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Second daughter of King Minas, Princess Emilia was well known for being referred to as the Smiling Princess, the Princess of Happiness. A joyful and benevolent member of the royal family, she was looked up by the young and the women of the Athenian kingdom, tended to and paid fealty to by the men. Now, as Athenia slowly breaks down in decline with poor food supplies, trading conditions and rioting in the street, the populace - ignorant of the power games played above their heads, split into divisions that place blame upon the shoulders of separate individuals. One such group would by those who blame the sister of the absent or dead Queen - the girl who should claim the mantel for monarch and stop refusing to hold Senate. The child who hides away in her rooms. In a display of wrath over the cowardice of their supposed acting Queen, such rebels, hidden by the cloak of night have used the quiet bathhouses as the perfect venue for their message. As morning dawns and Athenians flock to the loutra for their morning bathe, they are greeted by a corpse that lies floating in the central, largest bath. A young girl, little more than fourteen, thin and emaciated, lies upon the surface of the water. Sharp, curving lashes have been made to her face in the marks of tears running from her ears and the corners of her mouth have been carved into her cheeks to turn down in a morbid grimace. Her eyes remain own, her lips parted, as if she cries and wails to the Gods above whom she stares at. Upon the wall is inscribed in crimson... 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow.'
JD
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JD
Staff Team
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Second daughter of King Minas, Princess Emilia was well known for being referred to as the Smiling Princess, the Princess of Happiness. A joyful and benevolent member of the royal family, she was looked up by the young and the women of the Athenian kingdom, tended to and paid fealty to by the men. Now, as Athenia slowly breaks down in decline with poor food supplies, trading conditions and rioting in the street, the populace - ignorant of the power games played above their heads, split into divisions that place blame upon the shoulders of separate individuals. One such group would by those who blame the sister of the absent or dead Queen - the girl who should claim the mantel for monarch and stop refusing to hold Senate. The child who hides away in her rooms. In a display of wrath over the cowardice of their supposed acting Queen, such rebels, hidden by the cloak of night have used the quiet bathhouses as the perfect venue for their message. As morning dawns and Athenians flock to the loutra for their morning bathe, they are greeted by a corpse that lies floating in the central, largest bath. A young girl, little more than fourteen, thin and emaciated, lies upon the surface of the water. Sharp, curving lashes have been made to her face in the marks of tears running from her ears and the corners of her mouth have been carved into her cheeks to turn down in a morbid grimace. Her eyes remain own, her lips parted, as if she cries and wails to the Gods above whom she stares at. Upon the wall is inscribed in crimson... 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow.'
Princess of Sorrow Event - Athenia
Second daughter of King Minas, Princess Emilia was well known for being referred to as the Smiling Princess, the Princess of Happiness. A joyful and benevolent member of the royal family, she was looked up by the young and the women of the Athenian kingdom, tended to and paid fealty to by the men. Now, as Athenia slowly breaks down in decline with poor food supplies, trading conditions and rioting in the street, the populace - ignorant of the power games played above their heads, split into divisions that place blame upon the shoulders of separate individuals. One such group would by those who blame the sister of the absent or dead Queen - the girl who should claim the mantel for monarch and stop refusing to hold Senate. The child who hides away in her rooms. In a display of wrath over the cowardice of their supposed acting Queen, such rebels, hidden by the cloak of night have used the quiet bathhouses as the perfect venue for their message. As morning dawns and Athenians flock to the loutra for their morning bathe, they are greeted by a corpse that lies floating in the central, largest bath. A young girl, little more than fourteen, thin and emaciated, lies upon the surface of the water. Sharp, curving lashes have been made to her face in the marks of tears running from her ears and the corners of her mouth have been carved into her cheeks to turn down in a morbid grimace. Her eyes remain own, her lips parted, as if she cries and wails to the Gods above whom she stares at. Upon the wall is inscribed in crimson... 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow.'
After awakening from a cold sweat in the middle of the night, Danae had never felt grosser in her entire life. A roaring fire left in her room overnight had ensured that the girl that she would find herself to be a hot, sticky mess of sweat when she woke before the first rays of dawn. Even before Danae moved to shrug the blankets off of her, she knew that she would need to head to the bathhouses immediately to rid herself of the sweaty mess she found herself in.
Even as disgusting as she felt, even after a change of clothes, Danae was not too keen on making an appearance at the loutra at such an early hour. She knew that the bathhouse would be crowded with people from all walks of life; rich, poor, young, and old. There would be so many eyes on the young, nubile body that Danae was not quite comfortable in. Granted, she knew that most people would keep to themselves and her grumpy demeanor from the lack of sleep would not encourage even the bravest soul to approach her. She was a bright girl, she knew this to be true. Yet, the prospect of being seen in such an exposed state with nowhere to hide. It was simply terrifying to stay the least. Even the mere thought of it was enough to bring about that all too familiar tightness in her chest and light-headed feeling that came whenever she was in the spotlight.
Attending the baths was just that scary to the anxiety-riddled teen.
In the fears brought on by her insecurities were so great, that they vastly outweighed any apprehension that she held towards one of the more prominent triggers for her anxiety; her mother. Danny just could not simply bear the thought of attending the baths alone and knew she needed a companion of some sort to distract her. So, as soon as it was an “acceptable” hour to disturb her mother, Danae had approached the woman with her plan. She had presented as a simple desire to upkeep her appearance as if she was finally beginning to take an interest in the world of beauty that she had shunned for so long. Surely, her mother wouldn’t deny her with this reasoning, right? Nevermind the fact that Circenia would undoubtedly be able to see right through the ruse due to the telltale signs of Danae’s anxiety acting up again (namely her inability to look her mother in the eye) surely gave the girl away.
Regardless, her mother agreed to the surprise trip, to Danae’s utter shock, the woman also agreed to her daughter’s plea to not make it into some big affair. No forcing Danae into some fancy dress of bright crimson or weighing Circenia down with endless amounts of gold jewelry. It would just be a simple trip to the bathhouse that the women would embark on as soon as a carriage could be summoned.
The relief Danae felt at how easy this first step had been was almost palatable as the pair left the Stravos Manor and made their way to the bathhouses. Even Circenia would be able to see how physically relaxed her daughter was as the carriage bounced and rocked its way through the streets of Athenia. She was immensely grateful that her mother did not put up quite as big of a fuss that she thought would accompany any trip beyond the safety of their home. Instead, this was almost normal. For that, Danae was eternally grateful as it spared her from the stress that normally came with this sort of thing; making her less and less inclined to leave her home. That much she made clear with an almost inaudible “ Thank you” directed towards her mother as the pair drew closer to their destination. It may not seem like much, but given how before now most of the words that were passed between them were marred with the frustrations that they held for each other… those two words spoke volumes in the silence.
However, they weren’t given much of a chance to linger on them as they quickly arrived at the bathhouses. Almost as soon as the carriage stopped, Danae was quickly making her way out in a blur of navy blue fabric from her peplos. She was eager to finally be rid of the faint, foul smell that she was sure was clinging to her skin and as a result, could barely wait for her mother to keep up with her daughter’s hurried pace.
Almost as soon as she was inside the marble columns, Danae could feel that slow claw of anxiety crawling back up within her as her original fears returned. The girl knew that there were baseless as the Stravos women were one of the first patrons there -- thanks to the early hour. In fact, it looked like that there were only men present with them as well, but they would keep to their own half of the bathhouse. As far as Danae could tell, they were early enough that they should have the whole women section to themselves.
Despite these reassurances, Danae just could not shake the familiar feeling of doom that was blooming with her chest. In fact, it only grew as she finally paused long enough in her hurried gait for her mother to catch up so that the pair could enter the changing rooms together. This was not normal for Danae. The usual tightness in her chest was constricting her so much that her breath grew short as her thoughts returned to the dangers her family had faced. No matter what she thought of to counteract these things -- thoughts of small baby animals and favored hobbies for the most part-- she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some sort of inescapable danger present.
When her hands began to tremble before she had even moved to unwrap the peplos, Danae knew that she needed to do something to reassure herself before her panic grew to unmanageable levels. Given that the girl thought they stemmed from the thought of her body being seen and judged, the most obvious course of action was to remind herself that she and her mother were the only ones here, so far at least. Maybe if she saw it with her own eyes, her mind would call off its internal assault upon itself. So with an apologetic look towards her mother as she waved off the servants that had descended upon the members of the elite; Danny murmured, “ Excuse me, just for a moment.”
Before the older woman could even object, Danae made her way towards the baths of the loutra and dared to peak her head inside of the space that was normally hidden from view. What she had expected to see was an empty space. Maybe there would have been a servant or two milling about. That was what would have been normal[/b].
But the sight that greeted Danae was far from normal.
The first thing she noticed was the figure in the pool and how still it was, floating on top of the water. Danae’s brows furrowed at this and if Circenia was glancing at her at this moment, she may have seen her daughter’s confusion written all over her face. Danae’s lips moved to speak, to call out and see if what was before her was not what it seemed… but then her eyes were pulled to the bright red writing on the wall.
It was her cousin's name. Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow
“ But why...” Danae murmured to herself as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The words died in her throat, however when her eyes flickered back to the body and saw for the first time the ghastly shape it was in. Thin, still, and with fresh marks cut into her in an expression to match the inscription taking up the room… an expression that no girl would allow to be carved into her face under any circumstances… that’s when it clicked for Danae and she finally understood what was before her. A dead girl that had locks as dark as the cousin referenced on the wall.
It had barely been a moment since Danae had first caught sight of the scene and it was only a few seconds more before the color drained from the girl’s face, making her as pale as the body floating in the loutra, as Danae let out an ear-piercing scream of horror as she turned away from from the sight and flee back into the changing room, unwittingly drawing everyone close enough to hear to the horrific scene; including the woman she was currently wailing for as she tried to make sense of the scene before her.
“ It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!”
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After awakening from a cold sweat in the middle of the night, Danae had never felt grosser in her entire life. A roaring fire left in her room overnight had ensured that the girl that she would find herself to be a hot, sticky mess of sweat when she woke before the first rays of dawn. Even before Danae moved to shrug the blankets off of her, she knew that she would need to head to the bathhouses immediately to rid herself of the sweaty mess she found herself in.
Even as disgusting as she felt, even after a change of clothes, Danae was not too keen on making an appearance at the loutra at such an early hour. She knew that the bathhouse would be crowded with people from all walks of life; rich, poor, young, and old. There would be so many eyes on the young, nubile body that Danae was not quite comfortable in. Granted, she knew that most people would keep to themselves and her grumpy demeanor from the lack of sleep would not encourage even the bravest soul to approach her. She was a bright girl, she knew this to be true. Yet, the prospect of being seen in such an exposed state with nowhere to hide. It was simply terrifying to stay the least. Even the mere thought of it was enough to bring about that all too familiar tightness in her chest and light-headed feeling that came whenever she was in the spotlight.
Attending the baths was just that scary to the anxiety-riddled teen.
In the fears brought on by her insecurities were so great, that they vastly outweighed any apprehension that she held towards one of the more prominent triggers for her anxiety; her mother. Danny just could not simply bear the thought of attending the baths alone and knew she needed a companion of some sort to distract her. So, as soon as it was an “acceptable” hour to disturb her mother, Danae had approached the woman with her plan. She had presented as a simple desire to upkeep her appearance as if she was finally beginning to take an interest in the world of beauty that she had shunned for so long. Surely, her mother wouldn’t deny her with this reasoning, right? Nevermind the fact that Circenia would undoubtedly be able to see right through the ruse due to the telltale signs of Danae’s anxiety acting up again (namely her inability to look her mother in the eye) surely gave the girl away.
Regardless, her mother agreed to the surprise trip, to Danae’s utter shock, the woman also agreed to her daughter’s plea to not make it into some big affair. No forcing Danae into some fancy dress of bright crimson or weighing Circenia down with endless amounts of gold jewelry. It would just be a simple trip to the bathhouse that the women would embark on as soon as a carriage could be summoned.
The relief Danae felt at how easy this first step had been was almost palatable as the pair left the Stravos Manor and made their way to the bathhouses. Even Circenia would be able to see how physically relaxed her daughter was as the carriage bounced and rocked its way through the streets of Athenia. She was immensely grateful that her mother did not put up quite as big of a fuss that she thought would accompany any trip beyond the safety of their home. Instead, this was almost normal. For that, Danae was eternally grateful as it spared her from the stress that normally came with this sort of thing; making her less and less inclined to leave her home. That much she made clear with an almost inaudible “ Thank you” directed towards her mother as the pair drew closer to their destination. It may not seem like much, but given how before now most of the words that were passed between them were marred with the frustrations that they held for each other… those two words spoke volumes in the silence.
However, they weren’t given much of a chance to linger on them as they quickly arrived at the bathhouses. Almost as soon as the carriage stopped, Danae was quickly making her way out in a blur of navy blue fabric from her peplos. She was eager to finally be rid of the faint, foul smell that she was sure was clinging to her skin and as a result, could barely wait for her mother to keep up with her daughter’s hurried pace.
Almost as soon as she was inside the marble columns, Danae could feel that slow claw of anxiety crawling back up within her as her original fears returned. The girl knew that there were baseless as the Stravos women were one of the first patrons there -- thanks to the early hour. In fact, it looked like that there were only men present with them as well, but they would keep to their own half of the bathhouse. As far as Danae could tell, they were early enough that they should have the whole women section to themselves.
Despite these reassurances, Danae just could not shake the familiar feeling of doom that was blooming with her chest. In fact, it only grew as she finally paused long enough in her hurried gait for her mother to catch up so that the pair could enter the changing rooms together. This was not normal for Danae. The usual tightness in her chest was constricting her so much that her breath grew short as her thoughts returned to the dangers her family had faced. No matter what she thought of to counteract these things -- thoughts of small baby animals and favored hobbies for the most part-- she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some sort of inescapable danger present.
When her hands began to tremble before she had even moved to unwrap the peplos, Danae knew that she needed to do something to reassure herself before her panic grew to unmanageable levels. Given that the girl thought they stemmed from the thought of her body being seen and judged, the most obvious course of action was to remind herself that she and her mother were the only ones here, so far at least. Maybe if she saw it with her own eyes, her mind would call off its internal assault upon itself. So with an apologetic look towards her mother as she waved off the servants that had descended upon the members of the elite; Danny murmured, “ Excuse me, just for a moment.”
Before the older woman could even object, Danae made her way towards the baths of the loutra and dared to peak her head inside of the space that was normally hidden from view. What she had expected to see was an empty space. Maybe there would have been a servant or two milling about. That was what would have been normal[/b].
But the sight that greeted Danae was far from normal.
The first thing she noticed was the figure in the pool and how still it was, floating on top of the water. Danae’s brows furrowed at this and if Circenia was glancing at her at this moment, she may have seen her daughter’s confusion written all over her face. Danae’s lips moved to speak, to call out and see if what was before her was not what it seemed… but then her eyes were pulled to the bright red writing on the wall.
It was her cousin's name. Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow
“ But why...” Danae murmured to herself as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The words died in her throat, however when her eyes flickered back to the body and saw for the first time the ghastly shape it was in. Thin, still, and with fresh marks cut into her in an expression to match the inscription taking up the room… an expression that no girl would allow to be carved into her face under any circumstances… that’s when it clicked for Danae and she finally understood what was before her. A dead girl that had locks as dark as the cousin referenced on the wall.
It had barely been a moment since Danae had first caught sight of the scene and it was only a few seconds more before the color drained from the girl’s face, making her as pale as the body floating in the loutra, as Danae let out an ear-piercing scream of horror as she turned away from from the sight and flee back into the changing room, unwittingly drawing everyone close enough to hear to the horrific scene; including the woman she was currently wailing for as she tried to make sense of the scene before her.
“ It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!”
After awakening from a cold sweat in the middle of the night, Danae had never felt grosser in her entire life. A roaring fire left in her room overnight had ensured that the girl that she would find herself to be a hot, sticky mess of sweat when she woke before the first rays of dawn. Even before Danae moved to shrug the blankets off of her, she knew that she would need to head to the bathhouses immediately to rid herself of the sweaty mess she found herself in.
Even as disgusting as she felt, even after a change of clothes, Danae was not too keen on making an appearance at the loutra at such an early hour. She knew that the bathhouse would be crowded with people from all walks of life; rich, poor, young, and old. There would be so many eyes on the young, nubile body that Danae was not quite comfortable in. Granted, she knew that most people would keep to themselves and her grumpy demeanor from the lack of sleep would not encourage even the bravest soul to approach her. She was a bright girl, she knew this to be true. Yet, the prospect of being seen in such an exposed state with nowhere to hide. It was simply terrifying to stay the least. Even the mere thought of it was enough to bring about that all too familiar tightness in her chest and light-headed feeling that came whenever she was in the spotlight.
Attending the baths was just that scary to the anxiety-riddled teen.
In the fears brought on by her insecurities were so great, that they vastly outweighed any apprehension that she held towards one of the more prominent triggers for her anxiety; her mother. Danny just could not simply bear the thought of attending the baths alone and knew she needed a companion of some sort to distract her. So, as soon as it was an “acceptable” hour to disturb her mother, Danae had approached the woman with her plan. She had presented as a simple desire to upkeep her appearance as if she was finally beginning to take an interest in the world of beauty that she had shunned for so long. Surely, her mother wouldn’t deny her with this reasoning, right? Nevermind the fact that Circenia would undoubtedly be able to see right through the ruse due to the telltale signs of Danae’s anxiety acting up again (namely her inability to look her mother in the eye) surely gave the girl away.
Regardless, her mother agreed to the surprise trip, to Danae’s utter shock, the woman also agreed to her daughter’s plea to not make it into some big affair. No forcing Danae into some fancy dress of bright crimson or weighing Circenia down with endless amounts of gold jewelry. It would just be a simple trip to the bathhouse that the women would embark on as soon as a carriage could be summoned.
The relief Danae felt at how easy this first step had been was almost palatable as the pair left the Stravos Manor and made their way to the bathhouses. Even Circenia would be able to see how physically relaxed her daughter was as the carriage bounced and rocked its way through the streets of Athenia. She was immensely grateful that her mother did not put up quite as big of a fuss that she thought would accompany any trip beyond the safety of their home. Instead, this was almost normal. For that, Danae was eternally grateful as it spared her from the stress that normally came with this sort of thing; making her less and less inclined to leave her home. That much she made clear with an almost inaudible “ Thank you” directed towards her mother as the pair drew closer to their destination. It may not seem like much, but given how before now most of the words that were passed between them were marred with the frustrations that they held for each other… those two words spoke volumes in the silence.
However, they weren’t given much of a chance to linger on them as they quickly arrived at the bathhouses. Almost as soon as the carriage stopped, Danae was quickly making her way out in a blur of navy blue fabric from her peplos. She was eager to finally be rid of the faint, foul smell that she was sure was clinging to her skin and as a result, could barely wait for her mother to keep up with her daughter’s hurried pace.
Almost as soon as she was inside the marble columns, Danae could feel that slow claw of anxiety crawling back up within her as her original fears returned. The girl knew that there were baseless as the Stravos women were one of the first patrons there -- thanks to the early hour. In fact, it looked like that there were only men present with them as well, but they would keep to their own half of the bathhouse. As far as Danae could tell, they were early enough that they should have the whole women section to themselves.
Despite these reassurances, Danae just could not shake the familiar feeling of doom that was blooming with her chest. In fact, it only grew as she finally paused long enough in her hurried gait for her mother to catch up so that the pair could enter the changing rooms together. This was not normal for Danae. The usual tightness in her chest was constricting her so much that her breath grew short as her thoughts returned to the dangers her family had faced. No matter what she thought of to counteract these things -- thoughts of small baby animals and favored hobbies for the most part-- she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some sort of inescapable danger present.
When her hands began to tremble before she had even moved to unwrap the peplos, Danae knew that she needed to do something to reassure herself before her panic grew to unmanageable levels. Given that the girl thought they stemmed from the thought of her body being seen and judged, the most obvious course of action was to remind herself that she and her mother were the only ones here, so far at least. Maybe if she saw it with her own eyes, her mind would call off its internal assault upon itself. So with an apologetic look towards her mother as she waved off the servants that had descended upon the members of the elite; Danny murmured, “ Excuse me, just for a moment.”
Before the older woman could even object, Danae made her way towards the baths of the loutra and dared to peak her head inside of the space that was normally hidden from view. What she had expected to see was an empty space. Maybe there would have been a servant or two milling about. That was what would have been normal[/b].
But the sight that greeted Danae was far from normal.
The first thing she noticed was the figure in the pool and how still it was, floating on top of the water. Danae’s brows furrowed at this and if Circenia was glancing at her at this moment, she may have seen her daughter’s confusion written all over her face. Danae’s lips moved to speak, to call out and see if what was before her was not what it seemed… but then her eyes were pulled to the bright red writing on the wall.
It was her cousin's name. Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow
“ But why...” Danae murmured to herself as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The words died in her throat, however when her eyes flickered back to the body and saw for the first time the ghastly shape it was in. Thin, still, and with fresh marks cut into her in an expression to match the inscription taking up the room… an expression that no girl would allow to be carved into her face under any circumstances… that’s when it clicked for Danae and she finally understood what was before her. A dead girl that had locks as dark as the cousin referenced on the wall.
It had barely been a moment since Danae had first caught sight of the scene and it was only a few seconds more before the color drained from the girl’s face, making her as pale as the body floating in the loutra, as Danae let out an ear-piercing scream of horror as she turned away from from the sight and flee back into the changing room, unwittingly drawing everyone close enough to hear to the horrific scene; including the woman she was currently wailing for as she tried to make sense of the scene before her.
“ It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!”
When Danae approached Circenia about accompanying her to the loutra, the princess’s shock was palpable. She could count on one hand the number of times in recent years that her youngest daughter had asked her to join her anywhere, so the Stravos matriarch was not about to argue. Quickly wiping away the surprise from her face before it could be misinterpreted as displeasure, Circenia rose to her feet with a nod. The apprehension was rolling off her daughter in waves, and though she could often be a cruel woman, that was not the case with her children. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to enfold the nervous girl in her arms and assure her everything would be all right, much as she had done when she was a toddler.
However, she knew Danae well enough to know that was something she would never permit. Instead, she simply settled for placing a hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze and offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course. I’ll summon the carriage.”
Sending one of their few remaining servants off in pursuit of such a task, she tilted her head curiously at Danae’s request for them to dress simply and not draw too much attention to themselves. Normally, this was something she would have balked at, insisting that they present themselves as the elite that they were, but there was just something about the girl’s demeanor that kept her from arguing. A poignant vulnerability that spoke volumes and yet kept Circenia silent. After all, it was just a trip to the bathhouse. They hardly needed such ostentation for this.
Truthfully, she was simply grateful that Danae sought her presence at all that she was willing to go along with whatever she wanted in that moment. It was so rare for her daughter to reach out to her that she couldn’t help but wonder at the cause. Had something happened in the night? What had spooked her?
She made no comment so as to preserve this fragile truce between them, quietly ushering her daughter to the carriage when it arrived. Swathed only in a simple white chiton, she climbed up behind her, and they were off, heading to the loutra with barely a word swapped between them.
Circenia desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, to nose into the root of Danae’s anxiety, but she was worried if she did, that the girl would simply close herself off. She was a very private person and tended to hate any inquiries into her well-being, but her mother was the opposite. Curious and meddlesome, it was killing her not to know, but still she kept her silence. Perhaps she’d offer it on her own, so long as the princess didn’t pry. She could hope, anyway.
The short ride to the loutra was therefore quiet, but not uncomfortably so, Circenia gently patting Danae’s shoulder or knee from time to time, but not enough that she might seem overbearing. Offering only a smile at the simple ‘thank you,’ she nodded and patted her knee again. Those two words were enough for her. She knew she’d done the right thing.
Once they arrived, she offered her hand to help her daughter from the carriage before they headed inside. At first, all seemed normal. It was quiet and calm, due to the early hour of the morning. The closer they came to the women’s side, the more nervous her daughter became, and Circenia glanced over at her with the barest hint of a frown. What was it that had her so on edge? Was it simply apprehension that others would see what lay beneath her peplos? Or was it something else entirely?
Rounding the corner, the world seemed to stop. Trapped in a moment so surreal, the princess hardly knew how to react when Danae suddenly started screaming, Circenia whipping toward her with the worry that she’d been attacked. By whom, she didn’t know, but if anyone had been foolish enough to lay a hand on her child, there would be a drowning in the bathhouse today.
Unfortunately, it seemed someone had already beat her to it.
It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!
Those words came to her in a fog when her eyes came to rest on the emaciated girl floating in the water. Glancing between her, Danae, and the sanguine words scribbled on the wall, a slow-dawning horror crept across her face. Was it true? Was this Emilia? Or was this just a macabre warning for the niece she was certain was locked away in the Palati?
Placing a stilling hand on Danae’s shoulder, she walked closer to the water, crouching down so she might examine the body a little closer. The girl was of an age with Emilia, to be sure, and her looks were similar, but her frame was too thin and her hair too dark. A warning, then. And not a pleasant one.
Face grim, she straightened up, hollering for the previously dismissed servants. One of them approached, Circenia grabbing the woman by the collar. “Fetch the city guard,” she hissed at the wide-eyed woman who trembled in her grasp. “And be quick about it. There’s been a murder, and it looks like they mean to come for our Princess next.”
Screams and a flurry of frenzied activity followed in the wake of her declaration, Circenia falling back to stand with Danae and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not Emilia,” she reassured the trembling girl, gently rubbing the tops of her arms. “Breathe, child. It’s only a message.”
A dire message, perhaps, but a message, nonetheless. Athenia was on the brink of civil war, that could no longer be denied. The question was… who would they come for next?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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When Danae approached Circenia about accompanying her to the loutra, the princess’s shock was palpable. She could count on one hand the number of times in recent years that her youngest daughter had asked her to join her anywhere, so the Stravos matriarch was not about to argue. Quickly wiping away the surprise from her face before it could be misinterpreted as displeasure, Circenia rose to her feet with a nod. The apprehension was rolling off her daughter in waves, and though she could often be a cruel woman, that was not the case with her children. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to enfold the nervous girl in her arms and assure her everything would be all right, much as she had done when she was a toddler.
However, she knew Danae well enough to know that was something she would never permit. Instead, she simply settled for placing a hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze and offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course. I’ll summon the carriage.”
Sending one of their few remaining servants off in pursuit of such a task, she tilted her head curiously at Danae’s request for them to dress simply and not draw too much attention to themselves. Normally, this was something she would have balked at, insisting that they present themselves as the elite that they were, but there was just something about the girl’s demeanor that kept her from arguing. A poignant vulnerability that spoke volumes and yet kept Circenia silent. After all, it was just a trip to the bathhouse. They hardly needed such ostentation for this.
Truthfully, she was simply grateful that Danae sought her presence at all that she was willing to go along with whatever she wanted in that moment. It was so rare for her daughter to reach out to her that she couldn’t help but wonder at the cause. Had something happened in the night? What had spooked her?
She made no comment so as to preserve this fragile truce between them, quietly ushering her daughter to the carriage when it arrived. Swathed only in a simple white chiton, she climbed up behind her, and they were off, heading to the loutra with barely a word swapped between them.
Circenia desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, to nose into the root of Danae’s anxiety, but she was worried if she did, that the girl would simply close herself off. She was a very private person and tended to hate any inquiries into her well-being, but her mother was the opposite. Curious and meddlesome, it was killing her not to know, but still she kept her silence. Perhaps she’d offer it on her own, so long as the princess didn’t pry. She could hope, anyway.
The short ride to the loutra was therefore quiet, but not uncomfortably so, Circenia gently patting Danae’s shoulder or knee from time to time, but not enough that she might seem overbearing. Offering only a smile at the simple ‘thank you,’ she nodded and patted her knee again. Those two words were enough for her. She knew she’d done the right thing.
Once they arrived, she offered her hand to help her daughter from the carriage before they headed inside. At first, all seemed normal. It was quiet and calm, due to the early hour of the morning. The closer they came to the women’s side, the more nervous her daughter became, and Circenia glanced over at her with the barest hint of a frown. What was it that had her so on edge? Was it simply apprehension that others would see what lay beneath her peplos? Or was it something else entirely?
Rounding the corner, the world seemed to stop. Trapped in a moment so surreal, the princess hardly knew how to react when Danae suddenly started screaming, Circenia whipping toward her with the worry that she’d been attacked. By whom, she didn’t know, but if anyone had been foolish enough to lay a hand on her child, there would be a drowning in the bathhouse today.
Unfortunately, it seemed someone had already beat her to it.
It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!
Those words came to her in a fog when her eyes came to rest on the emaciated girl floating in the water. Glancing between her, Danae, and the sanguine words scribbled on the wall, a slow-dawning horror crept across her face. Was it true? Was this Emilia? Or was this just a macabre warning for the niece she was certain was locked away in the Palati?
Placing a stilling hand on Danae’s shoulder, she walked closer to the water, crouching down so she might examine the body a little closer. The girl was of an age with Emilia, to be sure, and her looks were similar, but her frame was too thin and her hair too dark. A warning, then. And not a pleasant one.
Face grim, she straightened up, hollering for the previously dismissed servants. One of them approached, Circenia grabbing the woman by the collar. “Fetch the city guard,” she hissed at the wide-eyed woman who trembled in her grasp. “And be quick about it. There’s been a murder, and it looks like they mean to come for our Princess next.”
Screams and a flurry of frenzied activity followed in the wake of her declaration, Circenia falling back to stand with Danae and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not Emilia,” she reassured the trembling girl, gently rubbing the tops of her arms. “Breathe, child. It’s only a message.”
A dire message, perhaps, but a message, nonetheless. Athenia was on the brink of civil war, that could no longer be denied. The question was… who would they come for next?
When Danae approached Circenia about accompanying her to the loutra, the princess’s shock was palpable. She could count on one hand the number of times in recent years that her youngest daughter had asked her to join her anywhere, so the Stravos matriarch was not about to argue. Quickly wiping away the surprise from her face before it could be misinterpreted as displeasure, Circenia rose to her feet with a nod. The apprehension was rolling off her daughter in waves, and though she could often be a cruel woman, that was not the case with her children. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to enfold the nervous girl in her arms and assure her everything would be all right, much as she had done when she was a toddler.
However, she knew Danae well enough to know that was something she would never permit. Instead, she simply settled for placing a hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze and offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course. I’ll summon the carriage.”
Sending one of their few remaining servants off in pursuit of such a task, she tilted her head curiously at Danae’s request for them to dress simply and not draw too much attention to themselves. Normally, this was something she would have balked at, insisting that they present themselves as the elite that they were, but there was just something about the girl’s demeanor that kept her from arguing. A poignant vulnerability that spoke volumes and yet kept Circenia silent. After all, it was just a trip to the bathhouse. They hardly needed such ostentation for this.
Truthfully, she was simply grateful that Danae sought her presence at all that she was willing to go along with whatever she wanted in that moment. It was so rare for her daughter to reach out to her that she couldn’t help but wonder at the cause. Had something happened in the night? What had spooked her?
She made no comment so as to preserve this fragile truce between them, quietly ushering her daughter to the carriage when it arrived. Swathed only in a simple white chiton, she climbed up behind her, and they were off, heading to the loutra with barely a word swapped between them.
Circenia desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, to nose into the root of Danae’s anxiety, but she was worried if she did, that the girl would simply close herself off. She was a very private person and tended to hate any inquiries into her well-being, but her mother was the opposite. Curious and meddlesome, it was killing her not to know, but still she kept her silence. Perhaps she’d offer it on her own, so long as the princess didn’t pry. She could hope, anyway.
The short ride to the loutra was therefore quiet, but not uncomfortably so, Circenia gently patting Danae’s shoulder or knee from time to time, but not enough that she might seem overbearing. Offering only a smile at the simple ‘thank you,’ she nodded and patted her knee again. Those two words were enough for her. She knew she’d done the right thing.
Once they arrived, she offered her hand to help her daughter from the carriage before they headed inside. At first, all seemed normal. It was quiet and calm, due to the early hour of the morning. The closer they came to the women’s side, the more nervous her daughter became, and Circenia glanced over at her with the barest hint of a frown. What was it that had her so on edge? Was it simply apprehension that others would see what lay beneath her peplos? Or was it something else entirely?
Rounding the corner, the world seemed to stop. Trapped in a moment so surreal, the princess hardly knew how to react when Danae suddenly started screaming, Circenia whipping toward her with the worry that she’d been attacked. By whom, she didn’t know, but if anyone had been foolish enough to lay a hand on her child, there would be a drowning in the bathhouse today.
Unfortunately, it seemed someone had already beat her to it.
It’s Emilia! It’s Emilia! Mother, they killed her!
Those words came to her in a fog when her eyes came to rest on the emaciated girl floating in the water. Glancing between her, Danae, and the sanguine words scribbled on the wall, a slow-dawning horror crept across her face. Was it true? Was this Emilia? Or was this just a macabre warning for the niece she was certain was locked away in the Palati?
Placing a stilling hand on Danae’s shoulder, she walked closer to the water, crouching down so she might examine the body a little closer. The girl was of an age with Emilia, to be sure, and her looks were similar, but her frame was too thin and her hair too dark. A warning, then. And not a pleasant one.
Face grim, she straightened up, hollering for the previously dismissed servants. One of them approached, Circenia grabbing the woman by the collar. “Fetch the city guard,” she hissed at the wide-eyed woman who trembled in her grasp. “And be quick about it. There’s been a murder, and it looks like they mean to come for our Princess next.”
Screams and a flurry of frenzied activity followed in the wake of her declaration, Circenia falling back to stand with Danae and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not Emilia,” she reassured the trembling girl, gently rubbing the tops of her arms. “Breathe, child. It’s only a message.”
A dire message, perhaps, but a message, nonetheless. Athenia was on the brink of civil war, that could no longer be denied. The question was… who would they come for next?
The trouble with coming to the capital was that, on top simply having to leave Arcana in the first place, Hector had to upset his usual routine. A military man of precision and order, Hector's mood shifted considerably when his routine had to change for whatever reason. His trips to Athenia over the course of time always had this effect on him, but the tone of tension throughout the city in the past weeks had made it far more unpleasant than usual.
One thing that never changed, despite where he rested his head, was his early hour rising. For many years, he managed to begin his day well before Helios began his trek across the sky. At home, these hours consisted of ensuring that the majority of the tasks around the home were started or fully accomplished, including his preparation of a small morning repast for when the girls woke and he left for the barracks.
In the boarding house where he stayed, the meals were prepared but not ready by the time he descended the staircase, yet another annoyance. At least, he knew, the bathhouses were open for business in the early hours, and he could start the day in at least one positive manner.
He began as the only one in the bathing area, slipping off his simple, above-the-knee tunic and placing it next to the drying cloth he picked up before slipping into the water. Having arrived back in the capital late the night before, washing away the filth of the ride was a welcome reprieve, as well as the warm waters soothing the muscles that knotted themselves along his back from adjusting to a bed other than his own. It did not take long for a few other earlier birds to linger in, graciously silent - as kindred spirits, they must have also understood the sacredness of this quiet hour.
Lingering a while but not to the point of becoming idle, Hector took the time to scour every crevice in every curve of musculature across his body. Whenever in the capital city, he would come across many people of import, some who were more than happy to flaunt their status in his face and remind him of his own place. Daily he was reminded of his position and his bloodline, which was never something he took to heart, but just made most interactions a tooth-grating endeavor.
His official purpose, as of now, was to deliver a series of reports on the province, as well as to root out if any new information about riots and their causes could result in issues in Arcana. Beyond that, whispers of impending war set his militant mind on edge, having heard from missives and murmurs that Taengea made preparations. If there was any truth or validity to this, it was information a Captain of a deployable unit would need ot know. Beyond that, he would once again see if he could be permitted to an audience with the Crown Princess, Emilia. If denied, yet again, he would only sink deeper into his suspicions as to her actual state of being, and consider the options and solutions silently.
After a time, the baths had begin to fill in, and the murmurs of the men began to echo off the cavernous walls, signaling it was time to leave. Rising from the water and crossing to the stone bench where he laid his things, he quickly dried his body, then running the cloth over his hair, leaving it in relative disarray for a moment so the cool, morning air could dry it down to the root, running a few fingers through it and sending droplets flying - a motion which froze as a piercing scream echoed through the corridors.
It emerged from the area secluded for women, but a hustle of servants and bathhouse workers streamed through a door that seemed to usual remain sealed. Hector jaw set itself and his hand grasped at his tunic, jerking it over his head and shoulders, in time for a servant to come pealing through their area as well, voice frantic and hurried.
"Guards! Get the guards! Murder!"
Hector needed to hear no more before his body coiled into motion, bare feet slapping against the slick stone as his sandals were left neglected to the side.
"Move!" he ordered, the tone of his command sending most from his way as it was repeated again when entering the now-crowded bathing chamber. When his verbal order was not heeded, his grip and tug on the upper arms of those before him did the jobs.
As soon as he had cleared the worst of the crowd, his eyes lighted on the words written upon the wall first, processing them and feeling the fire in his gut seem to fall into a pit as his gaze switched quickly around the room, recognizing several faces including Princess Circenia & Lady Danae of Stravos - the younger having undoubtedly been the one who screamed. He froze instantly as he saw the young girl in the water, bile rising but being suppressed as he shifted low before dropping into the water and shoving through the resistance of it against his legs.
As he reached the corpse, he felt a morbid relief as he realized he could not recognize the girl - which meant it was not the Xanthos Crown Princess. Yet, as a father, he felt a cold chill over, his arms gliding beneath the girl's chilled form. Instinctively, his motion allowed him to cradle the girl, the curve of his hand supporting her neck and head with a practiced care, as if she were delicate as glass. The horrifying scars of her face turned towards his chest as he did so, shielding them from the onlooking crowd.
"A cover for her, now," he all but ordered, trying to catch the eye of anyone who would give it to him. After a moment, a cloth was tossed to him and with one arm he clumsily tried to cover the poor wretch before moving them both to the side of the bathing pool, grunting a moment as another figure assisted him in lifting her to the stone edge. From there, he did his best to try to cover her face - his heartstrings tugging as he saw up close just how young and frail the poor soul had been.
The concern had not left his eyes as his glance immediately snapped back to Princess Circenia, Crown Princess Emilia's aunt. If they were here, then...it was possible that she was too....and she could be in danger. His loyalty to the Xanthos family and position as Captain of Arcana was at least known from his passings at court, though he could not say that he had ever formally addressed the Lady of Stravos.
Another pit of concern set his jaw as he offered her an awkward bow of the head from where he stood in the water before addressing her.
"Your Highness. Crown Princess Emilia, where is she?"
His concern was steely but apparent, eyes taking a moment to glance around in case she were to appear out of thin air. This work was fresh - whoever had done this had done their work not long ago, and they could still be present.
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The trouble with coming to the capital was that, on top simply having to leave Arcana in the first place, Hector had to upset his usual routine. A military man of precision and order, Hector's mood shifted considerably when his routine had to change for whatever reason. His trips to Athenia over the course of time always had this effect on him, but the tone of tension throughout the city in the past weeks had made it far more unpleasant than usual.
One thing that never changed, despite where he rested his head, was his early hour rising. For many years, he managed to begin his day well before Helios began his trek across the sky. At home, these hours consisted of ensuring that the majority of the tasks around the home were started or fully accomplished, including his preparation of a small morning repast for when the girls woke and he left for the barracks.
In the boarding house where he stayed, the meals were prepared but not ready by the time he descended the staircase, yet another annoyance. At least, he knew, the bathhouses were open for business in the early hours, and he could start the day in at least one positive manner.
He began as the only one in the bathing area, slipping off his simple, above-the-knee tunic and placing it next to the drying cloth he picked up before slipping into the water. Having arrived back in the capital late the night before, washing away the filth of the ride was a welcome reprieve, as well as the warm waters soothing the muscles that knotted themselves along his back from adjusting to a bed other than his own. It did not take long for a few other earlier birds to linger in, graciously silent - as kindred spirits, they must have also understood the sacredness of this quiet hour.
Lingering a while but not to the point of becoming idle, Hector took the time to scour every crevice in every curve of musculature across his body. Whenever in the capital city, he would come across many people of import, some who were more than happy to flaunt their status in his face and remind him of his own place. Daily he was reminded of his position and his bloodline, which was never something he took to heart, but just made most interactions a tooth-grating endeavor.
His official purpose, as of now, was to deliver a series of reports on the province, as well as to root out if any new information about riots and their causes could result in issues in Arcana. Beyond that, whispers of impending war set his militant mind on edge, having heard from missives and murmurs that Taengea made preparations. If there was any truth or validity to this, it was information a Captain of a deployable unit would need ot know. Beyond that, he would once again see if he could be permitted to an audience with the Crown Princess, Emilia. If denied, yet again, he would only sink deeper into his suspicions as to her actual state of being, and consider the options and solutions silently.
After a time, the baths had begin to fill in, and the murmurs of the men began to echo off the cavernous walls, signaling it was time to leave. Rising from the water and crossing to the stone bench where he laid his things, he quickly dried his body, then running the cloth over his hair, leaving it in relative disarray for a moment so the cool, morning air could dry it down to the root, running a few fingers through it and sending droplets flying - a motion which froze as a piercing scream echoed through the corridors.
It emerged from the area secluded for women, but a hustle of servants and bathhouse workers streamed through a door that seemed to usual remain sealed. Hector jaw set itself and his hand grasped at his tunic, jerking it over his head and shoulders, in time for a servant to come pealing through their area as well, voice frantic and hurried.
"Guards! Get the guards! Murder!"
Hector needed to hear no more before his body coiled into motion, bare feet slapping against the slick stone as his sandals were left neglected to the side.
"Move!" he ordered, the tone of his command sending most from his way as it was repeated again when entering the now-crowded bathing chamber. When his verbal order was not heeded, his grip and tug on the upper arms of those before him did the jobs.
As soon as he had cleared the worst of the crowd, his eyes lighted on the words written upon the wall first, processing them and feeling the fire in his gut seem to fall into a pit as his gaze switched quickly around the room, recognizing several faces including Princess Circenia & Lady Danae of Stravos - the younger having undoubtedly been the one who screamed. He froze instantly as he saw the young girl in the water, bile rising but being suppressed as he shifted low before dropping into the water and shoving through the resistance of it against his legs.
As he reached the corpse, he felt a morbid relief as he realized he could not recognize the girl - which meant it was not the Xanthos Crown Princess. Yet, as a father, he felt a cold chill over, his arms gliding beneath the girl's chilled form. Instinctively, his motion allowed him to cradle the girl, the curve of his hand supporting her neck and head with a practiced care, as if she were delicate as glass. The horrifying scars of her face turned towards his chest as he did so, shielding them from the onlooking crowd.
"A cover for her, now," he all but ordered, trying to catch the eye of anyone who would give it to him. After a moment, a cloth was tossed to him and with one arm he clumsily tried to cover the poor wretch before moving them both to the side of the bathing pool, grunting a moment as another figure assisted him in lifting her to the stone edge. From there, he did his best to try to cover her face - his heartstrings tugging as he saw up close just how young and frail the poor soul had been.
The concern had not left his eyes as his glance immediately snapped back to Princess Circenia, Crown Princess Emilia's aunt. If they were here, then...it was possible that she was too....and she could be in danger. His loyalty to the Xanthos family and position as Captain of Arcana was at least known from his passings at court, though he could not say that he had ever formally addressed the Lady of Stravos.
Another pit of concern set his jaw as he offered her an awkward bow of the head from where he stood in the water before addressing her.
"Your Highness. Crown Princess Emilia, where is she?"
His concern was steely but apparent, eyes taking a moment to glance around in case she were to appear out of thin air. This work was fresh - whoever had done this had done their work not long ago, and they could still be present.
The trouble with coming to the capital was that, on top simply having to leave Arcana in the first place, Hector had to upset his usual routine. A military man of precision and order, Hector's mood shifted considerably when his routine had to change for whatever reason. His trips to Athenia over the course of time always had this effect on him, but the tone of tension throughout the city in the past weeks had made it far more unpleasant than usual.
One thing that never changed, despite where he rested his head, was his early hour rising. For many years, he managed to begin his day well before Helios began his trek across the sky. At home, these hours consisted of ensuring that the majority of the tasks around the home were started or fully accomplished, including his preparation of a small morning repast for when the girls woke and he left for the barracks.
In the boarding house where he stayed, the meals were prepared but not ready by the time he descended the staircase, yet another annoyance. At least, he knew, the bathhouses were open for business in the early hours, and he could start the day in at least one positive manner.
He began as the only one in the bathing area, slipping off his simple, above-the-knee tunic and placing it next to the drying cloth he picked up before slipping into the water. Having arrived back in the capital late the night before, washing away the filth of the ride was a welcome reprieve, as well as the warm waters soothing the muscles that knotted themselves along his back from adjusting to a bed other than his own. It did not take long for a few other earlier birds to linger in, graciously silent - as kindred spirits, they must have also understood the sacredness of this quiet hour.
Lingering a while but not to the point of becoming idle, Hector took the time to scour every crevice in every curve of musculature across his body. Whenever in the capital city, he would come across many people of import, some who were more than happy to flaunt their status in his face and remind him of his own place. Daily he was reminded of his position and his bloodline, which was never something he took to heart, but just made most interactions a tooth-grating endeavor.
His official purpose, as of now, was to deliver a series of reports on the province, as well as to root out if any new information about riots and their causes could result in issues in Arcana. Beyond that, whispers of impending war set his militant mind on edge, having heard from missives and murmurs that Taengea made preparations. If there was any truth or validity to this, it was information a Captain of a deployable unit would need ot know. Beyond that, he would once again see if he could be permitted to an audience with the Crown Princess, Emilia. If denied, yet again, he would only sink deeper into his suspicions as to her actual state of being, and consider the options and solutions silently.
After a time, the baths had begin to fill in, and the murmurs of the men began to echo off the cavernous walls, signaling it was time to leave. Rising from the water and crossing to the stone bench where he laid his things, he quickly dried his body, then running the cloth over his hair, leaving it in relative disarray for a moment so the cool, morning air could dry it down to the root, running a few fingers through it and sending droplets flying - a motion which froze as a piercing scream echoed through the corridors.
It emerged from the area secluded for women, but a hustle of servants and bathhouse workers streamed through a door that seemed to usual remain sealed. Hector jaw set itself and his hand grasped at his tunic, jerking it over his head and shoulders, in time for a servant to come pealing through their area as well, voice frantic and hurried.
"Guards! Get the guards! Murder!"
Hector needed to hear no more before his body coiled into motion, bare feet slapping against the slick stone as his sandals were left neglected to the side.
"Move!" he ordered, the tone of his command sending most from his way as it was repeated again when entering the now-crowded bathing chamber. When his verbal order was not heeded, his grip and tug on the upper arms of those before him did the jobs.
As soon as he had cleared the worst of the crowd, his eyes lighted on the words written upon the wall first, processing them and feeling the fire in his gut seem to fall into a pit as his gaze switched quickly around the room, recognizing several faces including Princess Circenia & Lady Danae of Stravos - the younger having undoubtedly been the one who screamed. He froze instantly as he saw the young girl in the water, bile rising but being suppressed as he shifted low before dropping into the water and shoving through the resistance of it against his legs.
As he reached the corpse, he felt a morbid relief as he realized he could not recognize the girl - which meant it was not the Xanthos Crown Princess. Yet, as a father, he felt a cold chill over, his arms gliding beneath the girl's chilled form. Instinctively, his motion allowed him to cradle the girl, the curve of his hand supporting her neck and head with a practiced care, as if she were delicate as glass. The horrifying scars of her face turned towards his chest as he did so, shielding them from the onlooking crowd.
"A cover for her, now," he all but ordered, trying to catch the eye of anyone who would give it to him. After a moment, a cloth was tossed to him and with one arm he clumsily tried to cover the poor wretch before moving them both to the side of the bathing pool, grunting a moment as another figure assisted him in lifting her to the stone edge. From there, he did his best to try to cover her face - his heartstrings tugging as he saw up close just how young and frail the poor soul had been.
The concern had not left his eyes as his glance immediately snapped back to Princess Circenia, Crown Princess Emilia's aunt. If they were here, then...it was possible that she was too....and she could be in danger. His loyalty to the Xanthos family and position as Captain of Arcana was at least known from his passings at court, though he could not say that he had ever formally addressed the Lady of Stravos.
Another pit of concern set his jaw as he offered her an awkward bow of the head from where he stood in the water before addressing her.
"Your Highness. Crown Princess Emilia, where is she?"
His concern was steely but apparent, eyes taking a moment to glance around in case she were to appear out of thin air. This work was fresh - whoever had done this had done their work not long ago, and they could still be present.
Since the queen’s flight from Athenia, almost no one had been to see Princess Emilia. That bothered Elysia in the extreme. After all, a young girl who had previously been exuberant and seen daily, suddenly hiding in her rooms? Not only was this not to be borne, but it was mildly alarming, as Elysia liked the little princess quite a bit. They were not the best of friends, of course. How could they be when the princess was barely out of the nursery, but that didn’t mean that Elysia didn’t enjoy talking to her on occasion whenever they happened to bump into each other (usually by Elysia’s design).
Today was no different. Having acquired permission to enter the palati and to see the princess, she’d decided that the best thing for everyone would be a nice walk and a chat. They were hardly alone. Guards trailed them through the whole walk toward the bath houses whilst Elysia kept up a steady stream of conversation about nothing in particular. All she was attempting to do was boost the princess’s mood. What was better to do that than a morning visit to the bath house? In Greece, it was not at all uncommon to meet one’s friends there and to chat while standing in the steaming water while servants circled with cold refreshments. It was a divine past time and They’d just entered into the bathhouse entrance, arm in arm, when screams ricocheted off the walls.
At first Elysia couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from but she did understand the name ‘Emilia’ being screeched over and over and the words ‘killed her’.
“Well that’s ridiculous,” Elysia frowned delicately, patting Emilia’s arm and giving her a reassuring glance. “You’re right here and fine, dear, but a bath might not be as soothing as I had imagined…” Of course, there was no way that Elysia could possibly not see for herself what was going on, and so she slid her arm from Emilia’s and strode into the bathhouse, following the echoing sounds of distress. There before her, was Lady Stravos and her daughter, Lady Danae.
They hadn’t seen her yet and she pressed herself into a corner, eyes on the gruesome body floating in the pool and then on the words painted on the wall. She’d seen death before, but a human death, especially one so young, and female besides, jarred her to her core. Pressing her fingertips along her forehead, they came away with the sheen of the cold sweat that broke out along her skin. Elysia did nothing as she watched Cercina grab a servant and practically scare the poor thing into running for the city guard.
That was when Elysia realized she needed to get Emilia out of here, but before she could move, a man burst into the chamber and he was not alone. People began to fill the room, all looking at the message. She needed to move. Her legs needed to stop being so annoyingly unstable. Her heart fluttered around in her chest again and she decided to swallow her fear. The princess was safe enough.
The man who looked only in the vaguest sense of the word familiar, dropped into the pool and she watched, horrified and fascinated, as he went to the girl. Elysia forced herself to detach from the momentary shock of seeing a body in a place where one should never have been, and she moved to the side of the pool, following Hector’s movements with her eyes, noting the serious lack of blood in the water. It was that fact, that one connection to cool, logical reason that snapped her back to reality.
“Sir,” she said but Hector was still moving and Elysia followed him along the lip of the pool as he moved. He set the girl down. She wished, desperately wished that he had not moved the child. “Sir,” she moved forward and set her hand on his arm just as he was asking where Princess Emilia was. Elysia ignored that question because it wasn’t relevant. She knew Emilia to be fine and didn’t see the point in revealing that to a crowd of people.
“Sir,” she said again, attempting to get Hector’s attention for a third time. “Did you notice the lack of blood in the water?” Without being married to her husband for so long, Elysia wouldn’t have noticed that sort of detail on her own. But through her marriage to the Master Informer, she’d learned to see things differently than other people appeared to do. “I think we need to uncover the girl’s body,” she said in a low voice, stepping closer to him so that they would not be overheard. “How long has she been in the water? I am suspecting she was killed elsewhere and brought here.”
That meant it was likely that her killers were long gone. Or, perhaps, the killers were in this very room, in order to watch the mayhem take place.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Since the queen’s flight from Athenia, almost no one had been to see Princess Emilia. That bothered Elysia in the extreme. After all, a young girl who had previously been exuberant and seen daily, suddenly hiding in her rooms? Not only was this not to be borne, but it was mildly alarming, as Elysia liked the little princess quite a bit. They were not the best of friends, of course. How could they be when the princess was barely out of the nursery, but that didn’t mean that Elysia didn’t enjoy talking to her on occasion whenever they happened to bump into each other (usually by Elysia’s design).
Today was no different. Having acquired permission to enter the palati and to see the princess, she’d decided that the best thing for everyone would be a nice walk and a chat. They were hardly alone. Guards trailed them through the whole walk toward the bath houses whilst Elysia kept up a steady stream of conversation about nothing in particular. All she was attempting to do was boost the princess’s mood. What was better to do that than a morning visit to the bath house? In Greece, it was not at all uncommon to meet one’s friends there and to chat while standing in the steaming water while servants circled with cold refreshments. It was a divine past time and They’d just entered into the bathhouse entrance, arm in arm, when screams ricocheted off the walls.
At first Elysia couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from but she did understand the name ‘Emilia’ being screeched over and over and the words ‘killed her’.
“Well that’s ridiculous,” Elysia frowned delicately, patting Emilia’s arm and giving her a reassuring glance. “You’re right here and fine, dear, but a bath might not be as soothing as I had imagined…” Of course, there was no way that Elysia could possibly not see for herself what was going on, and so she slid her arm from Emilia’s and strode into the bathhouse, following the echoing sounds of distress. There before her, was Lady Stravos and her daughter, Lady Danae.
They hadn’t seen her yet and she pressed herself into a corner, eyes on the gruesome body floating in the pool and then on the words painted on the wall. She’d seen death before, but a human death, especially one so young, and female besides, jarred her to her core. Pressing her fingertips along her forehead, they came away with the sheen of the cold sweat that broke out along her skin. Elysia did nothing as she watched Cercina grab a servant and practically scare the poor thing into running for the city guard.
That was when Elysia realized she needed to get Emilia out of here, but before she could move, a man burst into the chamber and he was not alone. People began to fill the room, all looking at the message. She needed to move. Her legs needed to stop being so annoyingly unstable. Her heart fluttered around in her chest again and she decided to swallow her fear. The princess was safe enough.
The man who looked only in the vaguest sense of the word familiar, dropped into the pool and she watched, horrified and fascinated, as he went to the girl. Elysia forced herself to detach from the momentary shock of seeing a body in a place where one should never have been, and she moved to the side of the pool, following Hector’s movements with her eyes, noting the serious lack of blood in the water. It was that fact, that one connection to cool, logical reason that snapped her back to reality.
“Sir,” she said but Hector was still moving and Elysia followed him along the lip of the pool as he moved. He set the girl down. She wished, desperately wished that he had not moved the child. “Sir,” she moved forward and set her hand on his arm just as he was asking where Princess Emilia was. Elysia ignored that question because it wasn’t relevant. She knew Emilia to be fine and didn’t see the point in revealing that to a crowd of people.
“Sir,” she said again, attempting to get Hector’s attention for a third time. “Did you notice the lack of blood in the water?” Without being married to her husband for so long, Elysia wouldn’t have noticed that sort of detail on her own. But through her marriage to the Master Informer, she’d learned to see things differently than other people appeared to do. “I think we need to uncover the girl’s body,” she said in a low voice, stepping closer to him so that they would not be overheard. “How long has she been in the water? I am suspecting she was killed elsewhere and brought here.”
That meant it was likely that her killers were long gone. Or, perhaps, the killers were in this very room, in order to watch the mayhem take place.
Since the queen’s flight from Athenia, almost no one had been to see Princess Emilia. That bothered Elysia in the extreme. After all, a young girl who had previously been exuberant and seen daily, suddenly hiding in her rooms? Not only was this not to be borne, but it was mildly alarming, as Elysia liked the little princess quite a bit. They were not the best of friends, of course. How could they be when the princess was barely out of the nursery, but that didn’t mean that Elysia didn’t enjoy talking to her on occasion whenever they happened to bump into each other (usually by Elysia’s design).
Today was no different. Having acquired permission to enter the palati and to see the princess, she’d decided that the best thing for everyone would be a nice walk and a chat. They were hardly alone. Guards trailed them through the whole walk toward the bath houses whilst Elysia kept up a steady stream of conversation about nothing in particular. All she was attempting to do was boost the princess’s mood. What was better to do that than a morning visit to the bath house? In Greece, it was not at all uncommon to meet one’s friends there and to chat while standing in the steaming water while servants circled with cold refreshments. It was a divine past time and They’d just entered into the bathhouse entrance, arm in arm, when screams ricocheted off the walls.
At first Elysia couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from but she did understand the name ‘Emilia’ being screeched over and over and the words ‘killed her’.
“Well that’s ridiculous,” Elysia frowned delicately, patting Emilia’s arm and giving her a reassuring glance. “You’re right here and fine, dear, but a bath might not be as soothing as I had imagined…” Of course, there was no way that Elysia could possibly not see for herself what was going on, and so she slid her arm from Emilia’s and strode into the bathhouse, following the echoing sounds of distress. There before her, was Lady Stravos and her daughter, Lady Danae.
They hadn’t seen her yet and she pressed herself into a corner, eyes on the gruesome body floating in the pool and then on the words painted on the wall. She’d seen death before, but a human death, especially one so young, and female besides, jarred her to her core. Pressing her fingertips along her forehead, they came away with the sheen of the cold sweat that broke out along her skin. Elysia did nothing as she watched Cercina grab a servant and practically scare the poor thing into running for the city guard.
That was when Elysia realized she needed to get Emilia out of here, but before she could move, a man burst into the chamber and he was not alone. People began to fill the room, all looking at the message. She needed to move. Her legs needed to stop being so annoyingly unstable. Her heart fluttered around in her chest again and she decided to swallow her fear. The princess was safe enough.
The man who looked only in the vaguest sense of the word familiar, dropped into the pool and she watched, horrified and fascinated, as he went to the girl. Elysia forced herself to detach from the momentary shock of seeing a body in a place where one should never have been, and she moved to the side of the pool, following Hector’s movements with her eyes, noting the serious lack of blood in the water. It was that fact, that one connection to cool, logical reason that snapped her back to reality.
“Sir,” she said but Hector was still moving and Elysia followed him along the lip of the pool as he moved. He set the girl down. She wished, desperately wished that he had not moved the child. “Sir,” she moved forward and set her hand on his arm just as he was asking where Princess Emilia was. Elysia ignored that question because it wasn’t relevant. She knew Emilia to be fine and didn’t see the point in revealing that to a crowd of people.
“Sir,” she said again, attempting to get Hector’s attention for a third time. “Did you notice the lack of blood in the water?” Without being married to her husband for so long, Elysia wouldn’t have noticed that sort of detail on her own. But through her marriage to the Master Informer, she’d learned to see things differently than other people appeared to do. “I think we need to uncover the girl’s body,” she said in a low voice, stepping closer to him so that they would not be overheard. “How long has she been in the water? I am suspecting she was killed elsewhere and brought here.”
That meant it was likely that her killers were long gone. Or, perhaps, the killers were in this very room, in order to watch the mayhem take place.
Closed off as she were from the world, while Elias and the Stravos was beginning to be more lax in allowing her out, Emilia would still jump at any chance to head out, even if she had to be accompanied. To a certain extent, the young princess appreciated the company, for she was still a little nervous that none of the insurgents nor the one in charge of the attack was caught, but her antsiness at being cooped up inside was overriding her nervous demeanour.
When the wife to the Master Informer had offered to bring Emilia out, she was more then happy. Lady Elysia, while not of nobility herself, was someone Emilia had long since admire... although part of the admiration could perhaps have something to do with her silly little crush on the Master Informer. A devout prayer to Aphrodite however, she could never harm a marriage, and as such had consigned herself to merely sighing whenever he walked into a room she was in, and became decidedly good friends with the lady herself.
She was enjoying the fresh air, something she had never really appreciated until the past, most recent months, when a stricken look came across her face as they neared the bathhouse and entered the place. Her name she easily picked up, and the brunette froze, despite the reassurance from Elysia. The color had drained out of her cheeks as the sounds of 'kill' and 'blood' rang out clear over the other cacophony of the place echoing in the chambers.
Emilia's grip tightened, supposedly on where she had strung her arm through Elysia - only to be met with thin air. Where had the lady gone?
Separated from the guards as they had entered, and now that the one she had came with had slipped away, the blood further drained from Emilia's face as the jostling and pushing of people until the crowd parted as the body was brought to the front - and Emilia saw the pale body, eyes open... and the name of her ownself inscribed in what looked to the young girl's eyes like blood, on the wall opposite.
Her chest hurt. Her body froze. She heard a scream... but why did it sound like it was coming from herself?
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Closed off as she were from the world, while Elias and the Stravos was beginning to be more lax in allowing her out, Emilia would still jump at any chance to head out, even if she had to be accompanied. To a certain extent, the young princess appreciated the company, for she was still a little nervous that none of the insurgents nor the one in charge of the attack was caught, but her antsiness at being cooped up inside was overriding her nervous demeanour.
When the wife to the Master Informer had offered to bring Emilia out, she was more then happy. Lady Elysia, while not of nobility herself, was someone Emilia had long since admire... although part of the admiration could perhaps have something to do with her silly little crush on the Master Informer. A devout prayer to Aphrodite however, she could never harm a marriage, and as such had consigned herself to merely sighing whenever he walked into a room she was in, and became decidedly good friends with the lady herself.
She was enjoying the fresh air, something she had never really appreciated until the past, most recent months, when a stricken look came across her face as they neared the bathhouse and entered the place. Her name she easily picked up, and the brunette froze, despite the reassurance from Elysia. The color had drained out of her cheeks as the sounds of 'kill' and 'blood' rang out clear over the other cacophony of the place echoing in the chambers.
Emilia's grip tightened, supposedly on where she had strung her arm through Elysia - only to be met with thin air. Where had the lady gone?
Separated from the guards as they had entered, and now that the one she had came with had slipped away, the blood further drained from Emilia's face as the jostling and pushing of people until the crowd parted as the body was brought to the front - and Emilia saw the pale body, eyes open... and the name of her ownself inscribed in what looked to the young girl's eyes like blood, on the wall opposite.
Her chest hurt. Her body froze. She heard a scream... but why did it sound like it was coming from herself?
Closed off as she were from the world, while Elias and the Stravos was beginning to be more lax in allowing her out, Emilia would still jump at any chance to head out, even if she had to be accompanied. To a certain extent, the young princess appreciated the company, for she was still a little nervous that none of the insurgents nor the one in charge of the attack was caught, but her antsiness at being cooped up inside was overriding her nervous demeanour.
When the wife to the Master Informer had offered to bring Emilia out, she was more then happy. Lady Elysia, while not of nobility herself, was someone Emilia had long since admire... although part of the admiration could perhaps have something to do with her silly little crush on the Master Informer. A devout prayer to Aphrodite however, she could never harm a marriage, and as such had consigned herself to merely sighing whenever he walked into a room she was in, and became decidedly good friends with the lady herself.
She was enjoying the fresh air, something she had never really appreciated until the past, most recent months, when a stricken look came across her face as they neared the bathhouse and entered the place. Her name she easily picked up, and the brunette froze, despite the reassurance from Elysia. The color had drained out of her cheeks as the sounds of 'kill' and 'blood' rang out clear over the other cacophony of the place echoing in the chambers.
Emilia's grip tightened, supposedly on where she had strung her arm through Elysia - only to be met with thin air. Where had the lady gone?
Separated from the guards as they had entered, and now that the one she had came with had slipped away, the blood further drained from Emilia's face as the jostling and pushing of people until the crowd parted as the body was brought to the front - and Emilia saw the pale body, eyes open... and the name of her ownself inscribed in what looked to the young girl's eyes like blood, on the wall opposite.
Her chest hurt. Her body froze. She heard a scream... but why did it sound like it was coming from herself?
Having been in Athenia for almost a month now, Demi had been hired by a customer who had handsomely paid her for her services for over a week - a customer she later realized would be the stripped and much gossiped about Lord Elias of Stravos. While she had fully intended to return to Arcana after her job was done, his rude and abrupt message for her termination also came with much political strife in Athenia, which all resulted in Demi being unable to find transport to return to her home province, and stranded her in Athenia. All the gold she had earned from his handsome payment, which Demi had planned on purchasing some new material to make a new dress and perhaps touch up her rouge material, was all gone to waste from having to stay in the capitol.
With little choice but to either walk, or take one of the cargo wagons back to Arcana (an option Demi was steadfastly trying to avoid due to the massive amount of animals she'd have to share the wagon with), at this point however, she had little choice.
Therefore, when Demi had first entered the bathhouses, she had fully intended on taking a bath before finding a wagon willing to bring her back to Arcana with the little coin she had left on herself.
Entering behind a pair of ladies who had arrived on a carriage, Demi had been so focused on ensuring her chiton could be easily unclasped once she got to the large central bath in the chambers, that she froze the moment the scream rendered through the air, and people began to pile in almost seconds after.
Demi almost wanted to reject what her eyes saw. She had lived a... somewhat sheltered life, although that was subject to who asked. While she definitely did not have the life of a noble who only saw gold and riches, and slept in silks and the best material one could find, Demi was at least, a lady who was treated as such. Much of the treatment given to her could be attributed to the fact that Demi was gorgeous, that she was rarely treated with a rough hand. At most, she was ignored once her clients tired of her beauty, but never had she ever had to deal with a dead body.
The body floating in the waters made her breath catch, her throat dry, and what felt suspiciously like her dinner from the night before rolling in her stomach as her prone form too frozen from surprise was jostled around as people were summoned by the scream of the young noble lady who had also happened to be at the loutra. Her ears rang, dulling the growing sounds of people's loud murmurs that she almost missed the voice shouting for people to move - only to get pushed back when the man who owned the voice shoved people to get out of his way.
The tawny-haired female caught herself on one of the marble columns to prevent herself from falling directly in to the pool - yet found herself standing right at the edge of the main pool, waters she felt like she would retch once she touched. What was Hector doing here? Demi's eyes flew to where her lover and friend tended to the dead body. A part of her, one that she would not admit to anyone, swelled with pride at how easily he handled the situation, yet at the same time, Demi couldn't find her voice to call out to him. She had not seen the man in a month - but what right did she have to disturb his work?
When another scream rented through the air, the crowds shuffled past again - and this time, Demi was too distracted to even avoid it. Already clinging on to the marble columns and standing precariously near the edge the amount of people anxious to get away from who was the screaming princess did not notice the pint sized brunette in the pale blue chiton. A nudge here and an elbow there, and the next thing she knew, Demi lost her hold on the marble column, her heel slipping over the edge of the pool, and her body fell with yet another splash into the contaminated pool.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Having been in Athenia for almost a month now, Demi had been hired by a customer who had handsomely paid her for her services for over a week - a customer she later realized would be the stripped and much gossiped about Lord Elias of Stravos. While she had fully intended to return to Arcana after her job was done, his rude and abrupt message for her termination also came with much political strife in Athenia, which all resulted in Demi being unable to find transport to return to her home province, and stranded her in Athenia. All the gold she had earned from his handsome payment, which Demi had planned on purchasing some new material to make a new dress and perhaps touch up her rouge material, was all gone to waste from having to stay in the capitol.
With little choice but to either walk, or take one of the cargo wagons back to Arcana (an option Demi was steadfastly trying to avoid due to the massive amount of animals she'd have to share the wagon with), at this point however, she had little choice.
Therefore, when Demi had first entered the bathhouses, she had fully intended on taking a bath before finding a wagon willing to bring her back to Arcana with the little coin she had left on herself.
Entering behind a pair of ladies who had arrived on a carriage, Demi had been so focused on ensuring her chiton could be easily unclasped once she got to the large central bath in the chambers, that she froze the moment the scream rendered through the air, and people began to pile in almost seconds after.
Demi almost wanted to reject what her eyes saw. She had lived a... somewhat sheltered life, although that was subject to who asked. While she definitely did not have the life of a noble who only saw gold and riches, and slept in silks and the best material one could find, Demi was at least, a lady who was treated as such. Much of the treatment given to her could be attributed to the fact that Demi was gorgeous, that she was rarely treated with a rough hand. At most, she was ignored once her clients tired of her beauty, but never had she ever had to deal with a dead body.
The body floating in the waters made her breath catch, her throat dry, and what felt suspiciously like her dinner from the night before rolling in her stomach as her prone form too frozen from surprise was jostled around as people were summoned by the scream of the young noble lady who had also happened to be at the loutra. Her ears rang, dulling the growing sounds of people's loud murmurs that she almost missed the voice shouting for people to move - only to get pushed back when the man who owned the voice shoved people to get out of his way.
The tawny-haired female caught herself on one of the marble columns to prevent herself from falling directly in to the pool - yet found herself standing right at the edge of the main pool, waters she felt like she would retch once she touched. What was Hector doing here? Demi's eyes flew to where her lover and friend tended to the dead body. A part of her, one that she would not admit to anyone, swelled with pride at how easily he handled the situation, yet at the same time, Demi couldn't find her voice to call out to him. She had not seen the man in a month - but what right did she have to disturb his work?
When another scream rented through the air, the crowds shuffled past again - and this time, Demi was too distracted to even avoid it. Already clinging on to the marble columns and standing precariously near the edge the amount of people anxious to get away from who was the screaming princess did not notice the pint sized brunette in the pale blue chiton. A nudge here and an elbow there, and the next thing she knew, Demi lost her hold on the marble column, her heel slipping over the edge of the pool, and her body fell with yet another splash into the contaminated pool.
Having been in Athenia for almost a month now, Demi had been hired by a customer who had handsomely paid her for her services for over a week - a customer she later realized would be the stripped and much gossiped about Lord Elias of Stravos. While she had fully intended to return to Arcana after her job was done, his rude and abrupt message for her termination also came with much political strife in Athenia, which all resulted in Demi being unable to find transport to return to her home province, and stranded her in Athenia. All the gold she had earned from his handsome payment, which Demi had planned on purchasing some new material to make a new dress and perhaps touch up her rouge material, was all gone to waste from having to stay in the capitol.
With little choice but to either walk, or take one of the cargo wagons back to Arcana (an option Demi was steadfastly trying to avoid due to the massive amount of animals she'd have to share the wagon with), at this point however, she had little choice.
Therefore, when Demi had first entered the bathhouses, she had fully intended on taking a bath before finding a wagon willing to bring her back to Arcana with the little coin she had left on herself.
Entering behind a pair of ladies who had arrived on a carriage, Demi had been so focused on ensuring her chiton could be easily unclasped once she got to the large central bath in the chambers, that she froze the moment the scream rendered through the air, and people began to pile in almost seconds after.
Demi almost wanted to reject what her eyes saw. She had lived a... somewhat sheltered life, although that was subject to who asked. While she definitely did not have the life of a noble who only saw gold and riches, and slept in silks and the best material one could find, Demi was at least, a lady who was treated as such. Much of the treatment given to her could be attributed to the fact that Demi was gorgeous, that she was rarely treated with a rough hand. At most, she was ignored once her clients tired of her beauty, but never had she ever had to deal with a dead body.
The body floating in the waters made her breath catch, her throat dry, and what felt suspiciously like her dinner from the night before rolling in her stomach as her prone form too frozen from surprise was jostled around as people were summoned by the scream of the young noble lady who had also happened to be at the loutra. Her ears rang, dulling the growing sounds of people's loud murmurs that she almost missed the voice shouting for people to move - only to get pushed back when the man who owned the voice shoved people to get out of his way.
The tawny-haired female caught herself on one of the marble columns to prevent herself from falling directly in to the pool - yet found herself standing right at the edge of the main pool, waters she felt like she would retch once she touched. What was Hector doing here? Demi's eyes flew to where her lover and friend tended to the dead body. A part of her, one that she would not admit to anyone, swelled with pride at how easily he handled the situation, yet at the same time, Demi couldn't find her voice to call out to him. She had not seen the man in a month - but what right did she have to disturb his work?
When another scream rented through the air, the crowds shuffled past again - and this time, Demi was too distracted to even avoid it. Already clinging on to the marble columns and standing precariously near the edge the amount of people anxious to get away from who was the screaming princess did not notice the pint sized brunette in the pale blue chiton. A nudge here and an elbow there, and the next thing she knew, Demi lost her hold on the marble column, her heel slipping over the edge of the pool, and her body fell with yet another splash into the contaminated pool.
Lesley was not Emilia's only guard today - it wasn't one of their little private excursions - but that didn't make a difference to the fact that none of them could politely follow her into the women's baths, so he leaned against a wall at the front entrance, as she stepped through the women's door with only Elysia of Aetaea to attend her.
Danae's scream had him stiffening in surprise, but despite his confidence and skill as a fighter, he was not specifically trained or experienced as a bodyguard, and in the moment or two it took to overcome his natural resistance to barging into the women's baths, one of the city guard had pushed past him. Lesley let him; he assumed that if there were any threats present, they would be already inside and not arriving in response to a shout for the guards. He had more hesitation than Hector in shoving past the half-dressed (or less) women who'd come into the pool room from either the sauna or the changing area to gawk, too, and he spent too long a moment scanning the room before he spotted the short girl he was supposed to be looking after.
He recognized her scream as one of fear and horror rather than pain, and slipped the palati guard's cloak from around his shoulders to envelop her as he stepped behind her, tugging a corner of the fabric up to cover her hair modestly. It was potentially identifying her as a target, but hopefully worn by such a slight figure in such a feminine way would make most people subconsciously assume the color was coincidence, and anyone who was actually intending to target her would doubtless recognize her anyway.
"I'm here." The low, quiet voice didn't promise anything, but was nonetheless a reassuring anchor of calm stability if she chose to take it as such. He scanned the room again, looking for anything out of place rather than a specific person this time, looking for anyone who was also watching the crowd, looking for anyone who didn't appear shocked. The women were all reacting as expected, and the few men in the room he recognized as guards - by their body language rather than their faces, given his nearsightedness.
Part of his mind was logically processing the situation - if any insurgents wanted to follow up this move, or see the reactions to their message, they wouldn't have left a man in the women's bath, they would either have left their wives to watch, or positioned themselves to run in in response to the call for help; his own behaviour watching the crowd rather than showing any care for or emotional reaction to the dead girl was almost exactly what he was looking for in others; someone might be canny enough to believably fake being part of the crowd, or a city guard, until they were ready to move; the first man to shove in had reacted quickly enough to be suspicious, but the fact he had gone immediately to deal with the body rather than attempt to bundle the princess off somewhere with no witnesses on the premise of protecting her meant he was not an immediate concern; he needed to be aware that one of the legitimate city guards might not recognize him and might assume he was a threat.
The rest, the part of his mind that was fully in tune with his body, was simply waiting, balanced and alert, ready to react to any threat suddenly manifesting.
"This way," he told Emilia quietly, a touch on her shoulder gently drawing her away from the dead body, towards the entrance and more importantly in the very short term towards a wall. He wanted to get her away entirely, but if someone did try to jump her before he could, whether they were lying in wait or simply an opportunistic member of the public if the crowd turned nasty, he wanted to limit the direction any attack could come from.
The splash into the pool caught his attention sharply, and his grip on his charge's shoulder tightened briefly before vanishing. He couldn't tell if the other lady had been shoved or not, and he wanted his hands free. "We need to leave, my lady."
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Lesley was not Emilia's only guard today - it wasn't one of their little private excursions - but that didn't make a difference to the fact that none of them could politely follow her into the women's baths, so he leaned against a wall at the front entrance, as she stepped through the women's door with only Elysia of Aetaea to attend her.
Danae's scream had him stiffening in surprise, but despite his confidence and skill as a fighter, he was not specifically trained or experienced as a bodyguard, and in the moment or two it took to overcome his natural resistance to barging into the women's baths, one of the city guard had pushed past him. Lesley let him; he assumed that if there were any threats present, they would be already inside and not arriving in response to a shout for the guards. He had more hesitation than Hector in shoving past the half-dressed (or less) women who'd come into the pool room from either the sauna or the changing area to gawk, too, and he spent too long a moment scanning the room before he spotted the short girl he was supposed to be looking after.
He recognized her scream as one of fear and horror rather than pain, and slipped the palati guard's cloak from around his shoulders to envelop her as he stepped behind her, tugging a corner of the fabric up to cover her hair modestly. It was potentially identifying her as a target, but hopefully worn by such a slight figure in such a feminine way would make most people subconsciously assume the color was coincidence, and anyone who was actually intending to target her would doubtless recognize her anyway.
"I'm here." The low, quiet voice didn't promise anything, but was nonetheless a reassuring anchor of calm stability if she chose to take it as such. He scanned the room again, looking for anything out of place rather than a specific person this time, looking for anyone who was also watching the crowd, looking for anyone who didn't appear shocked. The women were all reacting as expected, and the few men in the room he recognized as guards - by their body language rather than their faces, given his nearsightedness.
Part of his mind was logically processing the situation - if any insurgents wanted to follow up this move, or see the reactions to their message, they wouldn't have left a man in the women's bath, they would either have left their wives to watch, or positioned themselves to run in in response to the call for help; his own behaviour watching the crowd rather than showing any care for or emotional reaction to the dead girl was almost exactly what he was looking for in others; someone might be canny enough to believably fake being part of the crowd, or a city guard, until they were ready to move; the first man to shove in had reacted quickly enough to be suspicious, but the fact he had gone immediately to deal with the body rather than attempt to bundle the princess off somewhere with no witnesses on the premise of protecting her meant he was not an immediate concern; he needed to be aware that one of the legitimate city guards might not recognize him and might assume he was a threat.
The rest, the part of his mind that was fully in tune with his body, was simply waiting, balanced and alert, ready to react to any threat suddenly manifesting.
"This way," he told Emilia quietly, a touch on her shoulder gently drawing her away from the dead body, towards the entrance and more importantly in the very short term towards a wall. He wanted to get her away entirely, but if someone did try to jump her before he could, whether they were lying in wait or simply an opportunistic member of the public if the crowd turned nasty, he wanted to limit the direction any attack could come from.
The splash into the pool caught his attention sharply, and his grip on his charge's shoulder tightened briefly before vanishing. He couldn't tell if the other lady had been shoved or not, and he wanted his hands free. "We need to leave, my lady."
Lesley was not Emilia's only guard today - it wasn't one of their little private excursions - but that didn't make a difference to the fact that none of them could politely follow her into the women's baths, so he leaned against a wall at the front entrance, as she stepped through the women's door with only Elysia of Aetaea to attend her.
Danae's scream had him stiffening in surprise, but despite his confidence and skill as a fighter, he was not specifically trained or experienced as a bodyguard, and in the moment or two it took to overcome his natural resistance to barging into the women's baths, one of the city guard had pushed past him. Lesley let him; he assumed that if there were any threats present, they would be already inside and not arriving in response to a shout for the guards. He had more hesitation than Hector in shoving past the half-dressed (or less) women who'd come into the pool room from either the sauna or the changing area to gawk, too, and he spent too long a moment scanning the room before he spotted the short girl he was supposed to be looking after.
He recognized her scream as one of fear and horror rather than pain, and slipped the palati guard's cloak from around his shoulders to envelop her as he stepped behind her, tugging a corner of the fabric up to cover her hair modestly. It was potentially identifying her as a target, but hopefully worn by such a slight figure in such a feminine way would make most people subconsciously assume the color was coincidence, and anyone who was actually intending to target her would doubtless recognize her anyway.
"I'm here." The low, quiet voice didn't promise anything, but was nonetheless a reassuring anchor of calm stability if she chose to take it as such. He scanned the room again, looking for anything out of place rather than a specific person this time, looking for anyone who was also watching the crowd, looking for anyone who didn't appear shocked. The women were all reacting as expected, and the few men in the room he recognized as guards - by their body language rather than their faces, given his nearsightedness.
Part of his mind was logically processing the situation - if any insurgents wanted to follow up this move, or see the reactions to their message, they wouldn't have left a man in the women's bath, they would either have left their wives to watch, or positioned themselves to run in in response to the call for help; his own behaviour watching the crowd rather than showing any care for or emotional reaction to the dead girl was almost exactly what he was looking for in others; someone might be canny enough to believably fake being part of the crowd, or a city guard, until they were ready to move; the first man to shove in had reacted quickly enough to be suspicious, but the fact he had gone immediately to deal with the body rather than attempt to bundle the princess off somewhere with no witnesses on the premise of protecting her meant he was not an immediate concern; he needed to be aware that one of the legitimate city guards might not recognize him and might assume he was a threat.
The rest, the part of his mind that was fully in tune with his body, was simply waiting, balanced and alert, ready to react to any threat suddenly manifesting.
"This way," he told Emilia quietly, a touch on her shoulder gently drawing her away from the dead body, towards the entrance and more importantly in the very short term towards a wall. He wanted to get her away entirely, but if someone did try to jump her before he could, whether they were lying in wait or simply an opportunistic member of the public if the crowd turned nasty, he wanted to limit the direction any attack could come from.
The splash into the pool caught his attention sharply, and his grip on his charge's shoulder tightened briefly before vanishing. He couldn't tell if the other lady had been shoved or not, and he wanted his hands free. "We need to leave, my lady."
Upon realizing that the girl in the pool was not the Xanthos Princess, Hector found it easier to sort through his thoughts and reactions. Overly aware of the scene that this had created, Hector began to organize the steps that would need to follow. These people needed to leave - where were the administrators of the bathhouse to organize that?
For now, his primary focus was laying the body of the girl on the side of the pool and to cover her, shielding her from the prying eyes of these onlookers.
A woman at the edge of the pool sought his attention, his eyes flashed up to her, registering her features but not her name, though recognizing her as someone married to someone important. The Master Informer? That rung true in all of this. Regardless, as she pointed to the lack of blood in the water, he nodded. Her reasoning was sound.
"You're right," he conceded, though the father in him did not like the exposure this poor girl would receive, especially with her face carve nearly to oblivion. What about her family? If she had any. The crowd creeping in around them added to his frustration, and his brows leveled into a scowl as he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, followed by a low booming, "Make room!" to the people along the edge of the pool.
There was jostling and grumbling remarks as his order held some weight, but the shifting allowed for the woman - Elysia? that sounded familiar, but he was not certain - to have a moment for her examination.
"She's cold, but not yet stiff," he noted, familiar with the natural progression of death. It may have been years since he had seen it in such a violent form, but those things clung to the mind. Looking down at the girl's blown pupils and the blue tinge around her lips, Hector felt a flicker of bile in this throat as he felt he could see the faces of his own daughters - not much older than her - in her countenance. He looked away, meeting the woman's eyes again as it was crowned with the murmuring curious eyes that crowded her.
"I said, make room," he said, another vigorous gesture of his arm as his frustration built, sending a significant shift in the people to make room for him to emerge from the water. Though it was not an order, he caught his glances between the two women of some authority in the room, Princess Circenia and the Master Informer's wife as he stated quite plainly, "These people need to go."
Unfortunately, that significant shift in the jostling seemed to have summoned another scream from across the room, his soldier's attention snapping that direction though he could not see the voice from his height in the pool. He still saw the shift of other guards, he supposed, who had arrived.
Soon, his part in this would be done and the Athenian Guards could begin their formal investigation into the matter. His eyes only had the briefest moment to flicker up to the writing on the wall before a splash into the pool behind him startled him. His head whipped around to the source, seeing a woman splash into the water.
Recognition dawned on his face as she emerged from the water, her round beautiful eyes wide with shock at seeing Demi here of all place. For the briefest moment, he stood rigid in place, torn between the task at hand and the lover he had not seen in a month's time. Glancing back to Elysia for a brief moment, it seemed things were handled and Hector leaned towards her, gripping her arm a moment to help her to the edge again.
Flickers of irrational concern flickered through his mind a moment.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
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Upon realizing that the girl in the pool was not the Xanthos Princess, Hector found it easier to sort through his thoughts and reactions. Overly aware of the scene that this had created, Hector began to organize the steps that would need to follow. These people needed to leave - where were the administrators of the bathhouse to organize that?
For now, his primary focus was laying the body of the girl on the side of the pool and to cover her, shielding her from the prying eyes of these onlookers.
A woman at the edge of the pool sought his attention, his eyes flashed up to her, registering her features but not her name, though recognizing her as someone married to someone important. The Master Informer? That rung true in all of this. Regardless, as she pointed to the lack of blood in the water, he nodded. Her reasoning was sound.
"You're right," he conceded, though the father in him did not like the exposure this poor girl would receive, especially with her face carve nearly to oblivion. What about her family? If she had any. The crowd creeping in around them added to his frustration, and his brows leveled into a scowl as he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, followed by a low booming, "Make room!" to the people along the edge of the pool.
There was jostling and grumbling remarks as his order held some weight, but the shifting allowed for the woman - Elysia? that sounded familiar, but he was not certain - to have a moment for her examination.
"She's cold, but not yet stiff," he noted, familiar with the natural progression of death. It may have been years since he had seen it in such a violent form, but those things clung to the mind. Looking down at the girl's blown pupils and the blue tinge around her lips, Hector felt a flicker of bile in this throat as he felt he could see the faces of his own daughters - not much older than her - in her countenance. He looked away, meeting the woman's eyes again as it was crowned with the murmuring curious eyes that crowded her.
"I said, make room," he said, another vigorous gesture of his arm as his frustration built, sending a significant shift in the people to make room for him to emerge from the water. Though it was not an order, he caught his glances between the two women of some authority in the room, Princess Circenia and the Master Informer's wife as he stated quite plainly, "These people need to go."
Unfortunately, that significant shift in the jostling seemed to have summoned another scream from across the room, his soldier's attention snapping that direction though he could not see the voice from his height in the pool. He still saw the shift of other guards, he supposed, who had arrived.
Soon, his part in this would be done and the Athenian Guards could begin their formal investigation into the matter. His eyes only had the briefest moment to flicker up to the writing on the wall before a splash into the pool behind him startled him. His head whipped around to the source, seeing a woman splash into the water.
Recognition dawned on his face as she emerged from the water, her round beautiful eyes wide with shock at seeing Demi here of all place. For the briefest moment, he stood rigid in place, torn between the task at hand and the lover he had not seen in a month's time. Glancing back to Elysia for a brief moment, it seemed things were handled and Hector leaned towards her, gripping her arm a moment to help her to the edge again.
Flickers of irrational concern flickered through his mind a moment.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Upon realizing that the girl in the pool was not the Xanthos Princess, Hector found it easier to sort through his thoughts and reactions. Overly aware of the scene that this had created, Hector began to organize the steps that would need to follow. These people needed to leave - where were the administrators of the bathhouse to organize that?
For now, his primary focus was laying the body of the girl on the side of the pool and to cover her, shielding her from the prying eyes of these onlookers.
A woman at the edge of the pool sought his attention, his eyes flashed up to her, registering her features but not her name, though recognizing her as someone married to someone important. The Master Informer? That rung true in all of this. Regardless, as she pointed to the lack of blood in the water, he nodded. Her reasoning was sound.
"You're right," he conceded, though the father in him did not like the exposure this poor girl would receive, especially with her face carve nearly to oblivion. What about her family? If she had any. The crowd creeping in around them added to his frustration, and his brows leveled into a scowl as he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, followed by a low booming, "Make room!" to the people along the edge of the pool.
There was jostling and grumbling remarks as his order held some weight, but the shifting allowed for the woman - Elysia? that sounded familiar, but he was not certain - to have a moment for her examination.
"She's cold, but not yet stiff," he noted, familiar with the natural progression of death. It may have been years since he had seen it in such a violent form, but those things clung to the mind. Looking down at the girl's blown pupils and the blue tinge around her lips, Hector felt a flicker of bile in this throat as he felt he could see the faces of his own daughters - not much older than her - in her countenance. He looked away, meeting the woman's eyes again as it was crowned with the murmuring curious eyes that crowded her.
"I said, make room," he said, another vigorous gesture of his arm as his frustration built, sending a significant shift in the people to make room for him to emerge from the water. Though it was not an order, he caught his glances between the two women of some authority in the room, Princess Circenia and the Master Informer's wife as he stated quite plainly, "These people need to go."
Unfortunately, that significant shift in the jostling seemed to have summoned another scream from across the room, his soldier's attention snapping that direction though he could not see the voice from his height in the pool. He still saw the shift of other guards, he supposed, who had arrived.
Soon, his part in this would be done and the Athenian Guards could begin their formal investigation into the matter. His eyes only had the briefest moment to flicker up to the writing on the wall before a splash into the pool behind him startled him. His head whipped around to the source, seeing a woman splash into the water.
Recognition dawned on his face as she emerged from the water, her round beautiful eyes wide with shock at seeing Demi here of all place. For the briefest moment, he stood rigid in place, torn between the task at hand and the lover he had not seen in a month's time. Glancing back to Elysia for a brief moment, it seemed things were handled and Hector leaned towards her, gripping her arm a moment to help her to the edge again.
Flickers of irrational concern flickered through his mind a moment.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Her first reaction had been panic - she's never learned to swim, despite having been brought up in a coastal province. Her parents had never found the time, and since she had been sold after, Demi's life had mostly consisted of her trying to survive, so there had certainly been no time in between to learn skills not necessary to her survival.
At least not at the time.
But now, in the context of things, it was highly necessary... or would've been, had this not had been a bathhouse. Luckily for her, the waters were shallow to accomodate those of all skills, and the moment her feet found solid ground, she flung her head above water in a large gasp, her hair flicking water every which way before they lay wet and lifeless, limp upon her shoulders. Blinking rapidly to try and get the water out of her eyes, her breath came shallow and desperate, as one would when they had had to go through several seconds without precious oxygen. Demi's eyes looked wildly around, briefly identifying more people joining the fold and gathering around the body now laid upon the bathhouse floor, before a voice summoned her attention.
It was a voice precious to her, but also... one that struck irrational concern in her. Purely because now, she'd have to explain what the heck she was doing here. Demi had simply left a short note for Hector before she had left Arcana a month ago, stating she had business to attend to, and would return as quickly as she could. Having left him nowhere to forward missives to, the pair of lovers had pretty much been contactless for the whole month now, at least up till this moment.
Her gray-green eyes turned to him, and for a brief moment Demi blinked unable to find words, before logic took over her. Taking the hand offered to her, she was quick to accept his assistance to sit on the edge of the bathwater, feeling quite silly in her sodden, dripping state. It was lucky that the air was not cold, for that meant she did not shiver.
But it did not change the fact that Demi had half-unclapsed her chiton earlier, which now meant the piece of seagreen material floated useless to the middle of the bath, leaving her with the thin shift beneath which, when wet, was pretty much useless in ensuring she remained decent. The wet material also meant that the thin, white material clung to her every curve, leaving little to the imagination, and it was a fact that Demi quickly realized.
Ironic as it may be, whilst she was not on the payroll, the girl was quite aware she should not be so publicly displaying her wares. Afterall, people would pay good coin to see Demi of Arcana as she was now - they shouldn't be getting a free show. So the brunette shifted against Hector to try and cover herself, shaking her head against his question. "No, just wet. And ashamed." she murmured in return, giving him a quick sheepish look, before returning her focus on what else was going on in the bathhouse. Would Hector have to stay on? Or could she perhaps tempt him to bring her home now? The possibility of not sharing a wagon with various farm animals was far too great to prevent the slight relief Demi felt at meeting her lover here, despite the high possibility of her being interrogated later.
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Her first reaction had been panic - she's never learned to swim, despite having been brought up in a coastal province. Her parents had never found the time, and since she had been sold after, Demi's life had mostly consisted of her trying to survive, so there had certainly been no time in between to learn skills not necessary to her survival.
At least not at the time.
But now, in the context of things, it was highly necessary... or would've been, had this not had been a bathhouse. Luckily for her, the waters were shallow to accomodate those of all skills, and the moment her feet found solid ground, she flung her head above water in a large gasp, her hair flicking water every which way before they lay wet and lifeless, limp upon her shoulders. Blinking rapidly to try and get the water out of her eyes, her breath came shallow and desperate, as one would when they had had to go through several seconds without precious oxygen. Demi's eyes looked wildly around, briefly identifying more people joining the fold and gathering around the body now laid upon the bathhouse floor, before a voice summoned her attention.
It was a voice precious to her, but also... one that struck irrational concern in her. Purely because now, she'd have to explain what the heck she was doing here. Demi had simply left a short note for Hector before she had left Arcana a month ago, stating she had business to attend to, and would return as quickly as she could. Having left him nowhere to forward missives to, the pair of lovers had pretty much been contactless for the whole month now, at least up till this moment.
Her gray-green eyes turned to him, and for a brief moment Demi blinked unable to find words, before logic took over her. Taking the hand offered to her, she was quick to accept his assistance to sit on the edge of the bathwater, feeling quite silly in her sodden, dripping state. It was lucky that the air was not cold, for that meant she did not shiver.
But it did not change the fact that Demi had half-unclapsed her chiton earlier, which now meant the piece of seagreen material floated useless to the middle of the bath, leaving her with the thin shift beneath which, when wet, was pretty much useless in ensuring she remained decent. The wet material also meant that the thin, white material clung to her every curve, leaving little to the imagination, and it was a fact that Demi quickly realized.
Ironic as it may be, whilst she was not on the payroll, the girl was quite aware she should not be so publicly displaying her wares. Afterall, people would pay good coin to see Demi of Arcana as she was now - they shouldn't be getting a free show. So the brunette shifted against Hector to try and cover herself, shaking her head against his question. "No, just wet. And ashamed." she murmured in return, giving him a quick sheepish look, before returning her focus on what else was going on in the bathhouse. Would Hector have to stay on? Or could she perhaps tempt him to bring her home now? The possibility of not sharing a wagon with various farm animals was far too great to prevent the slight relief Demi felt at meeting her lover here, despite the high possibility of her being interrogated later.
Her first reaction had been panic - she's never learned to swim, despite having been brought up in a coastal province. Her parents had never found the time, and since she had been sold after, Demi's life had mostly consisted of her trying to survive, so there had certainly been no time in between to learn skills not necessary to her survival.
At least not at the time.
But now, in the context of things, it was highly necessary... or would've been, had this not had been a bathhouse. Luckily for her, the waters were shallow to accomodate those of all skills, and the moment her feet found solid ground, she flung her head above water in a large gasp, her hair flicking water every which way before they lay wet and lifeless, limp upon her shoulders. Blinking rapidly to try and get the water out of her eyes, her breath came shallow and desperate, as one would when they had had to go through several seconds without precious oxygen. Demi's eyes looked wildly around, briefly identifying more people joining the fold and gathering around the body now laid upon the bathhouse floor, before a voice summoned her attention.
It was a voice precious to her, but also... one that struck irrational concern in her. Purely because now, she'd have to explain what the heck she was doing here. Demi had simply left a short note for Hector before she had left Arcana a month ago, stating she had business to attend to, and would return as quickly as she could. Having left him nowhere to forward missives to, the pair of lovers had pretty much been contactless for the whole month now, at least up till this moment.
Her gray-green eyes turned to him, and for a brief moment Demi blinked unable to find words, before logic took over her. Taking the hand offered to her, she was quick to accept his assistance to sit on the edge of the bathwater, feeling quite silly in her sodden, dripping state. It was lucky that the air was not cold, for that meant she did not shiver.
But it did not change the fact that Demi had half-unclapsed her chiton earlier, which now meant the piece of seagreen material floated useless to the middle of the bath, leaving her with the thin shift beneath which, when wet, was pretty much useless in ensuring she remained decent. The wet material also meant that the thin, white material clung to her every curve, leaving little to the imagination, and it was a fact that Demi quickly realized.
Ironic as it may be, whilst she was not on the payroll, the girl was quite aware she should not be so publicly displaying her wares. Afterall, people would pay good coin to see Demi of Arcana as she was now - they shouldn't be getting a free show. So the brunette shifted against Hector to try and cover herself, shaking her head against his question. "No, just wet. And ashamed." she murmured in return, giving him a quick sheepish look, before returning her focus on what else was going on in the bathhouse. Would Hector have to stay on? Or could she perhaps tempt him to bring her home now? The possibility of not sharing a wagon with various farm animals was far too great to prevent the slight relief Demi felt at meeting her lover here, despite the high possibility of her being interrogated later.
The princess... Loutra... Murder?
Meilin could scarcely begin to believe the fragments of words spilling from her brother's lips. With a vengeance that shook the doorway, she dropped the broom where she stood and seized a terrified Rui Kai by the shoulders, stooping so their eyes could meet. There was no escape for his dark, wandering irises. "What did you say?" the girl demanded breathlessly. Kai's lips parted, the tip of his tongue working relentlessly into the inside of his cheek. "What did you say about the princess?"
His silence persisted, and a stray slip of mortification snaked into the furrow of his brows. Meilin wasn't certain if she looked like a wild animal to him that moment, jaws braced around his throat, gaze rabid. She shook him when he still did not speak. How could he maintain mum so, and how could Hao simply stand there, eyes dull with nonchalance? The latter slunk forward to rest a hand on her forearm. "Relax, sister. It was but a mere rumour. Nothing of that sort has been confirmed about the body in the baths-"
Meilin flicked a wing of hair escapees from her shoulder and made as if to head out the door.
But Hao stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, you are supposed to watch Kai when Erqing's not around." How very helpful of him to remind her.
"Fine," Meilin snapped, gesturing towards her youngest brother with her fingers. "He comes along. And don't worry," she added, pointedly watching Hao's scandalised face. "I'm certain he has the stomach for a dead body, and I'll keep him close. As always." Her brother muttered something that sounded suspiciously like it's just the princess, don't get too attached, but he stepped aside nevertheless, and a rather bemused Kai was made to follow strictly after his rather panicked sister.
A crowd was evident outside the public baths even from a distance, shifting restlessly as they muttered tightly amongst themselves. Meilin found herself running scenarios of her training session with Lesley and the princess through her head. It was nearly unimaginable how recent that had been, how full of life Emilia had just been, and now? Now what? Her face felt unbearably stiff with an emotion she couldn't quite put a finger on. Worry? But Mei barely knew Emilia. Maybe she didn't need a reason to not want someone dead, particularly someone she could be considered personally acquainted with, even for just a day.
With certain difficulty, Meilin wormed her way through the jostling throngs of civilians raring to catch a glimpse of the commotion nestled within, all the while keeping a vice-like grip on her brother's bony wrist. She caught glimpses of the central bath through dark, bobbing heads — what looked like a dreadfully emancipated frame marking a dark smudge in the murk of the loutra, chiton sifting lifelessly. Her heart leaped to her throat, and all at once the question was on her tongue: Emilia? But then the princess's ghostly face stood out to her from the small cluster of nobles huddled around the bath and Meilin blinked, ensuring she wasn't merely seeing things.
Not Emilia. Something like a sigh of relief pushed past her lips, which were all of a sudden painfully dry. Meilin, being of a commoner's standing, was certainly no stranger to death. Death was prevalent, second nature, of the streets, particularly the further from the palace you got. Sometimes the outer streets reeked of it. Yet that didn't mean the girl enjoyed it, in any way possible. She compressed her mouth into a thin line, knuckles while, glancing down to see if Kai had seen. He hadn't. The small dent of bewilderment was still present between his brows.
Then they were swept along by the tide of the congregation, and all of a sudden Meilin found herself next to Lady Elysia. Wise not to stand too close to the woman lest she was reprimanded by some city guard for meddling, she cast a hard look her friend's way. "Elysia. I should have known you would come." Her eyes flitted to the streaks of red on the wall that were starkly visible from her current angle (Emilia. Princess of Sorrow), and it didn't take long for the quick-witted girl to put a two and a two together. Her free hand fluttered down to her sea green chiton and tightened into a fist. "A threat?" she whispered, hollowly, her voice tinged with a surprising dose of bitterness. Meilin gave a rigid shake of her head. "I told you the people were unhappy." Not good at all.
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The princess... Loutra... Murder?
Meilin could scarcely begin to believe the fragments of words spilling from her brother's lips. With a vengeance that shook the doorway, she dropped the broom where she stood and seized a terrified Rui Kai by the shoulders, stooping so their eyes could meet. There was no escape for his dark, wandering irises. "What did you say?" the girl demanded breathlessly. Kai's lips parted, the tip of his tongue working relentlessly into the inside of his cheek. "What did you say about the princess?"
His silence persisted, and a stray slip of mortification snaked into the furrow of his brows. Meilin wasn't certain if she looked like a wild animal to him that moment, jaws braced around his throat, gaze rabid. She shook him when he still did not speak. How could he maintain mum so, and how could Hao simply stand there, eyes dull with nonchalance? The latter slunk forward to rest a hand on her forearm. "Relax, sister. It was but a mere rumour. Nothing of that sort has been confirmed about the body in the baths-"
Meilin flicked a wing of hair escapees from her shoulder and made as if to head out the door.
But Hao stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, you are supposed to watch Kai when Erqing's not around." How very helpful of him to remind her.
"Fine," Meilin snapped, gesturing towards her youngest brother with her fingers. "He comes along. And don't worry," she added, pointedly watching Hao's scandalised face. "I'm certain he has the stomach for a dead body, and I'll keep him close. As always." Her brother muttered something that sounded suspiciously like it's just the princess, don't get too attached, but he stepped aside nevertheless, and a rather bemused Kai was made to follow strictly after his rather panicked sister.
A crowd was evident outside the public baths even from a distance, shifting restlessly as they muttered tightly amongst themselves. Meilin found herself running scenarios of her training session with Lesley and the princess through her head. It was nearly unimaginable how recent that had been, how full of life Emilia had just been, and now? Now what? Her face felt unbearably stiff with an emotion she couldn't quite put a finger on. Worry? But Mei barely knew Emilia. Maybe she didn't need a reason to not want someone dead, particularly someone she could be considered personally acquainted with, even for just a day.
With certain difficulty, Meilin wormed her way through the jostling throngs of civilians raring to catch a glimpse of the commotion nestled within, all the while keeping a vice-like grip on her brother's bony wrist. She caught glimpses of the central bath through dark, bobbing heads — what looked like a dreadfully emancipated frame marking a dark smudge in the murk of the loutra, chiton sifting lifelessly. Her heart leaped to her throat, and all at once the question was on her tongue: Emilia? But then the princess's ghostly face stood out to her from the small cluster of nobles huddled around the bath and Meilin blinked, ensuring she wasn't merely seeing things.
Not Emilia. Something like a sigh of relief pushed past her lips, which were all of a sudden painfully dry. Meilin, being of a commoner's standing, was certainly no stranger to death. Death was prevalent, second nature, of the streets, particularly the further from the palace you got. Sometimes the outer streets reeked of it. Yet that didn't mean the girl enjoyed it, in any way possible. She compressed her mouth into a thin line, knuckles while, glancing down to see if Kai had seen. He hadn't. The small dent of bewilderment was still present between his brows.
Then they were swept along by the tide of the congregation, and all of a sudden Meilin found herself next to Lady Elysia. Wise not to stand too close to the woman lest she was reprimanded by some city guard for meddling, she cast a hard look her friend's way. "Elysia. I should have known you would come." Her eyes flitted to the streaks of red on the wall that were starkly visible from her current angle (Emilia. Princess of Sorrow), and it didn't take long for the quick-witted girl to put a two and a two together. Her free hand fluttered down to her sea green chiton and tightened into a fist. "A threat?" she whispered, hollowly, her voice tinged with a surprising dose of bitterness. Meilin gave a rigid shake of her head. "I told you the people were unhappy." Not good at all.
The princess... Loutra... Murder?
Meilin could scarcely begin to believe the fragments of words spilling from her brother's lips. With a vengeance that shook the doorway, she dropped the broom where she stood and seized a terrified Rui Kai by the shoulders, stooping so their eyes could meet. There was no escape for his dark, wandering irises. "What did you say?" the girl demanded breathlessly. Kai's lips parted, the tip of his tongue working relentlessly into the inside of his cheek. "What did you say about the princess?"
His silence persisted, and a stray slip of mortification snaked into the furrow of his brows. Meilin wasn't certain if she looked like a wild animal to him that moment, jaws braced around his throat, gaze rabid. She shook him when he still did not speak. How could he maintain mum so, and how could Hao simply stand there, eyes dull with nonchalance? The latter slunk forward to rest a hand on her forearm. "Relax, sister. It was but a mere rumour. Nothing of that sort has been confirmed about the body in the baths-"
Meilin flicked a wing of hair escapees from her shoulder and made as if to head out the door.
But Hao stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, you are supposed to watch Kai when Erqing's not around." How very helpful of him to remind her.
"Fine," Meilin snapped, gesturing towards her youngest brother with her fingers. "He comes along. And don't worry," she added, pointedly watching Hao's scandalised face. "I'm certain he has the stomach for a dead body, and I'll keep him close. As always." Her brother muttered something that sounded suspiciously like it's just the princess, don't get too attached, but he stepped aside nevertheless, and a rather bemused Kai was made to follow strictly after his rather panicked sister.
A crowd was evident outside the public baths even from a distance, shifting restlessly as they muttered tightly amongst themselves. Meilin found herself running scenarios of her training session with Lesley and the princess through her head. It was nearly unimaginable how recent that had been, how full of life Emilia had just been, and now? Now what? Her face felt unbearably stiff with an emotion she couldn't quite put a finger on. Worry? But Mei barely knew Emilia. Maybe she didn't need a reason to not want someone dead, particularly someone she could be considered personally acquainted with, even for just a day.
With certain difficulty, Meilin wormed her way through the jostling throngs of civilians raring to catch a glimpse of the commotion nestled within, all the while keeping a vice-like grip on her brother's bony wrist. She caught glimpses of the central bath through dark, bobbing heads — what looked like a dreadfully emancipated frame marking a dark smudge in the murk of the loutra, chiton sifting lifelessly. Her heart leaped to her throat, and all at once the question was on her tongue: Emilia? But then the princess's ghostly face stood out to her from the small cluster of nobles huddled around the bath and Meilin blinked, ensuring she wasn't merely seeing things.
Not Emilia. Something like a sigh of relief pushed past her lips, which were all of a sudden painfully dry. Meilin, being of a commoner's standing, was certainly no stranger to death. Death was prevalent, second nature, of the streets, particularly the further from the palace you got. Sometimes the outer streets reeked of it. Yet that didn't mean the girl enjoyed it, in any way possible. She compressed her mouth into a thin line, knuckles while, glancing down to see if Kai had seen. He hadn't. The small dent of bewilderment was still present between his brows.
Then they were swept along by the tide of the congregation, and all of a sudden Meilin found herself next to Lady Elysia. Wise not to stand too close to the woman lest she was reprimanded by some city guard for meddling, she cast a hard look her friend's way. "Elysia. I should have known you would come." Her eyes flitted to the streaks of red on the wall that were starkly visible from her current angle (Emilia. Princess of Sorrow), and it didn't take long for the quick-witted girl to put a two and a two together. Her free hand fluttered down to her sea green chiton and tightened into a fist. "A threat?" she whispered, hollowly, her voice tinged with a surprising dose of bitterness. Meilin gave a rigid shake of her head. "I told you the people were unhappy." Not good at all.
It'd do her some good to leave the palati.
Constant reassurances by the wife of the Master of Secrets had persuaded Elias of Stravos to loosen the strangehold he held on his prisoner, the would-be queen of Athenia. While Emilia of Xanthos was no true queen, today might prove to the princess that she was certainly no prisoner, either. Elias insisted on a couple of guards, sworn to service to the Stravos heir to accompany them and was met with a reasonable degree of acceptance. With his blessing, Emilia was stolen away by Elysia, the two women leaving the palati at an unseeming hour, at least... for Elias of Stravos, who'd spent much of the previous night tying up loose ends for his bids for the power he demanded. Dissent was prevalent among the peasantry, those few voices who sought to oust Elias by reminding the peasantry of the accusations against him. However, as time passed and Aimias was thrown more and more, by his own hand, into the mud, Elias allowed those peasant voices to be expunged in the night.
It was quite a success, to ensure the starvation of those who already lacked for food. So simple it was to choke the resources of an entire kingdom that the paltry success at snuffing out the voices that might contradict his narrative was the just desserts that came with the glorious victory that was his -- and only his -- to claim. Elias of Stravos slept soundly into the morning while his would-be usurpers were thrown headlong into the underworld with not a single coin to pay their toll nor a proper burial to rest their wretches souls. No, if one could look into the depths of Poseidon's domain, they'd see corpses latched onto rocks and thrown into the dead of night and subsequently picked clean by the abundant scavengers of the deep. It served those unsightly fiends for attempting to sway Elias' story, to besmirch the recently restored name of Stravos and each one that passed was an easier rest for the would-be king of Athenia.
Elias of Stravos slept into the morning, though his passage through the void of sleep was intruded upon by a loud knock on his door. Immediately upon the discovery of the body, the rabble that subsided on Stravos coin had come to his master. A peasant, though not quite as emaciated as his fellows dare touch the exalted door of the palati, and Elias might've struck him if the look on his face wasn't so desperate and greedy all in one. Clearly, the news was good, and he expected reward. Elias was hardly dressed, with only a robe to cover his blessed body from the scrutiny of male peasant trash. The curr bowed low, his gaze directed towards the ground,
"My master, there's been an incident--"
"There better have been, or you'll crawl the streets, lame and entirely blind. Speak, Azrael" The Stravos encouraged. How Elias detested speaking the name of Judean trash, but the refugee served his purpose well enough while keeping his appearance (when he deigned expose his wretched face to scrutiny) distinctive enough for the Stravos heir to remember him.
"Yes, master... The bath water runs rancid with the corpse of a peasant. The guard is sure to arrive at any moment, but this one saw before anyone else. They threw a girl in, her body marred with the words, 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow,"
Elias couldn't help but find the chuckle on his lips. This man was bought and paid for, a criminal allowed by his good graces to walk the streets of Athenia. One hand missing, the mark of a thief. One eye scarred and ravaged. No one would miss him. But more importantly, no one would look at him. Even Elias, his benefactor, saw it fit to avert his gaze from the horror that was Azrael's face. Elias dismissed the wretch, but not after rewarding him with a smattering of unmarked coin.
Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow. Once the garden is pruned of the weeds, the roses grow and rebellion finds its proper target, Elias mused, his laughter soft but growing at the hilarity of the public murder of some hapless girl. She was a sacrifice given purpose, a message to all of the success of Elias' plans. Removing his robe, Elias shifted himself into a crimson chiton, bearing the marks of his Stravos lineage as he hailed a single guard to accompany him into town. Surely, the time it took that wretch to hobble over here meant the body had already been discovered, but Elias was given enough information as to ignore the totality of it and allow his past training as an actor to shine through.
To be oblivious. To be dismayed. How perfect it might be to shed a tear in grief for this wretched sacrifice, he mused as he absconded from the palati with his stooge in tow. Relishing in the fresh air of the morning, Elias kept his pace slow and deliberate, keeping his purpose for leaving the palace itself vague even to his guard until the screams of actions and discovery made themselves apparent. Where the chaos flowed, Elias followed, gesturing for his guard to clear the way for him.
By the time Elias of Stravos arrived on the scene, a great many people had already shown their faces. How Elias of Stravos relished for an audience to carry his charade to. There was Hector of Arcana, the wretched guardsman or something... loyalist to Persephone of Xanthos and clearly concerned for Emilia. Which brought him to the princess herself, distraught beyond belief and oh-so-close to Elysia, with whom he'd have words with for exposing the princess to such an aberration.
It's poetry in motion, the culmination of all that I've worked for. Watch, Xanthos imposter, as your people hate you for your incompetence.
Elias of Stravos dismissed his guard, motioning for him to assist Hector of Arcana as Elias' gaze wandered as he watched Hector of Arcana associate with another familiar face. It was Demi... of the same province. Figures that they'd know one another. But... is that... attachment I see? How... interesting, the Stravos ruminated, all too pleased to discover more and more about the beautiful whore he'd taken for days on end while toiling in the misery of his imprisonment. He wondered if she still bore the bruises of it all, but he didn't really care. He catalogged the association to question the "impeccable" Hector on later on, stopping himself from licking his lips at the scandal of it all as he made a beeline straight for Emilia.
I should stand by the Stravoses here, but...
There was a time and a place to reassure his screeching sister and there was a doting mother there to lavish her with love and affection. There was little love lost between the siblings, after all, and Elias of Stravos had empires to crumble and women to woo, instead. A hand brushed soothingly along Emilia's back, alerting her to his presence before those digits rose up to sift into her hair,
"Come, it's okay, my dear. Turn away and face me, instead," he breathed into her ear, his voice as silk, exuding a force of calm instead of the ravenous glee that lived within his soul.
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It'd do her some good to leave the palati.
Constant reassurances by the wife of the Master of Secrets had persuaded Elias of Stravos to loosen the strangehold he held on his prisoner, the would-be queen of Athenia. While Emilia of Xanthos was no true queen, today might prove to the princess that she was certainly no prisoner, either. Elias insisted on a couple of guards, sworn to service to the Stravos heir to accompany them and was met with a reasonable degree of acceptance. With his blessing, Emilia was stolen away by Elysia, the two women leaving the palati at an unseeming hour, at least... for Elias of Stravos, who'd spent much of the previous night tying up loose ends for his bids for the power he demanded. Dissent was prevalent among the peasantry, those few voices who sought to oust Elias by reminding the peasantry of the accusations against him. However, as time passed and Aimias was thrown more and more, by his own hand, into the mud, Elias allowed those peasant voices to be expunged in the night.
It was quite a success, to ensure the starvation of those who already lacked for food. So simple it was to choke the resources of an entire kingdom that the paltry success at snuffing out the voices that might contradict his narrative was the just desserts that came with the glorious victory that was his -- and only his -- to claim. Elias of Stravos slept soundly into the morning while his would-be usurpers were thrown headlong into the underworld with not a single coin to pay their toll nor a proper burial to rest their wretches souls. No, if one could look into the depths of Poseidon's domain, they'd see corpses latched onto rocks and thrown into the dead of night and subsequently picked clean by the abundant scavengers of the deep. It served those unsightly fiends for attempting to sway Elias' story, to besmirch the recently restored name of Stravos and each one that passed was an easier rest for the would-be king of Athenia.
Elias of Stravos slept into the morning, though his passage through the void of sleep was intruded upon by a loud knock on his door. Immediately upon the discovery of the body, the rabble that subsided on Stravos coin had come to his master. A peasant, though not quite as emaciated as his fellows dare touch the exalted door of the palati, and Elias might've struck him if the look on his face wasn't so desperate and greedy all in one. Clearly, the news was good, and he expected reward. Elias was hardly dressed, with only a robe to cover his blessed body from the scrutiny of male peasant trash. The curr bowed low, his gaze directed towards the ground,
"My master, there's been an incident--"
"There better have been, or you'll crawl the streets, lame and entirely blind. Speak, Azrael" The Stravos encouraged. How Elias detested speaking the name of Judean trash, but the refugee served his purpose well enough while keeping his appearance (when he deigned expose his wretched face to scrutiny) distinctive enough for the Stravos heir to remember him.
"Yes, master... The bath water runs rancid with the corpse of a peasant. The guard is sure to arrive at any moment, but this one saw before anyone else. They threw a girl in, her body marred with the words, 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow,"
Elias couldn't help but find the chuckle on his lips. This man was bought and paid for, a criminal allowed by his good graces to walk the streets of Athenia. One hand missing, the mark of a thief. One eye scarred and ravaged. No one would miss him. But more importantly, no one would look at him. Even Elias, his benefactor, saw it fit to avert his gaze from the horror that was Azrael's face. Elias dismissed the wretch, but not after rewarding him with a smattering of unmarked coin.
Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow. Once the garden is pruned of the weeds, the roses grow and rebellion finds its proper target, Elias mused, his laughter soft but growing at the hilarity of the public murder of some hapless girl. She was a sacrifice given purpose, a message to all of the success of Elias' plans. Removing his robe, Elias shifted himself into a crimson chiton, bearing the marks of his Stravos lineage as he hailed a single guard to accompany him into town. Surely, the time it took that wretch to hobble over here meant the body had already been discovered, but Elias was given enough information as to ignore the totality of it and allow his past training as an actor to shine through.
To be oblivious. To be dismayed. How perfect it might be to shed a tear in grief for this wretched sacrifice, he mused as he absconded from the palati with his stooge in tow. Relishing in the fresh air of the morning, Elias kept his pace slow and deliberate, keeping his purpose for leaving the palace itself vague even to his guard until the screams of actions and discovery made themselves apparent. Where the chaos flowed, Elias followed, gesturing for his guard to clear the way for him.
By the time Elias of Stravos arrived on the scene, a great many people had already shown their faces. How Elias of Stravos relished for an audience to carry his charade to. There was Hector of Arcana, the wretched guardsman or something... loyalist to Persephone of Xanthos and clearly concerned for Emilia. Which brought him to the princess herself, distraught beyond belief and oh-so-close to Elysia, with whom he'd have words with for exposing the princess to such an aberration.
It's poetry in motion, the culmination of all that I've worked for. Watch, Xanthos imposter, as your people hate you for your incompetence.
Elias of Stravos dismissed his guard, motioning for him to assist Hector of Arcana as Elias' gaze wandered as he watched Hector of Arcana associate with another familiar face. It was Demi... of the same province. Figures that they'd know one another. But... is that... attachment I see? How... interesting, the Stravos ruminated, all too pleased to discover more and more about the beautiful whore he'd taken for days on end while toiling in the misery of his imprisonment. He wondered if she still bore the bruises of it all, but he didn't really care. He catalogged the association to question the "impeccable" Hector on later on, stopping himself from licking his lips at the scandal of it all as he made a beeline straight for Emilia.
I should stand by the Stravoses here, but...
There was a time and a place to reassure his screeching sister and there was a doting mother there to lavish her with love and affection. There was little love lost between the siblings, after all, and Elias of Stravos had empires to crumble and women to woo, instead. A hand brushed soothingly along Emilia's back, alerting her to his presence before those digits rose up to sift into her hair,
"Come, it's okay, my dear. Turn away and face me, instead," he breathed into her ear, his voice as silk, exuding a force of calm instead of the ravenous glee that lived within his soul.
It'd do her some good to leave the palati.
Constant reassurances by the wife of the Master of Secrets had persuaded Elias of Stravos to loosen the strangehold he held on his prisoner, the would-be queen of Athenia. While Emilia of Xanthos was no true queen, today might prove to the princess that she was certainly no prisoner, either. Elias insisted on a couple of guards, sworn to service to the Stravos heir to accompany them and was met with a reasonable degree of acceptance. With his blessing, Emilia was stolen away by Elysia, the two women leaving the palati at an unseeming hour, at least... for Elias of Stravos, who'd spent much of the previous night tying up loose ends for his bids for the power he demanded. Dissent was prevalent among the peasantry, those few voices who sought to oust Elias by reminding the peasantry of the accusations against him. However, as time passed and Aimias was thrown more and more, by his own hand, into the mud, Elias allowed those peasant voices to be expunged in the night.
It was quite a success, to ensure the starvation of those who already lacked for food. So simple it was to choke the resources of an entire kingdom that the paltry success at snuffing out the voices that might contradict his narrative was the just desserts that came with the glorious victory that was his -- and only his -- to claim. Elias of Stravos slept soundly into the morning while his would-be usurpers were thrown headlong into the underworld with not a single coin to pay their toll nor a proper burial to rest their wretches souls. No, if one could look into the depths of Poseidon's domain, they'd see corpses latched onto rocks and thrown into the dead of night and subsequently picked clean by the abundant scavengers of the deep. It served those unsightly fiends for attempting to sway Elias' story, to besmirch the recently restored name of Stravos and each one that passed was an easier rest for the would-be king of Athenia.
Elias of Stravos slept into the morning, though his passage through the void of sleep was intruded upon by a loud knock on his door. Immediately upon the discovery of the body, the rabble that subsided on Stravos coin had come to his master. A peasant, though not quite as emaciated as his fellows dare touch the exalted door of the palati, and Elias might've struck him if the look on his face wasn't so desperate and greedy all in one. Clearly, the news was good, and he expected reward. Elias was hardly dressed, with only a robe to cover his blessed body from the scrutiny of male peasant trash. The curr bowed low, his gaze directed towards the ground,
"My master, there's been an incident--"
"There better have been, or you'll crawl the streets, lame and entirely blind. Speak, Azrael" The Stravos encouraged. How Elias detested speaking the name of Judean trash, but the refugee served his purpose well enough while keeping his appearance (when he deigned expose his wretched face to scrutiny) distinctive enough for the Stravos heir to remember him.
"Yes, master... The bath water runs rancid with the corpse of a peasant. The guard is sure to arrive at any moment, but this one saw before anyone else. They threw a girl in, her body marred with the words, 'Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow,"
Elias couldn't help but find the chuckle on his lips. This man was bought and paid for, a criminal allowed by his good graces to walk the streets of Athenia. One hand missing, the mark of a thief. One eye scarred and ravaged. No one would miss him. But more importantly, no one would look at him. Even Elias, his benefactor, saw it fit to avert his gaze from the horror that was Azrael's face. Elias dismissed the wretch, but not after rewarding him with a smattering of unmarked coin.
Princess Emilia. Princess of Sorrow. Once the garden is pruned of the weeds, the roses grow and rebellion finds its proper target, Elias mused, his laughter soft but growing at the hilarity of the public murder of some hapless girl. She was a sacrifice given purpose, a message to all of the success of Elias' plans. Removing his robe, Elias shifted himself into a crimson chiton, bearing the marks of his Stravos lineage as he hailed a single guard to accompany him into town. Surely, the time it took that wretch to hobble over here meant the body had already been discovered, but Elias was given enough information as to ignore the totality of it and allow his past training as an actor to shine through.
To be oblivious. To be dismayed. How perfect it might be to shed a tear in grief for this wretched sacrifice, he mused as he absconded from the palati with his stooge in tow. Relishing in the fresh air of the morning, Elias kept his pace slow and deliberate, keeping his purpose for leaving the palace itself vague even to his guard until the screams of actions and discovery made themselves apparent. Where the chaos flowed, Elias followed, gesturing for his guard to clear the way for him.
By the time Elias of Stravos arrived on the scene, a great many people had already shown their faces. How Elias of Stravos relished for an audience to carry his charade to. There was Hector of Arcana, the wretched guardsman or something... loyalist to Persephone of Xanthos and clearly concerned for Emilia. Which brought him to the princess herself, distraught beyond belief and oh-so-close to Elysia, with whom he'd have words with for exposing the princess to such an aberration.
It's poetry in motion, the culmination of all that I've worked for. Watch, Xanthos imposter, as your people hate you for your incompetence.
Elias of Stravos dismissed his guard, motioning for him to assist Hector of Arcana as Elias' gaze wandered as he watched Hector of Arcana associate with another familiar face. It was Demi... of the same province. Figures that they'd know one another. But... is that... attachment I see? How... interesting, the Stravos ruminated, all too pleased to discover more and more about the beautiful whore he'd taken for days on end while toiling in the misery of his imprisonment. He wondered if she still bore the bruises of it all, but he didn't really care. He catalogged the association to question the "impeccable" Hector on later on, stopping himself from licking his lips at the scandal of it all as he made a beeline straight for Emilia.
I should stand by the Stravoses here, but...
There was a time and a place to reassure his screeching sister and there was a doting mother there to lavish her with love and affection. There was little love lost between the siblings, after all, and Elias of Stravos had empires to crumble and women to woo, instead. A hand brushed soothingly along Emilia's back, alerting her to his presence before those digits rose up to sift into her hair,
"Come, it's okay, my dear. Turn away and face me, instead," he breathed into her ear, his voice as silk, exuding a force of calm instead of the ravenous glee that lived within his soul.
The scream almost sounded as if it came from elsewhere, so distant it sounded in her ears. It wasn't till a cloak slipped around her figure, and a low reassuring voice echoed, did Emilia suddenly had reality crashing back to her. The girl stumbled a few steps, luckily against the guard who now stood behind her, all whilst her body trembled and her eyes shone in a gloss that could only be unshed tears. She could not tear her eyes away, the way the liquid on the wall forming words almost as if they were coming for her.
For her.
A low thudding had started in her ears, a sure sign of impending panic if she wasn't taken away. But luckily enough for her, Lesley knew what to do. As if she was a doll to be commanded by others, Emilia went where the guard led her, following his touch instinctively as if that was the only thing she could do at this point. She barely even heard the splash in the pool, not like Lesley who had paused.
Instead, that momentary pause by the gladiator-turned-guard was enough for the lord who now took up residence in her childhood home to materialize as if by magic by her side. His touch on her back felt almost like a ghost upon her skin, numb as she was. What did the people want? What did it mean? So many answers ran in her head, none of which the brunette favored. It doesn't help that she had no stomach, neither for blood nor gore, and outside of the insurgent attack where she had spent much of her time behind locked doors, this was the first time Emilia had had a good look at a dead body.
In her current state, she turned easily enough against Elias's shoulder, leaning her forehead against the bony structure. She would take and trust comfort from anyone right now, and Elias was the closest at this point save for Lesley, who had been far too intent in bringing her away. Sure, in all logical standpoint, that was his job and he was not wrong, but in her state Emilia was far from logical as she bit her lip, her face hidden against the blond lord's shoulder. She didn't trust herself to talk, could almost feel her voice shudder without even speaking. The girl merely chose to hide.
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The scream almost sounded as if it came from elsewhere, so distant it sounded in her ears. It wasn't till a cloak slipped around her figure, and a low reassuring voice echoed, did Emilia suddenly had reality crashing back to her. The girl stumbled a few steps, luckily against the guard who now stood behind her, all whilst her body trembled and her eyes shone in a gloss that could only be unshed tears. She could not tear her eyes away, the way the liquid on the wall forming words almost as if they were coming for her.
For her.
A low thudding had started in her ears, a sure sign of impending panic if she wasn't taken away. But luckily enough for her, Lesley knew what to do. As if she was a doll to be commanded by others, Emilia went where the guard led her, following his touch instinctively as if that was the only thing she could do at this point. She barely even heard the splash in the pool, not like Lesley who had paused.
Instead, that momentary pause by the gladiator-turned-guard was enough for the lord who now took up residence in her childhood home to materialize as if by magic by her side. His touch on her back felt almost like a ghost upon her skin, numb as she was. What did the people want? What did it mean? So many answers ran in her head, none of which the brunette favored. It doesn't help that she had no stomach, neither for blood nor gore, and outside of the insurgent attack where she had spent much of her time behind locked doors, this was the first time Emilia had had a good look at a dead body.
In her current state, she turned easily enough against Elias's shoulder, leaning her forehead against the bony structure. She would take and trust comfort from anyone right now, and Elias was the closest at this point save for Lesley, who had been far too intent in bringing her away. Sure, in all logical standpoint, that was his job and he was not wrong, but in her state Emilia was far from logical as she bit her lip, her face hidden against the blond lord's shoulder. She didn't trust herself to talk, could almost feel her voice shudder without even speaking. The girl merely chose to hide.
The scream almost sounded as if it came from elsewhere, so distant it sounded in her ears. It wasn't till a cloak slipped around her figure, and a low reassuring voice echoed, did Emilia suddenly had reality crashing back to her. The girl stumbled a few steps, luckily against the guard who now stood behind her, all whilst her body trembled and her eyes shone in a gloss that could only be unshed tears. She could not tear her eyes away, the way the liquid on the wall forming words almost as if they were coming for her.
For her.
A low thudding had started in her ears, a sure sign of impending panic if she wasn't taken away. But luckily enough for her, Lesley knew what to do. As if she was a doll to be commanded by others, Emilia went where the guard led her, following his touch instinctively as if that was the only thing she could do at this point. She barely even heard the splash in the pool, not like Lesley who had paused.
Instead, that momentary pause by the gladiator-turned-guard was enough for the lord who now took up residence in her childhood home to materialize as if by magic by her side. His touch on her back felt almost like a ghost upon her skin, numb as she was. What did the people want? What did it mean? So many answers ran in her head, none of which the brunette favored. It doesn't help that she had no stomach, neither for blood nor gore, and outside of the insurgent attack where she had spent much of her time behind locked doors, this was the first time Emilia had had a good look at a dead body.
In her current state, she turned easily enough against Elias's shoulder, leaning her forehead against the bony structure. She would take and trust comfort from anyone right now, and Elias was the closest at this point save for Lesley, who had been far too intent in bringing her away. Sure, in all logical standpoint, that was his job and he was not wrong, but in her state Emilia was far from logical as she bit her lip, her face hidden against the blond lord's shoulder. She didn't trust herself to talk, could almost feel her voice shudder without even speaking. The girl merely chose to hide.
Circenia’s hands remained on her daughter, a soothing touch on the girl’s shoulder from an otherwise cold woman. Her eyes, however, lingered elsewhere, resting on the nameless girl with only a cursory interest. As soon as she’d learned it wasn’t Emilia, she no longer really cared who the child was. After all, what did the life of one anonymous commoner matter when compared to the much larger message she brought?
Discontent. Rage. A breaking point that was boiling ever closer. That was what this scene spoke to her, an intent to sow chaos by those who would blame the Xanthos for their misfortune. In that, she could take at least a little satisfaction—they blamed Emilia, not her son, which was the direction she was hoping their hatred would turn. But what if it started branching out? The Stravos were not exactly clean of any sin and being so close to the throne as they now were…
No. One problem at a time.
Looking up as she heard someone address her, she lifted a brow as she tried to place the man’s face. Hector, she believed his name was, a captain or soldier or some other such occupation. Lifting a brow at his question, she shook her head. “The princess is in the Palati, as far as I know,” she murmured in response, tucking Danae a little more firmly into the circle of her arm. “Lord Elias has her well-protected, have no fear. Whoever did this will not reach her.”
It seemed barely a moment passed before circumstance made a lie of her words, the very woman of whom they spoke seeming to materialize by the door with the Master Informer’s wife in tow. An eyebrow rose at that, wondering what her son was thinking to allow Emilia out with that woman, of all people. She was not truly sure where Elysia’s loyalties fell, and therein lay the problem. Would she poison the young princess against them? Or did she have her own agenda in mind?
Seeing Emilia enter the Loutra, she took a step forward to stop her before she could see, but unfortunately, she was too slow. Her scream echoed right behind Danae’s, filling the already festering chamber with a more roiling panic that set her on edge. It was practically viscous, flowing over her skin like rancid oil as she fought not to shudder it off. What a perfect storm this was all turning out to be.
The Loutra was becoming more clogged and confused with each moment that passed, the air thick with barely repressed horror and disgust. It was positively overbearing and in a situation that ought to have required discretion, it was utterly unacceptable. Just when she was ready to tug every last one of them out by their hair, none other but her own son arrived on the scene, doubtless summoned by the chaos quickly erupting through the streets as word spread like brushfire.
Or perhaps… he was the one that orchestrated this? Given all of the Stravos’s previous actions, it’s not something she would have put past him, and even would have privately commended. But no, surely he would have at least told her first? And if it wasn’t him… well, it would seem they were getting exactly what they’d wanted all along.
But enough was enough. Word had already started to spread—undoubtedly, all of Athenia would know by midday. That’s all they really needed. It was time to get this mess sorted out before their inaction looked too suspiciously like complicity. After all, the Stravos were meant to be the Xanthos protectors, were they not? If nothing else, they had to at least look the part. It was time for someone to take charge of this circus.
Releasing Danae, Circenia straightened up with a shout that rang through the Loutra, “Enough!”
Pointing at Lesley, the gladiator often in Emilia’s shadow, she barked, “You, take the princess and escort her home. There is no need for her to see any more. Instruct the palace guard that the watch on her should be doubled, if not tripled. If they question you, tell them you are there by Princess Circenia’s own orders.” If there was a moment of hesitance, she’d lift a brow and continue, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
Turning next to Hector, she ordered, “You. Take the body and a cohort of the city guard and discreetly get her to the royal physician. Perhaps he might have some insight to offer that the rest of us haven’t thought of.”
After that, she turned to Elysia with a barely concealed look of disdain. “You. Do you think your husband might be able to track down whoever is responsible for this? Seems to me the Master Informer ought to start doing a little informing.”
Facing Danae, she placed a gentle hand against her cheek. “Go back to the carriage and have the driver take you home. Elias and I will be along shortly.”
Walking over to her son, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You ought to head to the Palati with Emilia after this is all cleaned up. I’m sure she could use the comfort now more than ever. I have a few inquiries of my own I’d like to make.”
Eyes cutting toward the others who milled through the crowd like the useless insects they were, she snapped, “As for the rest of you, out! The Loutra is closed for the rest of the day, by Stravos decree. Any who linger beyond the next half hour or who return later will be arrested under suspicion of involvement in this heinous crime. Am I understood? Out!”
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Circenia’s hands remained on her daughter, a soothing touch on the girl’s shoulder from an otherwise cold woman. Her eyes, however, lingered elsewhere, resting on the nameless girl with only a cursory interest. As soon as she’d learned it wasn’t Emilia, she no longer really cared who the child was. After all, what did the life of one anonymous commoner matter when compared to the much larger message she brought?
Discontent. Rage. A breaking point that was boiling ever closer. That was what this scene spoke to her, an intent to sow chaos by those who would blame the Xanthos for their misfortune. In that, she could take at least a little satisfaction—they blamed Emilia, not her son, which was the direction she was hoping their hatred would turn. But what if it started branching out? The Stravos were not exactly clean of any sin and being so close to the throne as they now were…
No. One problem at a time.
Looking up as she heard someone address her, she lifted a brow as she tried to place the man’s face. Hector, she believed his name was, a captain or soldier or some other such occupation. Lifting a brow at his question, she shook her head. “The princess is in the Palati, as far as I know,” she murmured in response, tucking Danae a little more firmly into the circle of her arm. “Lord Elias has her well-protected, have no fear. Whoever did this will not reach her.”
It seemed barely a moment passed before circumstance made a lie of her words, the very woman of whom they spoke seeming to materialize by the door with the Master Informer’s wife in tow. An eyebrow rose at that, wondering what her son was thinking to allow Emilia out with that woman, of all people. She was not truly sure where Elysia’s loyalties fell, and therein lay the problem. Would she poison the young princess against them? Or did she have her own agenda in mind?
Seeing Emilia enter the Loutra, she took a step forward to stop her before she could see, but unfortunately, she was too slow. Her scream echoed right behind Danae’s, filling the already festering chamber with a more roiling panic that set her on edge. It was practically viscous, flowing over her skin like rancid oil as she fought not to shudder it off. What a perfect storm this was all turning out to be.
The Loutra was becoming more clogged and confused with each moment that passed, the air thick with barely repressed horror and disgust. It was positively overbearing and in a situation that ought to have required discretion, it was utterly unacceptable. Just when she was ready to tug every last one of them out by their hair, none other but her own son arrived on the scene, doubtless summoned by the chaos quickly erupting through the streets as word spread like brushfire.
Or perhaps… he was the one that orchestrated this? Given all of the Stravos’s previous actions, it’s not something she would have put past him, and even would have privately commended. But no, surely he would have at least told her first? And if it wasn’t him… well, it would seem they were getting exactly what they’d wanted all along.
But enough was enough. Word had already started to spread—undoubtedly, all of Athenia would know by midday. That’s all they really needed. It was time to get this mess sorted out before their inaction looked too suspiciously like complicity. After all, the Stravos were meant to be the Xanthos protectors, were they not? If nothing else, they had to at least look the part. It was time for someone to take charge of this circus.
Releasing Danae, Circenia straightened up with a shout that rang through the Loutra, “Enough!”
Pointing at Lesley, the gladiator often in Emilia’s shadow, she barked, “You, take the princess and escort her home. There is no need for her to see any more. Instruct the palace guard that the watch on her should be doubled, if not tripled. If they question you, tell them you are there by Princess Circenia’s own orders.” If there was a moment of hesitance, she’d lift a brow and continue, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
Turning next to Hector, she ordered, “You. Take the body and a cohort of the city guard and discreetly get her to the royal physician. Perhaps he might have some insight to offer that the rest of us haven’t thought of.”
After that, she turned to Elysia with a barely concealed look of disdain. “You. Do you think your husband might be able to track down whoever is responsible for this? Seems to me the Master Informer ought to start doing a little informing.”
Facing Danae, she placed a gentle hand against her cheek. “Go back to the carriage and have the driver take you home. Elias and I will be along shortly.”
Walking over to her son, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You ought to head to the Palati with Emilia after this is all cleaned up. I’m sure she could use the comfort now more than ever. I have a few inquiries of my own I’d like to make.”
Eyes cutting toward the others who milled through the crowd like the useless insects they were, she snapped, “As for the rest of you, out! The Loutra is closed for the rest of the day, by Stravos decree. Any who linger beyond the next half hour or who return later will be arrested under suspicion of involvement in this heinous crime. Am I understood? Out!”
Circenia’s hands remained on her daughter, a soothing touch on the girl’s shoulder from an otherwise cold woman. Her eyes, however, lingered elsewhere, resting on the nameless girl with only a cursory interest. As soon as she’d learned it wasn’t Emilia, she no longer really cared who the child was. After all, what did the life of one anonymous commoner matter when compared to the much larger message she brought?
Discontent. Rage. A breaking point that was boiling ever closer. That was what this scene spoke to her, an intent to sow chaos by those who would blame the Xanthos for their misfortune. In that, she could take at least a little satisfaction—they blamed Emilia, not her son, which was the direction she was hoping their hatred would turn. But what if it started branching out? The Stravos were not exactly clean of any sin and being so close to the throne as they now were…
No. One problem at a time.
Looking up as she heard someone address her, she lifted a brow as she tried to place the man’s face. Hector, she believed his name was, a captain or soldier or some other such occupation. Lifting a brow at his question, she shook her head. “The princess is in the Palati, as far as I know,” she murmured in response, tucking Danae a little more firmly into the circle of her arm. “Lord Elias has her well-protected, have no fear. Whoever did this will not reach her.”
It seemed barely a moment passed before circumstance made a lie of her words, the very woman of whom they spoke seeming to materialize by the door with the Master Informer’s wife in tow. An eyebrow rose at that, wondering what her son was thinking to allow Emilia out with that woman, of all people. She was not truly sure where Elysia’s loyalties fell, and therein lay the problem. Would she poison the young princess against them? Or did she have her own agenda in mind?
Seeing Emilia enter the Loutra, she took a step forward to stop her before she could see, but unfortunately, she was too slow. Her scream echoed right behind Danae’s, filling the already festering chamber with a more roiling panic that set her on edge. It was practically viscous, flowing over her skin like rancid oil as she fought not to shudder it off. What a perfect storm this was all turning out to be.
The Loutra was becoming more clogged and confused with each moment that passed, the air thick with barely repressed horror and disgust. It was positively overbearing and in a situation that ought to have required discretion, it was utterly unacceptable. Just when she was ready to tug every last one of them out by their hair, none other but her own son arrived on the scene, doubtless summoned by the chaos quickly erupting through the streets as word spread like brushfire.
Or perhaps… he was the one that orchestrated this? Given all of the Stravos’s previous actions, it’s not something she would have put past him, and even would have privately commended. But no, surely he would have at least told her first? And if it wasn’t him… well, it would seem they were getting exactly what they’d wanted all along.
But enough was enough. Word had already started to spread—undoubtedly, all of Athenia would know by midday. That’s all they really needed. It was time to get this mess sorted out before their inaction looked too suspiciously like complicity. After all, the Stravos were meant to be the Xanthos protectors, were they not? If nothing else, they had to at least look the part. It was time for someone to take charge of this circus.
Releasing Danae, Circenia straightened up with a shout that rang through the Loutra, “Enough!”
Pointing at Lesley, the gladiator often in Emilia’s shadow, she barked, “You, take the princess and escort her home. There is no need for her to see any more. Instruct the palace guard that the watch on her should be doubled, if not tripled. If they question you, tell them you are there by Princess Circenia’s own orders.” If there was a moment of hesitance, she’d lift a brow and continue, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
Turning next to Hector, she ordered, “You. Take the body and a cohort of the city guard and discreetly get her to the royal physician. Perhaps he might have some insight to offer that the rest of us haven’t thought of.”
After that, she turned to Elysia with a barely concealed look of disdain. “You. Do you think your husband might be able to track down whoever is responsible for this? Seems to me the Master Informer ought to start doing a little informing.”
Facing Danae, she placed a gentle hand against her cheek. “Go back to the carriage and have the driver take you home. Elias and I will be along shortly.”
Walking over to her son, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You ought to head to the Palati with Emilia after this is all cleaned up. I’m sure she could use the comfort now more than ever. I have a few inquiries of my own I’d like to make.”
Eyes cutting toward the others who milled through the crowd like the useless insects they were, she snapped, “As for the rest of you, out! The Loutra is closed for the rest of the day, by Stravos decree. Any who linger beyond the next half hour or who return later will be arrested under suspicion of involvement in this heinous crime. Am I understood? Out!”
"That was what I was trying to do," Lesley muttered under his breath at Circena's impatience, then in a more conversational volume, "Excuse me, my lord." He took Emilia gently but firmly by the arm, drawing her away from Elias.
"You lot, with me." he snapped at the nearest guards as he hurried Emilia out of the bathing chamber. "You and you, stay," he ordered the two bodyguards he knew would never leave Elias here alone anyway. "My Lord Elias and his mother are staying here. The rest of you are to provide an escort for the young princess," he continued, as he strode out of the loutra, collecting palace guardsmen with him in his wake. Not all of them had come all the way in - smart enough to still keep watch on the entrances despite the hysterics inside. Lesley appreciated that. "Princess Circenia's orders. The city guard can handle the situation here."
Oh, certainly, he guessed Circena hadn't intended him to run off with her carriage (or was it Elias's?) and all her own bodyguard - but Lesley was possessed of the imp of the perverse, which in this case he could conveniently pass off as being infatuated enough with the princess to put her safety above all else. The Stravos's knew he wouldn't put her above all else, of course - they wouldn't trust him if he did. But that his first thought was of concern for her, that was understandable and acceptable.
Pleasant company, cute, and an unassailable excuse to do whatever he wanted. What more could you ask for in a woman?
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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"That was what I was trying to do," Lesley muttered under his breath at Circena's impatience, then in a more conversational volume, "Excuse me, my lord." He took Emilia gently but firmly by the arm, drawing her away from Elias.
"You lot, with me." he snapped at the nearest guards as he hurried Emilia out of the bathing chamber. "You and you, stay," he ordered the two bodyguards he knew would never leave Elias here alone anyway. "My Lord Elias and his mother are staying here. The rest of you are to provide an escort for the young princess," he continued, as he strode out of the loutra, collecting palace guardsmen with him in his wake. Not all of them had come all the way in - smart enough to still keep watch on the entrances despite the hysterics inside. Lesley appreciated that. "Princess Circenia's orders. The city guard can handle the situation here."
Oh, certainly, he guessed Circena hadn't intended him to run off with her carriage (or was it Elias's?) and all her own bodyguard - but Lesley was possessed of the imp of the perverse, which in this case he could conveniently pass off as being infatuated enough with the princess to put her safety above all else. The Stravos's knew he wouldn't put her above all else, of course - they wouldn't trust him if he did. But that his first thought was of concern for her, that was understandable and acceptable.
Pleasant company, cute, and an unassailable excuse to do whatever he wanted. What more could you ask for in a woman?
"That was what I was trying to do," Lesley muttered under his breath at Circena's impatience, then in a more conversational volume, "Excuse me, my lord." He took Emilia gently but firmly by the arm, drawing her away from Elias.
"You lot, with me." he snapped at the nearest guards as he hurried Emilia out of the bathing chamber. "You and you, stay," he ordered the two bodyguards he knew would never leave Elias here alone anyway. "My Lord Elias and his mother are staying here. The rest of you are to provide an escort for the young princess," he continued, as he strode out of the loutra, collecting palace guardsmen with him in his wake. Not all of them had come all the way in - smart enough to still keep watch on the entrances despite the hysterics inside. Lesley appreciated that. "Princess Circenia's orders. The city guard can handle the situation here."
Oh, certainly, he guessed Circena hadn't intended him to run off with her carriage (or was it Elias's?) and all her own bodyguard - but Lesley was possessed of the imp of the perverse, which in this case he could conveniently pass off as being infatuated enough with the princess to put her safety above all else. The Stravos's knew he wouldn't put her above all else, of course - they wouldn't trust him if he did. But that his first thought was of concern for her, that was understandable and acceptable.
Pleasant company, cute, and an unassailable excuse to do whatever he wanted. What more could you ask for in a woman?