off.  Trailing more blood across the bathroom floor, Eden made her way to the shower and turned on the water, flinching against the cold.  She let the water wash over her for a few seconds before she opened her eyes and saw Arcadia hovering tentatively at the door.


“Help?” she repeated, her expression softening.  She stood there dumbly under the showerhead, and it was as if she had completely forgotten that this girl had, only minutes before, been perceived as a threat to her life.  Eden made no move to run again or fight back in any way.  She was completely drenched by now, but most of the blood had been swept down the drain.  She was still bleeding, but any new blood quickly disappeared as well.

“Help?” she said again, as if she didn’t understand the meaning of the word.  “Help
?"




Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 11 May 2011, 15:45:57 »
Quote

It was like exploring a new world. The rows of extravagant flowers painted their surroundings with marvelously brilliant colors, the likes of which she had never before laid eyes upon. She didn’t even know the names of the majority of the flowers, making them seem even more foreign and new. Once or twice, she spotted small daffodils, which she remembered her mother keeping in the family garden when she was very, very young. But they had been destroyed in the war along with the rest of the home.

And her current home – her manor – had only the few wildflowers that grew naturally on the sloping hills of the land. The manor stood at the very top of a large hill and she had long ago had the entire surrounding area cleared. Until you reached the very bottom of the hill, there were no trees, no barns, no gardens – nothing that could hide a trespasser from sight if they tried to sneak up to her home. And her personal chambers were perched in a tower above the rest of the building with windows facing each direction so that she could always look out and make sure that her home was safe when she got too worried to sleep. Which was, admittedly, fairly often.

But none of that was remotely important at the moment. Because this garden, this world, was so utterly opposite all of that. The flowers were close and the trees and trellises towered around her and you couldn’t really see clearly for more than a few yards in either direction before the pathway curved away. And she didn’t mind a bit, thanks to the powerful man whose arm she was holding on to quite happily. With Marcellus at her side, the fear she usually felt was gone and that was really what made this place seem so magical at the moment.

As they continued through the flower, her eyes kept being drawn to him as often as to the flowers.  She tried her best to be discrete about it, but he definitely wasn’t an ugly man. Perhaps not quite as classically handsome as the Viscount de Garnier or some of the others that the ladies of court most like to gossip about. But his already pleasing facial features were added to by reminders of his strength – the toughness and the scars borne only by those who had survived where others had not. And since it was his ability to survive and to make others wary of him that most drew her attention, the scars were just as attractive in her mind as his dark brown eyes or his loose hair or his broad shoulders or his muscled arms...

But she realized that she had allowed to let her gaze linger on his face for just a bit too long and she felt a flush creeping into her cheeks as she raised her eyes towards the wisteria buds hanging above their heads, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her staring. She didn’t want him to think her like some awestruck, enamored little girl. He was, after all, a fair bit older than her already, and she didn’t want him to think that she was too young or too childish for him, lest he refuse to return her affections.

They came around a bend in the cobblestone path at that point and her thoughts were immediately captured by the tall hedge walls standing before them. She caught her breath, very nearly taking a step back – her instincts warning her about the dangers of what she knew must be the maze that she’d heard people talking about. She had never been through it, of course, or any other human-sized maze. Finding a hiding place within the maze walls would be simple child play. She might as well go walking down a dark alleyway in the town in the middle of the night.

She managed to catch herself before she visibly reacted, though. She wasn’t alone. Marcellus was here and he would ward off attackers inside the maze just as he was doing out here among the flowers. When even that wasn’t enough, she fell back on her usual form of comforting herself. Anyone hiding inside the maze would be completely mortal. They could be killed. Marcellus could kill them. And Marcellus wouldn’t let them get close enough to her for her to come even remotely close to death. She was safe with him. She was safe and she wasn’t going to be killed. Not while he was at her side.

Perhaps, though, it might just be better not to risk it. She could just say something about how she preferred to be out in the flowers and he probably wouldn’t push the issue. There was another pathway going off in the other direction that they could go down. Just as she was about to suggest that course of action, though, an image floated into her mind of the elaborate fountain that was supposed to be set up in the very center of the maze. She saw herself standing beside the flowing water, the moonlight filling the area as she and Marcellus stood hand in hand... It would be beautiful and romantic and she suddenly felt that it would be worth the trek through the winding paths of the maze.

And, really, she might never get another chance. After all, the king had essentially ignored her earlier, making Marcellus her only option for permanent safety. So she needed to win him over. She knew that after tonight, with the way that she’d been able to feel so safe when because of the nearness of Marcellus or of the king, the stress of going back to her normal paranoia would be worse than ever. She didn’t want to live like that. And now that she had had a taste of what it was like to feel safe, she was going to do everything she could to keep that feeling.

So she turned her gaze back to Marcellus, smiling at him coyly. I’ve been told the king’s maze is something not to be missed. Shall we give it a whirl? She just hoped that it would be worth it...




Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 14 May 2011, 22:49:29 »
Quote

As the door swung open, Arcadia caught her breath at the sight of the broken mirror pieces that had fallen all over the sink and the floor. She hadn’t heard the sound of the breaking, so it must have occurred while she was dumping the vase fragments into the wastebasket a minute ago. That was the only way that she could think of that she wouldn’t have heard the sound from the bathroom. Had Eden injured herself even further? Quickly, the servant girl’s eyes rose to look at the princess, fearing what she might see.

But the picture painted by the noblewoman’s form was not one of anger or of pain, but one of pure sadness and helplessness. Arcadia’s heart sank at the sight of her mistress. The stunningly beautiful princess was gone almost entirely, the water soaking hear hair and body causing her to look almost similar to a half-drowned cat. Her hair, pinned so carefully while dry and curled, was now fallen and matted in wet strands to her head. Her makeup was nearly gone, leaving only a few streaks of mascara sliding down her wet cheeks.

The only good thing to be seen was the fact that the blood was basically gone. With the stained robe having fallen to the floor, the injuries were more visible, but the water streaming from the showerhead had washed away the rest of the red liquid, leaving only a few marks where there was still glass trapped in Eden’s cuts. If Arcadia hadn’t known better, she might never have believed that this poor, pitiful creature before her was the same diamond-covered princess who had dazzled the ballroom only half an hour ago.

Help? Arcadia’s mouth fell open slightly. Was Eden’s rage really gone so quickly? Of course, there was no saying when it might return – Arcadia could find herself painted as a villain again within minutes. But for now, at least, it looked like Eden might be willing to let her servant actually try to make things better. Help?The second plea proved Eden’s change in perception and Arcadia stepped forward, even as the older girl repeated the word one more time.

I will. I am. You’ll be all right. She paused only long enough to kick the mirror pieces that had fallen to the floor under the sink so that they would be completely out of the walkway. They absolutely did not need any more injuries. The moment that was done, she hurried to Eden’s side, ignoring the warm water pouring down around them as she reached out to offer support to the princess.

She jumped slightly when the water first crashed down onto her shoulder, immediately rushing down to soak the simple gown that she was still wearing – she hadn’t had the change to change back into her work dress. But that hardly mattered right now. She would take care of herself later. Right now, everything was about Eden. She took hold of Eden’s uninjured arm, frightened that the girl might slip on the wet surface and cause even more damage. She tried to lead her mistress carefully away from the cascading water, deciding that she would come back later to shut off the faucet. A bit of wasted water was a very minor issue just now.

Come now – sit down. There was a small stool that Arcadia sometimes brought out for Eden to sit on while the servant was doing her hair and it was to this that she was now guiding the older girl. With her free hand, she reached out towards the shelves, her thin fingers just barely reaching far enough to grab the small ceramic jar without forcing her to actually leave Eden’s side. She deftly removed the lid, glancing down at the orange-ish medicinal paste contained within. Just stay still and this will make the hurt go away. Okay? No more pain.

She scooped out a little glob of the paste with her fingers, knowing that she really should be using a cloth of some sort to apply it instead of letting it react with her own skin as well. But there was nothing near enough to use and she needed to get the pain numbed as quickly as possible. She would just have to deal with the tips of her fingers being numbed for a while. She could handle it. So long as she was still able to hold the tweezers to remove the little glass pieces that remained, she would be able to take care of Eden’s wounds well enough. There really wasn’t any other option.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 18 May 2011, 09:15:58 »
Edit post Quote Delete

Yes, it was amazing how different things could be behind closed doors, wasn’t it? 

Whenever someone thought of Princess Eden, King Lucien’s elder daughter, they thought of shining, immaculate perfection.  Beauty, grace, poise… the women wanted to be her, and the men wanted to be with her.  Eden was proud of that image; she worked exceptionally hard to maintain it and keep it ingrained in people’s minds.  But there was a price to pay, one that all but a couple weren’t even aware of.  In many ways, Princess Eden was like an icicle—chillingly beautiful on the outside, but also extremely delicate.  Too much heat, too much pressure, and she melted, broke down, lost control… that elegant beauty ceased to exist.

What would people say if they could see her now?  With her hair falling so ungracefully out of its pins, her makeup running from her wild eyes?  Her arm was cut up like a poorly butchered slab of meat with her blood leaking out from what seemed like a hundred tiny crevasses.  Soaked from the shower she’d turned on herself, she looked like something the cat had pound in the pond and dragged into the house.  Her nightgown clung to her, and she shivered, barely able to form coherent sentences.

Would they even recognize her?  Would her father deny that she was his daughter if he found out that she was prone to these kinds of fits?  Her mother would shake her head and click her tongue; she’d never liked Eden very much in the first place.  William knew, only because she sometimes got so bad, so difficult to control, that he was called in to ease her raging emotions.  Olivia… Olivia would probably hug her and tell her that everything was okay.  Her younger sister was silly and naïve, but she was kind and accepting.  She would likely be the only one to even look at her if news of her condition got out.

And the rest of them?  The servants?  Mason Volkov, Deiter Gatsby… they would all look at her and see evidence of the insanity, of the evil that they wanted to destroy.

But those thoughts wouldn’t come until later, when Eden woke up in her bed the next morning with a horrible headache and no memory whatsoever of the previous night’s events.  At the moment, her brain was too frazzled and overloaded to form such coherent, logical thoughts.

Helplessly, she allowed Arcadia to lead her out of the tub and guide her to the stool on which she sometimes sat to have her hair done.  Eden sat, staring with wide, crazed eyes at her surroundings and not paying any attention to what her maid was doing around her.  She gasped in surprise when the orange paste made contact with her skin, but—to her credit—she didn’t try to pull away or cause any more trouble.


“No more pain,” she repeated dumbly.  She could already feel it starting to take effect.  The pain in her arm was dulling, dissipating until it was gone altogether.  Strangely enough, it also seemed to be working on her brain.  Eden could feel herself getting calmer, more sedate.  When she spoke again, her voice was airy, dreamy, like she was in a trance of some sort.  “Arcadia, what happened to the mirror?"




Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 22 May 2011, 23:17:13 »
Quote

I hope this makes sense. I've been trying for ages to get this post written and I've finally managed to force words to come out, so I'm just going with what I've got here. Sorry for the delay.

How he wanted to tell her everything. As she insisted that he couldn’t possibly know what her father was capable of and that he couldn’t understand, he wanted to explain that he did understand. To do so would require that he tell her everything about himself, though. She would know for certain where he stood in regards to his loyalty, or lack thereof, to the king. Would she hate him for it? Would she turn him in? He couldn’t know. Still, he was almost willing to take the risk. After all, if she did turn him away because of it, then she wasn’t the young woman that he thought she was.

Nonetheless, he had taught himself long ago not to say anything about his intentions until he knew almost beyond a doubt that the listener was on his side. He had to be careful not to reveal too much to anyone, and he had carefully perfected the art of not saying a bit more than he had to. He should skirt the issue now, and find some way to convince Olivia that wouldn’t give her any hint about the fact that he was far more familiar with Dieter’s position than she would expect. Logic said that he should just keep his mouth shut.

But then, logic said that he shouldn’t help Dieter, either, and he was still going to do that. It would be in his own interest to abandon the issue now. If Dieter was under the king’s orders to kill himself, despite Logan’s intense doubt of that claim, then to interfere would be to put himself at risk of meeting the displeasure of the king himself. Getting in the way like that could very well be the end of him. Or, if Dieter was on some other mission, then the traitor-turned-servant could very well choose to turn Logan in himself for being with the princess alone like this. Either way, it wasn’t in Logan’s best interest to take action.

Right now, though, he wasn’t thinking about his own best interest. Or, at least, it wasn’t his priority. Yes, those thoughts crossed his mind and he understood the implications of what he was about to do, but he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse Olivia. It was stupid and foolish and probably childish, but he couldn’t deny that he had fallen head over heels for the girl and there was very little that he wouldn’t do for her at this point. So he would be going with her into the maze, if that was what she wanted.

He still didn’t want her panicking, though. She was near hysterics and he really didn’t think she needed to be. They would be even more at risk if they proceeded without thinking or without being aware and her current state of mind really didn’t seem to lend itself to that end. He needed to explain his reasons – to counter her claims about what was going on. Yes there is. You don’t understand. You have no idea what my father can do. He listened silently as she continued her rant, going on about the threat that the king posed as if Logan had never heard of the man. He sighed. He knew so much more than she believed he did – so much more than she probably knew herself. Any way Dieter could commit suicide would be much less unpleasant than my father’s punishment for refusing to kill himself when ordered to.

Logan shook his head. I... Olivia, what you have to understand... He hesitated just for a moment, glancing around to make sure that no one was anywhere within sight of their spot near the entrance to the maze. It was just the two of them. But even that was dangerous enough. He knew he may very well be about to lose everything by what he was going to confess to the princess. He could only hope that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life right now.

He took a deep breath, then finally spoke again. There’s a lot that you don’t know about me. He had to swallow a lump that was forming in his throat before he could continue. But I... I think I have a better idea than most of what Dieter’s position is. Or at least what his position was seven years ago. In many ways, he had always looked up to Dieter. He was one of the few who had taken the initiative to try and institute a change since Lucien’s new world had become. Even if he had failed, he had tried to make a difference and, for that, Logan had always had respect for the other revolutionary.

Dieter knew that he was putting his life on the line for his cause all those years ago. He knew that death or torture could easily await him. And Logan knew just as well that such fates might await himself as well. He had heard all the rumors and even one or two first hand stories from those who had seen the insides of the kings’ dungeons. He had accepted the possibility of facing such punishments and he had decided that his cause was worth the risk. It chilled him to think about it, but he had prepared himself for the idea that he could be caught and tortured.

What he didn’t think he could handle was what had happened to Dieter. To live every day in servitude to the man that he hated most... The thought disgusted Logan more than the idea of being subjected to physical torture. At least in the dungeons it would be someone else in control. Maybe that didn’t sound like it would be a comfort, but it really would. The torture at the king’s command would only help prove that the revolutionaries were right. And you could always continue to hope that someone else could succeed where you had failed. No matter what physical pain there was, you would still know that there was a reason for it all.

But to give up the way that Dieter had... To willingly choose to turn your back on your beliefs. On the people that followed you. To choose to live while your companions were killed because of what you asked them to do- He broke off, shaking his head. It was his worst fear - that he would cause his friends to die needlessly. That they would take his punishment and that he would have to go on knowing what he had done to them. He couldn’t imagine the pain - the guilt - that Gatsby must face every day. Logan couldn’t comprehend how he was able to go on living like that. The guilt and shame of living that way would cut more than any whip ever could. Having to bow down to the king he had once hoped to dethrone and jumping at his every command and living every day at the king’s “mercy” – that was the worst torture that Lucien had in his arsenal.

And yet, Dieter had lived with it for seven years. If he values his life so much as to withstand all that for this long, I can’t see him giving it up without a fight. He would at least try to find some way to escape death if he’s been working so hard to avoid it this long. Maybe Logan was completely off base. Maybe Dieter wasn’t at all like what Logan believed and maybe he really would be willing to take his life at the king’s order. But Logan just couldn’t believe that. He had to believe that Dieter still had a reason for what he was doing.

Surely the other man still had some form of hope. He can’t have given up completely, right? Hope that he could escape his indentured life or that someone else would complete the mission that he started seven years ago. Because, if Dieter could escape with even just one shred of hope, then maybe Logan could, too. Maybe if he was captured, he might still be able to hold on to his own hope just as long. He never wanted to give up. He had to believe that he would still have enough hope to make it worth living. Dieter seemed to have something to live for to allow him to survive like this and, as long as that was true, then he would continue to try to protect that life, for better or for worse.

Holding his breath, he looked back up at Olivia, not even remotely knowing what reaction to expect from her. He truly thought there was a chance she might understand and that she would accept him, even knowing that he wasn’t a loyalist by any means. A chance that she might not hate him completely. A slight chance. And there was something from what she had said still sticking out in his mind. Dieter’s my friend. Her friend. She counted as her friend a man who was considered a traitor and who lived his life as a slave. So then, maybe there really was a chance. Could she possibly accept Logan in the same way? Would she continue to allow him to stay at her side, knowing what she did?


Edited the wording slightly in parts...


« Last Edit: 23 May 2011, 16:49:36 »


Summer Linde
Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 23 May 2011, 17:49:20 »
Quote

Logan shook his head at her and Olivia was shocked, almost offended.  Who was he to shake his head at the princess when that was clearly how he thought of her?  But then he started talking and he changed her mind right back again the moment he said her name.  He looked vulnerable, almost scared, his usual confidence cracking a little, and she found herself unable to stay mad at him.  Especially because, even though she didn't want to, even though she was mad at him and wanted to stay that way, she couldn't deny the way his voice, saying her name and just her name, made her feel shivery inside in the best possible way.

There’s a lot that you don’t know about me. But I... I understand better than most what Dieter’s position is. Or at least what his position was seven years ago.  What did that mean?  Did it mean they were both commoners, or did it mean something more?  But no.  She couldn't love a revolutionary.  Her father would never forgive her.  Logan couldn't be a revolutionary, because then she'd really have to stay away from him, even when he was at the castle, just to keep them both safe.  And she wasn't sure she could.

Dieter knew that he was putting his life on the line for his cause all those years ago. He knew that death or torture could easily await him.  Olivia shuddered.  She knew Dieter had once been in her father's dungeon, a place she'd heard of but never seen.  She knew he'd been tortured, or at least, she thought he had, but she didn't like thinking about it.  It was one of the depressing thoughts she always worked hard to avoid.  At least in the dungeons it would be someone else in control.  She didn't know what that meant at all.  Wouldn't Dieter rather be in control?  He seemed to like being in control.  And anyway, wasn't that the point of the revolution?  Didn't they want to take the throne from her father and rule the country themselves?

To willingly choose to turn your back on your beliefs. On the people that followed you. To choose to live while your companions were killed because of what you asked them to do- The guilt and shame of living that way would cut more than any whip ever could.  Now Logan sounded upset, like he couldn't quite keep the emotion out of his voice, and the image of him being whipped flashed briefly through her mind.  She shuddered again at the thought of it and reached out to take his hand.  She would never let that happen.  He might not think much of Dieter's life now, but Olivia knew she could never stand it knowing either of them were in pain.  She'd choose servitude for them if she had to.  It couldn't be that bad.  Could it?

She knew Dieter wasn't really happy with them.  He still hated her father, for one, and even though he loved Eden, it wasn't like they could be together.  But could Dieter really be all that miserable?  Was it really just that he always had a brave face on?  He was pretty powerful, really, though it was a weird kind of power, and he had some nice clothes and stuff.  But that didn't really mean he was happy.  She wasn't so shallow as to think that.  But she'd never thought of him as unhappy, either.  He was just Dieter.  He did his job and he looked after her and he was mostly a mystery, but she'd always thought he was a good mystery.  And anyway, if he was really all that upset all the time about being forced to work for Lucien, he'd never do extra stuff like look after her.  Would he?

If he values his life so much as to withstand all that for this long, I can’t see him giving it up without a fight. He would at least try to find some way to escape death if he’s been working so hard to avoid it this long.  That made sense.  She didn't know if it was right, because she didn't know if Logan was right about how Dieter felt, but it made sense.  She bit her lip.  I . . . I know that.  I mean, it makes sense.  I just . . . I can't risk it.  She wasn't sure why she needed Logan to understand, but she did.  Even if she was wrong about Dieter, even if Logan was right and he was miserable and didn't mind getting more miserable as long as he stayed alive, she still couldn't watch anything happen to him, not if there was a chance she could stop it.  It's Dieter. she said.  As if that explained it.

Scrambling for more words, she felt herself getting more and more frustrated.  I know it's just his job.  I know he's my tutor 'cause my dad said so and I know he looks after me partially because that's what he's supposed to do.  But it's not just that.  I know it's not.  Dieter fixes stuff my dad doesn't even notice.  I mean, even if my dad told him to look out for me, there's no way he mentioned all the little tiny things.  She didn't mention the fact that she sometimes wondered if Dieter cared more about her than her dad did.  Her dad was just busy.  Probably.  He still loved her.  Probably.  It was just that the kingdom came first.  That's why he didn't know how much she needed Dieter to stay alive.  He was thinking about the whole kingdom.

She bit her lip again, not sure whether or not she should say the last thought that came to mind.  It was one of those things she wasn't supposed to say.  One of those things her perfect sister would never mention.  But she had to say it.  Logan would never understand if she didn't.  I can't abandon Dieter, even if he's not gonna go through with it.  It would be like turning my back on family.  As soon as it was out of her mouth, she realized just how true it was and she wondered why she'd thought she shouldn't say it.  After all, this wasn't one of those stuck-up aristocrats who'd refused to be real people for years.  He probably didn't care if she said things she wasn't supposed to say because she was supposed to be a stuffy aristocrat like the rest of them.  After all, she already hung out with him, and she wasn't supposed to do that, either.


« Last Edit: 23 May 2011, 17:54:11 »

Lucien
Anonymous



Ruling the Kingdom
« 24 May 2011, 10:54:20 »
Quote

Deiter had been lying on the angel’s back for no longer than a minute when he began to hear voices- the birdlike tweet of Princess Olivia accompanied by an unidentified man’s voice. Olivia! Of all the princesses in the world, that girl had to be the most endearingly inconvenient to have ever lived. The factotum had often wondered if the youngest princess hadn’t been blessed with not one power but two- the first being her talent with relationships and the second being a supernatural ability to teleport herself directly into the middle of the most troublesome situation she could manage. With a sigh and a glance at the chained fobwatch he pulled out of his pocket he slipped away from the angel, removed the scarf from his face, and listened for a long moment to determine where Olivia was located. It was difficult to tell from the center of the maze but seeing as he hadn’t heard Marcellus and Elaine join their conversation he deduced that they had to be in opposite cardinal directions- there were four entrances (and thereby exits) to the maze in the garden and several shortcuts that only the gardeners (and by default Deiter) knew about. Olivia and her partner were somewhere off to the west.

Deiter moved away from the angel and took a few quick lefts and a right to cut through a false mirror and end up at the West Entrance within two minutes. Now that he was close enough to hear her words clearly, Deiter could identify the man she was speaking with as Marcellus’ servant. Deiter groaned internally. How many times did he tell her to avoid being familiar with other nobles’ staff? He would have to give her another etiquette quiz in the morning- just a short one, mind you. As long as Lucien didn’t find out it wouldn’t be necessary to punish her too much. He was about to slip in and tell her off when he heard his name come up in the conversation. Well this was awkward.


“Deiter knew that he was putting his life on the line for his cause all those years ago. He knew that death or torture could easily await him…”

Deiter froze where he was. Who was this servant to be talking about his past like this? By the timbre of his voice this man was young. He would have been a child when Deiter was gathering support for the Academy. He felt a feeble flicker of pride at the thought that his legacy was being somewhat preserved and an even feebler one of hope- Lucien had risked a lot in keeping Deiter as his pet. It would have been one thing to slaughter every last member of the Academy and fade their names from history but even as a servant Deiter knew that to some he served as a symbol. A symbol of failure, of weakness, perhaps- but a symbol nonetheless.

“To willingly choose to turn your back on your beliefs. On the people that followed you. To choose to live while your companions were killed because of what you asked them to do-The guilt and shame of living that way would cut more than any whip ever could.”

And there it was. Finally one person on the planet who seemed to understand the crooked mind of the King. Someone who had thought about what it must feel like to be the cowed, the coward, the survivor. Who was this servant? There was something in his voice, a compassion or a fierceness that very much reminded Deiter of himself. A younger Deiter. A young Deiter with a memory of his mother telling him, once- “Wissen Sie, was Ihr Name bedeutet? Dieter bedeutet  ‘Krieger des Volkes.‘“

Unlike Mason Volkov, who collected his salary with both hands held out and guzzled the King’s champagne when he could, this boy seemed to have...potential. But of course it was treasonous to think so. Deiter resolved to keep an eye on Marcellus‘ boy; for now his priority was Olivia, then Elaine. Perhaps the servant could be useful to him in these...

He was about to come out of the maze when he heard Olivia respond to the man’s assertions. What the young Princess said came as a surprise to him. As for what the heck the two were talking about in regards to his supposed death, he had no idea. Dieter woke up nearly every morning to rumors that today was going to be his day to die so the morbid elements of the conversation were considerably numbed to his ears. But what she said about him taking care of her, teaching her, and going the extra mile to ensure that she was looked after was incredibly touching. When he had been brought to the palace and made to serve he had tried his very hardest to hate everything about his life as a slave. He had wanted to spit in Lucien’s food and kill the queen while she slept and would undermine his duties with all of the tactful vengeance of a teenager throwing a tantrum. It didn’t take long for this attitude to fade, though, and this was only in part due to his growing infatuation with Eden.

It was little Olivia who had charmed the scowl right off of his face when he had been assigned to watch her for the first time. She had been the first to make him laugh after a whole year of captivity. She would stick her tongue out at him from behind her father’s throne and would hide under the desk to avoid taking her lessons. When she got older she changed only in subtle ways- he watched her attempts at preteen vanity fail as she compared herself to Eden. He snipped the loose threads off the gown she wore at her cotillion celebration and sneaked her chocolates when the Queen put her on a diet. When she was feeling oppressed by her father he taught her how to curse in German as their own private rebellion against the language ban. In his commoner’s arrogance he had thought that his affection for the princess went unnoticed or was taken for granted. He hadn’t really thought of Olivia as a person who could feel the same way he did.


“It would be like turning my back of my family,” and Deiter’s heart very nearly broke. How did an awful tyrant like Lucien ever father an Olivia?

He emerged from his hiding spot behind the entrance of the maze and made it to look as if he had just strolled out from a walk. “Olivia!” he said as if surprised to see her. “Your father would raze a Balkan state if he saw you out in the gardens when there were guests in the ballroom! You there, the Count’s boy, escort the princess back to the ballroom but take this message- The king wishes to see your master. If you see him on the way back, tell him to find his Majesty immediately.”


Translation: “Do you know what your name means? Dieter means ‘warrior of the people.’”




just a p.u.p.p.e.t on a lonely string
oh, who would ever want to be [king]?
OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« 25 May 2011, 13:44:47 »
Quote

Marcellus tried not to look at Elaine too much, though he really wanted to watch her instead of the flowers around them.  Every time he did, though, she seemed to be looking back at him, at least eventually, and he didn't want her to think he was staring, so he turned back toward the flowers and tried not to look as awkward as he felt.  It was a good awkward, so that was what mattered.  I’ve been told the king’s maze is something not to be missed. Shall we give it a whirl?  Looking up, surprised, he grinned.  Sure!  He'd heard about the maze, too, but he'd never been in it.

Marcellus had a great sense of direction, which was sure to help them in the maze, but he knew he wasn't very good at puzzles.  Hopefully they wouldn't get too stuck, 'cause he was pretty sure he was too dumb to get them through it if they got too badly lost.  Then again, Elaine was probably pretty smart.  Smarter than him anyway.  She'd probably be able to figure out how to get out if he couldn't.  Or they could always retrace their steps, he guessed.  It would be ok.

Yeah. one of the voices reminded him nastily, Every girl wants a guy she has to rescue 'cause he can't figure out a simple little maze.  He ignored it.  Anyway, it wasn't like he'd be lost.  They'd be lost, which was something else entirely, and which was almost exciting enough to do it on purpose.  There were worse places to get lost than in the king's garden with Elaine.  And the longer they spent in the maze, the longer he could spend with her.  So maybe he shouldn't even worry about getting lost.


« Last Edit: 26 May 2011, 15:48:09 »

Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 25 May 2011, 21:42:18 »
Quote

As Arcadia worked, her mind jumped back nearly a dozen years, bringing to mind an image of a scene that was, in many ways, very similar to this one. A little girl sitting on a wooden stool beside a water pail set atop the counter. The girl’s mother had soaked her hand in the water, cleaning it carefully and delicately removing the little ceramic shard from the girl’s hand. Arcadia had been very close to tears, as much because she had dropped and broken the mixing bowl as because of the pain in her hand. Her father’s worried expression had been for the loss of the bowl and the thought of the cost to replace it, and the little girl couldn’t even bring herself to look up at him.

But her mother hadn’t seemed to mind about the bowl. The sadness in her eyes had clearly been only because her little girl was hurt and her only concern had been to make little Cadie feel better.  She had put on a smile and sang a little song as she wrapped her daughter’s hand with a bandage. And now that Arcadia was standing in her mother’s place, treating the wounds that her ward had obtained, the melody of that song came back at once. She didn’t remember the words, and she rarely sang anyway, but she did hum the melody softly while she worked, gratefully noting that Eden did seem to be remaining calm.

As she started to position the first of the bandages, Arcadia couldn’t help but hope that perhaps the fit had ended. Eden seemed calm enough. And, although she knew that that was sometimes just a normal part of the mood swings, there was also the possibility that the early-starting fit had also ended sooner than expected. Maybe. Or, even if it hadn’t, if she could just get Eden to bed while she was still in this calm state, they might be able to escape any more disasters. When she was done with the bandages, she could get Eden into bed and quickly remove the pins from the princess’ hair while the older girl started to fall asleep. It would still be a comparatively peaceful evening, as far as party nights went.

She wasn’t as far out of the woods as she had thought, though. As she was applying one of the last bandages, Eden spoke in a strange, disconcertingly distant sounding voice. Arcadia, what happened to the mirror? Arcadia’s hands froze in place for a moment as her eyes flickered over to the glass-littered sink. I don’t... But she couldn’t say that she didn’t know. Even if she hadn’t been in the bathroom when Eden broke the mirror, the hairbrush laying amongst the glass shards still showed quite clearly what had been done. If she tried to plead ignorance, Eden would know that the statement wasn’t true.

But Arcadia wasn’t just going to tell Eden what she had done! Even if she did believe her servant, all it would do would be to make her more upset, and that was the last thing that Arcadia wanted right now. And, anyway, the princess might not believe her. She would see what she wanted to and, even if her powers didn’t indicate a lie, Arcadia could still imagine her claiming that it was a falsehood. She couldn’t say that something else had happened, though, because that would be a lie and Eden would know it and that would upset her, too.

She finished off the last bandage as her mind raced to find an answer that would be true but that wouldn’t implicate Eden in the accident. Her silence, though, could be incriminating as well, so she had to say something. I- I didn’t see it happen, Milady.  She turned away for a moment, rinsing her hands off quickly in the still-running shower water before shutting off the water supply. We... we should get you in bed. You’ve got to be tired. And I’ll unpin your hair. Yes, she was trying to change the subject. With very little subtly, unfortunately, but it was the best that she could do with her nerves so desperately on edge the way they were. She felt like she was standing at the base of a volcano that was expected to erupt at any moment without warning. And she couldn’t think of anything to do but to just wait for the disaster to begin.




Dashing Through Life
Played by Lillian_Potter



Av by LongLost
Sig by Angie
« 25 May 2011, 23:47:26 »
Quote

He saw the momentary look of confusion that crossed Olivia’s face when he mentioned the issue of control, but he couldn’t get the words to explain it any better. He just knew that if he did eventually fail, he would want it to be because he had tried his best and done everything he could and that he had just been outmatched. He would much rather lose going out strong than to just give up. He would never surrender. He hoped that he wouldn’t, anyhow. He wanted to believe that he would continue fighting – continue clinging to his hope and doing his best to make a stand for his cause even to the death, if needed.

But right now wasn’t about the big picture, anyhow. Right now was about convincing Olivia to calm down and hopefully to avoid going and essentially turning him in to Dieter. Because, although he was sure that it wasn’t her intent, that was sort of what would happen. If Dieter wasn’t trying to kill himself, and Logan still felt quite certain that he wasn’t, then he was doing something else in the servitude of the king. And appearing before the king’s factotum at the princess’ side wasn’t really the most self-preserving activity that he could think of. The thought probably hadn’t even crossed Olivia’s mind, but Dieter might end up seeing it as his duty to report the valet for his insolence or whatever this little stroll in the garden would be considered.

When she spoke, though, his determination to avoid change her mind began to melt away. Something about how genuine her voice was and the amount of concern that came through in her tone made him reconsider trying to convince her to leave Dieter to his own devices. I... I know that. I mean, it makes sense. I just... I just can’t risk it. It’s Dieter. She had called him her friend a minute before, but Logan was still amazed by how much she apparently cared for her father’s slave. She was so unlike anyone he had ever met, commoner or aristocrat. She just didn’t seem to care about those definitions or to notice them. She was a revolutionary herself and didn’t even realize it, one could say.

As she continued, explaining what all Dieter had done, Logan became even more impressed and, admittedly, somewhat confused. In addition to his reaffirmed impression of Olivia as someone who would accept anyone as just a person, he was now presented with a new side of Dieter Gatsby that he hadn’t expected. What cause would the captive “traitor” have to go the extra mile to help his master’s daughter? Not that he didn’t believe it. Olivia was more charming and endearing than anyone else Logan had ever encountered. If someone was going to soften towards any member of the royal family, it would most certainly be Olivia.

Still, for her to call him family... For a girl who was born a princess and raised in the Lucien’s household and taught to believe that she was superior because of her powers, her willingness to place Dieter in such high regard and the amount that she truly seemed to care for him was nothing short of miraculous. A small smile played at the edges of his lips as he looked at her, his eyes shining. You truly are remarkable. And he realized as the words left his mouth that what he actually meant was I love you.

He opened his mouth, ready to apologize for delaying her in searching for Dieter and to promise to help her, no matter what it meant for him. He certainly wasn’t going to abandon her out here, and he would do anything that she asked of him right now. Just as he gently slid his hands out of hers so that he could offer her his arm, though (not even remembering when she had taken his hands in the first place), something happened that changed pretty much everything about the situation.

Dieter Gatsby suddenly stepped out of the maze.

Logan instantly felt his face pale slightly. It’s bad enough any time someone appears that you were just speaking about any you don’t know whether or not they heard anything you said or what they would think if they had heard it. And this was definitely much worse than just that. He braced himself for shouting or for cursing or perhaps threats or... something. But none of it came. Dieter acted as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with the sight of the princess and the valet standing there together away from the party. And, frankly, his nonchalance was just as disconcerting as any anger he might have shown would have been.

When he addressed Logan, it was as if the valet had been standing a few yards away and he was being called over, rather than having already been standing right there. But Logan’s attention was claimed more by the fact that he had just been called “the count’s boy” and that Dieter had referred to Marcellus as his “master”. Logan had never once called the count his master. No one owned him! But he couldn’t lose his head. He didn’t even allow himself to think about Dieter’s motives – he just concentrated on keeping his expression level. His muscles may have tensed for two or three seconds at the most, but he did keep himself in control.

He nodded at Dieter, deciding to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary here, just as the other man was doing. My employer should still be inside with the Duchess Elaine – I will deliver the message as soon as I see him. Employer. Not master. Logan would do the task – he had no problem with that. He was paid quite well and treated well enough and he was quite willing to do his work. Just as long as it was work done as an employee. Just as long as he was still considered a person.

But he wasn’t leaving just yet, because he didn’t know yet what Olivia was going to do. He would never leave her out in the dark garden alone, but he also wasn’t going to try to convince her to go. It was her choice to have come out here in the first place, and it was because of the man now standing in front of them. Logan wasn’t going to leave until Olivia was content to do so. And given her persistence and insight thus far, he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to just turn around and walk off without saying something. And, actually, Logan was quite interested to find out what it was that she would say to Dieter.




Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« 01 June 2011, 16:43:04 »
Quote

Sure! Elaine smiled softly, looking back up at the towering hedges before them. She could do this. With Marcellus at her side to protect her, she could step forward without fear and go through that archway and they would make their way through the winding pathway until they reached the center. It could be done. It would be done. She just needed the courage. Her eyes closed for a moment as she reminded herself that she was safe – that this was all right.

She needed to trick herself into forgetting about it. She needed to convince herself that she wasn’t afraid. And not just herself – she had to convince Marcellus as well. What would he think of her if he understood how terrified she was just to walk into this section of the garden? He would think her crazy. He would leave her out here. No, she needed him with her. She needed him to be her guardian, so she had to make sure he wouldn’t leave. She had to pretend that she wasn’t afraid.

So, a moment after her eyes had closed, they flew open again while a mischievous smile spread across her face. Well, then, let’s go! Elaine’s right hand slid down from his forearm and slipped into his hand as she started to move forward, pulling him along with her. She was telling herself that she was excited and forcing herself to feign that emotion so that she could actually manage to go forward. Her hurried footsteps, she tried to tell herself, were because she was enjoying herself and because she wanted to be in the maze, not because she was frightened and wanted to get through as quickly as possible. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t...

After the third turn, she started to come to the realization that she really wasn’t scared. As she and Marcellus scurried between the rows of leaves, hand in hand, a little giggle escaped her lips. This... this was actually kind of fun. Maybe Marcellus would have preferred walking. Maybe she shouldn’t be running like this in the fancy silk ball gown that forced her to hold her skirt with her free hand so that she wouldn’t trip was a bad idea. Maybe she should be acting a little more dignified or aloof or something.

But in trying to convince herself that she was having fun and that she wanted to be running like an exuberant child through the maze, she found that she was having fun. They turned again and found themselves in a dead end and, somehow, her first reaction was to laugh. At that point, Marcellus, who was also smiling, took the lead and she spun around him as he pivoted to turn them back the other way. Elaine’s grin was now completely and utterly genuine. She felt light and cheerful and she didn’t even know why.

She definitely wasn’t questioning it, though. Actually, she wasn’t thinking about it at all. All she knew was that she felt light and cheerful and free somehow and that she saw no reason at all for that to change. She was with Marcellus and they were enjoying themselves and that was all she needed to know. More turns, more giggles, more spinning around, sometimes with Elaine acting as the pivot and sometimes with her swinging around Marcellus as they turned, never letting their hands separate from each other.

They were running along a particularly long row, Elaine thinking that maybe they were getting close to the center now, when they suddenly came to a four-way intersection. They had made so many turns and twists that she wasn’t quite sure which direction they should go to head towards the middle again, but she decided on a whim to go left – This way! - and they continued their quest with their new heading. 

But it was another wrong turn, not that it mattered. Rolling her eyes, she moved to swing around Marcellus, but he had also started to turn so that they suddenly found themselves standing toe to toe there on the moonlit pathway. Elaine’s breath caught and she suddenly couldn’t think. Her heart was already beating quickly from the run, but now she was suddenly totally aware of the beat of her own heart and the sound of peaceful silence aside from their breathing. Her eyes were locked with his, her fingers still entwined with his, the moonlight falling on his handsome face...

And aside from those details, her mind was completely blank. There was Elaine and Marcellus – nothing more. The rest of the world didn’t exist. Only the two of them standing wonderfully, beautifully close beneath the silver moon.




Erin Taren
Played by mnaberrie

« 01 June 2011, 16:44:07 »
Edit post Quote Delete

No matter how calm the princess seemed to be… how controlled… none of that was necessarily an indication of the end of an episode.  Likewise, no matter how much poor Arcadia wished and hoped that things would blow over quickly, there were few things that she could do to ease her mistress’s raging emotions and unpredictable mood swings.  William was the only one who could do that, and the only thing that the maidservant could do without him was try her hardest to keep Eden from doing anything really dangerous.

Or really stupid.  There was a reason that the door to Eden’s chambers had been locked.

But anyway, even Eden sank further and further into that sedate, trance-like state as the last of her wounded arm was bandaged up.  The entire appendage was numb and heavy, and she didn’t even try to move it.  In fact, she didn’t try to move at all.  She simply sat there dumbly, staring at the broken mirror in front of her as she waited for Arcadia to answer her question about what shattered it.  

Oh, that was a pretty song… the thought flittered across her consciousness as Arcadia started humming behind her.  It was such a soft, soothing little tune, and Eden’s lips curled into a silly, harmless little smile in reaction to it.  She started to feel warm and fuzzy all over, sliding further into that hazy, surreal state as her servant continued to hum in her ears.

And then… all of a sudden, the peace was shattered as abruptly and completely as the mirror.  The shards of warm and serenity fell around the princess like pieces of broken glass.  Her eyes snapped open, staring widely and wildly out in front of her.  Her mouth gaped open; her eyebrows shot up.

I didn’t see it happen.

Her addled mind was racing to the only conclusion that it could come up with.  Arcadia hadn’t seen the mirror break, so she obviously hadn’t had anything to do with it.  Likewise, Eden certainly hadn’t done it.  If Arcadia hadn’t done it and Eden hadn’t done it, then who had done it?  They were the only ones in the room.  They were the only ones allowed in the room.  

Eden stood suddenly, body shaking with something that could either have been fear or anger.  She didn’t even hear her servant’s weak attempt to change the subject, her thoughts were already focused on what she perceived to be much more pressing matters than getting to bed.


“Oh my God, Arcadia,” she whispered, going to the door and peering out suspiciously.  “There must be someone in here.  Someone must have broken in and broken the mirror.”

Still wet from her encounter with the shower, Eden dripped water from her nightgown onto the floor as she snuck out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.  Holding her breath in case she stumbled across the intruder, she threw open the closet and then went to check beneath her bed.

Finding nothing, she dashed to the door and tried the knob with no luck--thanks to the lock, which she wasn't smart enough to undo.


“We have to tell someone!”




Summer Linde

Played by summerlinde



Hogwarts Student
Seventh Year
Ravenclaw

« 04 June 2011, 02:40:03 »
Quote

Logan looked at her with something different in his eyes once she'd finished her speech and she wasn't sure what it was.  Maybe she shouldn't have called Dieter family.  Maybe he wasn't as different as she'd thought.  Maybe . . . maybe . . . no.  Suddenly he smiled, just barely, just enough for her to see it.  Her heart leapt in her chest.  You truly are remarkable.  What did that mean?  She didn't know, but she wasn't sure she even cared.  Something about the look in his eyes - something she couldn't identify - made her feel like she was melting inside, like her knees might turn to water and collapse under her.

He pulled his hands out of hers and offered her his arm and she slid hers through it, glad for the support since she suddenly felt like her feet weren't quite touching the ground and she needed a little steadying.  It turned out to be lucky that she had, because no sooner had she done so then Dieter himself walked out of the maze toward them, and in the shock of getting caught, she nearly fell over for real. 

Schweinehund!* she muttered emphatically under her breath.  Most people were quite careful not to curse in front of the princess, so she didn't know many curse words, and she didn't use them much.  But the look on Dieter's face so clearly said that she was in trouble that she couldn't help herself.  Olivia!  Your father would raze a Balkan state if he saw you out in the gardens when there were guests in the ballroom!  Wait - he was . . . A smile burst across Olivia's face.  He was ignoring the fact that she and Logan were alone out here, that she had her arm through his, that she was associating with people she shouldn't, that she was breaking the rules.

Dieter was the best!  He was mad, sure, and he was probably going to tell her off tomorrow for this breach of court etiquette, and he would probably make her regret it, a little bit, when he did, but for the moment, she was not irreparably in trouble and he wasn't going to blow the whistle on them.  She wanted to fling her arms around his neck like she had when she was little.  She loved the way he always had her back.  And then she remembered what she'd forgotten, for a moment, with her head reeling and her knees wobbling.  Dieter might not tell her off tomorrow.  He might not be here to do it.

You there, the Count’s boy, escort the princess back to the ballroom but take this message- The king wishes to see your master. If you see him on the way back, tell him to find his Majesty immediately.  So what if he wasn't letting her stay out here?  He couldn't disobey her dad completely and let her run around without at least suggesting she go inside where he was supposed to be keeping her, because he was supposed to be making sure she was a properly-behaving young lady.  My employer should still be inside with the Duchess Elaine – I will deliver the message as soon as I see him.

At the reminder of Logan's status and the amount of trouble she'd be in if someone besides Dieter had found them, she let go of Logan's arm, wishing she didn't have to.  On the plus side, it freed her up to hug Dieter, something she wanted to do because she was so scared of losing him, but which she hoped he would think was just a thanks for covering for her when she was running around with a commoner at her father's fancy party.

Wrapping her arms around his stomach like she was still little, Olivia hugged her teacher tightly.  Come on, Dieter, do I have to go inside?  She hoped she sounded like her usual self, up to nonspecific mischief because she didn't plan these things, they just happened.  Instead of sounding like she was out here for a specific reason, for once, trying to figure out how to cause a specific kind of trouble.  It's so boring

She wracked her brains for a convenient old friend who wasn't there, trying to think up more excuses for being out here besides wanting to keep an eye on him.  I mean, Rodney didn't even come this time 'cause he's got the flu, and Francoise is so busy seeing all the court people for the first time in ages that she won't even be able to talk to me until they all leave, not any of the really juicy stuff, and Daddy's been watching me so closely, you know he'll start arranging dance partners for me soon, and they're never much fun when they know he's watching us. . .

Putting on her best winning smile, she added, Can't you just tell him I'm out walking with a gentleman if he asks?  You don't have to pretend to know who it is!  Determined to stay out here as long as Dieter did, she kept talking, not letting either of the men get in a word edgewise.  And anyway, if you were looking for Count Marcellus out here, shouldn't we be looking out here, too?  I don't remember seeing him inside for a while! Technically true, though that was because she hadn't been paying attention to anyone but Logan at the time.  Wouldn't you have found him if he was inside, anyway?  I bet he's in the maze!  I bet you should both be looking in there, and I know I can help!

You know how many times I've done the maze, Dieter, I'm great at it!  I even know a whole half of the secret passageways!  Honest.  I asked one of the gardeners when I found the first one how many of them there were and he told me and now I've found half!  I bet you can find him twice as fast if you let me help.  Not necessarily true.  She and Dieter occasionally had races to the center of the maze, and he always won, but that didn't mean she didn't know the maze well, because she did.  He was probably just cheating so the race was over faster and he could get back to work.  He did that sometimes, cutting stuff short instead of not doing it at all so that he could get to work without hurting her feelings.

She realized she had run out of excuses and finished with another winning smile and a slight, playful nudge to her teacher's side.  Wha'd'ya think, Dieter?  Just five minutes of looking in the maze?  She focused on trying to look innocent, like she didn't have anything going on in her head underneath their conversation.  It'd be fun!

*literally "pigdog," which I'm assured is quite the insult in Germany.  Though that might just be because it was the worst thing my friends learned in their German class . . .
Katniss Everdeen
Played by Lillian_Potter



The Royal Family
Handmaiden
« 05 June 2011, 16:54:03 »
Quote

Arcadia saw Eden’s expression instantly turn to fear and she knew right away that the princess had still found a way to be upset by her words. Someone must be in here. Someone must have broken in and broken the mirror. What? No! Arcadia closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to sigh in frustration as she realized what Eden must think. If she believed that neither of them were responsible for the mirror, then the servant girl could see how she had jumped to the conclusion of an intruder.

Water still dropping from her clothing and hair down to the ground, the princess rose off of her seat and rushed out into the main chamber. Arcadia followed quickly, gasping slightly when the girl moved towards the hallway door. No, no, no – Eden could not leave the room right now! Thankfully, the princess didn’t seem to recall the fact that she needed the key to open the door and Arcadia was able to grab the little piece of metal off of its hook on the wall, hopefully without being noticed. Then she put a hand on Eden’s shoulder, trying to get her to stop pulling at the door.

Milady, please. There’s no one here now. We’re safe in here. The door’s locked and we’re alone. But that mightn’t be enough to stop her. We have to tell someone. The servant shook her head quickly. No, we have to stay here! Why? What reason could she give the girl that might convince her? What excuse would her addled mind accept as cause to stop trying to get into the hall when she seemed so desperate to alert someone to the danger?

She had to think of a reason that going to report the issue would be more dangerous than keeping it to themselves. She twisted the key slightly in her hand, wishing that she had had a chance to change back into her work dress, which had pockets. Trapped in her own ball dress, she had nowhere to put the key at the moment aside from in her hand, which didn’t seem like the best option. She didn’t have a choice right now, though. There were more pressing issues to address.

Look... What could she say? There had to be something. If... If they were in here earlier, then they... They might still be in the hallway now. Hopefully the if in that statement would prevent it from being interpreted as a lie. It would be a possibility if someone had been there earlier, when the door had been unlocked. The palace was always well-guarded, and since Arcadia had known they would likely need to get into the room quickly, she always left the door unlocked when they were at events hosted within the palace walls.

Now, of course, the door was safely locked and it absolutely needed to stay that way. Eden wasn’t herself at all right now and it would be horrible if anyone saw her in this state and jumped to conclusions about the princess. Arcadia couldn’t let that happen. We need to stay here. We’re safe here. No one can get to us if we stay inside. All of that was true. She just hoped that Eden had enough presence of mind at the moment to understand it.




OcclumenSpy
Played by summerlinde

« Today at 14:17:14 »
Quote

Marcellus raised an eyebrow as Elaine literally ran into the maze.  He'd been thinking they could walk hand in hand and it would be romantic and they could look at the hedges, which were sort of pretty, but not really, and the flowers tucked into the hedges, which were actually pretty, and that maybe he'd try to think of something romantic to say like how she was as pretty as a flower.  Or something.  If he could work up the guts to say it.

Instead, they raced through the maze, fingers linked, finding dead ends almost immediately and spinning around like it didn't even matter.  He thought she might be upset that they'd gotten stuck so soon, but she wasn't.  She was laughing.  And really, when Elaine was laughing, nothing else seemed to matter.  Even the voices seemed quieter, drowned out by even the quietest laugh and by the way his heart was pounding as he ran after her.

As they spun around in the dead ends to keep going, he couldn't help noticing that it felt a lot like dancing, only she was holding onto the end of his arm instead of his shoulder.  It made his head feel like the dancing had, too, a little light and much quieter than it ever was.  He spun her in an extra circle in the next dead end, a move he vaguely remembered from the dance, laughing as she giggled.  The way their weight swung around each other, even this far apart, made him feel like he was flying as they spun.

After one last dead end, though, he turned the wrong way and instead of spinning around each other to go back the other way, they spun into each other, almost bumping into each other until they managed to stop, toe to toe.  They were so close that he could smell her perfume and he blushed, feeling dumb for spinning the wrong way.  Dumb!  Dumb, dumb dumb. he thought to himself.  How many times do you have to spin around to get it right?  The voices, uncharacteristically, didn't bother to agree with him.  Kiss her! one of them suggested.  Come on, idiot!  Kiss her!

Usually, he thought and rethought and rethought anything the voices told him to do.  Their advice was nearly always bad.  It was calculated to get him in trouble, or to make him look silly, or to make him mad at them when it all went wrong.  But his head was still reeling from running and spinning and smelling her perfume, and his heart was pounding from the exertion of running around and he was sure hers was too, and they were both panting a little, and he couldn't think clearly at all, and it sounded so nice, kissing Elaine, and all of a sudden, he was doing it, surprising even himself with how bold he was.

Marcellus stepped forward and, with a surprisingly adept motion, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.  His other hand cupped her face, his calloused fingers noticing immediately how soft her skin felt as he leaned in to kiss her.  As he pressed his lips gently against hers, his head spun dizzily.  He realized that he didn't actually know how to kiss a girl, so he ended up with a quick peck on the lips, like he'd kissed his mother on the cheek before bed when he was a little boy, but it was enough to make his heart race even faster, faster than he'd thought was possible, until he thought it might leap out of his chest.  He felt like he was on fire, or like he was flying, or both, as he looked into her dazzling eyes, not sure what to do next.
Bright Shadows
Anonymous



set by burnt_toast
« Today at 18:38:35 »
Quote

Elaine found herself holding her breath as she stared up at Marcellus. She could have pulled away and apologized for going the wrong way as she had and continued along in the maze. But she had absolutely no desire to do that. There was something suddenly magical in the air, something that she had only read about or heard about from others discussing their own romantic outings.

He was going to kiss her.

Or she was pretty sure he was, anyway. That was how it always worked when she heard stories like this. She did have to spend at least some time around the other ladies of the court, after all, even if they made her nervous, and they all enjoyed discussing things like this. Dancing or walking or even just talking and then suddenly a perfect quiet where everything turned still and warm and magical and they knew at that point that he was the one, or at least that there was something between them. And then they kissed. They always kissed. So Marcellus was probably going to kiss her now.

She felt as though her heart might just melt as she waited for the kiss that she was expecting. He would reach up and brush a little bit of hair back from her face and then he would slowly lean in towards her and maybe she would lean a bit towards him. There would be leaning. And then their lips would meet and it would be gentle and sweet and romantic and perfect. She started to smile a little bit just from the anticipation of it.

Just when she expected him to start to slowly move towards her, though, something very unexpected happened. With a sudden movement that she hadn’t been at all prepared for, something grabbed around her waist and, in the next instant, Marcellus leaned in sharply and his lips hit against hers only for a moment before he pulled back again. Only she didn’t see him as Marcellus.

From the moment she felt something around her waist, she was thrown full force back into her typically ever-constant fears. Suddenly she was being grabbed by some assassin so that they could suffocate her or stab her or to throw her to a pit of alligators. The sudden motion near her face was some monster lunging towards her jugular or a giant poisonous moth or a large rock being flung against her head. Crashing back onto her after their temporary absence, her fears were even more wild and impossible than usual, but they were also more intense and more gripping and more threatening.

She leapt back with a piercing shriek of panic that went echoing out over the maze, her hands starting to fly up to cover her face to try to block away the attacks that she had envisioned. But as she stared forward with wide eyes, it was no assassin or monster standing before her. She gasped, her hands dropping to cover her mouth as she realized with a horribly sinking heart what she had just done and what Marcellus must think.

Marcellus, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean- I just didn’t expect- I mean, I thought- Her stammering broke off as she shook her head, unable to find words that made any sense when she was so busy mentally berating herself for her actions. She was safe with Marcellus. She knew she was! She wanted to stay with him! But her fears had still taken over and now he was sure to think that she was mentally unstable at best and more likely that she was afraid of him or that she didn’t want him near her or any number of other things that weren’t true and that would destroyed any chance she had ever had of a real relationship with him. She had just ruined everything.