The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
The time has come to big goodbye to the men of Taengea as King Achilleas leads his troops to their ships and across the seas. On the beaches south of Vasiliadon, families and friends gather to bid farewell to Taengea's best hope for circumventing violence and bloodshed.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The time has come to big goodbye to the men of Taengea as King Achilleas leads his troops to their ships and across the seas. On the beaches south of Vasiliadon, families and friends gather to bid farewell to Taengea's best hope for circumventing violence and bloodshed.
Fair Winds Event - Taengea
The time has come to big goodbye to the men of Taengea as King Achilleas leads his troops to their ships and across the seas. On the beaches south of Vasiliadon, families and friends gather to bid farewell to Taengea's best hope for circumventing violence and bloodshed.
Fotios could have done without the crying and the sentimentality of those that he passed along the beach as he made his way to stand beside the royals and their guests. It was tradition for important figures in society to bear witness to the leavetaking of soldiers in a show of solidarity, faith and good luck. But it irritated him that such a tradition was borne upon no fact or evidence whatsoever.
As an individual, Fotios was not leaving for battle and would be one of the ones defending Vasiliadon, should the war extend across the waters and break upon the shores of their capitol. As such, he was to remain. And he had no sons or nephews of an age worthy for war. Konstantinos could have perhaps journeyed as a deck hand or a messenger boy doe the army but for a combination of factors. This was not set to be a normal unitary war, but a quiet and pre-emptive strike against the Egyptian's supposedly secret naval force. And secondly, Fotios had elected to have the boy remain. Not until he was consummate with a bow would he permit the only male heir of Leventi to enter into something so dangerous. It had been one of the incredibly rare times that he had been in agreement with his sister-in-law Ava.
As such, Fotios had no personal stake in sending off the men who would sail in a half dozen ships, across the sea and along the cliffside shoreline of Egypt, keeping their sails and their presence as quiet as possible for the longest length of time. He stood on the sands only as a representative of his house and to show loyalty to the king who was now bidding his family goodbye in readiness for his journey to the south and towards his enemies.
Fotios watched with a sober expression appropriate for the moment, his feet braced apart on the beachland and his arms folded across his check. his hair had been tied up at the back of his head against the coastal wind and he watched the reactions of the nobles carefully in order to witness the subtle shifts in relations between those of might within the Taengean lands...
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Fotios could have done without the crying and the sentimentality of those that he passed along the beach as he made his way to stand beside the royals and their guests. It was tradition for important figures in society to bear witness to the leavetaking of soldiers in a show of solidarity, faith and good luck. But it irritated him that such a tradition was borne upon no fact or evidence whatsoever.
As an individual, Fotios was not leaving for battle and would be one of the ones defending Vasiliadon, should the war extend across the waters and break upon the shores of their capitol. As such, he was to remain. And he had no sons or nephews of an age worthy for war. Konstantinos could have perhaps journeyed as a deck hand or a messenger boy doe the army but for a combination of factors. This was not set to be a normal unitary war, but a quiet and pre-emptive strike against the Egyptian's supposedly secret naval force. And secondly, Fotios had elected to have the boy remain. Not until he was consummate with a bow would he permit the only male heir of Leventi to enter into something so dangerous. It had been one of the incredibly rare times that he had been in agreement with his sister-in-law Ava.
As such, Fotios had no personal stake in sending off the men who would sail in a half dozen ships, across the sea and along the cliffside shoreline of Egypt, keeping their sails and their presence as quiet as possible for the longest length of time. He stood on the sands only as a representative of his house and to show loyalty to the king who was now bidding his family goodbye in readiness for his journey to the south and towards his enemies.
Fotios watched with a sober expression appropriate for the moment, his feet braced apart on the beachland and his arms folded across his check. his hair had been tied up at the back of his head against the coastal wind and he watched the reactions of the nobles carefully in order to witness the subtle shifts in relations between those of might within the Taengean lands...
Fotios could have done without the crying and the sentimentality of those that he passed along the beach as he made his way to stand beside the royals and their guests. It was tradition for important figures in society to bear witness to the leavetaking of soldiers in a show of solidarity, faith and good luck. But it irritated him that such a tradition was borne upon no fact or evidence whatsoever.
As an individual, Fotios was not leaving for battle and would be one of the ones defending Vasiliadon, should the war extend across the waters and break upon the shores of their capitol. As such, he was to remain. And he had no sons or nephews of an age worthy for war. Konstantinos could have perhaps journeyed as a deck hand or a messenger boy doe the army but for a combination of factors. This was not set to be a normal unitary war, but a quiet and pre-emptive strike against the Egyptian's supposedly secret naval force. And secondly, Fotios had elected to have the boy remain. Not until he was consummate with a bow would he permit the only male heir of Leventi to enter into something so dangerous. It had been one of the incredibly rare times that he had been in agreement with his sister-in-law Ava.
As such, Fotios had no personal stake in sending off the men who would sail in a half dozen ships, across the sea and along the cliffside shoreline of Egypt, keeping their sails and their presence as quiet as possible for the longest length of time. He stood on the sands only as a representative of his house and to show loyalty to the king who was now bidding his family goodbye in readiness for his journey to the south and towards his enemies.
Fotios watched with a sober expression appropriate for the moment, his feet braced apart on the beachland and his arms folded across his check. his hair had been tied up at the back of his head against the coastal wind and he watched the reactions of the nobles carefully in order to witness the subtle shifts in relations between those of might within the Taengean lands...
The day dawned, clear-skied but cool with winds that whispered of winter. The drapes that hung at the windows to the royal chambers had fluttered uneasily for much of the night, and Achilleas had watched them, hoping fervently that Apollo would be kind to them on the voyage that lay ahead.
Quiet, even more so than usual, he went through the rituals of bathing and dressing, he had no appetite for the food laid out, but made himself eat anyway. He was not usually afflicted by the sickness that struck some when upon the water, but it was better to have something in your stomach it was said.
Theodora’s presence drew a tight smile from the King, and though he took her hand briefly, it was clear to see that their goodbyes had already happened. There had been a dinner at the Palati the previous evening, the Mikealidas family drawing together more privately before the public departure today.
There had been some very conspicuous absences, empty seats filled by ghosts, or left for those who might yet return, but Achilleas had felt it important that they come together as one before he departed. He hoped as well that doing so might make Theodora feel more comfortable and supported whilst he was away. And despite his intent for the dinner to feel unifying, there was an inevitable sombreness at the table that only served to show how much their family had lost in the past months.
It had left Achilleas wondering if it had been a good idea, and he’d said as much to Theodora when they had retired to their chambers late into the night. It was not easy to knit the wounds that the Milaelidas family had collected, and still, the shadow of doubt hung over whether some of them had been struck from within.
To his surprise, she found some words to comfort him, and then pair had said their goodbyes with less spoken until Theodora had fallen asleep beside him and Achilleas had watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and reminded himself that it was to protect all of this that he went.
Having said as much as he could without words the night before, by the time morning came, Achilleas had drawn into himself, finding the focus that was always his companion whenever he readied himself to leave. Once bathed, it had been Petros who had helped the King into the bronze, gold-etched armour that Achilleas would wear as they set sail. No insignificant presence when garbed in even formal attire, the man was something else to behold when outfitted for battle, where his breadth and height were emphasized, suggesting a formidable opponent to those unfortunate enough to face him.
Today though, it was for show, for intent. Taengea’s King would lead their forces across the sea to slap down thoughts of an enemy nation to make threats against them, and even though he was not a fan of the pantomime of it, even Achilleas knew he needed to look the part. Newly commissioned, the cuirass bore the curling peacock’s feather of Taengea, and fit close to his body, but it was not as comfortable as his well worn, familiar armour, and the man shifted as Petros fastened it tight, and then again as a himation was thrown across his shoulders and pinned in place with the Lion’s head fibulae. Blue as the seas of the Aegean, it was a bright and vivid splash of colour against the gleaming bronze, and Achilleas lifted a brow at the older man, feeling every inch the peacock that represented his homeland.
“And it will all be stripped off again as soon as we are out of sight of shore” he griped, before moving to retrieve the circlet that he would also be donning. He had been more insistent that it was his own weaponry he carried, so the sword and dagger at his hip were familiar, the other small knife strapped behind the greaves a comforting presence.
Petros looked at the Achilleas with a strange expression on his face, and laid his palm atop the man’s shoulder a moment, so that the new King paused and looked back at him, smiling faintly at the gesture before he said “We have done all this before, friend. It is no different because I wear some gold around my head”
He spoke the words lightly, but both men knew it for the lie it was. Achilleas would be a target for any enemy seeking their own glory, or for those wishing to destabilise their opponents and throw them into chaos. There was no changing that though, and it was not a thing Achilleas had tolerated being spoken of within earshot of his mother or Theodora. Still, he clasped Petros’ arm and gave a squeeze, and it was enough for the man who had known him since he was a boy, had watched him grow into the warrior that stood before him.
But time and tide wait for no man, and it was soon that the King and the rest of the royal family arrived at where the best of Taengea’s men had been mustered to lead this first strike in a new war. In this at least, Achilleas could find some shared feeling with the Leventi Lord who already stood upon the shoreline, looking out at those who would go where he would not.
The King too, struggled with the sentimentality of this, when what he needed was to get underway, and Achilleas had never been one comfortable with openly displayed emotions, not when it had been hammered into him that to be governed by them was to be weakened. He had hoped that by calling everyone together the previous night they would be spared any today. But he readied himself nevertheless as he stood, flanked by his family and with his wife by his side, as he prepared to lead Taengea to war.
.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The day dawned, clear-skied but cool with winds that whispered of winter. The drapes that hung at the windows to the royal chambers had fluttered uneasily for much of the night, and Achilleas had watched them, hoping fervently that Apollo would be kind to them on the voyage that lay ahead.
Quiet, even more so than usual, he went through the rituals of bathing and dressing, he had no appetite for the food laid out, but made himself eat anyway. He was not usually afflicted by the sickness that struck some when upon the water, but it was better to have something in your stomach it was said.
Theodora’s presence drew a tight smile from the King, and though he took her hand briefly, it was clear to see that their goodbyes had already happened. There had been a dinner at the Palati the previous evening, the Mikealidas family drawing together more privately before the public departure today.
There had been some very conspicuous absences, empty seats filled by ghosts, or left for those who might yet return, but Achilleas had felt it important that they come together as one before he departed. He hoped as well that doing so might make Theodora feel more comfortable and supported whilst he was away. And despite his intent for the dinner to feel unifying, there was an inevitable sombreness at the table that only served to show how much their family had lost in the past months.
It had left Achilleas wondering if it had been a good idea, and he’d said as much to Theodora when they had retired to their chambers late into the night. It was not easy to knit the wounds that the Milaelidas family had collected, and still, the shadow of doubt hung over whether some of them had been struck from within.
To his surprise, she found some words to comfort him, and then pair had said their goodbyes with less spoken until Theodora had fallen asleep beside him and Achilleas had watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and reminded himself that it was to protect all of this that he went.
Having said as much as he could without words the night before, by the time morning came, Achilleas had drawn into himself, finding the focus that was always his companion whenever he readied himself to leave. Once bathed, it had been Petros who had helped the King into the bronze, gold-etched armour that Achilleas would wear as they set sail. No insignificant presence when garbed in even formal attire, the man was something else to behold when outfitted for battle, where his breadth and height were emphasized, suggesting a formidable opponent to those unfortunate enough to face him.
Today though, it was for show, for intent. Taengea’s King would lead their forces across the sea to slap down thoughts of an enemy nation to make threats against them, and even though he was not a fan of the pantomime of it, even Achilleas knew he needed to look the part. Newly commissioned, the cuirass bore the curling peacock’s feather of Taengea, and fit close to his body, but it was not as comfortable as his well worn, familiar armour, and the man shifted as Petros fastened it tight, and then again as a himation was thrown across his shoulders and pinned in place with the Lion’s head fibulae. Blue as the seas of the Aegean, it was a bright and vivid splash of colour against the gleaming bronze, and Achilleas lifted a brow at the older man, feeling every inch the peacock that represented his homeland.
“And it will all be stripped off again as soon as we are out of sight of shore” he griped, before moving to retrieve the circlet that he would also be donning. He had been more insistent that it was his own weaponry he carried, so the sword and dagger at his hip were familiar, the other small knife strapped behind the greaves a comforting presence.
Petros looked at the Achilleas with a strange expression on his face, and laid his palm atop the man’s shoulder a moment, so that the new King paused and looked back at him, smiling faintly at the gesture before he said “We have done all this before, friend. It is no different because I wear some gold around my head”
He spoke the words lightly, but both men knew it for the lie it was. Achilleas would be a target for any enemy seeking their own glory, or for those wishing to destabilise their opponents and throw them into chaos. There was no changing that though, and it was not a thing Achilleas had tolerated being spoken of within earshot of his mother or Theodora. Still, he clasped Petros’ arm and gave a squeeze, and it was enough for the man who had known him since he was a boy, had watched him grow into the warrior that stood before him.
But time and tide wait for no man, and it was soon that the King and the rest of the royal family arrived at where the best of Taengea’s men had been mustered to lead this first strike in a new war. In this at least, Achilleas could find some shared feeling with the Leventi Lord who already stood upon the shoreline, looking out at those who would go where he would not.
The King too, struggled with the sentimentality of this, when what he needed was to get underway, and Achilleas had never been one comfortable with openly displayed emotions, not when it had been hammered into him that to be governed by them was to be weakened. He had hoped that by calling everyone together the previous night they would be spared any today. But he readied himself nevertheless as he stood, flanked by his family and with his wife by his side, as he prepared to lead Taengea to war.
.
The day dawned, clear-skied but cool with winds that whispered of winter. The drapes that hung at the windows to the royal chambers had fluttered uneasily for much of the night, and Achilleas had watched them, hoping fervently that Apollo would be kind to them on the voyage that lay ahead.
Quiet, even more so than usual, he went through the rituals of bathing and dressing, he had no appetite for the food laid out, but made himself eat anyway. He was not usually afflicted by the sickness that struck some when upon the water, but it was better to have something in your stomach it was said.
Theodora’s presence drew a tight smile from the King, and though he took her hand briefly, it was clear to see that their goodbyes had already happened. There had been a dinner at the Palati the previous evening, the Mikealidas family drawing together more privately before the public departure today.
There had been some very conspicuous absences, empty seats filled by ghosts, or left for those who might yet return, but Achilleas had felt it important that they come together as one before he departed. He hoped as well that doing so might make Theodora feel more comfortable and supported whilst he was away. And despite his intent for the dinner to feel unifying, there was an inevitable sombreness at the table that only served to show how much their family had lost in the past months.
It had left Achilleas wondering if it had been a good idea, and he’d said as much to Theodora when they had retired to their chambers late into the night. It was not easy to knit the wounds that the Milaelidas family had collected, and still, the shadow of doubt hung over whether some of them had been struck from within.
To his surprise, she found some words to comfort him, and then pair had said their goodbyes with less spoken until Theodora had fallen asleep beside him and Achilleas had watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and reminded himself that it was to protect all of this that he went.
Having said as much as he could without words the night before, by the time morning came, Achilleas had drawn into himself, finding the focus that was always his companion whenever he readied himself to leave. Once bathed, it had been Petros who had helped the King into the bronze, gold-etched armour that Achilleas would wear as they set sail. No insignificant presence when garbed in even formal attire, the man was something else to behold when outfitted for battle, where his breadth and height were emphasized, suggesting a formidable opponent to those unfortunate enough to face him.
Today though, it was for show, for intent. Taengea’s King would lead their forces across the sea to slap down thoughts of an enemy nation to make threats against them, and even though he was not a fan of the pantomime of it, even Achilleas knew he needed to look the part. Newly commissioned, the cuirass bore the curling peacock’s feather of Taengea, and fit close to his body, but it was not as comfortable as his well worn, familiar armour, and the man shifted as Petros fastened it tight, and then again as a himation was thrown across his shoulders and pinned in place with the Lion’s head fibulae. Blue as the seas of the Aegean, it was a bright and vivid splash of colour against the gleaming bronze, and Achilleas lifted a brow at the older man, feeling every inch the peacock that represented his homeland.
“And it will all be stripped off again as soon as we are out of sight of shore” he griped, before moving to retrieve the circlet that he would also be donning. He had been more insistent that it was his own weaponry he carried, so the sword and dagger at his hip were familiar, the other small knife strapped behind the greaves a comforting presence.
Petros looked at the Achilleas with a strange expression on his face, and laid his palm atop the man’s shoulder a moment, so that the new King paused and looked back at him, smiling faintly at the gesture before he said “We have done all this before, friend. It is no different because I wear some gold around my head”
He spoke the words lightly, but both men knew it for the lie it was. Achilleas would be a target for any enemy seeking their own glory, or for those wishing to destabilise their opponents and throw them into chaos. There was no changing that though, and it was not a thing Achilleas had tolerated being spoken of within earshot of his mother or Theodora. Still, he clasped Petros’ arm and gave a squeeze, and it was enough for the man who had known him since he was a boy, had watched him grow into the warrior that stood before him.
But time and tide wait for no man, and it was soon that the King and the rest of the royal family arrived at where the best of Taengea’s men had been mustered to lead this first strike in a new war. In this at least, Achilleas could find some shared feeling with the Leventi Lord who already stood upon the shoreline, looking out at those who would go where he would not.
The King too, struggled with the sentimentality of this, when what he needed was to get underway, and Achilleas had never been one comfortable with openly displayed emotions, not when it had been hammered into him that to be governed by them was to be weakened. He had hoped that by calling everyone together the previous night they would be spared any today. But he readied himself nevertheless as he stood, flanked by his family and with his wife by his side, as he prepared to lead Taengea to war.
.
While Nikolias was not going to war- a good thing, really, as his old leg injury was paining him today- he had come to the shoreline to say goodbye to those who were leaving, as well as to receive any possible last-minute instructions from King Achilleas. If he felt a little uneasy remaining behind, it was only because the King had seemed to point out at his coronation that there wasn't much Nikolias could really do to defend Taengea- at least, not physically at the moment. It had taken Nikolias many years to find what he considered to be his true purpose in life, even if being a courtier- with his deficits in understanding body language- often didn't feel like much of a purpose, either. Not unless there was something to be verbally defended. Then, Nikolias truly considered himself to be in his element, but that wasn't the kind of thing that happened every day.
One might think it would, with so many people of what seemed at times to be differing opinions on the court, as well as familial rivals- like himself and Lord Fotios- who were often thrown together in the same space at the same event. But, well, the court was the court, and even that seemingly had its brand of what might in future times be considered to be political correctness. It could be annoying, or feel like you were lying sometimes, but as much as he abhorred fakery, he had to admit it might be good for something....
Gavriil was staying, too, though, last Nikolias had heard, and that made it easier. At least under the watch of some of the court, hopefully things wouldn't go to pieces at home in Taengea.
And, at least for today, it at least seemed for the moment that he and Fotios were in a strange kind of accord, judging by the man's somber expression. In Nikolias' case, the sadness on his part was one he felt every time a war started whether he ended up going or not. It had to do with so many conflicting emotions, but at the moment, the two most prevalent in his own mind were a sense that war was but one in a sea of Taengean troubles at the moment, and considering the upheaval that had so recently occurred involving Stephanos and Olympia, wasn't war a valuable waste of an energy that might be better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, not to mention those of his own Mikaelidas cousins? Stupid Egyptians! Stupid war! What was it about humanity collectively that had other countries so obsessed with kicking people while they were already down?
In addition to those concerns, Nikolias berated himself today, as he often did. for his aversion to the sight of human blood. If not for that, he would have made a more than competent warrior, maybe even, at least, a good one. In that sense, it was not a lack of personal courage that kept him home whenever possible, but what might be termed something he- and probably others, too- considered to be abnormally wrong with his physiological makeup.
How he wished the gods had created him to be the same as seemingly every other man!
He glanced at Fotios in an odd kind of sympathetic camaraderie, but said nothing. Was there really anything appropriate to say?
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
While Nikolias was not going to war- a good thing, really, as his old leg injury was paining him today- he had come to the shoreline to say goodbye to those who were leaving, as well as to receive any possible last-minute instructions from King Achilleas. If he felt a little uneasy remaining behind, it was only because the King had seemed to point out at his coronation that there wasn't much Nikolias could really do to defend Taengea- at least, not physically at the moment. It had taken Nikolias many years to find what he considered to be his true purpose in life, even if being a courtier- with his deficits in understanding body language- often didn't feel like much of a purpose, either. Not unless there was something to be verbally defended. Then, Nikolias truly considered himself to be in his element, but that wasn't the kind of thing that happened every day.
One might think it would, with so many people of what seemed at times to be differing opinions on the court, as well as familial rivals- like himself and Lord Fotios- who were often thrown together in the same space at the same event. But, well, the court was the court, and even that seemingly had its brand of what might in future times be considered to be political correctness. It could be annoying, or feel like you were lying sometimes, but as much as he abhorred fakery, he had to admit it might be good for something....
Gavriil was staying, too, though, last Nikolias had heard, and that made it easier. At least under the watch of some of the court, hopefully things wouldn't go to pieces at home in Taengea.
And, at least for today, it at least seemed for the moment that he and Fotios were in a strange kind of accord, judging by the man's somber expression. In Nikolias' case, the sadness on his part was one he felt every time a war started whether he ended up going or not. It had to do with so many conflicting emotions, but at the moment, the two most prevalent in his own mind were a sense that war was but one in a sea of Taengean troubles at the moment, and considering the upheaval that had so recently occurred involving Stephanos and Olympia, wasn't war a valuable waste of an energy that might be better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, not to mention those of his own Mikaelidas cousins? Stupid Egyptians! Stupid war! What was it about humanity collectively that had other countries so obsessed with kicking people while they were already down?
In addition to those concerns, Nikolias berated himself today, as he often did. for his aversion to the sight of human blood. If not for that, he would have made a more than competent warrior, maybe even, at least, a good one. In that sense, it was not a lack of personal courage that kept him home whenever possible, but what might be termed something he- and probably others, too- considered to be abnormally wrong with his physiological makeup.
How he wished the gods had created him to be the same as seemingly every other man!
He glanced at Fotios in an odd kind of sympathetic camaraderie, but said nothing. Was there really anything appropriate to say?
While Nikolias was not going to war- a good thing, really, as his old leg injury was paining him today- he had come to the shoreline to say goodbye to those who were leaving, as well as to receive any possible last-minute instructions from King Achilleas. If he felt a little uneasy remaining behind, it was only because the King had seemed to point out at his coronation that there wasn't much Nikolias could really do to defend Taengea- at least, not physically at the moment. It had taken Nikolias many years to find what he considered to be his true purpose in life, even if being a courtier- with his deficits in understanding body language- often didn't feel like much of a purpose, either. Not unless there was something to be verbally defended. Then, Nikolias truly considered himself to be in his element, but that wasn't the kind of thing that happened every day.
One might think it would, with so many people of what seemed at times to be differing opinions on the court, as well as familial rivals- like himself and Lord Fotios- who were often thrown together in the same space at the same event. But, well, the court was the court, and even that seemingly had its brand of what might in future times be considered to be political correctness. It could be annoying, or feel like you were lying sometimes, but as much as he abhorred fakery, he had to admit it might be good for something....
Gavriil was staying, too, though, last Nikolias had heard, and that made it easier. At least under the watch of some of the court, hopefully things wouldn't go to pieces at home in Taengea.
And, at least for today, it at least seemed for the moment that he and Fotios were in a strange kind of accord, judging by the man's somber expression. In Nikolias' case, the sadness on his part was one he felt every time a war started whether he ended up going or not. It had to do with so many conflicting emotions, but at the moment, the two most prevalent in his own mind were a sense that war was but one in a sea of Taengean troubles at the moment, and considering the upheaval that had so recently occurred involving Stephanos and Olympia, wasn't war a valuable waste of an energy that might be better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, not to mention those of his own Mikaelidas cousins? Stupid Egyptians! Stupid war! What was it about humanity collectively that had other countries so obsessed with kicking people while they were already down?
In addition to those concerns, Nikolias berated himself today, as he often did. for his aversion to the sight of human blood. If not for that, he would have made a more than competent warrior, maybe even, at least, a good one. In that sense, it was not a lack of personal courage that kept him home whenever possible, but what might be termed something he- and probably others, too- considered to be abnormally wrong with his physiological makeup.
How he wished the gods had created him to be the same as seemingly every other man!
He glanced at Fotios in an odd kind of sympathetic camaraderie, but said nothing. Was there really anything appropriate to say?
Krysto had said his goodbyes in the city, with Eurydice curled firmly into his arms. He did not want her to witness him shipping off to war, and she had long admitted that she would not watch. So they said their goodbyes in private, through touch and quiet assertions of love. He had spent the early morning hours with his head laying on her abdomen, wishing he could meet his unborn child before we went off to war. There were few regrets that Krysto had, and not marrying her before he left was not one of them.
They had their reasons and even though the King likely didn't understand, Eurydice and Krysto had found it much easier this way. Sure, she would not recieve his pension, but she would not need it if he did not return. She had a family to rely on. A family that had turned up in the dawn light to say their own goodbyes. Hugging all around, Krysto couldn't help but feel grateful for them in the way that he was grateful for his own family. Between Krysto's family and her's, she would be well taken care of. There was no doubt about that.
If Krysto were honest, he just did not want his betrothed to find herself widowed before she even got to have a married life. King Achilleas had offered, but Krysto wouldn't have subjected her to that. It was a strange relationship, but neither he nor his lover were willing to give more than they were able, nor were they willing to take what they would not be able to hold in their hands.
Standing now, hours later, on the beach with his mother and father, Krysto was slowly burying the part of himself that resisted this idea of war. He was a Captain and he had soldiers to lead. His mother, however, seemed to have other ideas of fussing over him, of making sure he had everything he needed even though she was more than aware that this was war and not a simple trip across the seas.
"I have everything, mother," Krysto finally said quietly, leaning away from her touch when she attempted to touch her face. Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I promise you that I have everything I need. Stop fussing. This isn't my first war," he said quietly, pulling her into a hug instead. The Captain tried to pretend he didn't hear his mother's whimpering against his breastplate as he pulled away and gave the same hug to his father.
"I love both of you," he declared carefully, "Now I must get to work. Thank you for seeing me off," he said in a cordial, pointed tone that had both of his parents nodding and stepping back to give him space. Giving one last smile to the both of them, he started back across the beach at a pace that meant he meant business. Spotting Lord Leventi and Lord Condos standing to the side, he gave a sharp, attentive nod to both of them while he headed for the ships with every intention of ensuring that the men who were already boarded were organized and ready for the voyage ahead.
He was on the King's ship and would be sure to seek out Achilleas once they had set off. For now, he kept a keen eye over the side fo the boat at his friend, standing with his family and saying his own goodbyes.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Krysto had said his goodbyes in the city, with Eurydice curled firmly into his arms. He did not want her to witness him shipping off to war, and she had long admitted that she would not watch. So they said their goodbyes in private, through touch and quiet assertions of love. He had spent the early morning hours with his head laying on her abdomen, wishing he could meet his unborn child before we went off to war. There were few regrets that Krysto had, and not marrying her before he left was not one of them.
They had their reasons and even though the King likely didn't understand, Eurydice and Krysto had found it much easier this way. Sure, she would not recieve his pension, but she would not need it if he did not return. She had a family to rely on. A family that had turned up in the dawn light to say their own goodbyes. Hugging all around, Krysto couldn't help but feel grateful for them in the way that he was grateful for his own family. Between Krysto's family and her's, she would be well taken care of. There was no doubt about that.
If Krysto were honest, he just did not want his betrothed to find herself widowed before she even got to have a married life. King Achilleas had offered, but Krysto wouldn't have subjected her to that. It was a strange relationship, but neither he nor his lover were willing to give more than they were able, nor were they willing to take what they would not be able to hold in their hands.
Standing now, hours later, on the beach with his mother and father, Krysto was slowly burying the part of himself that resisted this idea of war. He was a Captain and he had soldiers to lead. His mother, however, seemed to have other ideas of fussing over him, of making sure he had everything he needed even though she was more than aware that this was war and not a simple trip across the seas.
"I have everything, mother," Krysto finally said quietly, leaning away from her touch when she attempted to touch her face. Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I promise you that I have everything I need. Stop fussing. This isn't my first war," he said quietly, pulling her into a hug instead. The Captain tried to pretend he didn't hear his mother's whimpering against his breastplate as he pulled away and gave the same hug to his father.
"I love both of you," he declared carefully, "Now I must get to work. Thank you for seeing me off," he said in a cordial, pointed tone that had both of his parents nodding and stepping back to give him space. Giving one last smile to the both of them, he started back across the beach at a pace that meant he meant business. Spotting Lord Leventi and Lord Condos standing to the side, he gave a sharp, attentive nod to both of them while he headed for the ships with every intention of ensuring that the men who were already boarded were organized and ready for the voyage ahead.
He was on the King's ship and would be sure to seek out Achilleas once they had set off. For now, he kept a keen eye over the side fo the boat at his friend, standing with his family and saying his own goodbyes.
Krysto had said his goodbyes in the city, with Eurydice curled firmly into his arms. He did not want her to witness him shipping off to war, and she had long admitted that she would not watch. So they said their goodbyes in private, through touch and quiet assertions of love. He had spent the early morning hours with his head laying on her abdomen, wishing he could meet his unborn child before we went off to war. There were few regrets that Krysto had, and not marrying her before he left was not one of them.
They had their reasons and even though the King likely didn't understand, Eurydice and Krysto had found it much easier this way. Sure, she would not recieve his pension, but she would not need it if he did not return. She had a family to rely on. A family that had turned up in the dawn light to say their own goodbyes. Hugging all around, Krysto couldn't help but feel grateful for them in the way that he was grateful for his own family. Between Krysto's family and her's, she would be well taken care of. There was no doubt about that.
If Krysto were honest, he just did not want his betrothed to find herself widowed before she even got to have a married life. King Achilleas had offered, but Krysto wouldn't have subjected her to that. It was a strange relationship, but neither he nor his lover were willing to give more than they were able, nor were they willing to take what they would not be able to hold in their hands.
Standing now, hours later, on the beach with his mother and father, Krysto was slowly burying the part of himself that resisted this idea of war. He was a Captain and he had soldiers to lead. His mother, however, seemed to have other ideas of fussing over him, of making sure he had everything he needed even though she was more than aware that this was war and not a simple trip across the seas.
"I have everything, mother," Krysto finally said quietly, leaning away from her touch when she attempted to touch her face. Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I promise you that I have everything I need. Stop fussing. This isn't my first war," he said quietly, pulling her into a hug instead. The Captain tried to pretend he didn't hear his mother's whimpering against his breastplate as he pulled away and gave the same hug to his father.
"I love both of you," he declared carefully, "Now I must get to work. Thank you for seeing me off," he said in a cordial, pointed tone that had both of his parents nodding and stepping back to give him space. Giving one last smile to the both of them, he started back across the beach at a pace that meant he meant business. Spotting Lord Leventi and Lord Condos standing to the side, he gave a sharp, attentive nod to both of them while he headed for the ships with every intention of ensuring that the men who were already boarded were organized and ready for the voyage ahead.
He was on the King's ship and would be sure to seek out Achilleas once they had set off. For now, he kept a keen eye over the side fo the boat at his friend, standing with his family and saying his own goodbyes.
Whilst neither of them had family to see off upon the waves of the Aegean, Fotios and Nikolias were both still in position upon the beach ready to do their patriotic duty of seeing the king off on his voyage to the south. When the other man - head of his own house - turned to glance towards Fotios, the Leventi lord folded his arms and glanced back with a look of stoic determination.
As he spoke, his eyes turned back towards Achilleas were he bid a silent goodbye to his wife and seemed to physical transfer from her care into that of his male soldiers.
"It will be but a short parting." He told his senatorial peer, his eyes narrowed against the breeze and his hair shifting with the wind. "The King is a skilled young man of fine military ability. He'll be fine and return to us soon enough."
Fotios then looked to the man who had been his rival in business for many years but was now unified in their patriotic love for their kingdom.
"Yet it would go against my nature to place trust in a single eventuality." He added, his tone one of practicality rather than emotional doubt. "We shall see to the fortifications of our great city and be as true to the king's campaign against the Egyptians as any of the men who stand beside him with arms in hand."
As his himation whipped around his legs and he looked towards the sky, pleased to know that the wind led to the south and would be at their king’s back, his words were clearly meant to seek a show of solidarity from Nikolias, despite only ever offering the man his profile as he witnessed the leave-taking just a little further along the sands…
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Whilst neither of them had family to see off upon the waves of the Aegean, Fotios and Nikolias were both still in position upon the beach ready to do their patriotic duty of seeing the king off on his voyage to the south. When the other man - head of his own house - turned to glance towards Fotios, the Leventi lord folded his arms and glanced back with a look of stoic determination.
As he spoke, his eyes turned back towards Achilleas were he bid a silent goodbye to his wife and seemed to physical transfer from her care into that of his male soldiers.
"It will be but a short parting." He told his senatorial peer, his eyes narrowed against the breeze and his hair shifting with the wind. "The King is a skilled young man of fine military ability. He'll be fine and return to us soon enough."
Fotios then looked to the man who had been his rival in business for many years but was now unified in their patriotic love for their kingdom.
"Yet it would go against my nature to place trust in a single eventuality." He added, his tone one of practicality rather than emotional doubt. "We shall see to the fortifications of our great city and be as true to the king's campaign against the Egyptians as any of the men who stand beside him with arms in hand."
As his himation whipped around his legs and he looked towards the sky, pleased to know that the wind led to the south and would be at their king’s back, his words were clearly meant to seek a show of solidarity from Nikolias, despite only ever offering the man his profile as he witnessed the leave-taking just a little further along the sands…
Whilst neither of them had family to see off upon the waves of the Aegean, Fotios and Nikolias were both still in position upon the beach ready to do their patriotic duty of seeing the king off on his voyage to the south. When the other man - head of his own house - turned to glance towards Fotios, the Leventi lord folded his arms and glanced back with a look of stoic determination.
As he spoke, his eyes turned back towards Achilleas were he bid a silent goodbye to his wife and seemed to physical transfer from her care into that of his male soldiers.
"It will be but a short parting." He told his senatorial peer, his eyes narrowed against the breeze and his hair shifting with the wind. "The King is a skilled young man of fine military ability. He'll be fine and return to us soon enough."
Fotios then looked to the man who had been his rival in business for many years but was now unified in their patriotic love for their kingdom.
"Yet it would go against my nature to place trust in a single eventuality." He added, his tone one of practicality rather than emotional doubt. "We shall see to the fortifications of our great city and be as true to the king's campaign against the Egyptians as any of the men who stand beside him with arms in hand."
As his himation whipped around his legs and he looked towards the sky, pleased to know that the wind led to the south and would be at their king’s back, his words were clearly meant to seek a show of solidarity from Nikolias, despite only ever offering the man his profile as he witnessed the leave-taking just a little further along the sands…
"We are agreed on both counts, Lord Fotios. I find that I am concerned for the state of Taengea regardless of war or eventual peace. Inasmuch as this war was probably eventually going to happen anyway, I wonder if the energy would have been better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, though that seems a fruitless endeavor as well, at present." Nikolias gazed at Fotios' profile, glad that the man at least seemed to sense where he was coming from. "May the gods have mercy, on Taengea and all of Greece." He must not let himself forget that the threat came from another country entirely.
Conflict of any kind seemed useless when the country was already looking so torn apart from the inside. He couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. Certainly it was nothing he had planned himself.
He didn't put anything past anybody now, not Stephanos, not the Egyptians, and not even, in some respects, his own son.
Turning his eyes toward the sea again, his gaze rested on young Krysto for a moment. For the sake of a love that Nikolias had never quite gotten to experience in his own lifetime, he hoped the young captain would get to return and marry the young lady he seemed to love so much. Something ought to go right for somebody, even if Nikolias himself wasn't entirely comfortable in his new position as heir successive, so he knew that somebody for whom everything turned out the way they planned could not be himself.
His gaze returned to the king. While it seemed everyone was preparing to leave, he couldn't help but wonder if Achilleas would give them any last-minute instructions. Then again, what could he possibly say that would make the current situation any easier to navigate. The gods were the miracle-workers, not them. Then again, it would be wonderful if- provided the gods planned for Taengea to heal at all- someone had any ideas that might potentially speed things up. Sometimes, it seemed to Nikolias that even the gods needed help.
He couldn't resist adding that to what he told Fotios.
"We cannot work miracles. But if we can be the toolsof the gods to heal our country, it might be nice to be given a clue as to how to begin doing so. I think there must be some kind of stability in the government in order for the glories war would bring us to be properly acknowledged and rewarded to us and our families. And right now, with a king just crowned, our stability seems tenuous. "
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"We are agreed on both counts, Lord Fotios. I find that I am concerned for the state of Taengea regardless of war or eventual peace. Inasmuch as this war was probably eventually going to happen anyway, I wonder if the energy would have been better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, though that seems a fruitless endeavor as well, at present." Nikolias gazed at Fotios' profile, glad that the man at least seemed to sense where he was coming from. "May the gods have mercy, on Taengea and all of Greece." He must not let himself forget that the threat came from another country entirely.
Conflict of any kind seemed useless when the country was already looking so torn apart from the inside. He couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. Certainly it was nothing he had planned himself.
He didn't put anything past anybody now, not Stephanos, not the Egyptians, and not even, in some respects, his own son.
Turning his eyes toward the sea again, his gaze rested on young Krysto for a moment. For the sake of a love that Nikolias had never quite gotten to experience in his own lifetime, he hoped the young captain would get to return and marry the young lady he seemed to love so much. Something ought to go right for somebody, even if Nikolias himself wasn't entirely comfortable in his new position as heir successive, so he knew that somebody for whom everything turned out the way they planned could not be himself.
His gaze returned to the king. While it seemed everyone was preparing to leave, he couldn't help but wonder if Achilleas would give them any last-minute instructions. Then again, what could he possibly say that would make the current situation any easier to navigate. The gods were the miracle-workers, not them. Then again, it would be wonderful if- provided the gods planned for Taengea to heal at all- someone had any ideas that might potentially speed things up. Sometimes, it seemed to Nikolias that even the gods needed help.
He couldn't resist adding that to what he told Fotios.
"We cannot work miracles. But if we can be the toolsof the gods to heal our country, it might be nice to be given a clue as to how to begin doing so. I think there must be some kind of stability in the government in order for the glories war would bring us to be properly acknowledged and rewarded to us and our families. And right now, with a king just crowned, our stability seems tenuous. "
"We are agreed on both counts, Lord Fotios. I find that I am concerned for the state of Taengea regardless of war or eventual peace. Inasmuch as this war was probably eventually going to happen anyway, I wonder if the energy would have been better spent attempting to heal the collective wounds of Taengea, though that seems a fruitless endeavor as well, at present." Nikolias gazed at Fotios' profile, glad that the man at least seemed to sense where he was coming from. "May the gods have mercy, on Taengea and all of Greece." He must not let himself forget that the threat came from another country entirely.
Conflict of any kind seemed useless when the country was already looking so torn apart from the inside. He couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. Certainly it was nothing he had planned himself.
He didn't put anything past anybody now, not Stephanos, not the Egyptians, and not even, in some respects, his own son.
Turning his eyes toward the sea again, his gaze rested on young Krysto for a moment. For the sake of a love that Nikolias had never quite gotten to experience in his own lifetime, he hoped the young captain would get to return and marry the young lady he seemed to love so much. Something ought to go right for somebody, even if Nikolias himself wasn't entirely comfortable in his new position as heir successive, so he knew that somebody for whom everything turned out the way they planned could not be himself.
His gaze returned to the king. While it seemed everyone was preparing to leave, he couldn't help but wonder if Achilleas would give them any last-minute instructions. Then again, what could he possibly say that would make the current situation any easier to navigate. The gods were the miracle-workers, not them. Then again, it would be wonderful if- provided the gods planned for Taengea to heal at all- someone had any ideas that might potentially speed things up. Sometimes, it seemed to Nikolias that even the gods needed help.
He couldn't resist adding that to what he told Fotios.
"We cannot work miracles. But if we can be the toolsof the gods to heal our country, it might be nice to be given a clue as to how to begin doing so. I think there must be some kind of stability in the government in order for the glories war would bring us to be properly acknowledged and rewarded to us and our families. And right now, with a king just crowned, our stability seems tenuous. "
Isaiah was not with those who were standing on the shore, staring at the ships. He was among those leading the few horses that would be taken on the journey. No one had bothered to explain to him what was going on and he didn’t really ask. The man felt no kinship to this kingdom and merely did as he was told, taking this horse and that one, coaxing them down into the hold of the ship and currently twisting a huge hoop of metal into the ship’s hull. In order to keep the horse steady in its makeshift stall, he was to tether the animal via its halter to the hoop. Above him, men were walking on the deck, their steps pounding. He swallowed hard, trying not to think of his time on the galley ship and utterly failing.
The gentle bobbing up and down made his knees ache from the memory of being forced to sit in a fixed position from dawn until night. This ship also had oars and he was working to quell the irrational fear that someone was going to chain him to the long bench and make him row. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?” he asked the horse as he tied a knot to the king’s horse’s halter. The horse didn’t look at him. Its eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and ears laid flat back.
“Shhh…” Isaiah patted the enormous animal, attempting to soothe it. He stood at the horse’s shoulder and made to move around it but the horse shifted, stepping on his foot. “OW!” he shouted in a short bark. Another servant stopped and asked if he was alright as he crouched down to hold his foot. “Yeah,” he gasped, shocked at the immediacy of the pain.
“I’m going up,” the other man told him, hesitating until Isaiah waved him away.
“I’ll come,” he promised, and nodded toward his foot. “In a moment.” The man’s retreating footsteps blended with those above deck. Isaiah kept the ready curse on his tongue, unwilling to actually say it, even in such a moment. After a few seconds, he half stood, but in his haste to see to his foot, he’d somehow gotten back by the horse’s hindquarters. His sudden movement spooked the horse, who swiped his back end straight against the Hebrew. Isaiah’s body rushed to the side, the side of his head slammed against the stall’s corner pole, and he dropped into the hay, nearly swallowed by it, and completely unconscious.
The servant who’d been with him came back down to search for him but not seeing him, shrugged, and left, thinking that Isaiah was probably back at the stables. Having had no plans to go to war, Isaiah would awaken hours later to find himself an unwilling participant.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Isaiah was not with those who were standing on the shore, staring at the ships. He was among those leading the few horses that would be taken on the journey. No one had bothered to explain to him what was going on and he didn’t really ask. The man felt no kinship to this kingdom and merely did as he was told, taking this horse and that one, coaxing them down into the hold of the ship and currently twisting a huge hoop of metal into the ship’s hull. In order to keep the horse steady in its makeshift stall, he was to tether the animal via its halter to the hoop. Above him, men were walking on the deck, their steps pounding. He swallowed hard, trying not to think of his time on the galley ship and utterly failing.
The gentle bobbing up and down made his knees ache from the memory of being forced to sit in a fixed position from dawn until night. This ship also had oars and he was working to quell the irrational fear that someone was going to chain him to the long bench and make him row. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?” he asked the horse as he tied a knot to the king’s horse’s halter. The horse didn’t look at him. Its eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and ears laid flat back.
“Shhh…” Isaiah patted the enormous animal, attempting to soothe it. He stood at the horse’s shoulder and made to move around it but the horse shifted, stepping on his foot. “OW!” he shouted in a short bark. Another servant stopped and asked if he was alright as he crouched down to hold his foot. “Yeah,” he gasped, shocked at the immediacy of the pain.
“I’m going up,” the other man told him, hesitating until Isaiah waved him away.
“I’ll come,” he promised, and nodded toward his foot. “In a moment.” The man’s retreating footsteps blended with those above deck. Isaiah kept the ready curse on his tongue, unwilling to actually say it, even in such a moment. After a few seconds, he half stood, but in his haste to see to his foot, he’d somehow gotten back by the horse’s hindquarters. His sudden movement spooked the horse, who swiped his back end straight against the Hebrew. Isaiah’s body rushed to the side, the side of his head slammed against the stall’s corner pole, and he dropped into the hay, nearly swallowed by it, and completely unconscious.
The servant who’d been with him came back down to search for him but not seeing him, shrugged, and left, thinking that Isaiah was probably back at the stables. Having had no plans to go to war, Isaiah would awaken hours later to find himself an unwilling participant.
Isaiah was not with those who were standing on the shore, staring at the ships. He was among those leading the few horses that would be taken on the journey. No one had bothered to explain to him what was going on and he didn’t really ask. The man felt no kinship to this kingdom and merely did as he was told, taking this horse and that one, coaxing them down into the hold of the ship and currently twisting a huge hoop of metal into the ship’s hull. In order to keep the horse steady in its makeshift stall, he was to tether the animal via its halter to the hoop. Above him, men were walking on the deck, their steps pounding. He swallowed hard, trying not to think of his time on the galley ship and utterly failing.
The gentle bobbing up and down made his knees ache from the memory of being forced to sit in a fixed position from dawn until night. This ship also had oars and he was working to quell the irrational fear that someone was going to chain him to the long bench and make him row. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?” he asked the horse as he tied a knot to the king’s horse’s halter. The horse didn’t look at him. Its eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and ears laid flat back.
“Shhh…” Isaiah patted the enormous animal, attempting to soothe it. He stood at the horse’s shoulder and made to move around it but the horse shifted, stepping on his foot. “OW!” he shouted in a short bark. Another servant stopped and asked if he was alright as he crouched down to hold his foot. “Yeah,” he gasped, shocked at the immediacy of the pain.
“I’m going up,” the other man told him, hesitating until Isaiah waved him away.
“I’ll come,” he promised, and nodded toward his foot. “In a moment.” The man’s retreating footsteps blended with those above deck. Isaiah kept the ready curse on his tongue, unwilling to actually say it, even in such a moment. After a few seconds, he half stood, but in his haste to see to his foot, he’d somehow gotten back by the horse’s hindquarters. His sudden movement spooked the horse, who swiped his back end straight against the Hebrew. Isaiah’s body rushed to the side, the side of his head slammed against the stall’s corner pole, and he dropped into the hay, nearly swallowed by it, and completely unconscious.
The servant who’d been with him came back down to search for him but not seeing him, shrugged, and left, thinking that Isaiah was probably back at the stables. Having had no plans to go to war, Isaiah would awaken hours later to find himself an unwilling participant.
Gavriil moved across the shifting sands of the beach, wind ruffling his hair, trudging towards Fotios and Nikolias. He did not begrudge this duty the way the other two did. It wasn’t a waste of time, it wasn’t a waste of tradition, it wasn’t a horrid thing to go to war. It was simply a tradition that was upheld with little harm to anyone performing it. Gavriil liked tradition. He liked the routine and knowing what to expect and what was expected of him in return. Though he didn’t love his duties in the city, he performed them without much concern as to how he actually felt about them. Whether they annoyed him or gave him pleasure was irrelevant. They were jobs that needed done and seeing the soldiers off was no exception.
“Fotios, Nikolias,” he greeted each by name and with a nod of his head. For a moment, he stood with them, thinking to stay there but he looked across the way at the new king, bedecked in his ceremonial armor, and remembered their conversation that had taken place a little before Prince Irakles’s death. King Irakles? No. Prince. The man hadn’t been monarch long enough to keep the title. It was settled on a better man now, anyway.
Walking toward the king and the family surrounding the man, Gavriil bowed to each person standing with him and then waited to be acknowledged before speaking. “I have prayed to the gods on your behalf, your majesty.” No doubt the king had already seen to it, but Gavriil had sacrificed to Poseidon for the journey over, to Athena to give the king wisdom, to Ares to give the king courage and victory, to Hephaestus to make the king’s weapons stronger than those of the enemy, and to Zeus, asking the king of the gods to spare any storms that might throw the small military effort off course.
Other than those words, he did not have much to say, and was bowing again in order to excuse himself to go back to the lords Fotios and Nikolias. He did wait a fraction of a second in case the king needed him for anything, but if the man did not, Gavriil would be out of the way in a few moments.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Gavriil moved across the shifting sands of the beach, wind ruffling his hair, trudging towards Fotios and Nikolias. He did not begrudge this duty the way the other two did. It wasn’t a waste of time, it wasn’t a waste of tradition, it wasn’t a horrid thing to go to war. It was simply a tradition that was upheld with little harm to anyone performing it. Gavriil liked tradition. He liked the routine and knowing what to expect and what was expected of him in return. Though he didn’t love his duties in the city, he performed them without much concern as to how he actually felt about them. Whether they annoyed him or gave him pleasure was irrelevant. They were jobs that needed done and seeing the soldiers off was no exception.
“Fotios, Nikolias,” he greeted each by name and with a nod of his head. For a moment, he stood with them, thinking to stay there but he looked across the way at the new king, bedecked in his ceremonial armor, and remembered their conversation that had taken place a little before Prince Irakles’s death. King Irakles? No. Prince. The man hadn’t been monarch long enough to keep the title. It was settled on a better man now, anyway.
Walking toward the king and the family surrounding the man, Gavriil bowed to each person standing with him and then waited to be acknowledged before speaking. “I have prayed to the gods on your behalf, your majesty.” No doubt the king had already seen to it, but Gavriil had sacrificed to Poseidon for the journey over, to Athena to give the king wisdom, to Ares to give the king courage and victory, to Hephaestus to make the king’s weapons stronger than those of the enemy, and to Zeus, asking the king of the gods to spare any storms that might throw the small military effort off course.
Other than those words, he did not have much to say, and was bowing again in order to excuse himself to go back to the lords Fotios and Nikolias. He did wait a fraction of a second in case the king needed him for anything, but if the man did not, Gavriil would be out of the way in a few moments.
Gavriil moved across the shifting sands of the beach, wind ruffling his hair, trudging towards Fotios and Nikolias. He did not begrudge this duty the way the other two did. It wasn’t a waste of time, it wasn’t a waste of tradition, it wasn’t a horrid thing to go to war. It was simply a tradition that was upheld with little harm to anyone performing it. Gavriil liked tradition. He liked the routine and knowing what to expect and what was expected of him in return. Though he didn’t love his duties in the city, he performed them without much concern as to how he actually felt about them. Whether they annoyed him or gave him pleasure was irrelevant. They were jobs that needed done and seeing the soldiers off was no exception.
“Fotios, Nikolias,” he greeted each by name and with a nod of his head. For a moment, he stood with them, thinking to stay there but he looked across the way at the new king, bedecked in his ceremonial armor, and remembered their conversation that had taken place a little before Prince Irakles’s death. King Irakles? No. Prince. The man hadn’t been monarch long enough to keep the title. It was settled on a better man now, anyway.
Walking toward the king and the family surrounding the man, Gavriil bowed to each person standing with him and then waited to be acknowledged before speaking. “I have prayed to the gods on your behalf, your majesty.” No doubt the king had already seen to it, but Gavriil had sacrificed to Poseidon for the journey over, to Athena to give the king wisdom, to Ares to give the king courage and victory, to Hephaestus to make the king’s weapons stronger than those of the enemy, and to Zeus, asking the king of the gods to spare any storms that might throw the small military effort off course.
Other than those words, he did not have much to say, and was bowing again in order to excuse himself to go back to the lords Fotios and Nikolias. He did wait a fraction of a second in case the king needed him for anything, but if the man did not, Gavriil would be out of the way in a few moments.
Leaving was sometimes tearful, sad, and heartwrenching even when there was so much swaggering and bravado from the younger soldiers. Evangelina stood with her mother who’d brought Konstantinos to see the soldiers off. At that very moment, she was half-heartedly listening to the conversation her mother was having with one of the young wives of one of the officers in the Red Hearts unit. Konstantinos gave her a small nudge seeming to sense that she wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.
Sliding her gaze to him, she smiled airily and bumped him playfully back with her knee. She knew that he was a bit disappointed in not being allowed to galavant off with King Achilleas and the others. However, Evangelina had stood in silent agreement with her mother and oddly enough her Uncle about that matter. Konstantinos hadn’t quite grasp yet his position, the years of coddling had left him with the typical swaggering bravado of a boy. He was fully prepared to seize the day. She longed to reach over and softly ruffle his dark hair, but he’d grown so much over the past year or two that he now stood just a little taller than her despite being almost seven years younger.
Catching the sideways glance of warning from her mother, Evangelina straightened and feigned interest in the conversation once more as she nodded in agreement to whatever it was that her mother was saying to the young soldier’s wife. The ocean breeze played with the faded sand hued silk of her chiton skirts. The excess fabric of her train had been pulled up and pinned in a draping fashion to her opposite hip with an ornate black pearl clasp. The neckline dipped low and suggestively over her easily as it pulled the gaze along her feminine curves. Her rich chestnut hair hung loose in styled waves, kohled eyes and tinted honey lips, it couldn’t be said that Evangelina hadn’t made an effort that morning. Her mother had made quite sure of that.
Shifting restlessly, she caught her mother’s eye again and waited for enough of a break in the conversation to excuse herself and move toward her cousins, the princesses, and of course say her farewells to King Achilleas. Her mother paused and looked at her, it was her opening. Reaching up, Evangelina brushed a strand of her reddish-brown hair out of her face and offered a faint smile, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment while I say my farewells.” Lady Ava eyed her daughter then sighed with an indulgent sort of look, ‘Fine, but do not linger for long. Tino. Don’t even ask, I promised your father that you wouldn’t leave my side today.’ Her mother had always had a way of dismissing a person with a simple look or reply… it never failed to mystify Evangelina at how she managed it but she wasn’t going to stand there and argue either. Her brother was just going to have to deal standing there with there mother until something else changed.
Ducking her head, Evangelina hurried away before her mother thought of something else to busy her with. Her dark eyes scanned the gathering looking for Georgio’s youngest daughter, Imma.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Leaving was sometimes tearful, sad, and heartwrenching even when there was so much swaggering and bravado from the younger soldiers. Evangelina stood with her mother who’d brought Konstantinos to see the soldiers off. At that very moment, she was half-heartedly listening to the conversation her mother was having with one of the young wives of one of the officers in the Red Hearts unit. Konstantinos gave her a small nudge seeming to sense that she wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.
Sliding her gaze to him, she smiled airily and bumped him playfully back with her knee. She knew that he was a bit disappointed in not being allowed to galavant off with King Achilleas and the others. However, Evangelina had stood in silent agreement with her mother and oddly enough her Uncle about that matter. Konstantinos hadn’t quite grasp yet his position, the years of coddling had left him with the typical swaggering bravado of a boy. He was fully prepared to seize the day. She longed to reach over and softly ruffle his dark hair, but he’d grown so much over the past year or two that he now stood just a little taller than her despite being almost seven years younger.
Catching the sideways glance of warning from her mother, Evangelina straightened and feigned interest in the conversation once more as she nodded in agreement to whatever it was that her mother was saying to the young soldier’s wife. The ocean breeze played with the faded sand hued silk of her chiton skirts. The excess fabric of her train had been pulled up and pinned in a draping fashion to her opposite hip with an ornate black pearl clasp. The neckline dipped low and suggestively over her easily as it pulled the gaze along her feminine curves. Her rich chestnut hair hung loose in styled waves, kohled eyes and tinted honey lips, it couldn’t be said that Evangelina hadn’t made an effort that morning. Her mother had made quite sure of that.
Shifting restlessly, she caught her mother’s eye again and waited for enough of a break in the conversation to excuse herself and move toward her cousins, the princesses, and of course say her farewells to King Achilleas. Her mother paused and looked at her, it was her opening. Reaching up, Evangelina brushed a strand of her reddish-brown hair out of her face and offered a faint smile, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment while I say my farewells.” Lady Ava eyed her daughter then sighed with an indulgent sort of look, ‘Fine, but do not linger for long. Tino. Don’t even ask, I promised your father that you wouldn’t leave my side today.’ Her mother had always had a way of dismissing a person with a simple look or reply… it never failed to mystify Evangelina at how she managed it but she wasn’t going to stand there and argue either. Her brother was just going to have to deal standing there with there mother until something else changed.
Ducking her head, Evangelina hurried away before her mother thought of something else to busy her with. Her dark eyes scanned the gathering looking for Georgio’s youngest daughter, Imma.
Leaving was sometimes tearful, sad, and heartwrenching even when there was so much swaggering and bravado from the younger soldiers. Evangelina stood with her mother who’d brought Konstantinos to see the soldiers off. At that very moment, she was half-heartedly listening to the conversation her mother was having with one of the young wives of one of the officers in the Red Hearts unit. Konstantinos gave her a small nudge seeming to sense that she wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.
Sliding her gaze to him, she smiled airily and bumped him playfully back with her knee. She knew that he was a bit disappointed in not being allowed to galavant off with King Achilleas and the others. However, Evangelina had stood in silent agreement with her mother and oddly enough her Uncle about that matter. Konstantinos hadn’t quite grasp yet his position, the years of coddling had left him with the typical swaggering bravado of a boy. He was fully prepared to seize the day. She longed to reach over and softly ruffle his dark hair, but he’d grown so much over the past year or two that he now stood just a little taller than her despite being almost seven years younger.
Catching the sideways glance of warning from her mother, Evangelina straightened and feigned interest in the conversation once more as she nodded in agreement to whatever it was that her mother was saying to the young soldier’s wife. The ocean breeze played with the faded sand hued silk of her chiton skirts. The excess fabric of her train had been pulled up and pinned in a draping fashion to her opposite hip with an ornate black pearl clasp. The neckline dipped low and suggestively over her easily as it pulled the gaze along her feminine curves. Her rich chestnut hair hung loose in styled waves, kohled eyes and tinted honey lips, it couldn’t be said that Evangelina hadn’t made an effort that morning. Her mother had made quite sure of that.
Shifting restlessly, she caught her mother’s eye again and waited for enough of a break in the conversation to excuse herself and move toward her cousins, the princesses, and of course say her farewells to King Achilleas. Her mother paused and looked at her, it was her opening. Reaching up, Evangelina brushed a strand of her reddish-brown hair out of her face and offered a faint smile, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment while I say my farewells.” Lady Ava eyed her daughter then sighed with an indulgent sort of look, ‘Fine, but do not linger for long. Tino. Don’t even ask, I promised your father that you wouldn’t leave my side today.’ Her mother had always had a way of dismissing a person with a simple look or reply… it never failed to mystify Evangelina at how she managed it but she wasn’t going to stand there and argue either. Her brother was just going to have to deal standing there with there mother until something else changed.
Ducking her head, Evangelina hurried away before her mother thought of something else to busy her with. Her dark eyes scanned the gathering looking for Georgio’s youngest daughter, Imma.
There was always something in the air when it came to times of war. It was a heaviness, one that came with the breadth of feelings that lie all around. The excitement of battles to come, the sorrow that settled into the bones from uncertainty-- it was all almost too much to deal with, especially for those experiencing it for the first time. For Emilios, it was something he was used to. He’d been sent off on his own battles, had spent plenty of time saying goodbye to family. There was odd joy in the joining of friends to bring victory back to your shores.
This was the first time he would be left behind, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.
He was used to traveling with his men. There was an odd joy that came with it, a bunch of men out to protect what they love. Sitting on the deck of a boat, chatting about what was to come and what was waiting for them on the other side-- it was their duty as men. And yet, here he was without an ounce of baggage, dressed like a fool when all he wanted to do was be in his light travel clothes with a bow on his back. The stupid circlet of gold on his brow made him feel even more like a idiot. But, as he had been taught, there was value in showing the people that those in power knew their place. He was the crown prince, would be running the kingdom (mostly without influence from Fotios, if he could help it) and would have to drop his playboy mantle in order to reassure the people of the strength of the Mikaelidas family.
So, in short, he had to be the opposite of what everyone thought he was.
Easier said than done.
He had road ahead of his brother, allowing the pair a moment alone (one that he didn’t think he could stomach anyway), seeing that the ships were properly loaded and that the men were ready. The quips that were made by men in passing, the envy in their voices that he was staying behind, did little to help him feel like he was doing the right thing. He was a soldier first, and he knew he should have been riding beside his brother into battle, not staying behind like a nursemaid. It was difficult to push down his normal feelings of jealousy, especially when it came to anything having to do with Achilleas. But by the time Achilleas had arrived, he had gathered his thoughts back to a safer place.
Positioned on the opposite side of Theodora, Emilios stood close to his brother, any light or witty remarks forgotten among the faces of those saying goodbye.
Already the tears were making him uncomfortable.
He barely acknowledged Gavriil, knowing that the man would speak to him in need be. No, his focus was on being the rock the people would rely on. And he hoped that anyone who would say that he couldn’t be serious would bite their tongues.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There was always something in the air when it came to times of war. It was a heaviness, one that came with the breadth of feelings that lie all around. The excitement of battles to come, the sorrow that settled into the bones from uncertainty-- it was all almost too much to deal with, especially for those experiencing it for the first time. For Emilios, it was something he was used to. He’d been sent off on his own battles, had spent plenty of time saying goodbye to family. There was odd joy in the joining of friends to bring victory back to your shores.
This was the first time he would be left behind, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.
He was used to traveling with his men. There was an odd joy that came with it, a bunch of men out to protect what they love. Sitting on the deck of a boat, chatting about what was to come and what was waiting for them on the other side-- it was their duty as men. And yet, here he was without an ounce of baggage, dressed like a fool when all he wanted to do was be in his light travel clothes with a bow on his back. The stupid circlet of gold on his brow made him feel even more like a idiot. But, as he had been taught, there was value in showing the people that those in power knew their place. He was the crown prince, would be running the kingdom (mostly without influence from Fotios, if he could help it) and would have to drop his playboy mantle in order to reassure the people of the strength of the Mikaelidas family.
So, in short, he had to be the opposite of what everyone thought he was.
Easier said than done.
He had road ahead of his brother, allowing the pair a moment alone (one that he didn’t think he could stomach anyway), seeing that the ships were properly loaded and that the men were ready. The quips that were made by men in passing, the envy in their voices that he was staying behind, did little to help him feel like he was doing the right thing. He was a soldier first, and he knew he should have been riding beside his brother into battle, not staying behind like a nursemaid. It was difficult to push down his normal feelings of jealousy, especially when it came to anything having to do with Achilleas. But by the time Achilleas had arrived, he had gathered his thoughts back to a safer place.
Positioned on the opposite side of Theodora, Emilios stood close to his brother, any light or witty remarks forgotten among the faces of those saying goodbye.
Already the tears were making him uncomfortable.
He barely acknowledged Gavriil, knowing that the man would speak to him in need be. No, his focus was on being the rock the people would rely on. And he hoped that anyone who would say that he couldn’t be serious would bite their tongues.
There was always something in the air when it came to times of war. It was a heaviness, one that came with the breadth of feelings that lie all around. The excitement of battles to come, the sorrow that settled into the bones from uncertainty-- it was all almost too much to deal with, especially for those experiencing it for the first time. For Emilios, it was something he was used to. He’d been sent off on his own battles, had spent plenty of time saying goodbye to family. There was odd joy in the joining of friends to bring victory back to your shores.
This was the first time he would be left behind, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.
He was used to traveling with his men. There was an odd joy that came with it, a bunch of men out to protect what they love. Sitting on the deck of a boat, chatting about what was to come and what was waiting for them on the other side-- it was their duty as men. And yet, here he was without an ounce of baggage, dressed like a fool when all he wanted to do was be in his light travel clothes with a bow on his back. The stupid circlet of gold on his brow made him feel even more like a idiot. But, as he had been taught, there was value in showing the people that those in power knew their place. He was the crown prince, would be running the kingdom (mostly without influence from Fotios, if he could help it) and would have to drop his playboy mantle in order to reassure the people of the strength of the Mikaelidas family.
So, in short, he had to be the opposite of what everyone thought he was.
Easier said than done.
He had road ahead of his brother, allowing the pair a moment alone (one that he didn’t think he could stomach anyway), seeing that the ships were properly loaded and that the men were ready. The quips that were made by men in passing, the envy in their voices that he was staying behind, did little to help him feel like he was doing the right thing. He was a soldier first, and he knew he should have been riding beside his brother into battle, not staying behind like a nursemaid. It was difficult to push down his normal feelings of jealousy, especially when it came to anything having to do with Achilleas. But by the time Achilleas had arrived, he had gathered his thoughts back to a safer place.
Positioned on the opposite side of Theodora, Emilios stood close to his brother, any light or witty remarks forgotten among the faces of those saying goodbye.
Already the tears were making him uncomfortable.
He barely acknowledged Gavriil, knowing that the man would speak to him in need be. No, his focus was on being the rock the people would rely on. And he hoped that anyone who would say that he couldn’t be serious would bite their tongues.
It was funny, how the things that were dreaded the most seemed to sneak up on those who did not wish them to happen. Theo had known for some time that this day would come, though she had pushed the thought of it to the back of her mind, reluctant to dwell on such things – and now, here she was, in the thick of it all without really knowing how their days had slipped away so easily.
She had woken that morning to clear skies and a cool breeze, but the knowledge that her husband’s first day of sailing would go smoothly did nothing to ease the nausea that curled in the pit of her stomach. The morning spent with Achilleas had been unlike any other they had shared together; filled with tight smiles, tense exchanges, and the odd touch that was never long enough.
But they had both had their own things to do, and so she could not linger in bed and enjoy his warmth at her side as she wished. While Petros helped Achilleas into the new armor she knew he would not like, her retainer, Ophelia, had tended to her. The silk chiton she wore was a soft cream hue, embroidered with gold and bronze thread to match the colours of Achilleas’ new armor. Her dark hair, swept back from her face in an effortless, braided bun at the nape of her neck, left her face clear of the tresses; offering an unobstructed view of the simple makeup she wore, to accentuate but not overwhelm her already striking features.
She admired the way her necklace glimmered as Ophelia clasped it in place; the gemstones working together to mirror the colouring of a peacock’s feathers, her own little tribute to Taengea. Though her true delight shone through, for only a moment, when her own circlet was placed atop her dark locks; a rosy blush colouring her cheeks to betray how much she adored the sight of the crown on her head.
And then the reality of the day resurfaced in her mind, and her expression darkened once more.
Achilleas had left for the shore already, and so she was left with Ophelia, who was trying to usher her along; but there was something she was forgetting. For a moment, she could only stand in the center of the room and scowl as she tried to remember what – and then, a flash of memory, and she hurried to the bed to pull the piece of paper out from beneath it. “I am ready now, Ophelia.” A lie, one that could easily be heard in the slight tremor of her voice. Oh, that simply would not do – she could not send Achilleas off sounding so broken-hearted. He wouldn’t leave, and, although she had been tempted to tie him up and hide him away until everyone had left, she knew he simply had to go.
It was with a heavy heart, then, that Theo made her way outside to where her carriage awaited, tucking the paper out of sight as she climbed carefully in. She had honestly expected to go alone – knowing that Achilleas had taken his horse down – so when she got inside, she was honestly surprised to spot none other than the Princess Xene seated across from her. Momentarily grateful that she had thought to put the surprise gift for her husband out of sight, she would offer the other woman a smile and a murmured greeting; though it was obvious in her muted tones that her thoughts were elsewhere, and who could blame her?
It was a good thing, perhaps, that the cool wind blowing in off the sea was just sharp enough to sting her eyes as she walked across the sand to where her husband stood, with Xene at her side. It kept away the tears that suddenly threatened, long enough for her to regain her tenuous hold on the mask she would keep in place until she was alone later that day; clinging to the public image she would portray with every ounce of determination in her body.
For a moment, she was content to stand at his side, her gaze briefly flickering over the finery he wore. Emotional exchanges were not Achilleas’ strong suit; she knew how uncomfortable they made him. One could see it easily enough if they bothered to look – in the way he shifted whenever someone bid him farewell, in the way his eyes skimmed away from the tearful exchanges happening all along the shore.
It was only when Emilios arrived that she found herself snapped out of her thoughts. Per Achilleas’ request, she had attempted to be a bit friendlier with his brother whenever she came across him; the odd smile, a tentative greeting here and there, but never anything longer. So, when he came to stand so near, she could not help the way she instinctively straightened where she stood; nor the way her gaze roamed to his face a moment before she curtsied.
“Your Highness.”
The title left her as a murmured address, and as she rose from her curtsy, she flashed him a swift smile that did not quite affect the sorrow in the depths of her dark eyes. With that, she would return her attention to her husband, reaching to place one hand at his elbow to gain his attention.
“A moment, please, Achi?”
She would steer the man away from any prying eyes, standing far enough apart from the others to make it clear they would not want to be disturbed, before reaching into the folds of her chiton where she had stowed away the surprise. The paper rustled softly in the wind as she held it out for him to take, and now the coy smile she offered him hinted at true happiness; perhaps even amusement as she waited for him to take a look at what she had given him.
Imma had done truly beautiful work. Theo's likeness on the page was shockingly well done; each detail created with pinpoint accuracy. Her youngest sister had a gift – she made a note to tell her as much when she got the chance. She was glad to have her back to the crowd, for the blush in her cheeks as she studied the image painted plainly on the paper would surely give her away.
Her painted self on the page looked both fair and flushed against the dark fabric of the chaise she lounged upon, entirely nude apart from a few loose trails of wispy white silk that kept her covered in just the proper places. Her hair was a dark spill against her pale skin, her eyes somehow managing to capture the gleam of the firelight that Imma had painted by. Her smile widened at the sight, and finally she glanced up at her husband to take in his reaction.
“I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was funny, how the things that were dreaded the most seemed to sneak up on those who did not wish them to happen. Theo had known for some time that this day would come, though she had pushed the thought of it to the back of her mind, reluctant to dwell on such things – and now, here she was, in the thick of it all without really knowing how their days had slipped away so easily.
She had woken that morning to clear skies and a cool breeze, but the knowledge that her husband’s first day of sailing would go smoothly did nothing to ease the nausea that curled in the pit of her stomach. The morning spent with Achilleas had been unlike any other they had shared together; filled with tight smiles, tense exchanges, and the odd touch that was never long enough.
But they had both had their own things to do, and so she could not linger in bed and enjoy his warmth at her side as she wished. While Petros helped Achilleas into the new armor she knew he would not like, her retainer, Ophelia, had tended to her. The silk chiton she wore was a soft cream hue, embroidered with gold and bronze thread to match the colours of Achilleas’ new armor. Her dark hair, swept back from her face in an effortless, braided bun at the nape of her neck, left her face clear of the tresses; offering an unobstructed view of the simple makeup she wore, to accentuate but not overwhelm her already striking features.
She admired the way her necklace glimmered as Ophelia clasped it in place; the gemstones working together to mirror the colouring of a peacock’s feathers, her own little tribute to Taengea. Though her true delight shone through, for only a moment, when her own circlet was placed atop her dark locks; a rosy blush colouring her cheeks to betray how much she adored the sight of the crown on her head.
And then the reality of the day resurfaced in her mind, and her expression darkened once more.
Achilleas had left for the shore already, and so she was left with Ophelia, who was trying to usher her along; but there was something she was forgetting. For a moment, she could only stand in the center of the room and scowl as she tried to remember what – and then, a flash of memory, and she hurried to the bed to pull the piece of paper out from beneath it. “I am ready now, Ophelia.” A lie, one that could easily be heard in the slight tremor of her voice. Oh, that simply would not do – she could not send Achilleas off sounding so broken-hearted. He wouldn’t leave, and, although she had been tempted to tie him up and hide him away until everyone had left, she knew he simply had to go.
It was with a heavy heart, then, that Theo made her way outside to where her carriage awaited, tucking the paper out of sight as she climbed carefully in. She had honestly expected to go alone – knowing that Achilleas had taken his horse down – so when she got inside, she was honestly surprised to spot none other than the Princess Xene seated across from her. Momentarily grateful that she had thought to put the surprise gift for her husband out of sight, she would offer the other woman a smile and a murmured greeting; though it was obvious in her muted tones that her thoughts were elsewhere, and who could blame her?
It was a good thing, perhaps, that the cool wind blowing in off the sea was just sharp enough to sting her eyes as she walked across the sand to where her husband stood, with Xene at her side. It kept away the tears that suddenly threatened, long enough for her to regain her tenuous hold on the mask she would keep in place until she was alone later that day; clinging to the public image she would portray with every ounce of determination in her body.
For a moment, she was content to stand at his side, her gaze briefly flickering over the finery he wore. Emotional exchanges were not Achilleas’ strong suit; she knew how uncomfortable they made him. One could see it easily enough if they bothered to look – in the way he shifted whenever someone bid him farewell, in the way his eyes skimmed away from the tearful exchanges happening all along the shore.
It was only when Emilios arrived that she found herself snapped out of her thoughts. Per Achilleas’ request, she had attempted to be a bit friendlier with his brother whenever she came across him; the odd smile, a tentative greeting here and there, but never anything longer. So, when he came to stand so near, she could not help the way she instinctively straightened where she stood; nor the way her gaze roamed to his face a moment before she curtsied.
“Your Highness.”
The title left her as a murmured address, and as she rose from her curtsy, she flashed him a swift smile that did not quite affect the sorrow in the depths of her dark eyes. With that, she would return her attention to her husband, reaching to place one hand at his elbow to gain his attention.
“A moment, please, Achi?”
She would steer the man away from any prying eyes, standing far enough apart from the others to make it clear they would not want to be disturbed, before reaching into the folds of her chiton where she had stowed away the surprise. The paper rustled softly in the wind as she held it out for him to take, and now the coy smile she offered him hinted at true happiness; perhaps even amusement as she waited for him to take a look at what she had given him.
Imma had done truly beautiful work. Theo's likeness on the page was shockingly well done; each detail created with pinpoint accuracy. Her youngest sister had a gift – she made a note to tell her as much when she got the chance. She was glad to have her back to the crowd, for the blush in her cheeks as she studied the image painted plainly on the paper would surely give her away.
Her painted self on the page looked both fair and flushed against the dark fabric of the chaise she lounged upon, entirely nude apart from a few loose trails of wispy white silk that kept her covered in just the proper places. Her hair was a dark spill against her pale skin, her eyes somehow managing to capture the gleam of the firelight that Imma had painted by. Her smile widened at the sight, and finally she glanced up at her husband to take in his reaction.
“I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return.”
It was funny, how the things that were dreaded the most seemed to sneak up on those who did not wish them to happen. Theo had known for some time that this day would come, though she had pushed the thought of it to the back of her mind, reluctant to dwell on such things – and now, here she was, in the thick of it all without really knowing how their days had slipped away so easily.
She had woken that morning to clear skies and a cool breeze, but the knowledge that her husband’s first day of sailing would go smoothly did nothing to ease the nausea that curled in the pit of her stomach. The morning spent with Achilleas had been unlike any other they had shared together; filled with tight smiles, tense exchanges, and the odd touch that was never long enough.
But they had both had their own things to do, and so she could not linger in bed and enjoy his warmth at her side as she wished. While Petros helped Achilleas into the new armor she knew he would not like, her retainer, Ophelia, had tended to her. The silk chiton she wore was a soft cream hue, embroidered with gold and bronze thread to match the colours of Achilleas’ new armor. Her dark hair, swept back from her face in an effortless, braided bun at the nape of her neck, left her face clear of the tresses; offering an unobstructed view of the simple makeup she wore, to accentuate but not overwhelm her already striking features.
She admired the way her necklace glimmered as Ophelia clasped it in place; the gemstones working together to mirror the colouring of a peacock’s feathers, her own little tribute to Taengea. Though her true delight shone through, for only a moment, when her own circlet was placed atop her dark locks; a rosy blush colouring her cheeks to betray how much she adored the sight of the crown on her head.
And then the reality of the day resurfaced in her mind, and her expression darkened once more.
Achilleas had left for the shore already, and so she was left with Ophelia, who was trying to usher her along; but there was something she was forgetting. For a moment, she could only stand in the center of the room and scowl as she tried to remember what – and then, a flash of memory, and she hurried to the bed to pull the piece of paper out from beneath it. “I am ready now, Ophelia.” A lie, one that could easily be heard in the slight tremor of her voice. Oh, that simply would not do – she could not send Achilleas off sounding so broken-hearted. He wouldn’t leave, and, although she had been tempted to tie him up and hide him away until everyone had left, she knew he simply had to go.
It was with a heavy heart, then, that Theo made her way outside to where her carriage awaited, tucking the paper out of sight as she climbed carefully in. She had honestly expected to go alone – knowing that Achilleas had taken his horse down – so when she got inside, she was honestly surprised to spot none other than the Princess Xene seated across from her. Momentarily grateful that she had thought to put the surprise gift for her husband out of sight, she would offer the other woman a smile and a murmured greeting; though it was obvious in her muted tones that her thoughts were elsewhere, and who could blame her?
It was a good thing, perhaps, that the cool wind blowing in off the sea was just sharp enough to sting her eyes as she walked across the sand to where her husband stood, with Xene at her side. It kept away the tears that suddenly threatened, long enough for her to regain her tenuous hold on the mask she would keep in place until she was alone later that day; clinging to the public image she would portray with every ounce of determination in her body.
For a moment, she was content to stand at his side, her gaze briefly flickering over the finery he wore. Emotional exchanges were not Achilleas’ strong suit; she knew how uncomfortable they made him. One could see it easily enough if they bothered to look – in the way he shifted whenever someone bid him farewell, in the way his eyes skimmed away from the tearful exchanges happening all along the shore.
It was only when Emilios arrived that she found herself snapped out of her thoughts. Per Achilleas’ request, she had attempted to be a bit friendlier with his brother whenever she came across him; the odd smile, a tentative greeting here and there, but never anything longer. So, when he came to stand so near, she could not help the way she instinctively straightened where she stood; nor the way her gaze roamed to his face a moment before she curtsied.
“Your Highness.”
The title left her as a murmured address, and as she rose from her curtsy, she flashed him a swift smile that did not quite affect the sorrow in the depths of her dark eyes. With that, she would return her attention to her husband, reaching to place one hand at his elbow to gain his attention.
“A moment, please, Achi?”
She would steer the man away from any prying eyes, standing far enough apart from the others to make it clear they would not want to be disturbed, before reaching into the folds of her chiton where she had stowed away the surprise. The paper rustled softly in the wind as she held it out for him to take, and now the coy smile she offered him hinted at true happiness; perhaps even amusement as she waited for him to take a look at what she had given him.
Imma had done truly beautiful work. Theo's likeness on the page was shockingly well done; each detail created with pinpoint accuracy. Her youngest sister had a gift – she made a note to tell her as much when she got the chance. She was glad to have her back to the crowd, for the blush in her cheeks as she studied the image painted plainly on the paper would surely give her away.
Her painted self on the page looked both fair and flushed against the dark fabric of the chaise she lounged upon, entirely nude apart from a few loose trails of wispy white silk that kept her covered in just the proper places. Her hair was a dark spill against her pale skin, her eyes somehow managing to capture the gleam of the firelight that Imma had painted by. Her smile widened at the sight, and finally she glanced up at her husband to take in his reaction.
“I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return.”
Nikolias himself found it odd that while he was unsure about Achilleas- as anyone perhaps might be about a newly crowned king, and even more so given the king's remark at his coronation- he could find no fault with the queen thus far, irrespective that she was a Leventi, whose house was a rival with his own. She always looked so poised, and yet he knew that some of the events she attended, she most likely did not enjoy. He wished he knew her secret, for he had never mastered hiding his own nerves to the degree that it seemed she had. It was Achilleas who was the one related to Nikolias, though, so perhaps there was a distinct advantage to knowing people outside one's own family. Why that was he could never quite explain, but it was there.
He bowed in case she passed him, noticing Emilios just after. As heir successive, Nikolias felt he could guess some of the strain the young man might be trying to hide. It was unnerving to him too, not knowing what would happen while the warriors were away. He was unsure of his own ability to defend Taengea, never mind anybody else's. Past wars had not adequately prepared Nikolias for the challenge of having one again so shortly after the crowning of a new king, when it seemed to him the government of the country might be the most unstable.
He was unsure, too, what might happen to his own house if Nikos, who was going to war, were injured or killed.
So many opportunities to be nervous existed right now. Perhaps too many. But while he was not feeling entirely capable of defending his country, there was some comfort in knowing others might share that strain. He just hoped Taengea could survive and thrive.
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Nikolias himself found it odd that while he was unsure about Achilleas- as anyone perhaps might be about a newly crowned king, and even more so given the king's remark at his coronation- he could find no fault with the queen thus far, irrespective that she was a Leventi, whose house was a rival with his own. She always looked so poised, and yet he knew that some of the events she attended, she most likely did not enjoy. He wished he knew her secret, for he had never mastered hiding his own nerves to the degree that it seemed she had. It was Achilleas who was the one related to Nikolias, though, so perhaps there was a distinct advantage to knowing people outside one's own family. Why that was he could never quite explain, but it was there.
He bowed in case she passed him, noticing Emilios just after. As heir successive, Nikolias felt he could guess some of the strain the young man might be trying to hide. It was unnerving to him too, not knowing what would happen while the warriors were away. He was unsure of his own ability to defend Taengea, never mind anybody else's. Past wars had not adequately prepared Nikolias for the challenge of having one again so shortly after the crowning of a new king, when it seemed to him the government of the country might be the most unstable.
He was unsure, too, what might happen to his own house if Nikos, who was going to war, were injured or killed.
So many opportunities to be nervous existed right now. Perhaps too many. But while he was not feeling entirely capable of defending his country, there was some comfort in knowing others might share that strain. He just hoped Taengea could survive and thrive.
Nikolias himself found it odd that while he was unsure about Achilleas- as anyone perhaps might be about a newly crowned king, and even more so given the king's remark at his coronation- he could find no fault with the queen thus far, irrespective that she was a Leventi, whose house was a rival with his own. She always looked so poised, and yet he knew that some of the events she attended, she most likely did not enjoy. He wished he knew her secret, for he had never mastered hiding his own nerves to the degree that it seemed she had. It was Achilleas who was the one related to Nikolias, though, so perhaps there was a distinct advantage to knowing people outside one's own family. Why that was he could never quite explain, but it was there.
He bowed in case she passed him, noticing Emilios just after. As heir successive, Nikolias felt he could guess some of the strain the young man might be trying to hide. It was unnerving to him too, not knowing what would happen while the warriors were away. He was unsure of his own ability to defend Taengea, never mind anybody else's. Past wars had not adequately prepared Nikolias for the challenge of having one again so shortly after the crowning of a new king, when it seemed to him the government of the country might be the most unstable.
He was unsure, too, what might happen to his own house if Nikos, who was going to war, were injured or killed.
So many opportunities to be nervous existed right now. Perhaps too many. But while he was not feeling entirely capable of defending his country, there was some comfort in knowing others might share that strain. He just hoped Taengea could survive and thrive.
The King watched with some measure of reserve as around him, the families of those with men to set sail bid their farewells. He cast a glance toward Krysto, gave a nod and lifted a hand in greeting towards the man’s parents and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that it was him commanding their son away from them once more. There was no sign of Eurydice, a fact which surprised him, and he thought he would ask after her later, hoping there was nothing ill between his Captain and the man’s betrothed. It never did to walk away with malcontent lingering.
Distracted then, by the arrival of his mother who offered him a watery smile, Achilleas bent down to press a kiss to her cheek, catching her hand with his own for a moment and squeezing. She had done this many times before, but like each time, there seemed a reluctance for her to release her son as if she might be able to prevent his going.
“You have always been a careful boy, Achilleas. See to it that you come back safely” She murmured quietly before he gently disentangled himself and smiled down at her.
“I have no intention of doing anything but, Mother”
There was no falsity in his words, but what he did not say was that he could promise no such thing. He and Emilios had discussed at length the preparations that could be made to fortify Vasiliadon and the coastal towns that would be at the forefront of any attack, should Achilleas’ own endeavors fail. He looked to the Crown Prince for a moment then, standing beyond Theodora looking somber and unhappy to be staying behind. But Achilleas was not sorry. Much as he would have liked to have had Emilios by his side, he was needed here. And in all of the things he left in his brother’s trust, it was the defence of their home that worried him least. Emilios was a capable soldier, a commander in his own right, and the man’s thoughts had aligned neatly with what the King himself would do, were he remaining behind. But such plans would need the support and aid of others, and Achilleas looked up to see two such men then.
Offering a brief nod to the Condos and Leventi lords, the King had no instructions to give them. Such would come from the Crown Prince, and Achilleas had no reason to think that they would be anything but fulfilled. Though not every house could boast the sigil of the Lion, Taengean's children had fierce hearts, and he did not doubt that if needed, they would rise up to defend her.
It heartened him though to see the royal houses so represented, even when they were not bidding a direct farewell to their own kin. Or even when they were. Achilleas turned his gaze to his Dimitrou cousin as the man approached, inclining his head in return to the offered bow, brows lifting as Lord Gavriil spoke to his requests of the Gods. The King had made his own entreaties too of course, both privately and publicly, but there was never too much that could be done to try and sway their favor.
“Well they have listened to one of us, my Lord” Achilleas said in response “For it seems we will have the wind at our backs as we set sail. But thank you, and may they keep you and yours safe until we meet again.” He could not help but glance toward the Lady Evangelina at the latter, wondering if his cousin knew what the Leventi girl had shared with him in terms of their plans. Not that either of the two of them were the sort of men who would talk about it anyway, but the Mikaelidas man was more resolute in his belief that it was a good if unexpected match. Both the Lord Gavriil and Lady Evangelina were people he held great respect for. Perhaps by the time he returned they would have made it official.
Letting the man move off, the King turned at the touch of a hand upon his arm, looking to his wife with some puzzlement as she bade a moment of his time. Thinking their goodbyes done well away from the curious eyes of the masses, Achilleas nevertheless took a few steps up the beach before settling an expectant gaze upon his Queen. She looked beautiful, of course, as if she were even able to be anything but, the gems at her throat sending scattered prisms of reflected light over her skin.
“What is it?” He asked, frowning a little as she reached within the folds of her chiton to retrieve a piece of parchment and thrust it toward him with little fanfare. Her smile had him offer a tentative one in return, his fingers closing around the paper as one brow arched quizzically. “What is this?”
Had she told him before he unrolled it, Achilleas would not have proceeded any further. Not here, so close to their gathered family and friends, before a host of soldiers. But Theodora said nothing, just smiled that perplexing little smile at him, and so the man unrolled the paper to reveal what it hid.
Whatever he had been expecting, he forgot it as the delicately painted portrait was slowly revealed to his eyes. Eyes which widened slightly in a face that had otherwise grown slack with surprise, lips forming the silent exclamation that was his dawning realisation of what it was he held in his hands. Theodora kindly confirmed it for him, in case he did not recognise each and every one of the curves he had been familiarising himself with since the day they were wed.
‘I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return’
Oh.Oh.
It was a wonder he did not tear the paper in his hurry to refurl it, eyes lifting to assure himself that no other had seen what he had just looked upon, and then Achilleas had shoved it behind the bronze cuirasse, looking to Theodora with a stunned expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then promptly shut it again, swallowed, and then tried a second time.
“I do not even...You..That is..” His lack of eloquence was embarrassing and surely the reason for the heat he could feel prickling under his skin and Achilleas shook his head, uncertain if he were more scandalised or delighted or both.
“You did not think to give me such a gift this morning?!” he eventually managed, the boldness of Theodora’s actions having quite shaken him from the detachment he had shown for the prior duration of the day. And all of his careful reserve was compromised as now he was seeing that image in his head and it would be enough to see almost any man declare leaving an impossibility. To Hades with war and Egypt and everything else he knew that he ought to be thinking about in that instant.
“Damn you for making taking my leave of you even more difficult than it need be” he said, but his hand had found hers, fingers entwining with her own as he dipped his head to drop a fleeting kiss upon her lips, as much as a concession as he was willing to make in front of a crowd, and as much as he dared allow himself with that image of her still burnt like a brand across his vision. And he was incredibly conscious of the feeling of the parchment pressed tight beneath his armour, already fretting as to how he would ensure it would not fall into anyone else’s hands.
But he could not help but be impressed at her daring and thrilled at the notion that he had more than just his memories to take with him on this journey. This was his wife. Achilleas gazed at her a moment longer before the shrill sound of a horse whinnying wrenched him back to where they were, and with a slight shake of his head he reclaimed that composure that he was better known for.
“Thankyou Theodora” were his last private words to his Queen before he moved to lead them back to where the gathered nobility were shooting them some curious looks, and Achilleas cleared his throat, needing to reassert himself as he directed his words to one of the royal guards who stood nearby. “See Captain Krysto and have him ensure the men finish up their goodbyes.”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The King watched with some measure of reserve as around him, the families of those with men to set sail bid their farewells. He cast a glance toward Krysto, gave a nod and lifted a hand in greeting towards the man’s parents and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that it was him commanding their son away from them once more. There was no sign of Eurydice, a fact which surprised him, and he thought he would ask after her later, hoping there was nothing ill between his Captain and the man’s betrothed. It never did to walk away with malcontent lingering.
Distracted then, by the arrival of his mother who offered him a watery smile, Achilleas bent down to press a kiss to her cheek, catching her hand with his own for a moment and squeezing. She had done this many times before, but like each time, there seemed a reluctance for her to release her son as if she might be able to prevent his going.
“You have always been a careful boy, Achilleas. See to it that you come back safely” She murmured quietly before he gently disentangled himself and smiled down at her.
“I have no intention of doing anything but, Mother”
There was no falsity in his words, but what he did not say was that he could promise no such thing. He and Emilios had discussed at length the preparations that could be made to fortify Vasiliadon and the coastal towns that would be at the forefront of any attack, should Achilleas’ own endeavors fail. He looked to the Crown Prince for a moment then, standing beyond Theodora looking somber and unhappy to be staying behind. But Achilleas was not sorry. Much as he would have liked to have had Emilios by his side, he was needed here. And in all of the things he left in his brother’s trust, it was the defence of their home that worried him least. Emilios was a capable soldier, a commander in his own right, and the man’s thoughts had aligned neatly with what the King himself would do, were he remaining behind. But such plans would need the support and aid of others, and Achilleas looked up to see two such men then.
Offering a brief nod to the Condos and Leventi lords, the King had no instructions to give them. Such would come from the Crown Prince, and Achilleas had no reason to think that they would be anything but fulfilled. Though not every house could boast the sigil of the Lion, Taengean's children had fierce hearts, and he did not doubt that if needed, they would rise up to defend her.
It heartened him though to see the royal houses so represented, even when they were not bidding a direct farewell to their own kin. Or even when they were. Achilleas turned his gaze to his Dimitrou cousin as the man approached, inclining his head in return to the offered bow, brows lifting as Lord Gavriil spoke to his requests of the Gods. The King had made his own entreaties too of course, both privately and publicly, but there was never too much that could be done to try and sway their favor.
“Well they have listened to one of us, my Lord” Achilleas said in response “For it seems we will have the wind at our backs as we set sail. But thank you, and may they keep you and yours safe until we meet again.” He could not help but glance toward the Lady Evangelina at the latter, wondering if his cousin knew what the Leventi girl had shared with him in terms of their plans. Not that either of the two of them were the sort of men who would talk about it anyway, but the Mikaelidas man was more resolute in his belief that it was a good if unexpected match. Both the Lord Gavriil and Lady Evangelina were people he held great respect for. Perhaps by the time he returned they would have made it official.
Letting the man move off, the King turned at the touch of a hand upon his arm, looking to his wife with some puzzlement as she bade a moment of his time. Thinking their goodbyes done well away from the curious eyes of the masses, Achilleas nevertheless took a few steps up the beach before settling an expectant gaze upon his Queen. She looked beautiful, of course, as if she were even able to be anything but, the gems at her throat sending scattered prisms of reflected light over her skin.
“What is it?” He asked, frowning a little as she reached within the folds of her chiton to retrieve a piece of parchment and thrust it toward him with little fanfare. Her smile had him offer a tentative one in return, his fingers closing around the paper as one brow arched quizzically. “What is this?”
Had she told him before he unrolled it, Achilleas would not have proceeded any further. Not here, so close to their gathered family and friends, before a host of soldiers. But Theodora said nothing, just smiled that perplexing little smile at him, and so the man unrolled the paper to reveal what it hid.
Whatever he had been expecting, he forgot it as the delicately painted portrait was slowly revealed to his eyes. Eyes which widened slightly in a face that had otherwise grown slack with surprise, lips forming the silent exclamation that was his dawning realisation of what it was he held in his hands. Theodora kindly confirmed it for him, in case he did not recognise each and every one of the curves he had been familiarising himself with since the day they were wed.
‘I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return’
Oh.Oh.
It was a wonder he did not tear the paper in his hurry to refurl it, eyes lifting to assure himself that no other had seen what he had just looked upon, and then Achilleas had shoved it behind the bronze cuirasse, looking to Theodora with a stunned expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then promptly shut it again, swallowed, and then tried a second time.
“I do not even...You..That is..” His lack of eloquence was embarrassing and surely the reason for the heat he could feel prickling under his skin and Achilleas shook his head, uncertain if he were more scandalised or delighted or both.
“You did not think to give me such a gift this morning?!” he eventually managed, the boldness of Theodora’s actions having quite shaken him from the detachment he had shown for the prior duration of the day. And all of his careful reserve was compromised as now he was seeing that image in his head and it would be enough to see almost any man declare leaving an impossibility. To Hades with war and Egypt and everything else he knew that he ought to be thinking about in that instant.
“Damn you for making taking my leave of you even more difficult than it need be” he said, but his hand had found hers, fingers entwining with her own as he dipped his head to drop a fleeting kiss upon her lips, as much as a concession as he was willing to make in front of a crowd, and as much as he dared allow himself with that image of her still burnt like a brand across his vision. And he was incredibly conscious of the feeling of the parchment pressed tight beneath his armour, already fretting as to how he would ensure it would not fall into anyone else’s hands.
But he could not help but be impressed at her daring and thrilled at the notion that he had more than just his memories to take with him on this journey. This was his wife. Achilleas gazed at her a moment longer before the shrill sound of a horse whinnying wrenched him back to where they were, and with a slight shake of his head he reclaimed that composure that he was better known for.
“Thankyou Theodora” were his last private words to his Queen before he moved to lead them back to where the gathered nobility were shooting them some curious looks, and Achilleas cleared his throat, needing to reassert himself as he directed his words to one of the royal guards who stood nearby. “See Captain Krysto and have him ensure the men finish up their goodbyes.”
The King watched with some measure of reserve as around him, the families of those with men to set sail bid their farewells. He cast a glance toward Krysto, gave a nod and lifted a hand in greeting towards the man’s parents and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that it was him commanding their son away from them once more. There was no sign of Eurydice, a fact which surprised him, and he thought he would ask after her later, hoping there was nothing ill between his Captain and the man’s betrothed. It never did to walk away with malcontent lingering.
Distracted then, by the arrival of his mother who offered him a watery smile, Achilleas bent down to press a kiss to her cheek, catching her hand with his own for a moment and squeezing. She had done this many times before, but like each time, there seemed a reluctance for her to release her son as if she might be able to prevent his going.
“You have always been a careful boy, Achilleas. See to it that you come back safely” She murmured quietly before he gently disentangled himself and smiled down at her.
“I have no intention of doing anything but, Mother”
There was no falsity in his words, but what he did not say was that he could promise no such thing. He and Emilios had discussed at length the preparations that could be made to fortify Vasiliadon and the coastal towns that would be at the forefront of any attack, should Achilleas’ own endeavors fail. He looked to the Crown Prince for a moment then, standing beyond Theodora looking somber and unhappy to be staying behind. But Achilleas was not sorry. Much as he would have liked to have had Emilios by his side, he was needed here. And in all of the things he left in his brother’s trust, it was the defence of their home that worried him least. Emilios was a capable soldier, a commander in his own right, and the man’s thoughts had aligned neatly with what the King himself would do, were he remaining behind. But such plans would need the support and aid of others, and Achilleas looked up to see two such men then.
Offering a brief nod to the Condos and Leventi lords, the King had no instructions to give them. Such would come from the Crown Prince, and Achilleas had no reason to think that they would be anything but fulfilled. Though not every house could boast the sigil of the Lion, Taengean's children had fierce hearts, and he did not doubt that if needed, they would rise up to defend her.
It heartened him though to see the royal houses so represented, even when they were not bidding a direct farewell to their own kin. Or even when they were. Achilleas turned his gaze to his Dimitrou cousin as the man approached, inclining his head in return to the offered bow, brows lifting as Lord Gavriil spoke to his requests of the Gods. The King had made his own entreaties too of course, both privately and publicly, but there was never too much that could be done to try and sway their favor.
“Well they have listened to one of us, my Lord” Achilleas said in response “For it seems we will have the wind at our backs as we set sail. But thank you, and may they keep you and yours safe until we meet again.” He could not help but glance toward the Lady Evangelina at the latter, wondering if his cousin knew what the Leventi girl had shared with him in terms of their plans. Not that either of the two of them were the sort of men who would talk about it anyway, but the Mikaelidas man was more resolute in his belief that it was a good if unexpected match. Both the Lord Gavriil and Lady Evangelina were people he held great respect for. Perhaps by the time he returned they would have made it official.
Letting the man move off, the King turned at the touch of a hand upon his arm, looking to his wife with some puzzlement as she bade a moment of his time. Thinking their goodbyes done well away from the curious eyes of the masses, Achilleas nevertheless took a few steps up the beach before settling an expectant gaze upon his Queen. She looked beautiful, of course, as if she were even able to be anything but, the gems at her throat sending scattered prisms of reflected light over her skin.
“What is it?” He asked, frowning a little as she reached within the folds of her chiton to retrieve a piece of parchment and thrust it toward him with little fanfare. Her smile had him offer a tentative one in return, his fingers closing around the paper as one brow arched quizzically. “What is this?”
Had she told him before he unrolled it, Achilleas would not have proceeded any further. Not here, so close to their gathered family and friends, before a host of soldiers. But Theodora said nothing, just smiled that perplexing little smile at him, and so the man unrolled the paper to reveal what it hid.
Whatever he had been expecting, he forgot it as the delicately painted portrait was slowly revealed to his eyes. Eyes which widened slightly in a face that had otherwise grown slack with surprise, lips forming the silent exclamation that was his dawning realisation of what it was he held in his hands. Theodora kindly confirmed it for him, in case he did not recognise each and every one of the curves he had been familiarising himself with since the day they were wed.
‘I thought that perhaps you might appreciate a reminder of what awaits you upon your return’
Oh.Oh.
It was a wonder he did not tear the paper in his hurry to refurl it, eyes lifting to assure himself that no other had seen what he had just looked upon, and then Achilleas had shoved it behind the bronze cuirasse, looking to Theodora with a stunned expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then promptly shut it again, swallowed, and then tried a second time.
“I do not even...You..That is..” His lack of eloquence was embarrassing and surely the reason for the heat he could feel prickling under his skin and Achilleas shook his head, uncertain if he were more scandalised or delighted or both.
“You did not think to give me such a gift this morning?!” he eventually managed, the boldness of Theodora’s actions having quite shaken him from the detachment he had shown for the prior duration of the day. And all of his careful reserve was compromised as now he was seeing that image in his head and it would be enough to see almost any man declare leaving an impossibility. To Hades with war and Egypt and everything else he knew that he ought to be thinking about in that instant.
“Damn you for making taking my leave of you even more difficult than it need be” he said, but his hand had found hers, fingers entwining with her own as he dipped his head to drop a fleeting kiss upon her lips, as much as a concession as he was willing to make in front of a crowd, and as much as he dared allow himself with that image of her still burnt like a brand across his vision. And he was incredibly conscious of the feeling of the parchment pressed tight beneath his armour, already fretting as to how he would ensure it would not fall into anyone else’s hands.
But he could not help but be impressed at her daring and thrilled at the notion that he had more than just his memories to take with him on this journey. This was his wife. Achilleas gazed at her a moment longer before the shrill sound of a horse whinnying wrenched him back to where they were, and with a slight shake of his head he reclaimed that composure that he was better known for.
“Thankyou Theodora” were his last private words to his Queen before he moved to lead them back to where the gathered nobility were shooting them some curious looks, and Achilleas cleared his throat, needing to reassert himself as he directed his words to one of the royal guards who stood nearby. “See Captain Krysto and have him ensure the men finish up their goodbyes.”
Fotios listened to Nikolias's sentiments but only because he was a man who, to his very core, rejected the concept of ignoring. If one did not pay attention to anything and everything said in their direction or about themselves then how were they to know which information was worthy of retention and what could be case to the wayside of one's memory?
Unfortunately, Nikolias had little to say that wasn't waxing lyrical about Taengea or speaking groundless hopes for the kingdom's future that were basically common sense and knowledge at this point. The man always had been a waffler.
With a tight smile, and a curt nod of agreement to his words, Fotios parted from his immediate company and headed to stand at the shoulder of Prince Emilios. The man was making a valiant effort to display a front of strength and security that others of his noble classes might look to in such moments of worry or fear in the King's absence.
"Do not worry yourself, Prince Emilios." He murmured, as his eyes remained fixed on the King and Queen, his curiosity sparking what she might have just given the man to produce such an expression on his face. "You'll be able to show your worth soon enough. To all those that matter, of course."
And leaving his words at such an enigmatic promise, Fotios witnessed as a soldier moved forward to speak with the King, likely to tell him that the ships were ready to sail for they looked to Fotios as if all cargo, horses and men were now onboard. All that was waited on where the sons and fathers of the noble classes to bid goodbye and board...
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Fotios listened to Nikolias's sentiments but only because he was a man who, to his very core, rejected the concept of ignoring. If one did not pay attention to anything and everything said in their direction or about themselves then how were they to know which information was worthy of retention and what could be case to the wayside of one's memory?
Unfortunately, Nikolias had little to say that wasn't waxing lyrical about Taengea or speaking groundless hopes for the kingdom's future that were basically common sense and knowledge at this point. The man always had been a waffler.
With a tight smile, and a curt nod of agreement to his words, Fotios parted from his immediate company and headed to stand at the shoulder of Prince Emilios. The man was making a valiant effort to display a front of strength and security that others of his noble classes might look to in such moments of worry or fear in the King's absence.
"Do not worry yourself, Prince Emilios." He murmured, as his eyes remained fixed on the King and Queen, his curiosity sparking what she might have just given the man to produce such an expression on his face. "You'll be able to show your worth soon enough. To all those that matter, of course."
And leaving his words at such an enigmatic promise, Fotios witnessed as a soldier moved forward to speak with the King, likely to tell him that the ships were ready to sail for they looked to Fotios as if all cargo, horses and men were now onboard. All that was waited on where the sons and fathers of the noble classes to bid goodbye and board...
Fotios listened to Nikolias's sentiments but only because he was a man who, to his very core, rejected the concept of ignoring. If one did not pay attention to anything and everything said in their direction or about themselves then how were they to know which information was worthy of retention and what could be case to the wayside of one's memory?
Unfortunately, Nikolias had little to say that wasn't waxing lyrical about Taengea or speaking groundless hopes for the kingdom's future that were basically common sense and knowledge at this point. The man always had been a waffler.
With a tight smile, and a curt nod of agreement to his words, Fotios parted from his immediate company and headed to stand at the shoulder of Prince Emilios. The man was making a valiant effort to display a front of strength and security that others of his noble classes might look to in such moments of worry or fear in the King's absence.
"Do not worry yourself, Prince Emilios." He murmured, as his eyes remained fixed on the King and Queen, his curiosity sparking what she might have just given the man to produce such an expression on his face. "You'll be able to show your worth soon enough. To all those that matter, of course."
And leaving his words at such an enigmatic promise, Fotios witnessed as a soldier moved forward to speak with the King, likely to tell him that the ships were ready to sail for they looked to Fotios as if all cargo, horses and men were now onboard. All that was waited on where the sons and fathers of the noble classes to bid goodbye and board...