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The Stravos woman was good at measuring her expressions, he could give her credit for that. But Cicero was sharp-eyed and expert enough to see below the facade, and when Princess Circenia returned his congratulations with a sharp smile, he surmised that she too had been in the dark regarding the announcement, if not the news itself. It was at least partially a consolation to find himself caught by surprise.
But sometimes, mused Cicero, it could rather unfortunate to be right all of the time. For his predictions regarding the mood of the crowd proved to be true and it did not take much to tip the crowd into something threatening. The Princess Emila was already being hurried away from the dais, and the master informer quietly melted away from the side of the Stravos woman as her guards surged forward to subdue those grabbing, hungry and unfriendly hands that reached for her.
He cut through the crowd at an angle, taking in as much as he could whilst choosing as direct a route as possible towards where he had last seen his wife. The surging and jostling did not please the rangy man, he was not a fan of the press on unknown, greatly unwashed bodies against his own, and it made his movements precise and direct. To the edge of the crowd.
Using his height to his full advantage, Cicero for a moment made eye contact with a man who already stood at the boundary of the plateia, and the briefest of nods acknowledged his presence before he moved his attention on and away and continued to slip through the throngs of people on his own path onwards. He had almost broken through the masses when he heard it, the shrill cry that had his head swivel immediately to his left, his gaze scanning to see who had spoken.
Queen Persephone.
He immediately shifted his trajectory, sharp elbows coming into effect as the spymaster tried to follow the restless whispers and murmurs of the crowd whilst still searching above their heads for some sign that what he knew was true. There was a lot to take in, guards growing heavy-handed, only infuriating those they repressed, the various nobles scattering. Cicero’s sharp eyes were enough to spot some figures hurrying down a side alley, and he stopped for a moment to see the young Antonis girl drifting after them. For a second, the spymaster considered following but decided against it. He’d seen enough, heard enough, and if nothing else, he rather wanted to be at the Palati to see how these events would be received.
Trusting that Elysia would have heeded his earlier words, the Master of Secrets headed towards the palace, where he was certain there would be questions, and where he might even venture a few of his own.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The Stravos woman was good at measuring her expressions, he could give her credit for that. But Cicero was sharp-eyed and expert enough to see below the facade, and when Princess Circenia returned his congratulations with a sharp smile, he surmised that she too had been in the dark regarding the announcement, if not the news itself. It was at least partially a consolation to find himself caught by surprise.
But sometimes, mused Cicero, it could rather unfortunate to be right all of the time. For his predictions regarding the mood of the crowd proved to be true and it did not take much to tip the crowd into something threatening. The Princess Emila was already being hurried away from the dais, and the master informer quietly melted away from the side of the Stravos woman as her guards surged forward to subdue those grabbing, hungry and unfriendly hands that reached for her.
He cut through the crowd at an angle, taking in as much as he could whilst choosing as direct a route as possible towards where he had last seen his wife. The surging and jostling did not please the rangy man, he was not a fan of the press on unknown, greatly unwashed bodies against his own, and it made his movements precise and direct. To the edge of the crowd.
Using his height to his full advantage, Cicero for a moment made eye contact with a man who already stood at the boundary of the plateia, and the briefest of nods acknowledged his presence before he moved his attention on and away and continued to slip through the throngs of people on his own path onwards. He had almost broken through the masses when he heard it, the shrill cry that had his head swivel immediately to his left, his gaze scanning to see who had spoken.
Queen Persephone.
He immediately shifted his trajectory, sharp elbows coming into effect as the spymaster tried to follow the restless whispers and murmurs of the crowd whilst still searching above their heads for some sign that what he knew was true. There was a lot to take in, guards growing heavy-handed, only infuriating those they repressed, the various nobles scattering. Cicero’s sharp eyes were enough to spot some figures hurrying down a side alley, and he stopped for a moment to see the young Antonis girl drifting after them. For a second, the spymaster considered following but decided against it. He’d seen enough, heard enough, and if nothing else, he rather wanted to be at the Palati to see how these events would be received.
Trusting that Elysia would have heeded his earlier words, the Master of Secrets headed towards the palace, where he was certain there would be questions, and where he might even venture a few of his own.
The Stravos woman was good at measuring her expressions, he could give her credit for that. But Cicero was sharp-eyed and expert enough to see below the facade, and when Princess Circenia returned his congratulations with a sharp smile, he surmised that she too had been in the dark regarding the announcement, if not the news itself. It was at least partially a consolation to find himself caught by surprise.
But sometimes, mused Cicero, it could rather unfortunate to be right all of the time. For his predictions regarding the mood of the crowd proved to be true and it did not take much to tip the crowd into something threatening. The Princess Emila was already being hurried away from the dais, and the master informer quietly melted away from the side of the Stravos woman as her guards surged forward to subdue those grabbing, hungry and unfriendly hands that reached for her.
He cut through the crowd at an angle, taking in as much as he could whilst choosing as direct a route as possible towards where he had last seen his wife. The surging and jostling did not please the rangy man, he was not a fan of the press on unknown, greatly unwashed bodies against his own, and it made his movements precise and direct. To the edge of the crowd.
Using his height to his full advantage, Cicero for a moment made eye contact with a man who already stood at the boundary of the plateia, and the briefest of nods acknowledged his presence before he moved his attention on and away and continued to slip through the throngs of people on his own path onwards. He had almost broken through the masses when he heard it, the shrill cry that had his head swivel immediately to his left, his gaze scanning to see who had spoken.
Queen Persephone.
He immediately shifted his trajectory, sharp elbows coming into effect as the spymaster tried to follow the restless whispers and murmurs of the crowd whilst still searching above their heads for some sign that what he knew was true. There was a lot to take in, guards growing heavy-handed, only infuriating those they repressed, the various nobles scattering. Cicero’s sharp eyes were enough to spot some figures hurrying down a side alley, and he stopped for a moment to see the young Antonis girl drifting after them. For a second, the spymaster considered following but decided against it. He’d seen enough, heard enough, and if nothing else, he rather wanted to be at the Palati to see how these events would be received.
Trusting that Elysia would have heeded his earlier words, the Master of Secrets headed towards the palace, where he was certain there would be questions, and where he might even venture a few of his own.
Circenia paid no mind to Cicero’s departure, far more preoccupied with the crowd undulating around her. Already, her guards were doing a good job of dispersing the filth—met with the unmerciful butt end of a spear or a gauntleted hand, most were not willing to risk further bodily harm in approaching her. Good. After all, none of this was her fault.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true, but the princess didn’t care to shoulder the blame. She hadn’t arranged the marriage between Elias and Emilia (at least not directly), and she had nothing to do with the food shortages that wracked the nation (even if she encouraged her son’s withholding). All she was responsible for was helping her son attain what was already rightfully his. This muck ought to be thanking her for that, not converging on her as if she was to be held accountable for all the world’s ills.
What had their precious ‘queen’ Persephone done at the first sign of trouble? She ran. She abandoned them all out of fear for herself, and such actions ought to be punished in a leader. For that was no leader—no, those were the actions of a coward, one who was unfit to govern them. Never mind that it had been Stravos interference that made her run in the first place; as far as Circenia was concerned, that was nothing more than an insignificant detail. If she couldn’t handle the dangers that came with such a position, then she had no business wearing a crown.
As if summoned by her very thoughts, it took Circenia a moment to realize the cries of ‘Queen Persephone’ were not her own ruminations made manifest. Face draining of color, the Stravos matriarch whirled on her heel, sharp eyes carefully scanning the crowd to see where these calls originated from. Could it be? Were the rumors true? Was Persephone actually back on Athenian soil?
Taller than many that surrounded her, the princess had at least that advantage, managing to spot a hooded woman being ushered away by a few indistinguishable companions. Of course, she had no way of knowing for sure if that was her niece, but the sunlight caught the profile of her face enough to at least instill the suspicion. If she wasn’t willing to publicly show herself, what in all the gods’ names was she doing at the harvest festival?
“It can’t be,” was her hoarse whisper, shaking her head in disbelief. All they’d worked for, all the plans they laid… if Persephone had truly returned, they would all start to crumble. Under no circumstances could Circenia allow that to happen. To come this far and have it all snatched away… No. This had to be corrected. By whatever means necessary.
Turning to her nearest guard, Circenia ripped the Stravos insignia from his cloak and caught his chin in her hand. “You see that woman there?” she asked in a murmur, nodding discreetly toward the cloaked figure. “Follow her. Find out if that’s who I think it is. And once you learn where she’s headed, report back to me. Immediately. Let no one see you, understand? Go.” With a quick nod of assent, the man rushed off to carry out his orders, ducking and weaving his way through the unruly crowd with a single-minded determination.
The princess returned her attention to the other guards, her face set in grim lines of discomfort. “As for the rest of you, get me out of here and take me back to the archontiko. If these cries are true…” She shook her head, jaw tight. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
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Circenia paid no mind to Cicero’s departure, far more preoccupied with the crowd undulating around her. Already, her guards were doing a good job of dispersing the filth—met with the unmerciful butt end of a spear or a gauntleted hand, most were not willing to risk further bodily harm in approaching her. Good. After all, none of this was her fault.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true, but the princess didn’t care to shoulder the blame. She hadn’t arranged the marriage between Elias and Emilia (at least not directly), and she had nothing to do with the food shortages that wracked the nation (even if she encouraged her son’s withholding). All she was responsible for was helping her son attain what was already rightfully his. This muck ought to be thanking her for that, not converging on her as if she was to be held accountable for all the world’s ills.
What had their precious ‘queen’ Persephone done at the first sign of trouble? She ran. She abandoned them all out of fear for herself, and such actions ought to be punished in a leader. For that was no leader—no, those were the actions of a coward, one who was unfit to govern them. Never mind that it had been Stravos interference that made her run in the first place; as far as Circenia was concerned, that was nothing more than an insignificant detail. If she couldn’t handle the dangers that came with such a position, then she had no business wearing a crown.
As if summoned by her very thoughts, it took Circenia a moment to realize the cries of ‘Queen Persephone’ were not her own ruminations made manifest. Face draining of color, the Stravos matriarch whirled on her heel, sharp eyes carefully scanning the crowd to see where these calls originated from. Could it be? Were the rumors true? Was Persephone actually back on Athenian soil?
Taller than many that surrounded her, the princess had at least that advantage, managing to spot a hooded woman being ushered away by a few indistinguishable companions. Of course, she had no way of knowing for sure if that was her niece, but the sunlight caught the profile of her face enough to at least instill the suspicion. If she wasn’t willing to publicly show herself, what in all the gods’ names was she doing at the harvest festival?
“It can’t be,” was her hoarse whisper, shaking her head in disbelief. All they’d worked for, all the plans they laid… if Persephone had truly returned, they would all start to crumble. Under no circumstances could Circenia allow that to happen. To come this far and have it all snatched away… No. This had to be corrected. By whatever means necessary.
Turning to her nearest guard, Circenia ripped the Stravos insignia from his cloak and caught his chin in her hand. “You see that woman there?” she asked in a murmur, nodding discreetly toward the cloaked figure. “Follow her. Find out if that’s who I think it is. And once you learn where she’s headed, report back to me. Immediately. Let no one see you, understand? Go.” With a quick nod of assent, the man rushed off to carry out his orders, ducking and weaving his way through the unruly crowd with a single-minded determination.
The princess returned her attention to the other guards, her face set in grim lines of discomfort. “As for the rest of you, get me out of here and take me back to the archontiko. If these cries are true…” She shook her head, jaw tight. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Circenia paid no mind to Cicero’s departure, far more preoccupied with the crowd undulating around her. Already, her guards were doing a good job of dispersing the filth—met with the unmerciful butt end of a spear or a gauntleted hand, most were not willing to risk further bodily harm in approaching her. Good. After all, none of this was her fault.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true, but the princess didn’t care to shoulder the blame. She hadn’t arranged the marriage between Elias and Emilia (at least not directly), and she had nothing to do with the food shortages that wracked the nation (even if she encouraged her son’s withholding). All she was responsible for was helping her son attain what was already rightfully his. This muck ought to be thanking her for that, not converging on her as if she was to be held accountable for all the world’s ills.
What had their precious ‘queen’ Persephone done at the first sign of trouble? She ran. She abandoned them all out of fear for herself, and such actions ought to be punished in a leader. For that was no leader—no, those were the actions of a coward, one who was unfit to govern them. Never mind that it had been Stravos interference that made her run in the first place; as far as Circenia was concerned, that was nothing more than an insignificant detail. If she couldn’t handle the dangers that came with such a position, then she had no business wearing a crown.
As if summoned by her very thoughts, it took Circenia a moment to realize the cries of ‘Queen Persephone’ were not her own ruminations made manifest. Face draining of color, the Stravos matriarch whirled on her heel, sharp eyes carefully scanning the crowd to see where these calls originated from. Could it be? Were the rumors true? Was Persephone actually back on Athenian soil?
Taller than many that surrounded her, the princess had at least that advantage, managing to spot a hooded woman being ushered away by a few indistinguishable companions. Of course, she had no way of knowing for sure if that was her niece, but the sunlight caught the profile of her face enough to at least instill the suspicion. If she wasn’t willing to publicly show herself, what in all the gods’ names was she doing at the harvest festival?
“It can’t be,” was her hoarse whisper, shaking her head in disbelief. All they’d worked for, all the plans they laid… if Persephone had truly returned, they would all start to crumble. Under no circumstances could Circenia allow that to happen. To come this far and have it all snatched away… No. This had to be corrected. By whatever means necessary.
Turning to her nearest guard, Circenia ripped the Stravos insignia from his cloak and caught his chin in her hand. “You see that woman there?” she asked in a murmur, nodding discreetly toward the cloaked figure. “Follow her. Find out if that’s who I think it is. And once you learn where she’s headed, report back to me. Immediately. Let no one see you, understand? Go.” With a quick nod of assent, the man rushed off to carry out his orders, ducking and weaving his way through the unruly crowd with a single-minded determination.
The princess returned her attention to the other guards, her face set in grim lines of discomfort. “As for the rest of you, get me out of here and take me back to the archontiko. If these cries are true…” She shook her head, jaw tight. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Hebe continued to follow Queen Persephone and the group of people who were with her, wishing that she could join them. As they neared the most populated area of the festival, she noticed the wagons full of food, with Lord Elias and Lord Rafail beside them. People were shouting … some in favor of Persephone, even though she had disappeared, and others in favor of Elias, who had been spending a lot of time with Emilia lately. The youngest Antonis girl had been able to visit her family more often, as her mistress didn’t seem to need her anymore. Hebe loved serving the princess and considered her a friend.
Maybe Lord Elias was teaching her how to rule in case her sister didn’t come back. But what did he know about running a kingdom? As the heir of the Stravos family, he had probably learned how to govern a province from his parents. Was that why she hardly ever saw Emilia anymore … because she was concentrating on her lessons?
Now that Persephone was back, she would take her rightful place as Queen and she could teach Emilia herself. Maybe then the princess would appreciate the company of her young and energetic lady-in-waiting again. The crowd was so thick that she was able to hide between bodies, as long as she held her breath. There was no shortage of water as far as she knew. Did commoners ever take baths? Or was the heat making them sweat? Eeeuuww.
Wrinkling her nose, she continued to weave through the crowd, pacing herself so that she remained behind the queen. The people turned to look as something, and Hebe saw Emilia being escorted toward Lord Elias. She stood beside him. The mob became rowdier and a piece of rotten fruit hit the princess. The handsome lord wiped it away and then pulled Emilia close. His announcement was shocking. He was going to marry Emilia and become the king of Athenia?
Why hadn’t Emilia told her? Hebe sighed sadly, wondering if their friendship meant anything at all to the princess. Had Elias persuaded her to dismiss her lady-in-waiting because he didn’t want an Antonis to serve her and she would be told to pack her things and go? The sun seemed to dim and everything looked dark and dismal to the young girl.
Her eyes returned to the Queen, berating herself for her selfishness. Persephone must be horrified, seeing her sister for the first time in months and finding out she was betrothed. Maybe she would speak up now. Hebe couldn’t see her face, and had no idea what she might be thinking. She had become separated from her companions in the ensuing confusion, but they soon surrounded her again and began striding away.
For some reason, the queen chose to stay hidden. Had there been a threat on her life? Was that why she had disappeared? Maybe the Stravos family had been planning to take over the throne all along, and had to get rid of Persephone in order to control Emilia. Was thatwhy she had not seen much of her? She was purposefully being kept away so that she couldn’t attempt to convince the princess that she was taking the wrong path?
Suddenly, the queen stumbled and her hood fell back. She quickly pulled it up again but someone had seen her face and shouted her name. The mob became even more unruly, pushing and shoving each other presumably to see for themselves. But Persephone had pulled up her hood and was being led away. Hebe continued to pursue her, weaving deftly through the throng. She gasped when someone accidentally hit her in the eye but she didn’t stop even through the pain was agonizing. It started to water and felt as if it was swelling.
Vaguely she heard Emilia call her sister’s name and she was close enough to Persephone to hear her reply. The queen was hurried along by her companions and Hebe thought how heartbreaking it must be to leave her sister in such a horrible situation. The consequences of divulging her identity must be dire as she did nothing to stop it. Maybe there was some plan in place for reclaiming her throne that would put neither of the sisters in danger.
Hebe couldn’t even see out of her left eye anymore. It was probably bruised as if she had been in a fight. She continued to follow the queen and her group. Finally, they reached the edge of the crowd and turned onto a side street. There was nowhere for Hebe to hide now, and she no longer cared if she was seen. In fact, she wanted to be noticed. Maybe there was something she could do to help. She could be a contact inside the palace, and could deliver messages to Emilia or convey notes between the two of them.
They had just ducked into an alley when the queen looked back and saw her. Was that recognition in her eyes? She turned away but Hebe was not daunted. Tears streaming from her injured eye, she quickened her pace, turning into the alley and trying to catch up with her. When she was close enough that she thought the queen could hear her speak quietly, she whispered: “Your Majesty…"
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Hebe continued to follow Queen Persephone and the group of people who were with her, wishing that she could join them. As they neared the most populated area of the festival, she noticed the wagons full of food, with Lord Elias and Lord Rafail beside them. People were shouting … some in favor of Persephone, even though she had disappeared, and others in favor of Elias, who had been spending a lot of time with Emilia lately. The youngest Antonis girl had been able to visit her family more often, as her mistress didn’t seem to need her anymore. Hebe loved serving the princess and considered her a friend.
Maybe Lord Elias was teaching her how to rule in case her sister didn’t come back. But what did he know about running a kingdom? As the heir of the Stravos family, he had probably learned how to govern a province from his parents. Was that why she hardly ever saw Emilia anymore … because she was concentrating on her lessons?
Now that Persephone was back, she would take her rightful place as Queen and she could teach Emilia herself. Maybe then the princess would appreciate the company of her young and energetic lady-in-waiting again. The crowd was so thick that she was able to hide between bodies, as long as she held her breath. There was no shortage of water as far as she knew. Did commoners ever take baths? Or was the heat making them sweat? Eeeuuww.
Wrinkling her nose, she continued to weave through the crowd, pacing herself so that she remained behind the queen. The people turned to look as something, and Hebe saw Emilia being escorted toward Lord Elias. She stood beside him. The mob became rowdier and a piece of rotten fruit hit the princess. The handsome lord wiped it away and then pulled Emilia close. His announcement was shocking. He was going to marry Emilia and become the king of Athenia?
Why hadn’t Emilia told her? Hebe sighed sadly, wondering if their friendship meant anything at all to the princess. Had Elias persuaded her to dismiss her lady-in-waiting because he didn’t want an Antonis to serve her and she would be told to pack her things and go? The sun seemed to dim and everything looked dark and dismal to the young girl.
Her eyes returned to the Queen, berating herself for her selfishness. Persephone must be horrified, seeing her sister for the first time in months and finding out she was betrothed. Maybe she would speak up now. Hebe couldn’t see her face, and had no idea what she might be thinking. She had become separated from her companions in the ensuing confusion, but they soon surrounded her again and began striding away.
For some reason, the queen chose to stay hidden. Had there been a threat on her life? Was that why she had disappeared? Maybe the Stravos family had been planning to take over the throne all along, and had to get rid of Persephone in order to control Emilia. Was thatwhy she had not seen much of her? She was purposefully being kept away so that she couldn’t attempt to convince the princess that she was taking the wrong path?
Suddenly, the queen stumbled and her hood fell back. She quickly pulled it up again but someone had seen her face and shouted her name. The mob became even more unruly, pushing and shoving each other presumably to see for themselves. But Persephone had pulled up her hood and was being led away. Hebe continued to pursue her, weaving deftly through the throng. She gasped when someone accidentally hit her in the eye but she didn’t stop even through the pain was agonizing. It started to water and felt as if it was swelling.
Vaguely she heard Emilia call her sister’s name and she was close enough to Persephone to hear her reply. The queen was hurried along by her companions and Hebe thought how heartbreaking it must be to leave her sister in such a horrible situation. The consequences of divulging her identity must be dire as she did nothing to stop it. Maybe there was some plan in place for reclaiming her throne that would put neither of the sisters in danger.
Hebe couldn’t even see out of her left eye anymore. It was probably bruised as if she had been in a fight. She continued to follow the queen and her group. Finally, they reached the edge of the crowd and turned onto a side street. There was nowhere for Hebe to hide now, and she no longer cared if she was seen. In fact, she wanted to be noticed. Maybe there was something she could do to help. She could be a contact inside the palace, and could deliver messages to Emilia or convey notes between the two of them.
They had just ducked into an alley when the queen looked back and saw her. Was that recognition in her eyes? She turned away but Hebe was not daunted. Tears streaming from her injured eye, she quickened her pace, turning into the alley and trying to catch up with her. When she was close enough that she thought the queen could hear her speak quietly, she whispered: “Your Majesty…"
Hebe continued to follow Queen Persephone and the group of people who were with her, wishing that she could join them. As they neared the most populated area of the festival, she noticed the wagons full of food, with Lord Elias and Lord Rafail beside them. People were shouting … some in favor of Persephone, even though she had disappeared, and others in favor of Elias, who had been spending a lot of time with Emilia lately. The youngest Antonis girl had been able to visit her family more often, as her mistress didn’t seem to need her anymore. Hebe loved serving the princess and considered her a friend.
Maybe Lord Elias was teaching her how to rule in case her sister didn’t come back. But what did he know about running a kingdom? As the heir of the Stravos family, he had probably learned how to govern a province from his parents. Was that why she hardly ever saw Emilia anymore … because she was concentrating on her lessons?
Now that Persephone was back, she would take her rightful place as Queen and she could teach Emilia herself. Maybe then the princess would appreciate the company of her young and energetic lady-in-waiting again. The crowd was so thick that she was able to hide between bodies, as long as she held her breath. There was no shortage of water as far as she knew. Did commoners ever take baths? Or was the heat making them sweat? Eeeuuww.
Wrinkling her nose, she continued to weave through the crowd, pacing herself so that she remained behind the queen. The people turned to look as something, and Hebe saw Emilia being escorted toward Lord Elias. She stood beside him. The mob became rowdier and a piece of rotten fruit hit the princess. The handsome lord wiped it away and then pulled Emilia close. His announcement was shocking. He was going to marry Emilia and become the king of Athenia?
Why hadn’t Emilia told her? Hebe sighed sadly, wondering if their friendship meant anything at all to the princess. Had Elias persuaded her to dismiss her lady-in-waiting because he didn’t want an Antonis to serve her and she would be told to pack her things and go? The sun seemed to dim and everything looked dark and dismal to the young girl.
Her eyes returned to the Queen, berating herself for her selfishness. Persephone must be horrified, seeing her sister for the first time in months and finding out she was betrothed. Maybe she would speak up now. Hebe couldn’t see her face, and had no idea what she might be thinking. She had become separated from her companions in the ensuing confusion, but they soon surrounded her again and began striding away.
For some reason, the queen chose to stay hidden. Had there been a threat on her life? Was that why she had disappeared? Maybe the Stravos family had been planning to take over the throne all along, and had to get rid of Persephone in order to control Emilia. Was thatwhy she had not seen much of her? She was purposefully being kept away so that she couldn’t attempt to convince the princess that she was taking the wrong path?
Suddenly, the queen stumbled and her hood fell back. She quickly pulled it up again but someone had seen her face and shouted her name. The mob became even more unruly, pushing and shoving each other presumably to see for themselves. But Persephone had pulled up her hood and was being led away. Hebe continued to pursue her, weaving deftly through the throng. She gasped when someone accidentally hit her in the eye but she didn’t stop even through the pain was agonizing. It started to water and felt as if it was swelling.
Vaguely she heard Emilia call her sister’s name and she was close enough to Persephone to hear her reply. The queen was hurried along by her companions and Hebe thought how heartbreaking it must be to leave her sister in such a horrible situation. The consequences of divulging her identity must be dire as she did nothing to stop it. Maybe there was some plan in place for reclaiming her throne that would put neither of the sisters in danger.
Hebe couldn’t even see out of her left eye anymore. It was probably bruised as if she had been in a fight. She continued to follow the queen and her group. Finally, they reached the edge of the crowd and turned onto a side street. There was nowhere for Hebe to hide now, and she no longer cared if she was seen. In fact, she wanted to be noticed. Maybe there was something she could do to help. She could be a contact inside the palace, and could deliver messages to Emilia or convey notes between the two of them.
They had just ducked into an alley when the queen looked back and saw her. Was that recognition in her eyes? She turned away but Hebe was not daunted. Tears streaming from her injured eye, she quickened her pace, turning into the alley and trying to catch up with her. When she was close enough that she thought the queen could hear her speak quietly, she whispered: “Your Majesty…"
Within his drunken mind, he felt chaos as if it was consuming his being. Adrestus pretty much ignored his surroundings though, much too distracted to really care. His conversation with his father made him terrified of the future, and uncertain of what it held for him. He really just wanted things to remain the same, but the more he stayed in Athenia, the more he started to realize things probably were never going to *not* change. It just made Adrestus feel unbalanced, just like his drunk body was. Or maybe it was all just the wine. He leaned against the wall as he called out to Ismene, but it hadn’t seemed to work. There was no Ismene coming towards him, he couldn’t even hear her voice. He had a sinking feeling that he was lost, and the sailor groaned. This was a mess.
He heard rising voices, and he reached to rub his forehead. He couldn’t concentrate with all this *noise.* He started to lurch forward, wanting to go find her himself since calling didn’t seem to be helping, and suddenly he was stopped. He didn’t immediately recognize Kalypso, but the fact that he had been stopped from carrying out his plan made him feel rage. “Immm finee!” Adrestus slurred, anger clear in his voice. He shifted his body away from Kalypso, not wanting her to touch him. “Lost.” He snapped, before looking away from the woman. “Goooooo awayy!” Adrestus practically growled and stumbled as he tried to get away from her. He needed to find Ismene, or at this point Hector. He knew Hector could at least get him back to the water. “HECTOR!” Adrestus roared, ignoring that it would cause eyes to turn towards him. He knew he needed to get out of there, but he needed help doing so. He couldn’t exactly balance himself to walk properly. Well, he could, but he moved slowly in order not to fall over. He groaned once more.
“Youuuu wanna be use? Find Hector of or Arcanaa” He called towards Kalypso, before the sailor moved so that he could find something to lean on that was out of the way and sturdy.” He heard someone call for guards, and whispers of the queen. Adrestus closed his eyes. “Just want home.” Hopefully, Hector would find him soon, and help him… or at least, someone would come to him that he trusted.
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Within his drunken mind, he felt chaos as if it was consuming his being. Adrestus pretty much ignored his surroundings though, much too distracted to really care. His conversation with his father made him terrified of the future, and uncertain of what it held for him. He really just wanted things to remain the same, but the more he stayed in Athenia, the more he started to realize things probably were never going to *not* change. It just made Adrestus feel unbalanced, just like his drunk body was. Or maybe it was all just the wine. He leaned against the wall as he called out to Ismene, but it hadn’t seemed to work. There was no Ismene coming towards him, he couldn’t even hear her voice. He had a sinking feeling that he was lost, and the sailor groaned. This was a mess.
He heard rising voices, and he reached to rub his forehead. He couldn’t concentrate with all this *noise.* He started to lurch forward, wanting to go find her himself since calling didn’t seem to be helping, and suddenly he was stopped. He didn’t immediately recognize Kalypso, but the fact that he had been stopped from carrying out his plan made him feel rage. “Immm finee!” Adrestus slurred, anger clear in his voice. He shifted his body away from Kalypso, not wanting her to touch him. “Lost.” He snapped, before looking away from the woman. “Goooooo awayy!” Adrestus practically growled and stumbled as he tried to get away from her. He needed to find Ismene, or at this point Hector. He knew Hector could at least get him back to the water. “HECTOR!” Adrestus roared, ignoring that it would cause eyes to turn towards him. He knew he needed to get out of there, but he needed help doing so. He couldn’t exactly balance himself to walk properly. Well, he could, but he moved slowly in order not to fall over. He groaned once more.
“Youuuu wanna be use? Find Hector of or Arcanaa” He called towards Kalypso, before the sailor moved so that he could find something to lean on that was out of the way and sturdy.” He heard someone call for guards, and whispers of the queen. Adrestus closed his eyes. “Just want home.” Hopefully, Hector would find him soon, and help him… or at least, someone would come to him that he trusted.
Within his drunken mind, he felt chaos as if it was consuming his being. Adrestus pretty much ignored his surroundings though, much too distracted to really care. His conversation with his father made him terrified of the future, and uncertain of what it held for him. He really just wanted things to remain the same, but the more he stayed in Athenia, the more he started to realize things probably were never going to *not* change. It just made Adrestus feel unbalanced, just like his drunk body was. Or maybe it was all just the wine. He leaned against the wall as he called out to Ismene, but it hadn’t seemed to work. There was no Ismene coming towards him, he couldn’t even hear her voice. He had a sinking feeling that he was lost, and the sailor groaned. This was a mess.
He heard rising voices, and he reached to rub his forehead. He couldn’t concentrate with all this *noise.* He started to lurch forward, wanting to go find her himself since calling didn’t seem to be helping, and suddenly he was stopped. He didn’t immediately recognize Kalypso, but the fact that he had been stopped from carrying out his plan made him feel rage. “Immm finee!” Adrestus slurred, anger clear in his voice. He shifted his body away from Kalypso, not wanting her to touch him. “Lost.” He snapped, before looking away from the woman. “Goooooo awayy!” Adrestus practically growled and stumbled as he tried to get away from her. He needed to find Ismene, or at this point Hector. He knew Hector could at least get him back to the water. “HECTOR!” Adrestus roared, ignoring that it would cause eyes to turn towards him. He knew he needed to get out of there, but he needed help doing so. He couldn’t exactly balance himself to walk properly. Well, he could, but he moved slowly in order not to fall over. He groaned once more.
“Youuuu wanna be use? Find Hector of or Arcanaa” He called towards Kalypso, before the sailor moved so that he could find something to lean on that was out of the way and sturdy.” He heard someone call for guards, and whispers of the queen. Adrestus closed his eyes. “Just want home.” Hopefully, Hector would find him soon, and help him… or at least, someone would come to him that he trusted.
Rafail had not expected anybody to address him after that little kerfuffle. He would have thought the rest of the crowd would acknowledge and respect his superiority and listen to his words, unwilling to start any other kind of drama when they should have been able to note that he was uninterested in their concerns. Instead, some military man approached him, as if he had the right to do so, introducing himself and then apologising for the girl's insolence. Hm. At least he was courteous enough to acknowledge that Rafail did not have time for impertinence, and the Marikas lord chose to give him an appreciative nod by way of response. "Handle it, then," he replied, already turning away towards Kalypso, who interested him far more.
The flirtatious tone in her voice had not gone amiss, and, immediately, he considered all the ways Kalypso could help him, though none of which would likely be useful in their current situation (and would probably irritate Elias, which would not have helped Rafail's currently more-than-comfortable position in the court). He glanced over the food on offer, and then at the crowd, before answering: "As Elias said. Offer this bounty to the crowds, and keep to reasonable rations. The peasants are not used to splendour, and they do not deserve it either. If they refuse our generosity, then refuse them." A second look was spared at the crowd, as if deciding what else would be necessary to add, for the plan had not been thought through all that well, and half-drunkenness did not entirely aid Rafail's mental ability. "If they become restless, or attempt to grab what has not been offered to them, then refuse them, and if they touch me, then send them away." He was not in the mood to be groped by a thousand filthy peasants, and though Kalypso may well have been closer in rank to them than to him, at least the blonde lord felt he could trust her to be clean.
The gifting of foods went well enough. Some were receptive, and some were not, and Rafail (as always), did a delightful job of delegating the task, standing by to remind any commoner who approached that it was thanks to him that they had such a bounteous gift, and that they should recall his generosity for many months to come. He was, although the term tripped with justified arrogance, a hero.
But then, of course, the rioting began, as no situation could go smoothly. No, someone had to ruin Rafail's perfect moment, and, though he could not quite see through the crowds for all their jostling and panic, he had heard the shout announcing the return of the missing queen. Of course. It was always a Xanthos who had to ruin a Marikas's ambitions, whether 'twas by stealing their deserved throne, or by rejecting their otherwise-sought-after affection. If the situation had not been such a surprising one, he would have rolled his eyes in disdain. Instead, he only watched the frenzy worsen, and, unsure what else to do, he turned to his guards, who were still standing around the wagon of food. "Anything that remains, send it home. I am not in the mood for abuse of my gift solely because a riot has begun."
With the instruction given, Rafail turned to run his eyes over the panicking crowd for anything else he could do, and his gaze landed naturally on the noble lady by which he had always been most enticed. Though he could boast many, Chara of Stravos was by far the most beautiful woman with which he had lain, and his interest in her had not wained over the years. If he could not maintain heroism when it came to the peasants, then he could still claim it by saving a royal lady (and secure himself a more than comfortable evening as well). Thus, the Marikas directed himself immediately towards his cousin, pulling up behind her and wrapping an arm around the woman that he knew she would recognise, if solely because they had enjoyed each other's touch so often.
"Let me bring you home and save you from this mess, my Lady," he whispered into her ear, although his actions had not waited for a response as he began to pull her away and towards his carriage, unconcerned for however she would answer. He knew what the woman liked, and he was not afraid to reference it in so public a place. Let the world see how lucky both of them were. "I have a carriage waiting, and an empty room in the palace, and I am a King left all without his Queen, which I do believe needs to be remedied." As they reached the vehicle, Rafail cast another quick glance at the drama continuing in the square, deciding he did not quite care, and that guards would have the matter under control anyhow, then did his best to lift Chara gracefully into the carriage. It was not worth either of them remaining in this mess when they would be put to better use elsewhere.
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Rafail had not expected anybody to address him after that little kerfuffle. He would have thought the rest of the crowd would acknowledge and respect his superiority and listen to his words, unwilling to start any other kind of drama when they should have been able to note that he was uninterested in their concerns. Instead, some military man approached him, as if he had the right to do so, introducing himself and then apologising for the girl's insolence. Hm. At least he was courteous enough to acknowledge that Rafail did not have time for impertinence, and the Marikas lord chose to give him an appreciative nod by way of response. "Handle it, then," he replied, already turning away towards Kalypso, who interested him far more.
The flirtatious tone in her voice had not gone amiss, and, immediately, he considered all the ways Kalypso could help him, though none of which would likely be useful in their current situation (and would probably irritate Elias, which would not have helped Rafail's currently more-than-comfortable position in the court). He glanced over the food on offer, and then at the crowd, before answering: "As Elias said. Offer this bounty to the crowds, and keep to reasonable rations. The peasants are not used to splendour, and they do not deserve it either. If they refuse our generosity, then refuse them." A second look was spared at the crowd, as if deciding what else would be necessary to add, for the plan had not been thought through all that well, and half-drunkenness did not entirely aid Rafail's mental ability. "If they become restless, or attempt to grab what has not been offered to them, then refuse them, and if they touch me, then send them away." He was not in the mood to be groped by a thousand filthy peasants, and though Kalypso may well have been closer in rank to them than to him, at least the blonde lord felt he could trust her to be clean.
The gifting of foods went well enough. Some were receptive, and some were not, and Rafail (as always), did a delightful job of delegating the task, standing by to remind any commoner who approached that it was thanks to him that they had such a bounteous gift, and that they should recall his generosity for many months to come. He was, although the term tripped with justified arrogance, a hero.
But then, of course, the rioting began, as no situation could go smoothly. No, someone had to ruin Rafail's perfect moment, and, though he could not quite see through the crowds for all their jostling and panic, he had heard the shout announcing the return of the missing queen. Of course. It was always a Xanthos who had to ruin a Marikas's ambitions, whether 'twas by stealing their deserved throne, or by rejecting their otherwise-sought-after affection. If the situation had not been such a surprising one, he would have rolled his eyes in disdain. Instead, he only watched the frenzy worsen, and, unsure what else to do, he turned to his guards, who were still standing around the wagon of food. "Anything that remains, send it home. I am not in the mood for abuse of my gift solely because a riot has begun."
With the instruction given, Rafail turned to run his eyes over the panicking crowd for anything else he could do, and his gaze landed naturally on the noble lady by which he had always been most enticed. Though he could boast many, Chara of Stravos was by far the most beautiful woman with which he had lain, and his interest in her had not wained over the years. If he could not maintain heroism when it came to the peasants, then he could still claim it by saving a royal lady (and secure himself a more than comfortable evening as well). Thus, the Marikas directed himself immediately towards his cousin, pulling up behind her and wrapping an arm around the woman that he knew she would recognise, if solely because they had enjoyed each other's touch so often.
"Let me bring you home and save you from this mess, my Lady," he whispered into her ear, although his actions had not waited for a response as he began to pull her away and towards his carriage, unconcerned for however she would answer. He knew what the woman liked, and he was not afraid to reference it in so public a place. Let the world see how lucky both of them were. "I have a carriage waiting, and an empty room in the palace, and I am a King left all without his Queen, which I do believe needs to be remedied." As they reached the vehicle, Rafail cast another quick glance at the drama continuing in the square, deciding he did not quite care, and that guards would have the matter under control anyhow, then did his best to lift Chara gracefully into the carriage. It was not worth either of them remaining in this mess when they would be put to better use elsewhere.
Rafail had not expected anybody to address him after that little kerfuffle. He would have thought the rest of the crowd would acknowledge and respect his superiority and listen to his words, unwilling to start any other kind of drama when they should have been able to note that he was uninterested in their concerns. Instead, some military man approached him, as if he had the right to do so, introducing himself and then apologising for the girl's insolence. Hm. At least he was courteous enough to acknowledge that Rafail did not have time for impertinence, and the Marikas lord chose to give him an appreciative nod by way of response. "Handle it, then," he replied, already turning away towards Kalypso, who interested him far more.
The flirtatious tone in her voice had not gone amiss, and, immediately, he considered all the ways Kalypso could help him, though none of which would likely be useful in their current situation (and would probably irritate Elias, which would not have helped Rafail's currently more-than-comfortable position in the court). He glanced over the food on offer, and then at the crowd, before answering: "As Elias said. Offer this bounty to the crowds, and keep to reasonable rations. The peasants are not used to splendour, and they do not deserve it either. If they refuse our generosity, then refuse them." A second look was spared at the crowd, as if deciding what else would be necessary to add, for the plan had not been thought through all that well, and half-drunkenness did not entirely aid Rafail's mental ability. "If they become restless, or attempt to grab what has not been offered to them, then refuse them, and if they touch me, then send them away." He was not in the mood to be groped by a thousand filthy peasants, and though Kalypso may well have been closer in rank to them than to him, at least the blonde lord felt he could trust her to be clean.
The gifting of foods went well enough. Some were receptive, and some were not, and Rafail (as always), did a delightful job of delegating the task, standing by to remind any commoner who approached that it was thanks to him that they had such a bounteous gift, and that they should recall his generosity for many months to come. He was, although the term tripped with justified arrogance, a hero.
But then, of course, the rioting began, as no situation could go smoothly. No, someone had to ruin Rafail's perfect moment, and, though he could not quite see through the crowds for all their jostling and panic, he had heard the shout announcing the return of the missing queen. Of course. It was always a Xanthos who had to ruin a Marikas's ambitions, whether 'twas by stealing their deserved throne, or by rejecting their otherwise-sought-after affection. If the situation had not been such a surprising one, he would have rolled his eyes in disdain. Instead, he only watched the frenzy worsen, and, unsure what else to do, he turned to his guards, who were still standing around the wagon of food. "Anything that remains, send it home. I am not in the mood for abuse of my gift solely because a riot has begun."
With the instruction given, Rafail turned to run his eyes over the panicking crowd for anything else he could do, and his gaze landed naturally on the noble lady by which he had always been most enticed. Though he could boast many, Chara of Stravos was by far the most beautiful woman with which he had lain, and his interest in her had not wained over the years. If he could not maintain heroism when it came to the peasants, then he could still claim it by saving a royal lady (and secure himself a more than comfortable evening as well). Thus, the Marikas directed himself immediately towards his cousin, pulling up behind her and wrapping an arm around the woman that he knew she would recognise, if solely because they had enjoyed each other's touch so often.
"Let me bring you home and save you from this mess, my Lady," he whispered into her ear, although his actions had not waited for a response as he began to pull her away and towards his carriage, unconcerned for however she would answer. He knew what the woman liked, and he was not afraid to reference it in so public a place. Let the world see how lucky both of them were. "I have a carriage waiting, and an empty room in the palace, and I am a King left all without his Queen, which I do believe needs to be remedied." As they reached the vehicle, Rafail cast another quick glance at the drama continuing in the square, deciding he did not quite care, and that guards would have the matter under control anyhow, then did his best to lift Chara gracefully into the carriage. It was not worth either of them remaining in this mess when they would be put to better use elsewhere.
Lesley thought fast, once he'd gotten Emilia out of the press of the crowd. "I think..." he pondered quietly, "we... hmm." He gave the overwhelmed girl a considering look as he rubbed his bruised cheek, and decided diplomacy could go jump off a bridge. "Right, you're complete shit at making decisions, especially in a hurry. I'm just gonna do my best, here." He was pretty sure he could guess what she wanted, but if he gave her the choice - and worse, if he gave her an honest risk analysis - she'd just have anxiety for hours. Possibly days. Opportunities didn't stick around that long. "Hold this."
With his shield slung across his back, and Emilia carrying his cloak, it was far less obvious that a royal guard and a princess were walking down the street together. Unless, of course, one had seen her earlier - Emilia never wore anything that could exactly be called common. At least she didn't favour the really expensive colors.
"This way." Residential streets were less crowded, and still in the upper city, the girl's dress and gold hair pins didn't stand out - but there was more chance someone would recognize her personally. On the other hand - that might not be entirely bad. She had every right to be walking these streets, even if they weren't taking the expected direct route back to the palace. After all, given the direction he'd dragged her in the first urgent move to simply get away... well, that could work. He guided her steps in the direction of the Naos of the gods, keeping an eye out for one of the inevitable street urchins who hung around near public places in the hopes of begging or earning a stray coin or to, and were inevitably willing to run a message to the palati or the roughest poor quarter of town alike.
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Lesley thought fast, once he'd gotten Emilia out of the press of the crowd. "I think..." he pondered quietly, "we... hmm." He gave the overwhelmed girl a considering look as he rubbed his bruised cheek, and decided diplomacy could go jump off a bridge. "Right, you're complete shit at making decisions, especially in a hurry. I'm just gonna do my best, here." He was pretty sure he could guess what she wanted, but if he gave her the choice - and worse, if he gave her an honest risk analysis - she'd just have anxiety for hours. Possibly days. Opportunities didn't stick around that long. "Hold this."
With his shield slung across his back, and Emilia carrying his cloak, it was far less obvious that a royal guard and a princess were walking down the street together. Unless, of course, one had seen her earlier - Emilia never wore anything that could exactly be called common. At least she didn't favour the really expensive colors.
"This way." Residential streets were less crowded, and still in the upper city, the girl's dress and gold hair pins didn't stand out - but there was more chance someone would recognize her personally. On the other hand - that might not be entirely bad. She had every right to be walking these streets, even if they weren't taking the expected direct route back to the palace. After all, given the direction he'd dragged her in the first urgent move to simply get away... well, that could work. He guided her steps in the direction of the Naos of the gods, keeping an eye out for one of the inevitable street urchins who hung around near public places in the hopes of begging or earning a stray coin or to, and were inevitably willing to run a message to the palati or the roughest poor quarter of town alike.
Lesley thought fast, once he'd gotten Emilia out of the press of the crowd. "I think..." he pondered quietly, "we... hmm." He gave the overwhelmed girl a considering look as he rubbed his bruised cheek, and decided diplomacy could go jump off a bridge. "Right, you're complete shit at making decisions, especially in a hurry. I'm just gonna do my best, here." He was pretty sure he could guess what she wanted, but if he gave her the choice - and worse, if he gave her an honest risk analysis - she'd just have anxiety for hours. Possibly days. Opportunities didn't stick around that long. "Hold this."
With his shield slung across his back, and Emilia carrying his cloak, it was far less obvious that a royal guard and a princess were walking down the street together. Unless, of course, one had seen her earlier - Emilia never wore anything that could exactly be called common. At least she didn't favour the really expensive colors.
"This way." Residential streets were less crowded, and still in the upper city, the girl's dress and gold hair pins didn't stand out - but there was more chance someone would recognize her personally. On the other hand - that might not be entirely bad. She had every right to be walking these streets, even if they weren't taking the expected direct route back to the palace. After all, given the direction he'd dragged her in the first urgent move to simply get away... well, that could work. He guided her steps in the direction of the Naos of the gods, keeping an eye out for one of the inevitable street urchins who hung around near public places in the hopes of begging or earning a stray coin or to, and were inevitably willing to run a message to the palati or the roughest poor quarter of town alike.
Persephone didn't see the figure that had stepped to the mouth of the alleyway. Not truly. She had witnessed that someone had moved to follow them and then stepped out to be seen and she had hidden her face into Iason's shoulder, not wanting to cause more of an issue if someone was to notice her and start the chase all over again.
And yet, the voice that spoke had her looking up, had her turning to witness the young woman that had addressed her by so formal a title - a title that she would only hold if she was Queen. If the person who spoke, thought of her as the Queen. Those simple two words were an indication of loyalty. Not to mention that they were spoken by one she knew. By a voice that she recognised.
Persephone turned to stare at the sudden appearance of a young face that she was used to seeing on a weekly basis in the Courts of Athenia. It seemed bizarre to witness features she knew so well and yet hadn't seen in months; that she should appear as a stranger to her now.
"Lady Hebe..." The name was spoken softly and quietly, possibly not even at a volume that would carry enough for the other to hear her own address.
Before she could say more, however, a noise from streets further over drew her notice and Persephone stared out as if to look through walls. She could hear the rhythmic footsteps of the Athenian Guard. And whilst they were a force that should side with the legal ruler of the kingdom - with herself - she couldn't be certain that there weren't more on the way; soldiers that might bear the insignia of the Stravos clan.
"We need to move further." She insisted, looking at the small retinue she had somehow collected in her visit to the festival. At Iason, Olena, Ariadne and now Hebe too. "Quickly..."
And she turned with her little envoy and encouraged them out towards the outer circle and the poorer residential areas, allowing Ariadne to lead the way to an out of the way tavern where they might all take a moment to catch their breath and recognise the significance of what had just occurred...
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Persephone didn't see the figure that had stepped to the mouth of the alleyway. Not truly. She had witnessed that someone had moved to follow them and then stepped out to be seen and she had hidden her face into Iason's shoulder, not wanting to cause more of an issue if someone was to notice her and start the chase all over again.
And yet, the voice that spoke had her looking up, had her turning to witness the young woman that had addressed her by so formal a title - a title that she would only hold if she was Queen. If the person who spoke, thought of her as the Queen. Those simple two words were an indication of loyalty. Not to mention that they were spoken by one she knew. By a voice that she recognised.
Persephone turned to stare at the sudden appearance of a young face that she was used to seeing on a weekly basis in the Courts of Athenia. It seemed bizarre to witness features she knew so well and yet hadn't seen in months; that she should appear as a stranger to her now.
"Lady Hebe..." The name was spoken softly and quietly, possibly not even at a volume that would carry enough for the other to hear her own address.
Before she could say more, however, a noise from streets further over drew her notice and Persephone stared out as if to look through walls. She could hear the rhythmic footsteps of the Athenian Guard. And whilst they were a force that should side with the legal ruler of the kingdom - with herself - she couldn't be certain that there weren't more on the way; soldiers that might bear the insignia of the Stravos clan.
"We need to move further." She insisted, looking at the small retinue she had somehow collected in her visit to the festival. At Iason, Olena, Ariadne and now Hebe too. "Quickly..."
And she turned with her little envoy and encouraged them out towards the outer circle and the poorer residential areas, allowing Ariadne to lead the way to an out of the way tavern where they might all take a moment to catch their breath and recognise the significance of what had just occurred...
Persephone didn't see the figure that had stepped to the mouth of the alleyway. Not truly. She had witnessed that someone had moved to follow them and then stepped out to be seen and she had hidden her face into Iason's shoulder, not wanting to cause more of an issue if someone was to notice her and start the chase all over again.
And yet, the voice that spoke had her looking up, had her turning to witness the young woman that had addressed her by so formal a title - a title that she would only hold if she was Queen. If the person who spoke, thought of her as the Queen. Those simple two words were an indication of loyalty. Not to mention that they were spoken by one she knew. By a voice that she recognised.
Persephone turned to stare at the sudden appearance of a young face that she was used to seeing on a weekly basis in the Courts of Athenia. It seemed bizarre to witness features she knew so well and yet hadn't seen in months; that she should appear as a stranger to her now.
"Lady Hebe..." The name was spoken softly and quietly, possibly not even at a volume that would carry enough for the other to hear her own address.
Before she could say more, however, a noise from streets further over drew her notice and Persephone stared out as if to look through walls. She could hear the rhythmic footsteps of the Athenian Guard. And whilst they were a force that should side with the legal ruler of the kingdom - with herself - she couldn't be certain that there weren't more on the way; soldiers that might bear the insignia of the Stravos clan.
"We need to move further." She insisted, looking at the small retinue she had somehow collected in her visit to the festival. At Iason, Olena, Ariadne and now Hebe too. "Quickly..."
And she turned with her little envoy and encouraged them out towards the outer circle and the poorer residential areas, allowing Ariadne to lead the way to an out of the way tavern where they might all take a moment to catch their breath and recognise the significance of what had just occurred...
What a fucking shitshow.
Hector's temper was nearing a fever pitch and he released his grip from Hero's shoulder to keep it from tightening and potentially hurting her.
The truth of the matter was that his temper stemmed from frustration which stemmed from worry which was all rooted in fear. He did not fear the crowds or the Stravos soldiers or anything that could cause physical harm to himself, but the fact that he now stood next to only one out of the five people that had accompanied him to the festival was beyond frustrating. The fact that he could hardly catch a glimpse of any of them in the swarm of bodies in the crowd had him worried beyond all else.
"Listen to me and listen to me well, Hero," Hector said, his eyes still scanning for the others a moment as his jaw clenched, a small muscle twitching there from the pressure of it, "Make for the docks and board Adre's ship. Do not stop anywhere for any reason. At all. The others will surely make their way--"
'HECTOR!'
Hearing his name bellowed out over the crowd had his attention snapping over immediately in the direction of a bar. At least that was a sign. He clapped Hero on the the back and urged her in the direction towards the docks, following it with a tension-strung arm that pointed in the direction to go. "Go! Hurry."
Then, much like a fish swimming upstream, he made his way to the sound of his name being called out. A grimace formed on his face as he saw Adrestus, leaning against the side of a building, a woman trying to help him and getting the worse end of it. Concern formed in a pit in his stomach as he heard his name again. Making his way over in a light jog, slowing as he approached, he let his heavy hand grab hold of Adre's shoulder.
"I'm here, are you..." Hector started to ask if he was hurt, but as soon as he turned the young lord to face him, the overwhelming scent of wine and spirits on the man's breath sent a disgusted noise retching from his throat. A brief flash of incredulity flashed across his face. "For fuck's sake..."
Groaning with even deepened frustration, he wanted to ask how in the name of the gods this came to pass, but if there was one thing he knew about young men in their cups, their answers were of no use or help. Unceremoniously yanking Adre's arm up and around his own shoulders, he could not stop himself from commanding, "Stand up. Come on."
He nodded towards the woman, a quick dismissal, before he gave another look around. Ismene was nowhere in sight. Nor was Demi. Or Ariadne.
"We have to get back to your ship and pray to the gods the others will as well. Let's go."
Feeling much like an ox with an unstable load, Hector half-dragged, half-walked Adrestus towards the docks, shouldering as many people out of the way as he could.
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What a fucking shitshow.
Hector's temper was nearing a fever pitch and he released his grip from Hero's shoulder to keep it from tightening and potentially hurting her.
The truth of the matter was that his temper stemmed from frustration which stemmed from worry which was all rooted in fear. He did not fear the crowds or the Stravos soldiers or anything that could cause physical harm to himself, but the fact that he now stood next to only one out of the five people that had accompanied him to the festival was beyond frustrating. The fact that he could hardly catch a glimpse of any of them in the swarm of bodies in the crowd had him worried beyond all else.
"Listen to me and listen to me well, Hero," Hector said, his eyes still scanning for the others a moment as his jaw clenched, a small muscle twitching there from the pressure of it, "Make for the docks and board Adre's ship. Do not stop anywhere for any reason. At all. The others will surely make their way--"
'HECTOR!'
Hearing his name bellowed out over the crowd had his attention snapping over immediately in the direction of a bar. At least that was a sign. He clapped Hero on the the back and urged her in the direction towards the docks, following it with a tension-strung arm that pointed in the direction to go. "Go! Hurry."
Then, much like a fish swimming upstream, he made his way to the sound of his name being called out. A grimace formed on his face as he saw Adrestus, leaning against the side of a building, a woman trying to help him and getting the worse end of it. Concern formed in a pit in his stomach as he heard his name again. Making his way over in a light jog, slowing as he approached, he let his heavy hand grab hold of Adre's shoulder.
"I'm here, are you..." Hector started to ask if he was hurt, but as soon as he turned the young lord to face him, the overwhelming scent of wine and spirits on the man's breath sent a disgusted noise retching from his throat. A brief flash of incredulity flashed across his face. "For fuck's sake..."
Groaning with even deepened frustration, he wanted to ask how in the name of the gods this came to pass, but if there was one thing he knew about young men in their cups, their answers were of no use or help. Unceremoniously yanking Adre's arm up and around his own shoulders, he could not stop himself from commanding, "Stand up. Come on."
He nodded towards the woman, a quick dismissal, before he gave another look around. Ismene was nowhere in sight. Nor was Demi. Or Ariadne.
"We have to get back to your ship and pray to the gods the others will as well. Let's go."
Feeling much like an ox with an unstable load, Hector half-dragged, half-walked Adrestus towards the docks, shouldering as many people out of the way as he could.
What a fucking shitshow.
Hector's temper was nearing a fever pitch and he released his grip from Hero's shoulder to keep it from tightening and potentially hurting her.
The truth of the matter was that his temper stemmed from frustration which stemmed from worry which was all rooted in fear. He did not fear the crowds or the Stravos soldiers or anything that could cause physical harm to himself, but the fact that he now stood next to only one out of the five people that had accompanied him to the festival was beyond frustrating. The fact that he could hardly catch a glimpse of any of them in the swarm of bodies in the crowd had him worried beyond all else.
"Listen to me and listen to me well, Hero," Hector said, his eyes still scanning for the others a moment as his jaw clenched, a small muscle twitching there from the pressure of it, "Make for the docks and board Adre's ship. Do not stop anywhere for any reason. At all. The others will surely make their way--"
'HECTOR!'
Hearing his name bellowed out over the crowd had his attention snapping over immediately in the direction of a bar. At least that was a sign. He clapped Hero on the the back and urged her in the direction towards the docks, following it with a tension-strung arm that pointed in the direction to go. "Go! Hurry."
Then, much like a fish swimming upstream, he made his way to the sound of his name being called out. A grimace formed on his face as he saw Adrestus, leaning against the side of a building, a woman trying to help him and getting the worse end of it. Concern formed in a pit in his stomach as he heard his name again. Making his way over in a light jog, slowing as he approached, he let his heavy hand grab hold of Adre's shoulder.
"I'm here, are you..." Hector started to ask if he was hurt, but as soon as he turned the young lord to face him, the overwhelming scent of wine and spirits on the man's breath sent a disgusted noise retching from his throat. A brief flash of incredulity flashed across his face. "For fuck's sake..."
Groaning with even deepened frustration, he wanted to ask how in the name of the gods this came to pass, but if there was one thing he knew about young men in their cups, their answers were of no use or help. Unceremoniously yanking Adre's arm up and around his own shoulders, he could not stop himself from commanding, "Stand up. Come on."
He nodded towards the woman, a quick dismissal, before he gave another look around. Ismene was nowhere in sight. Nor was Demi. Or Ariadne.
"We have to get back to your ship and pray to the gods the others will as well. Let's go."
Feeling much like an ox with an unstable load, Hector half-dragged, half-walked Adrestus towards the docks, shouldering as many people out of the way as he could.
The rate in which the crowds seemed to descend into madness was utterly appalling to the Stravos lord. He kept himself firmly toward the back of the crowds once he had been separated from Princess Emilia by his son. His gaze darted this way and that, observing the people around him with a curiosity that he couldn't just ignore. It was, after all, the way that people reacted to the events going on that would be the most telling. Lord Keikelius did not claim to be the master informer, but he knew his way around secrets and he knew his way around a crowd, around body language, and around warring soldiers.
One time, once upon his youth, the lord had been a soldier. Keikelius hadn't lost his penchant for observation nor patience and he certainly hadn't lost his intuition for observing how everyone around him sat, moved, spoke. Keeping his arms crossed to his chest, guarded and unwilling to yield to those around him, the lord made the most of his newfound invisible nature. No one was looking his direction except for his wife, who often let her gaze trail in his direction.
But he couldn't truly focus on her. As much as he wanted to hold Circenia again, he knew that touch or even the gravitation of him toward his wife, his soulmate, his princess... it would give him far too many weak spots to be used against him. It was best if he appeared as impartial to his family as possible. As distanced from his son who was very clearly making power move after power move.
But his observation skills initially missed the sight of Queen Persephone. As soon as someone yelled the words and his world devolved into chaos and yelling, Keikelius turned his head sharply in an effort to catch sight of his niece. She was here? Hadn't they only just discussed the possibility that the queen could be among them all? The rumors were true? And to fall right into their laps at this specific time? Keikelius was quick to make himself appear concerned for the queen's wellbeing, navigating quickly through the crowd in an effort to catch sight of her.
Keikelius did. Just one time. But it was enough to solidify that thought in his mind that Persephone was among them. She was alive. And she was now a loose end that needed to be neatly tied and taken care of. Appearing, for all the world, worried for both of his nieces, Keikelius allowed himself to get lost in the crowd, making sure that people around him spotting his panic and shocked temperament at knowing Queen Persephone was alive.
But he also knew the crowd to be dangerous when people started to act as they had. His first thought was, as usual, Circenia. But he could see her among the crowd, safe with a few of the Stravos guards. So he instead melted into the shadows of one of the alley ways, making it his goal to get out of the fray, unharmed and with his thoughts on his next steps rather than the utter chaos that his own son had wrought upon Athenia.
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The rate in which the crowds seemed to descend into madness was utterly appalling to the Stravos lord. He kept himself firmly toward the back of the crowds once he had been separated from Princess Emilia by his son. His gaze darted this way and that, observing the people around him with a curiosity that he couldn't just ignore. It was, after all, the way that people reacted to the events going on that would be the most telling. Lord Keikelius did not claim to be the master informer, but he knew his way around secrets and he knew his way around a crowd, around body language, and around warring soldiers.
One time, once upon his youth, the lord had been a soldier. Keikelius hadn't lost his penchant for observation nor patience and he certainly hadn't lost his intuition for observing how everyone around him sat, moved, spoke. Keeping his arms crossed to his chest, guarded and unwilling to yield to those around him, the lord made the most of his newfound invisible nature. No one was looking his direction except for his wife, who often let her gaze trail in his direction.
But he couldn't truly focus on her. As much as he wanted to hold Circenia again, he knew that touch or even the gravitation of him toward his wife, his soulmate, his princess... it would give him far too many weak spots to be used against him. It was best if he appeared as impartial to his family as possible. As distanced from his son who was very clearly making power move after power move.
But his observation skills initially missed the sight of Queen Persephone. As soon as someone yelled the words and his world devolved into chaos and yelling, Keikelius turned his head sharply in an effort to catch sight of his niece. She was here? Hadn't they only just discussed the possibility that the queen could be among them all? The rumors were true? And to fall right into their laps at this specific time? Keikelius was quick to make himself appear concerned for the queen's wellbeing, navigating quickly through the crowd in an effort to catch sight of her.
Keikelius did. Just one time. But it was enough to solidify that thought in his mind that Persephone was among them. She was alive. And she was now a loose end that needed to be neatly tied and taken care of. Appearing, for all the world, worried for both of his nieces, Keikelius allowed himself to get lost in the crowd, making sure that people around him spotting his panic and shocked temperament at knowing Queen Persephone was alive.
But he also knew the crowd to be dangerous when people started to act as they had. His first thought was, as usual, Circenia. But he could see her among the crowd, safe with a few of the Stravos guards. So he instead melted into the shadows of one of the alley ways, making it his goal to get out of the fray, unharmed and with his thoughts on his next steps rather than the utter chaos that his own son had wrought upon Athenia.
The rate in which the crowds seemed to descend into madness was utterly appalling to the Stravos lord. He kept himself firmly toward the back of the crowds once he had been separated from Princess Emilia by his son. His gaze darted this way and that, observing the people around him with a curiosity that he couldn't just ignore. It was, after all, the way that people reacted to the events going on that would be the most telling. Lord Keikelius did not claim to be the master informer, but he knew his way around secrets and he knew his way around a crowd, around body language, and around warring soldiers.
One time, once upon his youth, the lord had been a soldier. Keikelius hadn't lost his penchant for observation nor patience and he certainly hadn't lost his intuition for observing how everyone around him sat, moved, spoke. Keeping his arms crossed to his chest, guarded and unwilling to yield to those around him, the lord made the most of his newfound invisible nature. No one was looking his direction except for his wife, who often let her gaze trail in his direction.
But he couldn't truly focus on her. As much as he wanted to hold Circenia again, he knew that touch or even the gravitation of him toward his wife, his soulmate, his princess... it would give him far too many weak spots to be used against him. It was best if he appeared as impartial to his family as possible. As distanced from his son who was very clearly making power move after power move.
But his observation skills initially missed the sight of Queen Persephone. As soon as someone yelled the words and his world devolved into chaos and yelling, Keikelius turned his head sharply in an effort to catch sight of his niece. She was here? Hadn't they only just discussed the possibility that the queen could be among them all? The rumors were true? And to fall right into their laps at this specific time? Keikelius was quick to make himself appear concerned for the queen's wellbeing, navigating quickly through the crowd in an effort to catch sight of her.
Keikelius did. Just one time. But it was enough to solidify that thought in his mind that Persephone was among them. She was alive. And she was now a loose end that needed to be neatly tied and taken care of. Appearing, for all the world, worried for both of his nieces, Keikelius allowed himself to get lost in the crowd, making sure that people around him spotting his panic and shocked temperament at knowing Queen Persephone was alive.
But he also knew the crowd to be dangerous when people started to act as they had. His first thought was, as usual, Circenia. But he could see her among the crowd, safe with a few of the Stravos guards. So he instead melted into the shadows of one of the alley ways, making it his goal to get out of the fray, unharmed and with his thoughts on his next steps rather than the utter chaos that his own son had wrought upon Athenia.
The moment that fruit had flown where it shouldn't be flying (because really, fruits were not meant to fly), things had practically erupted into chaos, the kind that Demi did not enjoy at all. She had always thrived on being in control. That feeling had brought her through her whole life. Ensuring she was in control was the only thing that differentiated her from a pleasure slave, the position Demi never wanted to be back in again, for her freedom meant she could have a say in what she wanted, who she bedded, and where she was supposed to go.
The chaos made her bite her lip till it bled, and Demi wanted nothing more then to just dart out of there until all the commotion died down. Being pushed and shoved against her will made her blood race, the uncertainty of it all making it ring in her ears. But Hector had told her to find Ismene, so Demi did her best to focus on that, her eyes swinging this way and that to find the blonde head of her lover's daughter.
Remembering she had seen the young girl earlier with Adrestus, the brunette tried to seek out the young noble's taller form, but frowned when he saw the drunken visage of Adrestus, but with no Ismene nearby. Where had the girl gone to?
The cries of the angry commonfolk around them grew louder, and Demi almost had to swim against angry bodies closing in as they tried to demand for an answer from the royals, always managing to go two steps forward only for her to fall one step back. What should've taken thirty seconds took far longer before Demi finally broke through the crush of human bodies, barely even hearing the surprising marriage annoucement. The political happenings of the royal and noble families had never been much of an interest to Demi. Whatever they chose to do or who they married played no great part in her life, the life of a scum usually unimportant to such people. Servicing Elias of Stravos had been the closest she got, and with that experience, Demi would be happy if she never got nearer.
Finally spotting the dusky head of Ismene, Demi quickly ran over, darting forward to grab the wrist of Ismene almost at the same time as she craned her neck to try and find Hector. Knowing her lover, there was no doubt he was looking for his daughter now, and she would need to deliver Ismene back to him first before he had a complete meltdown.
"Come on Isi, your father's no doubt looking for you, and this place isn't safe for now." she murmured to the girl, weaving her way through the human crush as the tensions only grew higher with anger. Knowing the crowd would be far easier to navigate nearer to the water, she tried to head there, only for her eyes to widen when she saw Hector hauling a deadweight body. "Adrestus?" she murmured in surprise, when she finally got to his side, and then flickered a questioning gaze that held a wealth of 'what in Gods name had happened?' as a silent query, before shrugging. The answer could come later. "I presume we're not staying?"
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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The moment that fruit had flown where it shouldn't be flying (because really, fruits were not meant to fly), things had practically erupted into chaos, the kind that Demi did not enjoy at all. She had always thrived on being in control. That feeling had brought her through her whole life. Ensuring she was in control was the only thing that differentiated her from a pleasure slave, the position Demi never wanted to be back in again, for her freedom meant she could have a say in what she wanted, who she bedded, and where she was supposed to go.
The chaos made her bite her lip till it bled, and Demi wanted nothing more then to just dart out of there until all the commotion died down. Being pushed and shoved against her will made her blood race, the uncertainty of it all making it ring in her ears. But Hector had told her to find Ismene, so Demi did her best to focus on that, her eyes swinging this way and that to find the blonde head of her lover's daughter.
Remembering she had seen the young girl earlier with Adrestus, the brunette tried to seek out the young noble's taller form, but frowned when he saw the drunken visage of Adrestus, but with no Ismene nearby. Where had the girl gone to?
The cries of the angry commonfolk around them grew louder, and Demi almost had to swim against angry bodies closing in as they tried to demand for an answer from the royals, always managing to go two steps forward only for her to fall one step back. What should've taken thirty seconds took far longer before Demi finally broke through the crush of human bodies, barely even hearing the surprising marriage annoucement. The political happenings of the royal and noble families had never been much of an interest to Demi. Whatever they chose to do or who they married played no great part in her life, the life of a scum usually unimportant to such people. Servicing Elias of Stravos had been the closest she got, and with that experience, Demi would be happy if she never got nearer.
Finally spotting the dusky head of Ismene, Demi quickly ran over, darting forward to grab the wrist of Ismene almost at the same time as she craned her neck to try and find Hector. Knowing her lover, there was no doubt he was looking for his daughter now, and she would need to deliver Ismene back to him first before he had a complete meltdown.
"Come on Isi, your father's no doubt looking for you, and this place isn't safe for now." she murmured to the girl, weaving her way through the human crush as the tensions only grew higher with anger. Knowing the crowd would be far easier to navigate nearer to the water, she tried to head there, only for her eyes to widen when she saw Hector hauling a deadweight body. "Adrestus?" she murmured in surprise, when she finally got to his side, and then flickered a questioning gaze that held a wealth of 'what in Gods name had happened?' as a silent query, before shrugging. The answer could come later. "I presume we're not staying?"
The moment that fruit had flown where it shouldn't be flying (because really, fruits were not meant to fly), things had practically erupted into chaos, the kind that Demi did not enjoy at all. She had always thrived on being in control. That feeling had brought her through her whole life. Ensuring she was in control was the only thing that differentiated her from a pleasure slave, the position Demi never wanted to be back in again, for her freedom meant she could have a say in what she wanted, who she bedded, and where she was supposed to go.
The chaos made her bite her lip till it bled, and Demi wanted nothing more then to just dart out of there until all the commotion died down. Being pushed and shoved against her will made her blood race, the uncertainty of it all making it ring in her ears. But Hector had told her to find Ismene, so Demi did her best to focus on that, her eyes swinging this way and that to find the blonde head of her lover's daughter.
Remembering she had seen the young girl earlier with Adrestus, the brunette tried to seek out the young noble's taller form, but frowned when he saw the drunken visage of Adrestus, but with no Ismene nearby. Where had the girl gone to?
The cries of the angry commonfolk around them grew louder, and Demi almost had to swim against angry bodies closing in as they tried to demand for an answer from the royals, always managing to go two steps forward only for her to fall one step back. What should've taken thirty seconds took far longer before Demi finally broke through the crush of human bodies, barely even hearing the surprising marriage annoucement. The political happenings of the royal and noble families had never been much of an interest to Demi. Whatever they chose to do or who they married played no great part in her life, the life of a scum usually unimportant to such people. Servicing Elias of Stravos had been the closest she got, and with that experience, Demi would be happy if she never got nearer.
Finally spotting the dusky head of Ismene, Demi quickly ran over, darting forward to grab the wrist of Ismene almost at the same time as she craned her neck to try and find Hector. Knowing her lover, there was no doubt he was looking for his daughter now, and she would need to deliver Ismene back to him first before he had a complete meltdown.
"Come on Isi, your father's no doubt looking for you, and this place isn't safe for now." she murmured to the girl, weaving her way through the human crush as the tensions only grew higher with anger. Knowing the crowd would be far easier to navigate nearer to the water, she tried to head there, only for her eyes to widen when she saw Hector hauling a deadweight body. "Adrestus?" she murmured in surprise, when she finally got to his side, and then flickered a questioning gaze that held a wealth of 'what in Gods name had happened?' as a silent query, before shrugging. The answer could come later. "I presume we're not staying?"