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Skylla knew that some people would run for the apparent princess. Not that she truly cared about the woman's title. Her entire calling, her training, everything she had done the last year was for situations like this. And if there was one thing that Skylla had up on Lysander, it was her knowledge of women and their bodies and babies. As much as she rather disliked the ugly, crying creatures, she wouldn't refrain from helping a mother in need.
The rain was still pouring in sheets and Lysander was trying to work off his cloak to shield Skylla and Evras from the hard beating of the rain drops. But by then, the prince had dropped beside them, already moving to pick up Evras from the stone. Skylla had put out both of her hands in caution, thankful that Lysander had already risen to shield the three of them from the rain.
The question was not unfamiliar to Skylla and already she was letting her hands ghost across Evras' form, looking for any signs that she might need any extra care. The way that Evras was holding her own stomach caused Skylla to caution the prince. "Not until I know what is hurting her," she said carefully, leaning more over Evras to try and observe. "Prince..." Skylla trailed off, glancing to Lysander for help.
Lysander seemed to grimace a little, "Prince Zanon," giving Skylla a sharp warning not to forget his name from here to safety with a single look. He was going to observe, knowing quite well that Skylla had more than enough knowledge to make herself useful. Whatever she achieved here would help him tailor the next months of her training.
Her own expression was apologetic, "Prince Zanon," the healer finally murmured, turning her gaze to him. "Be very, very careful," she coaxed, already having an idea of what was causing Evras so much pain. "Can you take us somewhere where I can examine her further? I saw her hit the ground. She hit hard straight down onto her hip," then to Evras, "Princess, where does it hurt?" she asked, not wanting to really touch her unless the prince gave her explicit permission to do so. It couldn't be her hip that was causing her the most distress, as she seemed to cradle her own abdomen. Yet, she would not be beheaded for trying to help a princess just because some haughty little prince got it in his head that she was to be a target.
She hadn't survived Sophos to die without ever having left Colchis. Gods above, she hated people but when it came to people or work, working with people was enough to make her perfectly content.
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Sept 25, 2019 3:20:59 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Sept 25, 2019 3:20:59 GMT
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Skylla knew that some people would run for the apparent princess. Not that she truly cared about the woman's title. Her entire calling, her training, everything she had done the last year was for situations like this. And if there was one thing that Skylla had up on Lysander, it was her knowledge of women and their bodies and babies. As much as she rather disliked the ugly, crying creatures, she wouldn't refrain from helping a mother in need.
The rain was still pouring in sheets and Lysander was trying to work off his cloak to shield Skylla and Evras from the hard beating of the rain drops. But by then, the prince had dropped beside them, already moving to pick up Evras from the stone. Skylla had put out both of her hands in caution, thankful that Lysander had already risen to shield the three of them from the rain.
The question was not unfamiliar to Skylla and already she was letting her hands ghost across Evras' form, looking for any signs that she might need any extra care. The way that Evras was holding her own stomach caused Skylla to caution the prince. "Not until I know what is hurting her," she said carefully, leaning more over Evras to try and observe. "Prince..." Skylla trailed off, glancing to Lysander for help.
Lysander seemed to grimace a little, "Prince Zanon," giving Skylla a sharp warning not to forget his name from here to safety with a single look. He was going to observe, knowing quite well that Skylla had more than enough knowledge to make herself useful. Whatever she achieved here would help him tailor the next months of her training.
Her own expression was apologetic, "Prince Zanon," the healer finally murmured, turning her gaze to him. "Be very, very careful," she coaxed, already having an idea of what was causing Evras so much pain. "Can you take us somewhere where I can examine her further? I saw her hit the ground. She hit hard straight down onto her hip," then to Evras, "Princess, where does it hurt?" she asked, not wanting to really touch her unless the prince gave her explicit permission to do so. It couldn't be her hip that was causing her the most distress, as she seemed to cradle her own abdomen. Yet, she would not be beheaded for trying to help a princess just because some haughty little prince got it in his head that she was to be a target.
She hadn't survived Sophos to die without ever having left Colchis. Gods above, she hated people but when it came to people or work, working with people was enough to make her perfectly content.
Skylla knew that some people would run for the apparent princess. Not that she truly cared about the woman's title. Her entire calling, her training, everything she had done the last year was for situations like this. And if there was one thing that Skylla had up on Lysander, it was her knowledge of women and their bodies and babies. As much as she rather disliked the ugly, crying creatures, she wouldn't refrain from helping a mother in need.
The rain was still pouring in sheets and Lysander was trying to work off his cloak to shield Skylla and Evras from the hard beating of the rain drops. But by then, the prince had dropped beside them, already moving to pick up Evras from the stone. Skylla had put out both of her hands in caution, thankful that Lysander had already risen to shield the three of them from the rain.
The question was not unfamiliar to Skylla and already she was letting her hands ghost across Evras' form, looking for any signs that she might need any extra care. The way that Evras was holding her own stomach caused Skylla to caution the prince. "Not until I know what is hurting her," she said carefully, leaning more over Evras to try and observe. "Prince..." Skylla trailed off, glancing to Lysander for help.
Lysander seemed to grimace a little, "Prince Zanon," giving Skylla a sharp warning not to forget his name from here to safety with a single look. He was going to observe, knowing quite well that Skylla had more than enough knowledge to make herself useful. Whatever she achieved here would help him tailor the next months of her training.
Her own expression was apologetic, "Prince Zanon," the healer finally murmured, turning her gaze to him. "Be very, very careful," she coaxed, already having an idea of what was causing Evras so much pain. "Can you take us somewhere where I can examine her further? I saw her hit the ground. She hit hard straight down onto her hip," then to Evras, "Princess, where does it hurt?" she asked, not wanting to really touch her unless the prince gave her explicit permission to do so. It couldn't be her hip that was causing her the most distress, as she seemed to cradle her own abdomen. Yet, she would not be beheaded for trying to help a princess just because some haughty little prince got it in his head that she was to be a target.
She hadn't survived Sophos to die without ever having left Colchis. Gods above, she hated people but when it came to people or work, working with people was enough to make her perfectly content.
She had barely heard someone come up to her, not even her own husband, for the pain radiating from her mid-section all the way to her back had taken over her senses. The woman had curled into a foetal position, a subconscious way to try and elevate the pain, but it didn't work. Over time, she began to notice the dampness growing in between her legs, but with the rain falling, Evras had assumed that the water was making her soaked through, not at all realizing that someone was shielding them with a cloak, which meant the growing liquid was definitely not rain.
When Zanon finally shifted her so his arms slipped beneath her, Evras took a deep, fortifying breathe, wrenching her eyes open to find her husband's face close to hers, and a whimper slipped out of her lips. She had always trusted Zanon to keep her safe, at the very least that was what she had begun to do on their wedding day. He had proven a sterling father to Dion in the years they've had him, and to see him meant she no longer had to pretend the pain that hit her abdomen in waves did not hurt her.
The light shimmer of unshed tears accompanied her whimper, her body shivering when another wave washed over her, that she only heard the tail end of the healer's query. Enough for her to surmise what had been asked however, Evras's response came out as a whimper, breathing heavy as she spoke.
"Stomach... hurts." It felt like when she was giving birth to Dion, an occasion only five years past. But how could it be at this time? Through the haze of pain, Evras tried to calculate the possibilities... and slow horror dawned upon her as she realized she had not bled in months. With the many things to handle with a growing child, a barony to help her husband run and growing princess duties to learn ever since she married into the royal family, Evras had not even realized she had not bled in months. And she had fallen at an angle that hit her hips and waist particularly hard.
An anguished cry slipped out when the revelation hit her, almost as if she was in pain - except this wasn't the pain that had her clutching at her stomach, which in truth was already beginning to subside. This was more of an emotional pain, which likely had to do with the fact that the bottom of her chiton was getting bloodier by the second.
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Sept 25, 2019 11:10:46 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Sept 25, 2019 11:10:46 GMT
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She had barely heard someone come up to her, not even her own husband, for the pain radiating from her mid-section all the way to her back had taken over her senses. The woman had curled into a foetal position, a subconscious way to try and elevate the pain, but it didn't work. Over time, she began to notice the dampness growing in between her legs, but with the rain falling, Evras had assumed that the water was making her soaked through, not at all realizing that someone was shielding them with a cloak, which meant the growing liquid was definitely not rain.
When Zanon finally shifted her so his arms slipped beneath her, Evras took a deep, fortifying breathe, wrenching her eyes open to find her husband's face close to hers, and a whimper slipped out of her lips. She had always trusted Zanon to keep her safe, at the very least that was what she had begun to do on their wedding day. He had proven a sterling father to Dion in the years they've had him, and to see him meant she no longer had to pretend the pain that hit her abdomen in waves did not hurt her.
The light shimmer of unshed tears accompanied her whimper, her body shivering when another wave washed over her, that she only heard the tail end of the healer's query. Enough for her to surmise what had been asked however, Evras's response came out as a whimper, breathing heavy as she spoke.
"Stomach... hurts." It felt like when she was giving birth to Dion, an occasion only five years past. But how could it be at this time? Through the haze of pain, Evras tried to calculate the possibilities... and slow horror dawned upon her as she realized she had not bled in months. With the many things to handle with a growing child, a barony to help her husband run and growing princess duties to learn ever since she married into the royal family, Evras had not even realized she had not bled in months. And she had fallen at an angle that hit her hips and waist particularly hard.
An anguished cry slipped out when the revelation hit her, almost as if she was in pain - except this wasn't the pain that had her clutching at her stomach, which in truth was already beginning to subside. This was more of an emotional pain, which likely had to do with the fact that the bottom of her chiton was getting bloodier by the second.
She had barely heard someone come up to her, not even her own husband, for the pain radiating from her mid-section all the way to her back had taken over her senses. The woman had curled into a foetal position, a subconscious way to try and elevate the pain, but it didn't work. Over time, she began to notice the dampness growing in between her legs, but with the rain falling, Evras had assumed that the water was making her soaked through, not at all realizing that someone was shielding them with a cloak, which meant the growing liquid was definitely not rain.
When Zanon finally shifted her so his arms slipped beneath her, Evras took a deep, fortifying breathe, wrenching her eyes open to find her husband's face close to hers, and a whimper slipped out of her lips. She had always trusted Zanon to keep her safe, at the very least that was what she had begun to do on their wedding day. He had proven a sterling father to Dion in the years they've had him, and to see him meant she no longer had to pretend the pain that hit her abdomen in waves did not hurt her.
The light shimmer of unshed tears accompanied her whimper, her body shivering when another wave washed over her, that she only heard the tail end of the healer's query. Enough for her to surmise what had been asked however, Evras's response came out as a whimper, breathing heavy as she spoke.
"Stomach... hurts." It felt like when she was giving birth to Dion, an occasion only five years past. But how could it be at this time? Through the haze of pain, Evras tried to calculate the possibilities... and slow horror dawned upon her as she realized she had not bled in months. With the many things to handle with a growing child, a barony to help her husband run and growing princess duties to learn ever since she married into the royal family, Evras had not even realized she had not bled in months. And she had fallen at an angle that hit her hips and waist particularly hard.
An anguished cry slipped out when the revelation hit her, almost as if she was in pain - except this wasn't the pain that had her clutching at her stomach, which in truth was already beginning to subside. This was more of an emotional pain, which likely had to do with the fact that the bottom of her chiton was getting bloodier by the second.
When the first droplets of rains fall upon her head, Aedea looked at the heavens. She closed her eyes and smiled as the rain came pouring down her and making her face, hair and clothes wet. Back in the wilds, she loved rain, how the cool water of the gods cooled her skin on a hot day, and while she often got sick, she thought that it was one of the best gifts of the gods.
Apple seemed enamored by the human puppy, and she went towards him to sniff him – he smelled like a food and rain, which was obvious, but seemed clean. He was clearly a high caste puppy, she realized, but she didn’t care about that, only that he was getting along well with Apple and thus, she could get along well with him. It was only natural.
She smiled a wide wolfish grin at the kid with his questions. Even though he spoke quickly, she replied as best as she could, “Yes!”, to his first question. She reached her hand to pet the hound behind the ear, and he sat down and panted, looking at his mistress, “Apple! Yes!”, to his first two questions, at the third, she began to count with her fingers, trying to remember, and finally said, “Two!”, with two fingers held up, as if she was proud of herself for counting to such a high number.
On the top of the merchant stall, though, she saw something in particular – a small bowl filled with chopped fruit, covered with honey, clearly left there by someone that was running away from the rain, and indeed, while the fruit has been drenched in water, it still looked appetizing to her. She smiled widely and took the bowl and sat down beside the small kid. She began to eat with her fingers, making them sticky with honey, and the dog stared at her intently, waiting his own share… but she decided to share it with the puppy first, so she extended it to him, “Food! Tasty!”
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Sept 30, 2019 22:56:34 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Sept 30, 2019 22:56:34 GMT
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When the first droplets of rains fall upon her head, Aedea looked at the heavens. She closed her eyes and smiled as the rain came pouring down her and making her face, hair and clothes wet. Back in the wilds, she loved rain, how the cool water of the gods cooled her skin on a hot day, and while she often got sick, she thought that it was one of the best gifts of the gods.
Apple seemed enamored by the human puppy, and she went towards him to sniff him – he smelled like a food and rain, which was obvious, but seemed clean. He was clearly a high caste puppy, she realized, but she didn’t care about that, only that he was getting along well with Apple and thus, she could get along well with him. It was only natural.
She smiled a wide wolfish grin at the kid with his questions. Even though he spoke quickly, she replied as best as she could, “Yes!”, to his first question. She reached her hand to pet the hound behind the ear, and he sat down and panted, looking at his mistress, “Apple! Yes!”, to his first two questions, at the third, she began to count with her fingers, trying to remember, and finally said, “Two!”, with two fingers held up, as if she was proud of herself for counting to such a high number.
On the top of the merchant stall, though, she saw something in particular – a small bowl filled with chopped fruit, covered with honey, clearly left there by someone that was running away from the rain, and indeed, while the fruit has been drenched in water, it still looked appetizing to her. She smiled widely and took the bowl and sat down beside the small kid. She began to eat with her fingers, making them sticky with honey, and the dog stared at her intently, waiting his own share… but she decided to share it with the puppy first, so she extended it to him, “Food! Tasty!”
When the first droplets of rains fall upon her head, Aedea looked at the heavens. She closed her eyes and smiled as the rain came pouring down her and making her face, hair and clothes wet. Back in the wilds, she loved rain, how the cool water of the gods cooled her skin on a hot day, and while she often got sick, she thought that it was one of the best gifts of the gods.
Apple seemed enamored by the human puppy, and she went towards him to sniff him – he smelled like a food and rain, which was obvious, but seemed clean. He was clearly a high caste puppy, she realized, but she didn’t care about that, only that he was getting along well with Apple and thus, she could get along well with him. It was only natural.
She smiled a wide wolfish grin at the kid with his questions. Even though he spoke quickly, she replied as best as she could, “Yes!”, to his first question. She reached her hand to pet the hound behind the ear, and he sat down and panted, looking at his mistress, “Apple! Yes!”, to his first two questions, at the third, she began to count with her fingers, trying to remember, and finally said, “Two!”, with two fingers held up, as if she was proud of herself for counting to such a high number.
On the top of the merchant stall, though, she saw something in particular – a small bowl filled with chopped fruit, covered with honey, clearly left there by someone that was running away from the rain, and indeed, while the fruit has been drenched in water, it still looked appetizing to her. She smiled widely and took the bowl and sat down beside the small kid. She began to eat with her fingers, making them sticky with honey, and the dog stared at her intently, waiting his own share… but she decided to share it with the puppy first, so she extended it to him, “Food! Tasty!”
Mihail would have responded to his middle sister's query with a light smirk and one of his typical comments acknowledging the greatness of their own family in comparison to the one which currently held the throne, and yet he found himself incapable of doing so, cut off as he was by the Crown Prince. His already mildly irritated expression darkened further, turning to outright frustration as he threw a glare in the man's direction. At least his sister did not appear to respond further than a light hum, and he appreciated the sentiment, though his cold stare followed the prince still as he walked away. "Dion will adore it." But his gaze again turned upwards to the sky, an eyebrow quirked upwards to the sky. "I hope the weather shall work in our favour."
It seemed Zeus had not heard his hopes, however, for almost as soon as he spoke, a ripple of thunder spread through the sky. Evidently, the gods disagreed with the boy's mild arrogance that the weather would be kind to their festivities, and in moments, they were soaked through. Mihail had never liked water, and the distaste extended to adverse weather conditions, for, the first flash of lightning spread through the sky, he felt a shudder of terror pass through his body, the way his sister gripped his shoulder doing little to calm his nerves. If the gods were somehow angered, there was no telling what might happen.
He allowed Thea to push him off the dais, starting alongside the rest of his family to return to safety. It would have been simple then to follow the group, and he would have found himself happy and dry back at the Thanasi home in no time, but the roaring crowd complicated matters, as countless individuals pushed past one another in an attempt to escape the downpour. They did not part for the thin and feminine youngest child as they might have for his oldest sister or the crown prince, and he was moved with the sway of the mass. The fact that the man was still clutching that child-sized bow, however, simplified matters enough that he was able to push his way past others, finally exiting the crowd a short distance from his entry point.
The dark-haired boy would have continued on his way, undeterred by the confusion caused by the weather, when he caught sight of a familiar face pressed hidden against a building. Her embellished tiara would have given her away had Mihail not already known the youngest princess by name. Her mother had not been wrong when she'd commented that the girl would be noticed that day. But, shivering in the rain, he had noticed her for all the wrong reasons, for, although the girl was still a pretty thing, she seemed small and terrified. There was a reminder of himself in the image, dripping wet and fearful as he was rescued from near-drowning.
In a burst of uncharacteristic selflessness, he chose to divert his path from the hope of home and directed himself instead toward his distant cousin, a smile worn on his face which he hoped appeared as reassuring as he intended it.
"My Lady. Athanasia," he smiled at her, bending down to match his height with hers and tugging off the himation he'd worn around his shoulders. The greeting was perhaps less informal than appropriate, but he didn't wish to frighten her further. "Here." Mihail draped the thin fabric over her shoulders - it was drier than anything else he had, and it would hopefully provide her with a little warmth, even if it had initially been designed as little more than an accessory.
Mihail glanced to one side momentarily, a thoughtful expression on his face as he ran his tongue over his lower lip. The crowds were starting to clear as people disappeared into their homes and sidestreets, and it would be far easier for them to ease through as a pair. "Let me help you home, alright? You can trust me." He held out a hand for her to take, slightly tilting his head in the direction of the crowd to indicate it was thinning by now. "You'll be safe. But we need to move quickly and keep undercover as best we can, or your pretty dress will be ruined. Stay close to me."
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Mihail would have responded to his middle sister's query with a light smirk and one of his typical comments acknowledging the greatness of their own family in comparison to the one which currently held the throne, and yet he found himself incapable of doing so, cut off as he was by the Crown Prince. His already mildly irritated expression darkened further, turning to outright frustration as he threw a glare in the man's direction. At least his sister did not appear to respond further than a light hum, and he appreciated the sentiment, though his cold stare followed the prince still as he walked away. "Dion will adore it." But his gaze again turned upwards to the sky, an eyebrow quirked upwards to the sky. "I hope the weather shall work in our favour."
It seemed Zeus had not heard his hopes, however, for almost as soon as he spoke, a ripple of thunder spread through the sky. Evidently, the gods disagreed with the boy's mild arrogance that the weather would be kind to their festivities, and in moments, they were soaked through. Mihail had never liked water, and the distaste extended to adverse weather conditions, for, the first flash of lightning spread through the sky, he felt a shudder of terror pass through his body, the way his sister gripped his shoulder doing little to calm his nerves. If the gods were somehow angered, there was no telling what might happen.
He allowed Thea to push him off the dais, starting alongside the rest of his family to return to safety. It would have been simple then to follow the group, and he would have found himself happy and dry back at the Thanasi home in no time, but the roaring crowd complicated matters, as countless individuals pushed past one another in an attempt to escape the downpour. They did not part for the thin and feminine youngest child as they might have for his oldest sister or the crown prince, and he was moved with the sway of the mass. The fact that the man was still clutching that child-sized bow, however, simplified matters enough that he was able to push his way past others, finally exiting the crowd a short distance from his entry point.
The dark-haired boy would have continued on his way, undeterred by the confusion caused by the weather, when he caught sight of a familiar face pressed hidden against a building. Her embellished tiara would have given her away had Mihail not already known the youngest princess by name. Her mother had not been wrong when she'd commented that the girl would be noticed that day. But, shivering in the rain, he had noticed her for all the wrong reasons, for, although the girl was still a pretty thing, she seemed small and terrified. There was a reminder of himself in the image, dripping wet and fearful as he was rescued from near-drowning.
In a burst of uncharacteristic selflessness, he chose to divert his path from the hope of home and directed himself instead toward his distant cousin, a smile worn on his face which he hoped appeared as reassuring as he intended it.
"My Lady. Athanasia," he smiled at her, bending down to match his height with hers and tugging off the himation he'd worn around his shoulders. The greeting was perhaps less informal than appropriate, but he didn't wish to frighten her further. "Here." Mihail draped the thin fabric over her shoulders - it was drier than anything else he had, and it would hopefully provide her with a little warmth, even if it had initially been designed as little more than an accessory.
Mihail glanced to one side momentarily, a thoughtful expression on his face as he ran his tongue over his lower lip. The crowds were starting to clear as people disappeared into their homes and sidestreets, and it would be far easier for them to ease through as a pair. "Let me help you home, alright? You can trust me." He held out a hand for her to take, slightly tilting his head in the direction of the crowd to indicate it was thinning by now. "You'll be safe. But we need to move quickly and keep undercover as best we can, or your pretty dress will be ruined. Stay close to me."
Mihail would have responded to his middle sister's query with a light smirk and one of his typical comments acknowledging the greatness of their own family in comparison to the one which currently held the throne, and yet he found himself incapable of doing so, cut off as he was by the Crown Prince. His already mildly irritated expression darkened further, turning to outright frustration as he threw a glare in the man's direction. At least his sister did not appear to respond further than a light hum, and he appreciated the sentiment, though his cold stare followed the prince still as he walked away. "Dion will adore it." But his gaze again turned upwards to the sky, an eyebrow quirked upwards to the sky. "I hope the weather shall work in our favour."
It seemed Zeus had not heard his hopes, however, for almost as soon as he spoke, a ripple of thunder spread through the sky. Evidently, the gods disagreed with the boy's mild arrogance that the weather would be kind to their festivities, and in moments, they were soaked through. Mihail had never liked water, and the distaste extended to adverse weather conditions, for, the first flash of lightning spread through the sky, he felt a shudder of terror pass through his body, the way his sister gripped his shoulder doing little to calm his nerves. If the gods were somehow angered, there was no telling what might happen.
He allowed Thea to push him off the dais, starting alongside the rest of his family to return to safety. It would have been simple then to follow the group, and he would have found himself happy and dry back at the Thanasi home in no time, but the roaring crowd complicated matters, as countless individuals pushed past one another in an attempt to escape the downpour. They did not part for the thin and feminine youngest child as they might have for his oldest sister or the crown prince, and he was moved with the sway of the mass. The fact that the man was still clutching that child-sized bow, however, simplified matters enough that he was able to push his way past others, finally exiting the crowd a short distance from his entry point.
The dark-haired boy would have continued on his way, undeterred by the confusion caused by the weather, when he caught sight of a familiar face pressed hidden against a building. Her embellished tiara would have given her away had Mihail not already known the youngest princess by name. Her mother had not been wrong when she'd commented that the girl would be noticed that day. But, shivering in the rain, he had noticed her for all the wrong reasons, for, although the girl was still a pretty thing, she seemed small and terrified. There was a reminder of himself in the image, dripping wet and fearful as he was rescued from near-drowning.
In a burst of uncharacteristic selflessness, he chose to divert his path from the hope of home and directed himself instead toward his distant cousin, a smile worn on his face which he hoped appeared as reassuring as he intended it.
"My Lady. Athanasia," he smiled at her, bending down to match his height with hers and tugging off the himation he'd worn around his shoulders. The greeting was perhaps less informal than appropriate, but he didn't wish to frighten her further. "Here." Mihail draped the thin fabric over her shoulders - it was drier than anything else he had, and it would hopefully provide her with a little warmth, even if it had initially been designed as little more than an accessory.
Mihail glanced to one side momentarily, a thoughtful expression on his face as he ran his tongue over his lower lip. The crowds were starting to clear as people disappeared into their homes and sidestreets, and it would be far easier for them to ease through as a pair. "Let me help you home, alright? You can trust me." He held out a hand for her to take, slightly tilting his head in the direction of the crowd to indicate it was thinning by now. "You'll be safe. But we need to move quickly and keep undercover as best we can, or your pretty dress will be ruined. Stay close to me."
Fear was not an emotion that Athanasia felt often. Brave and bold, she faced every unfortunate situation that was thrown her way head on, seeing it as an exciting challenge and a chance for adventure. The last time she had been as frightened as she was now was when her horse had thrown her five years ago, giving her a broken arm and a long gash down her leg. She did not like the unfamiliar sensation at all. Even in the pouring rain, she shouldn't be so cold and why couldn't she stop shivering? There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had never experienced before. She didn't like that either.
She couldn't decide what to do … stay where she was until she was found or try to locate the administration building on her own. There were no eaves on the roof of the building to give her shelter, but if she moved from this spot, she might be swept up in the crowd again. Nobody seemed to notice the small girl huddled against the wall, so as long as she didn't call attention to herself, she didn't think anyone would recognize her. Perhaps taking off her tiara and jewelry would help her look less like a royal, but where would she put them? Carrying them would make it seem as if she was taking advantage of the rain to steal from panicked citizens. As soaked as she was, Athanasia thought she must look like one of the thieving urchins who lived on the street.
Her tutors had taught her that if she ever became lost, she should stay in one place. If she wandered around, she might never be found because she was constantly moving. So the smart thing to do was to remain here with her back pressed against the hard surface of the building. The constant rain now felt like millions of tiny knives stabbing her over and over and she just wished it would stop. Finally she gave into her tears. What did it matter if more water streamed down her cheeks? It wasn't as if she could get any wetter. Lowering her eyes to the ground and partially closing them, she listened to the slapping of sandals all around her.
Eventually, the pattering lessened and she raised her eyes. Her tears had finally ceased. There weren't as many people running about now. Lucky for them, they had reached their homes and would be able to dry off. She had never envied commoners before, but now she wished she lived in one of the houses nearby. The ten-year-old princess noticed a boy headed toward her and tried to pretend she was part of the wall. Yet as he drew closer, she realized that he looked familiar.
By the time he reached her, smiling reassuringly, she knew he was … Lord Mihail of Thanasi, the younger brother of her sister-in-law Evras. She had only seen him once, at the wedding, and he had been shorter then. He probably thought the same thing about her. Athanasia had grown a lot too in the past few years. He bent down to her level and addressed her as 'my lady' instead of 'your highness.' At this point, he could have called her 'hey you' and she wouldn't care as long as he took her out of the rain.
“Thank you, Lord Mihail,” she said when he took off his himation and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was drier than her own clothes and did provide her with a little warmth, but not enough to stop her from shaking. He told her he would take her home and held out his hand. Athanasia stared at it a bit dubiously. Could she really trust him? It was said that his sisters were all witches. Maybe he was one too. Could men be witches? She was fairly certain that Evras wasn't one. Her sister-in-law was kind and gentle and her nephew was cute, if a bit annoying at times. Yes, she could trust this distant relation of hers. He wouldn't dare harm a member of the royal family or suspicion might fall on his sister.
Biting her lower lip, she reached out and placed her small hand in his larger one. “Okay, but we need to go to the administration building, not to the manor. That's where my family is and they have probably realized that I'm missing.” A contemplative look crossed her pretty features. If she joined her family, she would be wet until they got home. If she went home directly, she could change out of her drenched chiton.
Changing her mind, the princess shook her head. “No, take me home, Lord Mihail When we get there, I'll send a slave to tell my mother that I'm safe.” She gripped his hand tightly, not intending to let it go until they reached the manor. “Do you know how to get there?” she asked him. “I am completely lost and have no idea where we are now.”
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Fear was not an emotion that Athanasia felt often. Brave and bold, she faced every unfortunate situation that was thrown her way head on, seeing it as an exciting challenge and a chance for adventure. The last time she had been as frightened as she was now was when her horse had thrown her five years ago, giving her a broken arm and a long gash down her leg. She did not like the unfamiliar sensation at all. Even in the pouring rain, she shouldn't be so cold and why couldn't she stop shivering? There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had never experienced before. She didn't like that either.
She couldn't decide what to do … stay where she was until she was found or try to locate the administration building on her own. There were no eaves on the roof of the building to give her shelter, but if she moved from this spot, she might be swept up in the crowd again. Nobody seemed to notice the small girl huddled against the wall, so as long as she didn't call attention to herself, she didn't think anyone would recognize her. Perhaps taking off her tiara and jewelry would help her look less like a royal, but where would she put them? Carrying them would make it seem as if she was taking advantage of the rain to steal from panicked citizens. As soaked as she was, Athanasia thought she must look like one of the thieving urchins who lived on the street.
Her tutors had taught her that if she ever became lost, she should stay in one place. If she wandered around, she might never be found because she was constantly moving. So the smart thing to do was to remain here with her back pressed against the hard surface of the building. The constant rain now felt like millions of tiny knives stabbing her over and over and she just wished it would stop. Finally she gave into her tears. What did it matter if more water streamed down her cheeks? It wasn't as if she could get any wetter. Lowering her eyes to the ground and partially closing them, she listened to the slapping of sandals all around her.
Eventually, the pattering lessened and she raised her eyes. Her tears had finally ceased. There weren't as many people running about now. Lucky for them, they had reached their homes and would be able to dry off. She had never envied commoners before, but now she wished she lived in one of the houses nearby. The ten-year-old princess noticed a boy headed toward her and tried to pretend she was part of the wall. Yet as he drew closer, she realized that he looked familiar.
By the time he reached her, smiling reassuringly, she knew he was … Lord Mihail of Thanasi, the younger brother of her sister-in-law Evras. She had only seen him once, at the wedding, and he had been shorter then. He probably thought the same thing about her. Athanasia had grown a lot too in the past few years. He bent down to her level and addressed her as 'my lady' instead of 'your highness.' At this point, he could have called her 'hey you' and she wouldn't care as long as he took her out of the rain.
“Thank you, Lord Mihail,” she said when he took off his himation and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was drier than her own clothes and did provide her with a little warmth, but not enough to stop her from shaking. He told her he would take her home and held out his hand. Athanasia stared at it a bit dubiously. Could she really trust him? It was said that his sisters were all witches. Maybe he was one too. Could men be witches? She was fairly certain that Evras wasn't one. Her sister-in-law was kind and gentle and her nephew was cute, if a bit annoying at times. Yes, she could trust this distant relation of hers. He wouldn't dare harm a member of the royal family or suspicion might fall on his sister.
Biting her lower lip, she reached out and placed her small hand in his larger one. “Okay, but we need to go to the administration building, not to the manor. That's where my family is and they have probably realized that I'm missing.” A contemplative look crossed her pretty features. If she joined her family, she would be wet until they got home. If she went home directly, she could change out of her drenched chiton.
Changing her mind, the princess shook her head. “No, take me home, Lord Mihail When we get there, I'll send a slave to tell my mother that I'm safe.” She gripped his hand tightly, not intending to let it go until they reached the manor. “Do you know how to get there?” she asked him. “I am completely lost and have no idea where we are now.”
Fear was not an emotion that Athanasia felt often. Brave and bold, she faced every unfortunate situation that was thrown her way head on, seeing it as an exciting challenge and a chance for adventure. The last time she had been as frightened as she was now was when her horse had thrown her five years ago, giving her a broken arm and a long gash down her leg. She did not like the unfamiliar sensation at all. Even in the pouring rain, she shouldn't be so cold and why couldn't she stop shivering? There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had never experienced before. She didn't like that either.
She couldn't decide what to do … stay where she was until she was found or try to locate the administration building on her own. There were no eaves on the roof of the building to give her shelter, but if she moved from this spot, she might be swept up in the crowd again. Nobody seemed to notice the small girl huddled against the wall, so as long as she didn't call attention to herself, she didn't think anyone would recognize her. Perhaps taking off her tiara and jewelry would help her look less like a royal, but where would she put them? Carrying them would make it seem as if she was taking advantage of the rain to steal from panicked citizens. As soaked as she was, Athanasia thought she must look like one of the thieving urchins who lived on the street.
Her tutors had taught her that if she ever became lost, she should stay in one place. If she wandered around, she might never be found because she was constantly moving. So the smart thing to do was to remain here with her back pressed against the hard surface of the building. The constant rain now felt like millions of tiny knives stabbing her over and over and she just wished it would stop. Finally she gave into her tears. What did it matter if more water streamed down her cheeks? It wasn't as if she could get any wetter. Lowering her eyes to the ground and partially closing them, she listened to the slapping of sandals all around her.
Eventually, the pattering lessened and she raised her eyes. Her tears had finally ceased. There weren't as many people running about now. Lucky for them, they had reached their homes and would be able to dry off. She had never envied commoners before, but now she wished she lived in one of the houses nearby. The ten-year-old princess noticed a boy headed toward her and tried to pretend she was part of the wall. Yet as he drew closer, she realized that he looked familiar.
By the time he reached her, smiling reassuringly, she knew he was … Lord Mihail of Thanasi, the younger brother of her sister-in-law Evras. She had only seen him once, at the wedding, and he had been shorter then. He probably thought the same thing about her. Athanasia had grown a lot too in the past few years. He bent down to her level and addressed her as 'my lady' instead of 'your highness.' At this point, he could have called her 'hey you' and she wouldn't care as long as he took her out of the rain.
“Thank you, Lord Mihail,” she said when he took off his himation and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was drier than her own clothes and did provide her with a little warmth, but not enough to stop her from shaking. He told her he would take her home and held out his hand. Athanasia stared at it a bit dubiously. Could she really trust him? It was said that his sisters were all witches. Maybe he was one too. Could men be witches? She was fairly certain that Evras wasn't one. Her sister-in-law was kind and gentle and her nephew was cute, if a bit annoying at times. Yes, she could trust this distant relation of hers. He wouldn't dare harm a member of the royal family or suspicion might fall on his sister.
Biting her lower lip, she reached out and placed her small hand in his larger one. “Okay, but we need to go to the administration building, not to the manor. That's where my family is and they have probably realized that I'm missing.” A contemplative look crossed her pretty features. If she joined her family, she would be wet until they got home. If she went home directly, she could change out of her drenched chiton.
Changing her mind, the princess shook her head. “No, take me home, Lord Mihail When we get there, I'll send a slave to tell my mother that I'm safe.” She gripped his hand tightly, not intending to let it go until they reached the manor. “Do you know how to get there?” she asked him. “I am completely lost and have no idea where we are now.”
"Your Highness..."
Years of etiquette and tradition persisted as Thea's body moved involuntarily into a curtsey towards the Crown Prince. In doing so, several locks of her drenched hair slithered down across her forehead and cheek like serpents and the sheer fabric of her dark chiton clung to her calves and the backs of her arms as her body bent and straightened on its own.
Her slender fingers reached up and made two graceful, swiping attempts at removing the offending strands from her vision, leaving behind heavy droplets of water on her eyeslashes and brows, which her fingers then did their best to swipe away without destroying her appearance any further.
Upon rising, her feet had seemed to move her the few, bare inches closer to the wall, until her rear and a single palm were pressed against the surprisingly cool stone, eyes trained on the young royal. The simple movement seemed to sharply yank at a cord of her memory, reminding her of their first encounter - long-ago and nameless. As if to keep the man from reading her thoughts as their eyes caught, she slowly shifted her body away from the wall and straightened.
A close crack of lightning across the sky caused her to release the closest thing to a show of surprise - a swift inhale and a flick of her eyes to the angry sky. Swallowing a moment to retain that composure, she turned her glance back to Vangelis, who had yet to speak. It was a trait they both shared, as well as the tendency to let eyes linger, unblinkingly.
At first, her eyes caught his before they found the oddity of, not a droplet, but a small stream of water trickling down the strong lines of his face and along the pronounced tendon of his neck. There was a singular quiver of her lower lip as thoughts of the past again seemed to claw their ways to the forefront, carrying with them familiar desires prickling like a hearthfire deep within her.
Flicking here eyes away against as a rather robust gale of wind whipped the water-laden fabrics of her chiton around her ankles, causing her to shift. The downpour had significantly chilled the air, causing goosepimples to rise along her arms and collarbone. Her skin seemed to tighten across her body as the wetness of cloth and the chill of the air sent a slight shudder through her.
As she covered one forearm with another, she glanced down slightly to notice with a slight surprise that the peaks of her chest had made themselves more pronounced through the sheer fabric there along with the chill. If Thea had the persona of most noblewomen her age, she would have been mortally embarrassed to be in such disarray before the Crown Prince...
...then again, they had been here before, and caused such disarray within one another once before.
After all, both before and after they had known each others names, there was a history between them that had remained untouched for nearly four years time. Such facts had not entered her mind in all that time...until this day - a day that honors life that was brought into the world nearly that exact span of time ago.
There could have been dozens of reason behind this - coincidence, serendipity, higher interventions - and yet now for the first time in years, they stood alone together.
As if to not draw attention to her circumstance, she let her arms to fall to her sides again.
"You did well," Thea offered, slicing delicately through the silence, "for your part in the ceremony. Dion may not know how special of a moment it was now, but someday he will."
Thea said the words as a compliment, but the longer the moment of silence lasted a moment too long, where a singular thought hung in her mind - and she made the mistake of catching eyes with him once again...
It could have been different...
And yet, it was not. Fate had not chosen them, and it was for the best. The love between Evras and Zanon held truth and intensity that would go unparalleled, Thea was certain. After all they had overcome, it had to remain that way.
As for herself and Vangelis? No, that was never to be, and for the better of it all.
However, in that moment, did not change Thea's physical response for being in such proximity to him. Part of her hated herself for it, and yet, that deep primal desire...wanted. In this closed space, despite the blows of worry from the past that had bruised them, Thea wanted to be touched. This man was the only one who had ever done so. It was natural.
Her tongue ran across the roof of her mouth a moment, as if testing the flavor of the words from her before she asked them. It could end poorly, and yet, when would she ever have a moment to ask this again?
It was not some scheme to catch him, trap him, and speak to him of it - if anything, she could blame this circumstance on Zeus. Thea was not to be considered spoiled by any means, but for the most part, the most straight forward way to get the things in life that you wanted was to ask.
"Do you ever think back on that time?" she asked, demurely, watching his face as she asked her question. There was a slight pause following his reaction, before she added, "Is it...something you would consider again?"
Her expression remained level and her tone reflected more of someone who asked a dining preference between lamb or beef. Yet, her eyes lingered on him, speaking volumes in the way that they often did when words could not.
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Oct 11, 2019 20:31:47 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Oct 11, 2019 20:31:47 GMT
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"Your Highness..."
Years of etiquette and tradition persisted as Thea's body moved involuntarily into a curtsey towards the Crown Prince. In doing so, several locks of her drenched hair slithered down across her forehead and cheek like serpents and the sheer fabric of her dark chiton clung to her calves and the backs of her arms as her body bent and straightened on its own.
Her slender fingers reached up and made two graceful, swiping attempts at removing the offending strands from her vision, leaving behind heavy droplets of water on her eyeslashes and brows, which her fingers then did their best to swipe away without destroying her appearance any further.
Upon rising, her feet had seemed to move her the few, bare inches closer to the wall, until her rear and a single palm were pressed against the surprisingly cool stone, eyes trained on the young royal. The simple movement seemed to sharply yank at a cord of her memory, reminding her of their first encounter - long-ago and nameless. As if to keep the man from reading her thoughts as their eyes caught, she slowly shifted her body away from the wall and straightened.
A close crack of lightning across the sky caused her to release the closest thing to a show of surprise - a swift inhale and a flick of her eyes to the angry sky. Swallowing a moment to retain that composure, she turned her glance back to Vangelis, who had yet to speak. It was a trait they both shared, as well as the tendency to let eyes linger, unblinkingly.
At first, her eyes caught his before they found the oddity of, not a droplet, but a small stream of water trickling down the strong lines of his face and along the pronounced tendon of his neck. There was a singular quiver of her lower lip as thoughts of the past again seemed to claw their ways to the forefront, carrying with them familiar desires prickling like a hearthfire deep within her.
Flicking here eyes away against as a rather robust gale of wind whipped the water-laden fabrics of her chiton around her ankles, causing her to shift. The downpour had significantly chilled the air, causing goosepimples to rise along her arms and collarbone. Her skin seemed to tighten across her body as the wetness of cloth and the chill of the air sent a slight shudder through her.
As she covered one forearm with another, she glanced down slightly to notice with a slight surprise that the peaks of her chest had made themselves more pronounced through the sheer fabric there along with the chill. If Thea had the persona of most noblewomen her age, she would have been mortally embarrassed to be in such disarray before the Crown Prince...
...then again, they had been here before, and caused such disarray within one another once before.
After all, both before and after they had known each others names, there was a history between them that had remained untouched for nearly four years time. Such facts had not entered her mind in all that time...until this day - a day that honors life that was brought into the world nearly that exact span of time ago.
There could have been dozens of reason behind this - coincidence, serendipity, higher interventions - and yet now for the first time in years, they stood alone together.
As if to not draw attention to her circumstance, she let her arms to fall to her sides again.
"You did well," Thea offered, slicing delicately through the silence, "for your part in the ceremony. Dion may not know how special of a moment it was now, but someday he will."
Thea said the words as a compliment, but the longer the moment of silence lasted a moment too long, where a singular thought hung in her mind - and she made the mistake of catching eyes with him once again...
It could have been different...
And yet, it was not. Fate had not chosen them, and it was for the best. The love between Evras and Zanon held truth and intensity that would go unparalleled, Thea was certain. After all they had overcome, it had to remain that way.
As for herself and Vangelis? No, that was never to be, and for the better of it all.
However, in that moment, did not change Thea's physical response for being in such proximity to him. Part of her hated herself for it, and yet, that deep primal desire...wanted. In this closed space, despite the blows of worry from the past that had bruised them, Thea wanted to be touched. This man was the only one who had ever done so. It was natural.
Her tongue ran across the roof of her mouth a moment, as if testing the flavor of the words from her before she asked them. It could end poorly, and yet, when would she ever have a moment to ask this again?
It was not some scheme to catch him, trap him, and speak to him of it - if anything, she could blame this circumstance on Zeus. Thea was not to be considered spoiled by any means, but for the most part, the most straight forward way to get the things in life that you wanted was to ask.
"Do you ever think back on that time?" she asked, demurely, watching his face as she asked her question. There was a slight pause following his reaction, before she added, "Is it...something you would consider again?"
Her expression remained level and her tone reflected more of someone who asked a dining preference between lamb or beef. Yet, her eyes lingered on him, speaking volumes in the way that they often did when words could not.
"Your Highness..."
Years of etiquette and tradition persisted as Thea's body moved involuntarily into a curtsey towards the Crown Prince. In doing so, several locks of her drenched hair slithered down across her forehead and cheek like serpents and the sheer fabric of her dark chiton clung to her calves and the backs of her arms as her body bent and straightened on its own.
Her slender fingers reached up and made two graceful, swiping attempts at removing the offending strands from her vision, leaving behind heavy droplets of water on her eyeslashes and brows, which her fingers then did their best to swipe away without destroying her appearance any further.
Upon rising, her feet had seemed to move her the few, bare inches closer to the wall, until her rear and a single palm were pressed against the surprisingly cool stone, eyes trained on the young royal. The simple movement seemed to sharply yank at a cord of her memory, reminding her of their first encounter - long-ago and nameless. As if to keep the man from reading her thoughts as their eyes caught, she slowly shifted her body away from the wall and straightened.
A close crack of lightning across the sky caused her to release the closest thing to a show of surprise - a swift inhale and a flick of her eyes to the angry sky. Swallowing a moment to retain that composure, she turned her glance back to Vangelis, who had yet to speak. It was a trait they both shared, as well as the tendency to let eyes linger, unblinkingly.
At first, her eyes caught his before they found the oddity of, not a droplet, but a small stream of water trickling down the strong lines of his face and along the pronounced tendon of his neck. There was a singular quiver of her lower lip as thoughts of the past again seemed to claw their ways to the forefront, carrying with them familiar desires prickling like a hearthfire deep within her.
Flicking here eyes away against as a rather robust gale of wind whipped the water-laden fabrics of her chiton around her ankles, causing her to shift. The downpour had significantly chilled the air, causing goosepimples to rise along her arms and collarbone. Her skin seemed to tighten across her body as the wetness of cloth and the chill of the air sent a slight shudder through her.
As she covered one forearm with another, she glanced down slightly to notice with a slight surprise that the peaks of her chest had made themselves more pronounced through the sheer fabric there along with the chill. If Thea had the persona of most noblewomen her age, she would have been mortally embarrassed to be in such disarray before the Crown Prince...
...then again, they had been here before, and caused such disarray within one another once before.
After all, both before and after they had known each others names, there was a history between them that had remained untouched for nearly four years time. Such facts had not entered her mind in all that time...until this day - a day that honors life that was brought into the world nearly that exact span of time ago.
There could have been dozens of reason behind this - coincidence, serendipity, higher interventions - and yet now for the first time in years, they stood alone together.
As if to not draw attention to her circumstance, she let her arms to fall to her sides again.
"You did well," Thea offered, slicing delicately through the silence, "for your part in the ceremony. Dion may not know how special of a moment it was now, but someday he will."
Thea said the words as a compliment, but the longer the moment of silence lasted a moment too long, where a singular thought hung in her mind - and she made the mistake of catching eyes with him once again...
It could have been different...
And yet, it was not. Fate had not chosen them, and it was for the best. The love between Evras and Zanon held truth and intensity that would go unparalleled, Thea was certain. After all they had overcome, it had to remain that way.
As for herself and Vangelis? No, that was never to be, and for the better of it all.
However, in that moment, did not change Thea's physical response for being in such proximity to him. Part of her hated herself for it, and yet, that deep primal desire...wanted. In this closed space, despite the blows of worry from the past that had bruised them, Thea wanted to be touched. This man was the only one who had ever done so. It was natural.
Her tongue ran across the roof of her mouth a moment, as if testing the flavor of the words from her before she asked them. It could end poorly, and yet, when would she ever have a moment to ask this again?
It was not some scheme to catch him, trap him, and speak to him of it - if anything, she could blame this circumstance on Zeus. Thea was not to be considered spoiled by any means, but for the most part, the most straight forward way to get the things in life that you wanted was to ask.
"Do you ever think back on that time?" she asked, demurely, watching his face as she asked her question. There was a slight pause following his reaction, before she added, "Is it...something you would consider again?"
Her expression remained level and her tone reflected more of someone who asked a dining preference between lamb or beef. Yet, her eyes lingered on him, speaking volumes in the way that they often did when words could not.
Standing in the freezing cold, with water clustering in his hair until heavy enough to run down the back of his neck and send a shiver through his shoulder blades was not exactly a scenario that conjured thoughts of heat and passion. Beyond the desire for dry, warm clothing at least. But it was hard not to notice a woman's shape when her clothing was plastered to her form like a second skin. Mostly, Vangelis assumed, due to fashion and culture. The Greeks, unlike other cultures, were not known for showing their bodies in particularly defined manners. Whilst the Egyptians, Vangelis had witnessed held zero shame in the displaying of skin, and the people of the north would dress in whatever was practical, regardless of how revealing it might be, the females of the Grecian kingdoms were often swathed in layers of silk and chiton; gowns purposefully designed to show a woman's status and wealth and determinedly not her personal shape. As such, it was a surprise and alluring spectacle whenever one was placed before him in a manner that begged to be looked at.
His desire to stare, however, was quickly curtailed by his etiquette training as a prince, his gaze shifting to look steadily at Thea's face over the peaks of her breasts and the way her sodden gown lacquered itself to the shape of her thighs.
Not a lustful man by nature, Vangelis was surprised to find his breathing hitch a little and his skin grow warm beneath its surface. While pleased as the heat chased away some of the chill and brought sensation back to his fingertips, Vangelis placed a mental boot over the thoughts and pushed down. He did not need to revisit such memories in his mind whilst hidden in a dark corner with their collaborator.
Such wisdom was easier thought than applied, however. Vangelis attributed this to the fact that he knew Thea. Whilst he had been no chaste prince since his first experience with the woman opposite him, all such exchanges had been completed as a transaction. A service provided by a woman in the trade or a priestess who offered herself as a gateway to the Gods. All of which were the equivalent of a meal being offered him. His body held a desire and he had found a way to satisfy it, paying for the quenching of such a passion as he would for a meal or bed in a tavern.
Only with Thea, had the exchange been a deliberate seeking of experience. To see what it was like to couple with a woman. The fact that he later discovered himself to know her, and now found himself related to her after the nuptials of his brother, meant that it was now impossible for him to view the woman as a means to an end - a service provided. She was Lady Thea of Thanasi. And individual in her own right, whom he had been intimate with nearly five years ago. And whom he had almost been connected to forever in a very real and tangible way. A sensation of tightness sparked in his chest at the thought and seemed to bear down on his lungs. He swallowed and kept such thoughts to himself.
As lightening struck, Vangelis did nothing to comfort her light leap of fear as she drew upon her courage soon enough. He also did not offer her something to warm her - for he had nothing upon him that was not sodden and frozen cold. Else he would have offered a cloak or an outer tunic for her comfort. Instead, they fell into an awkward moment of quiet as Vangelis attempted not to notice her body leaning against the wall in a way that offered a rekindling of memory and kept his eyes away from the front of her gown...
When it was she who broke the silence, Vangelis turned his thoughts away from why Thea's presence had an affect that others did not, and focused instead on seeking a semblance of control over such affectations. His brows lowered at her question, more in concentration than distaste for her query, personal as it was.
Not a man to embarrass easily, nor deny simply facts or lie where the truth would suffice, Vangelis answered purely and with sincerity, but only enough to actually answer the question.
"Sometimes."
The single word was spoken as a fact, neither wistful nor angry. It was simply a statement of truth that he did occasionally linger on thoughts regarding his first sexual experience.
Despite the lack of detail in his answer, the word spurred Thea to be bolder in her questioning. Vangelis' expression did not change at the question, remaining true to his popular pseudonym of the Stone Prince.
"No." He stated without harshness but certainly direct. "I would not have entertained it the first time if I had known who you were. I have no interest in confusing the politics between our families further."
More importantly, he did not wish to repeat the experience of four years ago. He had no intention of producing children until he was married and, if such an accident should occur, Thea was of a rank that would require marriage as the solution to a conception. A marriage he did not want with a Thanasi. His judgement was switch and spoken with a firmness of character, but Vangelis sounded neither disturbed nor angered by the suggestion. He simply stated the fact as he saw them; facts which had nothing to do with Thea as a person. He simply didn't need the complication in his life of making a Thanasi woman his lover.
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Oct 15, 2019 17:34:44 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Oct 15, 2019 17:34:44 GMT
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Standing in the freezing cold, with water clustering in his hair until heavy enough to run down the back of his neck and send a shiver through his shoulder blades was not exactly a scenario that conjured thoughts of heat and passion. Beyond the desire for dry, warm clothing at least. But it was hard not to notice a woman's shape when her clothing was plastered to her form like a second skin. Mostly, Vangelis assumed, due to fashion and culture. The Greeks, unlike other cultures, were not known for showing their bodies in particularly defined manners. Whilst the Egyptians, Vangelis had witnessed held zero shame in the displaying of skin, and the people of the north would dress in whatever was practical, regardless of how revealing it might be, the females of the Grecian kingdoms were often swathed in layers of silk and chiton; gowns purposefully designed to show a woman's status and wealth and determinedly not her personal shape. As such, it was a surprise and alluring spectacle whenever one was placed before him in a manner that begged to be looked at.
His desire to stare, however, was quickly curtailed by his etiquette training as a prince, his gaze shifting to look steadily at Thea's face over the peaks of her breasts and the way her sodden gown lacquered itself to the shape of her thighs.
Not a lustful man by nature, Vangelis was surprised to find his breathing hitch a little and his skin grow warm beneath its surface. While pleased as the heat chased away some of the chill and brought sensation back to his fingertips, Vangelis placed a mental boot over the thoughts and pushed down. He did not need to revisit such memories in his mind whilst hidden in a dark corner with their collaborator.
Such wisdom was easier thought than applied, however. Vangelis attributed this to the fact that he knew Thea. Whilst he had been no chaste prince since his first experience with the woman opposite him, all such exchanges had been completed as a transaction. A service provided by a woman in the trade or a priestess who offered herself as a gateway to the Gods. All of which were the equivalent of a meal being offered him. His body held a desire and he had found a way to satisfy it, paying for the quenching of such a passion as he would for a meal or bed in a tavern.
Only with Thea, had the exchange been a deliberate seeking of experience. To see what it was like to couple with a woman. The fact that he later discovered himself to know her, and now found himself related to her after the nuptials of his brother, meant that it was now impossible for him to view the woman as a means to an end - a service provided. She was Lady Thea of Thanasi. And individual in her own right, whom he had been intimate with nearly five years ago. And whom he had almost been connected to forever in a very real and tangible way. A sensation of tightness sparked in his chest at the thought and seemed to bear down on his lungs. He swallowed and kept such thoughts to himself.
As lightening struck, Vangelis did nothing to comfort her light leap of fear as she drew upon her courage soon enough. He also did not offer her something to warm her - for he had nothing upon him that was not sodden and frozen cold. Else he would have offered a cloak or an outer tunic for her comfort. Instead, they fell into an awkward moment of quiet as Vangelis attempted not to notice her body leaning against the wall in a way that offered a rekindling of memory and kept his eyes away from the front of her gown...
When it was she who broke the silence, Vangelis turned his thoughts away from why Thea's presence had an affect that others did not, and focused instead on seeking a semblance of control over such affectations. His brows lowered at her question, more in concentration than distaste for her query, personal as it was.
Not a man to embarrass easily, nor deny simply facts or lie where the truth would suffice, Vangelis answered purely and with sincerity, but only enough to actually answer the question.
"Sometimes."
The single word was spoken as a fact, neither wistful nor angry. It was simply a statement of truth that he did occasionally linger on thoughts regarding his first sexual experience.
Despite the lack of detail in his answer, the word spurred Thea to be bolder in her questioning. Vangelis' expression did not change at the question, remaining true to his popular pseudonym of the Stone Prince.
"No." He stated without harshness but certainly direct. "I would not have entertained it the first time if I had known who you were. I have no interest in confusing the politics between our families further."
More importantly, he did not wish to repeat the experience of four years ago. He had no intention of producing children until he was married and, if such an accident should occur, Thea was of a rank that would require marriage as the solution to a conception. A marriage he did not want with a Thanasi. His judgement was switch and spoken with a firmness of character, but Vangelis sounded neither disturbed nor angered by the suggestion. He simply stated the fact as he saw them; facts which had nothing to do with Thea as a person. He simply didn't need the complication in his life of making a Thanasi woman his lover.
Standing in the freezing cold, with water clustering in his hair until heavy enough to run down the back of his neck and send a shiver through his shoulder blades was not exactly a scenario that conjured thoughts of heat and passion. Beyond the desire for dry, warm clothing at least. But it was hard not to notice a woman's shape when her clothing was plastered to her form like a second skin. Mostly, Vangelis assumed, due to fashion and culture. The Greeks, unlike other cultures, were not known for showing their bodies in particularly defined manners. Whilst the Egyptians, Vangelis had witnessed held zero shame in the displaying of skin, and the people of the north would dress in whatever was practical, regardless of how revealing it might be, the females of the Grecian kingdoms were often swathed in layers of silk and chiton; gowns purposefully designed to show a woman's status and wealth and determinedly not her personal shape. As such, it was a surprise and alluring spectacle whenever one was placed before him in a manner that begged to be looked at.
His desire to stare, however, was quickly curtailed by his etiquette training as a prince, his gaze shifting to look steadily at Thea's face over the peaks of her breasts and the way her sodden gown lacquered itself to the shape of her thighs.
Not a lustful man by nature, Vangelis was surprised to find his breathing hitch a little and his skin grow warm beneath its surface. While pleased as the heat chased away some of the chill and brought sensation back to his fingertips, Vangelis placed a mental boot over the thoughts and pushed down. He did not need to revisit such memories in his mind whilst hidden in a dark corner with their collaborator.
Such wisdom was easier thought than applied, however. Vangelis attributed this to the fact that he knew Thea. Whilst he had been no chaste prince since his first experience with the woman opposite him, all such exchanges had been completed as a transaction. A service provided by a woman in the trade or a priestess who offered herself as a gateway to the Gods. All of which were the equivalent of a meal being offered him. His body held a desire and he had found a way to satisfy it, paying for the quenching of such a passion as he would for a meal or bed in a tavern.
Only with Thea, had the exchange been a deliberate seeking of experience. To see what it was like to couple with a woman. The fact that he later discovered himself to know her, and now found himself related to her after the nuptials of his brother, meant that it was now impossible for him to view the woman as a means to an end - a service provided. She was Lady Thea of Thanasi. And individual in her own right, whom he had been intimate with nearly five years ago. And whom he had almost been connected to forever in a very real and tangible way. A sensation of tightness sparked in his chest at the thought and seemed to bear down on his lungs. He swallowed and kept such thoughts to himself.
As lightening struck, Vangelis did nothing to comfort her light leap of fear as she drew upon her courage soon enough. He also did not offer her something to warm her - for he had nothing upon him that was not sodden and frozen cold. Else he would have offered a cloak or an outer tunic for her comfort. Instead, they fell into an awkward moment of quiet as Vangelis attempted not to notice her body leaning against the wall in a way that offered a rekindling of memory and kept his eyes away from the front of her gown...
When it was she who broke the silence, Vangelis turned his thoughts away from why Thea's presence had an affect that others did not, and focused instead on seeking a semblance of control over such affectations. His brows lowered at her question, more in concentration than distaste for her query, personal as it was.
Not a man to embarrass easily, nor deny simply facts or lie where the truth would suffice, Vangelis answered purely and with sincerity, but only enough to actually answer the question.
"Sometimes."
The single word was spoken as a fact, neither wistful nor angry. It was simply a statement of truth that he did occasionally linger on thoughts regarding his first sexual experience.
Despite the lack of detail in his answer, the word spurred Thea to be bolder in her questioning. Vangelis' expression did not change at the question, remaining true to his popular pseudonym of the Stone Prince.
"No." He stated without harshness but certainly direct. "I would not have entertained it the first time if I had known who you were. I have no interest in confusing the politics between our families further."
More importantly, he did not wish to repeat the experience of four years ago. He had no intention of producing children until he was married and, if such an accident should occur, Thea was of a rank that would require marriage as the solution to a conception. A marriage he did not want with a Thanasi. His judgement was switch and spoken with a firmness of character, but Vangelis sounded neither disturbed nor angered by the suggestion. He simply stated the fact as he saw them; facts which had nothing to do with Thea as a person. He simply didn't need the complication in his life of making a Thanasi woman his lover.
The administration building. Mihail could get them there with little trouble, for he had spent almost the whole of his life in the Colchian capital, oftimes too afraid to travel to their owned province for fear of falling into those raging waters that seemed so bottomless. He knew the streets well, and he knew their backstreets and secrets from all those days when he disappeared from home and had a little wander to discover all the most enticing gossip in the city.
When she took his hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers, scanning the dispersing crowds as he considered the best route for them to take. There may have been fewer people around now, but there was no reassurance they wouldn't hit another mass later, and there was no security in passing through back alleys in this weather, for there would no doubt have been some carefully-hidden thieves waiting to take advantage of the commotion. The two of them would have stood out. Mihail could handle himself adequately enough, and he certainly wasn't afraid of some lowlife thug on the streets, given the family within which he was raised and the company they often kept, but he didn't wish to terrify the princess further.
"Call me Mihail, mm?" he told her, the offer of familiarity aimed at easing her panic as she seemed momentarily stuck in thought. The man did not know much about reassuring others, but he had been scared many times in his life, and he remembered the way his sisters held him close and called him by a soft nickname, but such intimacy would barely have been appropriate with Athanasia, despite their distant relation. He wanted to convey that sweetness without accidentally offending her, and it was a tricky balance, especially when it was so far from his typical demeanor. "Formalities aside, we are family, and I would want to see you safe and at ease by my side. Elaborate etiquette will hardly help."
Athanasia seemed to change her mind quickly, but Mihail did not mind. It was common for those in a state of confusion to be unsure of what they desired, and he would not fault her for it. He was here to help, after all, and the Kotas home - a place he had visited a couple of times in the past - was arguably more natural for him to reach than the administration building. "It isn't too far. I can have you home soon and safe, and your mother need not worry." Besides, he had several contacts in the city, and if needed, he could send one of them in search of the royal party with the news of the princess's safety.
Hand gripping the younger girl's, though not as tightly as she held his, he began to lead her down the way, avoiding those who still roamed the streets, heads covered as if to prevent themselves from getting rained on further, though it would do them no good. He was usually a fast walker, lost in his fantasies with hardly the time to wait around for others, but he slowed his pace now to ensure that Athanasia could keep in time with him, not wanting her to slip accidentally from too speedy a step and injure herself on the hard ground.
"A shame the gods chose to curse our celebrations with such ghastly weather. I was so looking forward to helping Dion train with his new gift, though I fear the storm will mar his love of the outdoors for a while." It was a half-rambled thought, though truthful. Small children seemed more susceptible to new anxieties, and Mihail could recall plenty of occasions when something tiny had developed into a new terror: his continuing stress over vast bodies of water was a prime example of that. However, he didn't wish to alienate the girl, and his gaze shifted down to her, his conversation designed to steer her mind into calm. "Do you remember yours? They thought I was a girl at mine because I had such pretty long hair. Almost as long as yours, I should think. I think I was very badly behaved, but I am certain you conducted yourself with just as much courtesy as you do today."
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Oct 25, 2019 22:28:39 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Oct 25, 2019 22:28:39 GMT
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The administration building. Mihail could get them there with little trouble, for he had spent almost the whole of his life in the Colchian capital, oftimes too afraid to travel to their owned province for fear of falling into those raging waters that seemed so bottomless. He knew the streets well, and he knew their backstreets and secrets from all those days when he disappeared from home and had a little wander to discover all the most enticing gossip in the city.
When she took his hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers, scanning the dispersing crowds as he considered the best route for them to take. There may have been fewer people around now, but there was no reassurance they wouldn't hit another mass later, and there was no security in passing through back alleys in this weather, for there would no doubt have been some carefully-hidden thieves waiting to take advantage of the commotion. The two of them would have stood out. Mihail could handle himself adequately enough, and he certainly wasn't afraid of some lowlife thug on the streets, given the family within which he was raised and the company they often kept, but he didn't wish to terrify the princess further.
"Call me Mihail, mm?" he told her, the offer of familiarity aimed at easing her panic as she seemed momentarily stuck in thought. The man did not know much about reassuring others, but he had been scared many times in his life, and he remembered the way his sisters held him close and called him by a soft nickname, but such intimacy would barely have been appropriate with Athanasia, despite their distant relation. He wanted to convey that sweetness without accidentally offending her, and it was a tricky balance, especially when it was so far from his typical demeanor. "Formalities aside, we are family, and I would want to see you safe and at ease by my side. Elaborate etiquette will hardly help."
Athanasia seemed to change her mind quickly, but Mihail did not mind. It was common for those in a state of confusion to be unsure of what they desired, and he would not fault her for it. He was here to help, after all, and the Kotas home - a place he had visited a couple of times in the past - was arguably more natural for him to reach than the administration building. "It isn't too far. I can have you home soon and safe, and your mother need not worry." Besides, he had several contacts in the city, and if needed, he could send one of them in search of the royal party with the news of the princess's safety.
Hand gripping the younger girl's, though not as tightly as she held his, he began to lead her down the way, avoiding those who still roamed the streets, heads covered as if to prevent themselves from getting rained on further, though it would do them no good. He was usually a fast walker, lost in his fantasies with hardly the time to wait around for others, but he slowed his pace now to ensure that Athanasia could keep in time with him, not wanting her to slip accidentally from too speedy a step and injure herself on the hard ground.
"A shame the gods chose to curse our celebrations with such ghastly weather. I was so looking forward to helping Dion train with his new gift, though I fear the storm will mar his love of the outdoors for a while." It was a half-rambled thought, though truthful. Small children seemed more susceptible to new anxieties, and Mihail could recall plenty of occasions when something tiny had developed into a new terror: his continuing stress over vast bodies of water was a prime example of that. However, he didn't wish to alienate the girl, and his gaze shifted down to her, his conversation designed to steer her mind into calm. "Do you remember yours? They thought I was a girl at mine because I had such pretty long hair. Almost as long as yours, I should think. I think I was very badly behaved, but I am certain you conducted yourself with just as much courtesy as you do today."
The administration building. Mihail could get them there with little trouble, for he had spent almost the whole of his life in the Colchian capital, oftimes too afraid to travel to their owned province for fear of falling into those raging waters that seemed so bottomless. He knew the streets well, and he knew their backstreets and secrets from all those days when he disappeared from home and had a little wander to discover all the most enticing gossip in the city.
When she took his hand, he wrapped his fingers around hers, scanning the dispersing crowds as he considered the best route for them to take. There may have been fewer people around now, but there was no reassurance they wouldn't hit another mass later, and there was no security in passing through back alleys in this weather, for there would no doubt have been some carefully-hidden thieves waiting to take advantage of the commotion. The two of them would have stood out. Mihail could handle himself adequately enough, and he certainly wasn't afraid of some lowlife thug on the streets, given the family within which he was raised and the company they often kept, but he didn't wish to terrify the princess further.
"Call me Mihail, mm?" he told her, the offer of familiarity aimed at easing her panic as she seemed momentarily stuck in thought. The man did not know much about reassuring others, but he had been scared many times in his life, and he remembered the way his sisters held him close and called him by a soft nickname, but such intimacy would barely have been appropriate with Athanasia, despite their distant relation. He wanted to convey that sweetness without accidentally offending her, and it was a tricky balance, especially when it was so far from his typical demeanor. "Formalities aside, we are family, and I would want to see you safe and at ease by my side. Elaborate etiquette will hardly help."
Athanasia seemed to change her mind quickly, but Mihail did not mind. It was common for those in a state of confusion to be unsure of what they desired, and he would not fault her for it. He was here to help, after all, and the Kotas home - a place he had visited a couple of times in the past - was arguably more natural for him to reach than the administration building. "It isn't too far. I can have you home soon and safe, and your mother need not worry." Besides, he had several contacts in the city, and if needed, he could send one of them in search of the royal party with the news of the princess's safety.
Hand gripping the younger girl's, though not as tightly as she held his, he began to lead her down the way, avoiding those who still roamed the streets, heads covered as if to prevent themselves from getting rained on further, though it would do them no good. He was usually a fast walker, lost in his fantasies with hardly the time to wait around for others, but he slowed his pace now to ensure that Athanasia could keep in time with him, not wanting her to slip accidentally from too speedy a step and injure herself on the hard ground.
"A shame the gods chose to curse our celebrations with such ghastly weather. I was so looking forward to helping Dion train with his new gift, though I fear the storm will mar his love of the outdoors for a while." It was a half-rambled thought, though truthful. Small children seemed more susceptible to new anxieties, and Mihail could recall plenty of occasions when something tiny had developed into a new terror: his continuing stress over vast bodies of water was a prime example of that. However, he didn't wish to alienate the girl, and his gaze shifted down to her, his conversation designed to steer her mind into calm. "Do you remember yours? They thought I was a girl at mine because I had such pretty long hair. Almost as long as yours, I should think. I think I was very badly behaved, but I am certain you conducted yourself with just as much courtesy as you do today."
Aedea was happy. Her stomach was filled with food and wine, her mouth was filled with honeyed fruit that made her fingers sticky and her hair and face were being filled by refreshing rain that beat like she loved it did. She had a goofy smile on her face as she munched, looking at the civilized folk getting away from the rain while she walked at a leisure pace with Apple at her heels. When turning to the dog, she threw him a piece of a pear and he caught it on her mouth.
She was always focused on her surroundings, however – there was not a moment in which she wasn’t perceptive, as her life in the wilderness taught her that danger could come from any shadow and any crevice… but while she was waiting for Daphne, the priestess that was supposed to watch her, she caught something else in the corner of her eye, making her instinctively turn with a half piece of honeyed orange in her teeth.
Two women – one of them dressed finely, being covered by the other. She seemed to be in absolute pain by the expression of her face; one she couldn’t describe. Aedea turned to Apple for answers, and he seemed scared. Something was not alright.
She decided to help.
She swallowed the orange and dropped the bowl of fruit and ran towards the women as fast as she could, with a step that knew how to not to fall on the slippery rain. She didn’t care if she looked odd or dangerous, she got closer to them to see what could she do, if there was something.
She got close enough to touch them, and then she saw the blood on one of the women’s chiton. With a serious expression on her face, she looked at the woman covering her, “I Aedea. I help”, she said before she started howling.
She howled like a wild animal, and the wolfdog at her side did the same. It was a sound that could send shivers down one’s spine, and her intention was for someone to hear them. Perhaps, if the goddess that supposedly blessed her would attend…
When she looked at the distance, she saw a figure wearing white and gold running towards her. Her expression was at first of unbridled rage, but once she got closer, it turned to worry. She almost slipped on the streets a couple of times, but in the end she arrived, “Aedea, by the gods, what is this?”
The wild woman pointed at the other two, “Something wrong. They hurt. Daphne, help!”
She hoped she knew what was going on.
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Aedea was happy. Her stomach was filled with food and wine, her mouth was filled with honeyed fruit that made her fingers sticky and her hair and face were being filled by refreshing rain that beat like she loved it did. She had a goofy smile on her face as she munched, looking at the civilized folk getting away from the rain while she walked at a leisure pace with Apple at her heels. When turning to the dog, she threw him a piece of a pear and he caught it on her mouth.
She was always focused on her surroundings, however – there was not a moment in which she wasn’t perceptive, as her life in the wilderness taught her that danger could come from any shadow and any crevice… but while she was waiting for Daphne, the priestess that was supposed to watch her, she caught something else in the corner of her eye, making her instinctively turn with a half piece of honeyed orange in her teeth.
Two women – one of them dressed finely, being covered by the other. She seemed to be in absolute pain by the expression of her face; one she couldn’t describe. Aedea turned to Apple for answers, and he seemed scared. Something was not alright.
She decided to help.
She swallowed the orange and dropped the bowl of fruit and ran towards the women as fast as she could, with a step that knew how to not to fall on the slippery rain. She didn’t care if she looked odd or dangerous, she got closer to them to see what could she do, if there was something.
She got close enough to touch them, and then she saw the blood on one of the women’s chiton. With a serious expression on her face, she looked at the woman covering her, “I Aedea. I help”, she said before she started howling.
She howled like a wild animal, and the wolfdog at her side did the same. It was a sound that could send shivers down one’s spine, and her intention was for someone to hear them. Perhaps, if the goddess that supposedly blessed her would attend…
When she looked at the distance, she saw a figure wearing white and gold running towards her. Her expression was at first of unbridled rage, but once she got closer, it turned to worry. She almost slipped on the streets a couple of times, but in the end she arrived, “Aedea, by the gods, what is this?”
The wild woman pointed at the other two, “Something wrong. They hurt. Daphne, help!”
She hoped she knew what was going on.
Aedea was happy. Her stomach was filled with food and wine, her mouth was filled with honeyed fruit that made her fingers sticky and her hair and face were being filled by refreshing rain that beat like she loved it did. She had a goofy smile on her face as she munched, looking at the civilized folk getting away from the rain while she walked at a leisure pace with Apple at her heels. When turning to the dog, she threw him a piece of a pear and he caught it on her mouth.
She was always focused on her surroundings, however – there was not a moment in which she wasn’t perceptive, as her life in the wilderness taught her that danger could come from any shadow and any crevice… but while she was waiting for Daphne, the priestess that was supposed to watch her, she caught something else in the corner of her eye, making her instinctively turn with a half piece of honeyed orange in her teeth.
Two women – one of them dressed finely, being covered by the other. She seemed to be in absolute pain by the expression of her face; one she couldn’t describe. Aedea turned to Apple for answers, and he seemed scared. Something was not alright.
She decided to help.
She swallowed the orange and dropped the bowl of fruit and ran towards the women as fast as she could, with a step that knew how to not to fall on the slippery rain. She didn’t care if she looked odd or dangerous, she got closer to them to see what could she do, if there was something.
She got close enough to touch them, and then she saw the blood on one of the women’s chiton. With a serious expression on her face, she looked at the woman covering her, “I Aedea. I help”, she said before she started howling.
She howled like a wild animal, and the wolfdog at her side did the same. It was a sound that could send shivers down one’s spine, and her intention was for someone to hear them. Perhaps, if the goddess that supposedly blessed her would attend…
When she looked at the distance, she saw a figure wearing white and gold running towards her. Her expression was at first of unbridled rage, but once she got closer, it turned to worry. She almost slipped on the streets a couple of times, but in the end she arrived, “Aedea, by the gods, what is this?”
The wild woman pointed at the other two, “Something wrong. They hurt. Daphne, help!”
She hoped she knew what was going on.
As the Crown Prince replied to her question, Thea mused a moment, oddly satisfied that the memory was not hers alone. It registered in only the smallest flicker of her lip, something that could well go unnoticed as they both seemed to watch for any pause in the deluge provided by the king of the gods.
His response was measured and genuine, something that Prince Vangelis was well-known for providing in nearly every aspect of life. The man was nothing if not stalwart, steady, and truthful. His words did not hurt her, yet in a deeper sense, she was not exactly satisfied with the response - at least, her body was not.
There was a privilege that came with her name, title, and position within the court, that meant she was quite used to finding some way to get what she wanted. The man before her was a far cry from the fresh-off-the-boat youth that crossed her path in Megaris all those years ago, both in his physicality as well as his development as a royal presence. Someday, the man before her would be King of Colchis.
Without looking at him, Thea expression shifted slightly, raising a brow and lowering her lids a moment as she watched the rainfall turn the cobblestones into miniature rapids, with their own currents and rifts. The complications between their families at this point had been focused entirely on the rapid engagement, marriage, and pregnancy of her sister to his brother. In her eyes, hardly complex at all - yet she knew how narrowly they missed that exact fate.
"We play no part in those complications," Thea noted, eyes still scanning the edges of the rolling clouds for any sign of a break, "Nor does our past, as it is ours alone and not shared." For the briefest moment, her eyes flicked over to him as she reassured, "No one else knows."
Perhaps that would offer him some comfort. It was never something they had spoken of in the past. Both of them had a number of siblings, and while Thea could not verify the closeness (if any) that resided between his generation of Kotas, she could at least offer that as an offering of peace.
"I have no interest in anything that would bind our family names any closer," Thea admitted, a veiled statement that could have been otherwise worded as her disinterest in even being considered as his future Queen. The dread of that potential fate left the ghost of a feeling that mirrored the dread she felt. Had she not been mistaken in seeing the signs and sent the two of them into a fearful panic at the thought of a future together, this moment would not have been nearly as uncomfortable.
Still, as her eyes slid sidelong to his face again, a tug of desire in her now more experienced core would not relent. Frustration could not begin to cover the sensation that took her.
Moments alone with any other member of the nobility without retainers or family near by was rare enough. For the two of them to share this moment again seemed as impossible as if she were to stick her arm out from beneath the alcove and capture one of Zeus' bolts in her palm. All in all, she would be remiss if she did not try.
"It would no longer be an issue. The risk, that is," she clarified, turning her eyes back out to the drenched world mere inches away from them, "If that is your concern. I have no intention of ever putting myself in such a position again. With you or anyone for that matter." Her arms crossed as she straightened her shoulders, trying to fend off the worst of the various forms of chill around and between them. "We would owe each other nothing."
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Nov 15, 2019 23:00:10 GMT
Posted In Anthesteria on Nov 15, 2019 23:00:10 GMT
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As the Crown Prince replied to her question, Thea mused a moment, oddly satisfied that the memory was not hers alone. It registered in only the smallest flicker of her lip, something that could well go unnoticed as they both seemed to watch for any pause in the deluge provided by the king of the gods.
His response was measured and genuine, something that Prince Vangelis was well-known for providing in nearly every aspect of life. The man was nothing if not stalwart, steady, and truthful. His words did not hurt her, yet in a deeper sense, she was not exactly satisfied with the response - at least, her body was not.
There was a privilege that came with her name, title, and position within the court, that meant she was quite used to finding some way to get what she wanted. The man before her was a far cry from the fresh-off-the-boat youth that crossed her path in Megaris all those years ago, both in his physicality as well as his development as a royal presence. Someday, the man before her would be King of Colchis.
Without looking at him, Thea expression shifted slightly, raising a brow and lowering her lids a moment as she watched the rainfall turn the cobblestones into miniature rapids, with their own currents and rifts. The complications between their families at this point had been focused entirely on the rapid engagement, marriage, and pregnancy of her sister to his brother. In her eyes, hardly complex at all - yet she knew how narrowly they missed that exact fate.
"We play no part in those complications," Thea noted, eyes still scanning the edges of the rolling clouds for any sign of a break, "Nor does our past, as it is ours alone and not shared." For the briefest moment, her eyes flicked over to him as she reassured, "No one else knows."
Perhaps that would offer him some comfort. It was never something they had spoken of in the past. Both of them had a number of siblings, and while Thea could not verify the closeness (if any) that resided between his generation of Kotas, she could at least offer that as an offering of peace.
"I have no interest in anything that would bind our family names any closer," Thea admitted, a veiled statement that could have been otherwise worded as her disinterest in even being considered as his future Queen. The dread of that potential fate left the ghost of a feeling that mirrored the dread she felt. Had she not been mistaken in seeing the signs and sent the two of them into a fearful panic at the thought of a future together, this moment would not have been nearly as uncomfortable.
Still, as her eyes slid sidelong to his face again, a tug of desire in her now more experienced core would not relent. Frustration could not begin to cover the sensation that took her.
Moments alone with any other member of the nobility without retainers or family near by was rare enough. For the two of them to share this moment again seemed as impossible as if she were to stick her arm out from beneath the alcove and capture one of Zeus' bolts in her palm. All in all, she would be remiss if she did not try.
"It would no longer be an issue. The risk, that is," she clarified, turning her eyes back out to the drenched world mere inches away from them, "If that is your concern. I have no intention of ever putting myself in such a position again. With you or anyone for that matter." Her arms crossed as she straightened her shoulders, trying to fend off the worst of the various forms of chill around and between them. "We would owe each other nothing."
As the Crown Prince replied to her question, Thea mused a moment, oddly satisfied that the memory was not hers alone. It registered in only the smallest flicker of her lip, something that could well go unnoticed as they both seemed to watch for any pause in the deluge provided by the king of the gods.
His response was measured and genuine, something that Prince Vangelis was well-known for providing in nearly every aspect of life. The man was nothing if not stalwart, steady, and truthful. His words did not hurt her, yet in a deeper sense, she was not exactly satisfied with the response - at least, her body was not.
There was a privilege that came with her name, title, and position within the court, that meant she was quite used to finding some way to get what she wanted. The man before her was a far cry from the fresh-off-the-boat youth that crossed her path in Megaris all those years ago, both in his physicality as well as his development as a royal presence. Someday, the man before her would be King of Colchis.
Without looking at him, Thea expression shifted slightly, raising a brow and lowering her lids a moment as she watched the rainfall turn the cobblestones into miniature rapids, with their own currents and rifts. The complications between their families at this point had been focused entirely on the rapid engagement, marriage, and pregnancy of her sister to his brother. In her eyes, hardly complex at all - yet she knew how narrowly they missed that exact fate.
"We play no part in those complications," Thea noted, eyes still scanning the edges of the rolling clouds for any sign of a break, "Nor does our past, as it is ours alone and not shared." For the briefest moment, her eyes flicked over to him as she reassured, "No one else knows."
Perhaps that would offer him some comfort. It was never something they had spoken of in the past. Both of them had a number of siblings, and while Thea could not verify the closeness (if any) that resided between his generation of Kotas, she could at least offer that as an offering of peace.
"I have no interest in anything that would bind our family names any closer," Thea admitted, a veiled statement that could have been otherwise worded as her disinterest in even being considered as his future Queen. The dread of that potential fate left the ghost of a feeling that mirrored the dread she felt. Had she not been mistaken in seeing the signs and sent the two of them into a fearful panic at the thought of a future together, this moment would not have been nearly as uncomfortable.
Still, as her eyes slid sidelong to his face again, a tug of desire in her now more experienced core would not relent. Frustration could not begin to cover the sensation that took her.
Moments alone with any other member of the nobility without retainers or family near by was rare enough. For the two of them to share this moment again seemed as impossible as if she were to stick her arm out from beneath the alcove and capture one of Zeus' bolts in her palm. All in all, she would be remiss if she did not try.
"It would no longer be an issue. The risk, that is," she clarified, turning her eyes back out to the drenched world mere inches away from them, "If that is your concern. I have no intention of ever putting myself in such a position again. With you or anyone for that matter." Her arms crossed as she straightened her shoulders, trying to fend off the worst of the various forms of chill around and between them. "We would owe each other nothing."
Vangelis' eyes narrowed at the assertions made by the woman before him. He kept his gaze flickering between her face, in search of the integrity behind her words and the rain out in the street, where the wrath of Zeus came pouring down upon the capitol in a deluge of cleansing power.
It wasn't that he specifically distrusted Thea. But he had always been told to be watchful and careful of her bloodline. Of how the Thanasi family had always made no bones or hidden allusions of the fact that they were eager to claim the throne for their own inheritance. Vangelis was certain that it would please almost all of Thea's siblings to no end to have a Thanasi married to himself, regardless of who he as an individual was. Nethis had already tried to her means of doing so, to no avail. Had Dionysios now sent in his second born to do what his first could not?
Looking away from the bedraggled, sodden and infinitely vulnerable picture of Thea in her soaked attire, droplets flicked from Vangelis' hair as he stared out into the downpour. He spoke with his gaze transfixed there but his words were for her all the same, even when his stare was otherwise occupied by nothing.
"Your father has made no secret of his intentions upon the throne." He told her, blunt and forthright, as was his nature. His peripheral vision turned in her direction, his stare from the corner of his eye before he looked back out towards the rain. "You expect me to believe your loyalty to he and your siblings is so slight?"
He had never fully trusted that Evras' motives for marrying his brother were pure. How was he to believe in her sister, whom he had had barely any interaction with since their connection was severed years ago?
Her only saving grace in his books so far as that she hadn't attempted to entrap him then... but would she do so, now? Just how much had changed in Thea of Thanasi since their triste in Megaris?
Turning to face her properly for the first time, Vangelis took the chance to intimidate the truth from the woman and leaned in. Pressing a palm against the wall either side of her head and leaning his weight into shoulders that bulged to support him, Vangelis encroached upon Thea’s personal space, his frame large and bulky over her.
“What is it that you want, Thea?” He asked her, his voice low and his eyes narrowed with interrogation. “You must know that I would distrust any approach from you or any other Thanasi. What makes you propose an offer I could do little but refuse?”
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Nov 25, 2019 14:50:47 GMT
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Vangelis' eyes narrowed at the assertions made by the woman before him. He kept his gaze flickering between her face, in search of the integrity behind her words and the rain out in the street, where the wrath of Zeus came pouring down upon the capitol in a deluge of cleansing power.
It wasn't that he specifically distrusted Thea. But he had always been told to be watchful and careful of her bloodline. Of how the Thanasi family had always made no bones or hidden allusions of the fact that they were eager to claim the throne for their own inheritance. Vangelis was certain that it would please almost all of Thea's siblings to no end to have a Thanasi married to himself, regardless of who he as an individual was. Nethis had already tried to her means of doing so, to no avail. Had Dionysios now sent in his second born to do what his first could not?
Looking away from the bedraggled, sodden and infinitely vulnerable picture of Thea in her soaked attire, droplets flicked from Vangelis' hair as he stared out into the downpour. He spoke with his gaze transfixed there but his words were for her all the same, even when his stare was otherwise occupied by nothing.
"Your father has made no secret of his intentions upon the throne." He told her, blunt and forthright, as was his nature. His peripheral vision turned in her direction, his stare from the corner of his eye before he looked back out towards the rain. "You expect me to believe your loyalty to he and your siblings is so slight?"
He had never fully trusted that Evras' motives for marrying his brother were pure. How was he to believe in her sister, whom he had had barely any interaction with since their connection was severed years ago?
Her only saving grace in his books so far as that she hadn't attempted to entrap him then... but would she do so, now? Just how much had changed in Thea of Thanasi since their triste in Megaris?
Turning to face her properly for the first time, Vangelis took the chance to intimidate the truth from the woman and leaned in. Pressing a palm against the wall either side of her head and leaning his weight into shoulders that bulged to support him, Vangelis encroached upon Thea’s personal space, his frame large and bulky over her.
“What is it that you want, Thea?” He asked her, his voice low and his eyes narrowed with interrogation. “You must know that I would distrust any approach from you or any other Thanasi. What makes you propose an offer I could do little but refuse?”
Vangelis' eyes narrowed at the assertions made by the woman before him. He kept his gaze flickering between her face, in search of the integrity behind her words and the rain out in the street, where the wrath of Zeus came pouring down upon the capitol in a deluge of cleansing power.
It wasn't that he specifically distrusted Thea. But he had always been told to be watchful and careful of her bloodline. Of how the Thanasi family had always made no bones or hidden allusions of the fact that they were eager to claim the throne for their own inheritance. Vangelis was certain that it would please almost all of Thea's siblings to no end to have a Thanasi married to himself, regardless of who he as an individual was. Nethis had already tried to her means of doing so, to no avail. Had Dionysios now sent in his second born to do what his first could not?
Looking away from the bedraggled, sodden and infinitely vulnerable picture of Thea in her soaked attire, droplets flicked from Vangelis' hair as he stared out into the downpour. He spoke with his gaze transfixed there but his words were for her all the same, even when his stare was otherwise occupied by nothing.
"Your father has made no secret of his intentions upon the throne." He told her, blunt and forthright, as was his nature. His peripheral vision turned in her direction, his stare from the corner of his eye before he looked back out towards the rain. "You expect me to believe your loyalty to he and your siblings is so slight?"
He had never fully trusted that Evras' motives for marrying his brother were pure. How was he to believe in her sister, whom he had had barely any interaction with since their connection was severed years ago?
Her only saving grace in his books so far as that she hadn't attempted to entrap him then... but would she do so, now? Just how much had changed in Thea of Thanasi since their triste in Megaris?
Turning to face her properly for the first time, Vangelis took the chance to intimidate the truth from the woman and leaned in. Pressing a palm against the wall either side of her head and leaning his weight into shoulders that bulged to support him, Vangelis encroached upon Thea’s personal space, his frame large and bulky over her.
“What is it that you want, Thea?” He asked her, his voice low and his eyes narrowed with interrogation. “You must know that I would distrust any approach from you or any other Thanasi. What makes you propose an offer I could do little but refuse?”
With her little hand held securely in Lord Mihail's warm grasp, Athanasia felt some of her fear melt away. She was safe now with her sister-in-law's brother, as long as they didn't become separated. There were still people running about, most likely seeking the shelter of their own homes. Most of the public buildings were probably full, and nobody but her own family would be allowed into the administration building. Several of those she saw held their himations above their heads as if to shield them from the rain and she wondered how they were able to see where they were going.
She pulled the lord's himation closer around her small form, wrapping part of it around her head. Now her tiara and her expensive jewelry were hidden from view, as well as most of her chiton. They would be less likely to be robbed by any enterprising miscreants hoping to take advantage of the storm. Athanasia knew that he would defend her, but she didn't want him to get hurt. It was better to remove the temptation. She wished she had brought her bow. Then she wouldn't have been so frightened and would be able to hold her own in a fight. But nobody took bows to celebrations except the royal guards who preferred them to swords. Had she asked, her mother would have denied her request.
Had she already noticed that her only daughter was missing? Was her family panicking, thinking that she had been kidnapped or trampled by the crowd? Her mother would be distraught and one or more of her brothers would go out looking for her. It bothered her that they were worrying when she was in no danger at all. Hopefully, she wasn't too far from the administration building so that she could put their minds at ease.
Athanasia nodded when Lord Mihail asked her to forget formality for now. Her parents would chastise him for telling her that; they were always reminding her that protocol was important. She sometimes forgot to address them as 'Your Majesty' in public, calling them “Mother' and 'Father' instead. And there were other things she forgot too, those unwritten rules of polite society that must always be observed. There was no need for it now, on the rainy streets of the city. She was glad to let it go.
“Very well, Mihail,” she replied with a shy smile. “Please call me Athanasia.” She would have asked him to call her 'Asia,' but that nickname was reserved for family and her closest friends, like her cousin Imeeya. Even though she didn't want anyone to worry about her, she didn't want to fall ill either or they would be even more concerned. She didn't get sick often but she was freezing in the rain and even her mother would rather her be dry and at home than with her and wet. So it was best to go back to the manor.
Mihail said they were close, so he must know where they were. The streets were completely unfamiliar to her. The young princess usually traveled by carriage and didn't pay much attention to the route they took, preferring to look out the window at the scenery and the people going about their daily tasks. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a commoner. The peasant children seemed to have more freedom than she did, running around everywhere unsupervised. And when they grew up, they could marry the person they fell in love with. Still, Athanasia enjoyed the privilege of being royal and wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.
“Maybe not,” she replied when he surmised that Dion would not want to go outdoors because the storm scared him. “Like me, he's too restless to stay indoors all the time. He will forget about it soon. And I'm sure he will be eager to try out his new gift. I remember how excited I was when I got my first bow and my brothers taught me how to use it. I'm still learning and one day, I hope to be the best archer in the kingdom.”
She laughed when he told her that at his ceremony, they had thought he was female. She stopped for a moment and gazed up at him. “I don't think you look like a girl. But why did you have such long hair? And no, I didn't behave like a princess should. I kicked one boy in the shins and my flower crown kept falling off. It even fell off during my blessing. My father was the one who blessed me. Did he bless you too?”
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With her little hand held securely in Lord Mihail's warm grasp, Athanasia felt some of her fear melt away. She was safe now with her sister-in-law's brother, as long as they didn't become separated. There were still people running about, most likely seeking the shelter of their own homes. Most of the public buildings were probably full, and nobody but her own family would be allowed into the administration building. Several of those she saw held their himations above their heads as if to shield them from the rain and she wondered how they were able to see where they were going.
She pulled the lord's himation closer around her small form, wrapping part of it around her head. Now her tiara and her expensive jewelry were hidden from view, as well as most of her chiton. They would be less likely to be robbed by any enterprising miscreants hoping to take advantage of the storm. Athanasia knew that he would defend her, but she didn't want him to get hurt. It was better to remove the temptation. She wished she had brought her bow. Then she wouldn't have been so frightened and would be able to hold her own in a fight. But nobody took bows to celebrations except the royal guards who preferred them to swords. Had she asked, her mother would have denied her request.
Had she already noticed that her only daughter was missing? Was her family panicking, thinking that she had been kidnapped or trampled by the crowd? Her mother would be distraught and one or more of her brothers would go out looking for her. It bothered her that they were worrying when she was in no danger at all. Hopefully, she wasn't too far from the administration building so that she could put their minds at ease.
Athanasia nodded when Lord Mihail asked her to forget formality for now. Her parents would chastise him for telling her that; they were always reminding her that protocol was important. She sometimes forgot to address them as 'Your Majesty' in public, calling them “Mother' and 'Father' instead. And there were other things she forgot too, those unwritten rules of polite society that must always be observed. There was no need for it now, on the rainy streets of the city. She was glad to let it go.
“Very well, Mihail,” she replied with a shy smile. “Please call me Athanasia.” She would have asked him to call her 'Asia,' but that nickname was reserved for family and her closest friends, like her cousin Imeeya. Even though she didn't want anyone to worry about her, she didn't want to fall ill either or they would be even more concerned. She didn't get sick often but she was freezing in the rain and even her mother would rather her be dry and at home than with her and wet. So it was best to go back to the manor.
Mihail said they were close, so he must know where they were. The streets were completely unfamiliar to her. The young princess usually traveled by carriage and didn't pay much attention to the route they took, preferring to look out the window at the scenery and the people going about their daily tasks. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a commoner. The peasant children seemed to have more freedom than she did, running around everywhere unsupervised. And when they grew up, they could marry the person they fell in love with. Still, Athanasia enjoyed the privilege of being royal and wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.
“Maybe not,” she replied when he surmised that Dion would not want to go outdoors because the storm scared him. “Like me, he's too restless to stay indoors all the time. He will forget about it soon. And I'm sure he will be eager to try out his new gift. I remember how excited I was when I got my first bow and my brothers taught me how to use it. I'm still learning and one day, I hope to be the best archer in the kingdom.”
She laughed when he told her that at his ceremony, they had thought he was female. She stopped for a moment and gazed up at him. “I don't think you look like a girl. But why did you have such long hair? And no, I didn't behave like a princess should. I kicked one boy in the shins and my flower crown kept falling off. It even fell off during my blessing. My father was the one who blessed me. Did he bless you too?”
With her little hand held securely in Lord Mihail's warm grasp, Athanasia felt some of her fear melt away. She was safe now with her sister-in-law's brother, as long as they didn't become separated. There were still people running about, most likely seeking the shelter of their own homes. Most of the public buildings were probably full, and nobody but her own family would be allowed into the administration building. Several of those she saw held their himations above their heads as if to shield them from the rain and she wondered how they were able to see where they were going.
She pulled the lord's himation closer around her small form, wrapping part of it around her head. Now her tiara and her expensive jewelry were hidden from view, as well as most of her chiton. They would be less likely to be robbed by any enterprising miscreants hoping to take advantage of the storm. Athanasia knew that he would defend her, but she didn't want him to get hurt. It was better to remove the temptation. She wished she had brought her bow. Then she wouldn't have been so frightened and would be able to hold her own in a fight. But nobody took bows to celebrations except the royal guards who preferred them to swords. Had she asked, her mother would have denied her request.
Had she already noticed that her only daughter was missing? Was her family panicking, thinking that she had been kidnapped or trampled by the crowd? Her mother would be distraught and one or more of her brothers would go out looking for her. It bothered her that they were worrying when she was in no danger at all. Hopefully, she wasn't too far from the administration building so that she could put their minds at ease.
Athanasia nodded when Lord Mihail asked her to forget formality for now. Her parents would chastise him for telling her that; they were always reminding her that protocol was important. She sometimes forgot to address them as 'Your Majesty' in public, calling them “Mother' and 'Father' instead. And there were other things she forgot too, those unwritten rules of polite society that must always be observed. There was no need for it now, on the rainy streets of the city. She was glad to let it go.
“Very well, Mihail,” she replied with a shy smile. “Please call me Athanasia.” She would have asked him to call her 'Asia,' but that nickname was reserved for family and her closest friends, like her cousin Imeeya. Even though she didn't want anyone to worry about her, she didn't want to fall ill either or they would be even more concerned. She didn't get sick often but she was freezing in the rain and even her mother would rather her be dry and at home than with her and wet. So it was best to go back to the manor.
Mihail said they were close, so he must know where they were. The streets were completely unfamiliar to her. The young princess usually traveled by carriage and didn't pay much attention to the route they took, preferring to look out the window at the scenery and the people going about their daily tasks. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a commoner. The peasant children seemed to have more freedom than she did, running around everywhere unsupervised. And when they grew up, they could marry the person they fell in love with. Still, Athanasia enjoyed the privilege of being royal and wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.
“Maybe not,” she replied when he surmised that Dion would not want to go outdoors because the storm scared him. “Like me, he's too restless to stay indoors all the time. He will forget about it soon. And I'm sure he will be eager to try out his new gift. I remember how excited I was when I got my first bow and my brothers taught me how to use it. I'm still learning and one day, I hope to be the best archer in the kingdom.”
She laughed when he told her that at his ceremony, they had thought he was female. She stopped for a moment and gazed up at him. “I don't think you look like a girl. But why did you have such long hair? And no, I didn't behave like a princess should. I kicked one boy in the shins and my flower crown kept falling off. It even fell off during my blessing. My father was the one who blessed me. Did he bless you too?”
Skylla swore under her breath, trying not to move Evras too much, just in case she hurt her. Looking up toward the Prince who seemed ready to lift her into his arms, her dark gaze was solemn. Especially when Evras expressed the pain she was feeling. A glance down the princess' body had her blanching and Skylla glanced up to Lysander for some sort of guidance. The man only nodded to affirm her thoughts.
Suddenly, she felt less panicked. Evras would not die, nor would she remain in pain. Now, her thoughts were entirely on helping Evras keep her dignity in public. Easing the pain was only part of it. Surely, she had realized now and the cry that the princess let out was not one of pain of body, but of grief.
The addition of the wild girl had Skylla tensing, turning her gaze quickly to the woman. But then the sight of the priestess approaching them brought a sort of relaxing feeling to Skylla's bones. Looking to both Zanon and the new priestess, Skylla frowned, "I think she's having a miscarriage. There is little that we can do to help but make her comfortable and help it pass," Skylla admitted softly, "She fell so hard..."
It was hard not to feel a rush of emotion, but Lysander's hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed a little tightly as a quiet reminder not to lose her composure. "It would be best to take her home and have your own physicians to care for her," Skylla advised the prince carefully. Evras' sniffling made Skylla reach out to touch her shoulder, staring down into her face with a gentle expression. "I'm sorry, my princess. Everything will be alright. You will be alright. You'll just need cleaned up and a lot of rest. I'm... sorry," Skylla admitted carefully. Sorry that she had been able to do so little to help the princess. Whether the woman had known before she had fallen or not was unknown, but she could see the grief in the eyes of the princess.
Then she was pulling away and rising to her feet with her gaze on the priestess and wild redhead. For a moment, she had a thought about visiting the temple she knew to be in Colchis, but she was unsure of Lysander would allow her to go so far while she was still training.
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Skylla swore under her breath, trying not to move Evras too much, just in case she hurt her. Looking up toward the Prince who seemed ready to lift her into his arms, her dark gaze was solemn. Especially when Evras expressed the pain she was feeling. A glance down the princess' body had her blanching and Skylla glanced up to Lysander for some sort of guidance. The man only nodded to affirm her thoughts.
Suddenly, she felt less panicked. Evras would not die, nor would she remain in pain. Now, her thoughts were entirely on helping Evras keep her dignity in public. Easing the pain was only part of it. Surely, she had realized now and the cry that the princess let out was not one of pain of body, but of grief.
The addition of the wild girl had Skylla tensing, turning her gaze quickly to the woman. But then the sight of the priestess approaching them brought a sort of relaxing feeling to Skylla's bones. Looking to both Zanon and the new priestess, Skylla frowned, "I think she's having a miscarriage. There is little that we can do to help but make her comfortable and help it pass," Skylla admitted softly, "She fell so hard..."
It was hard not to feel a rush of emotion, but Lysander's hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed a little tightly as a quiet reminder not to lose her composure. "It would be best to take her home and have your own physicians to care for her," Skylla advised the prince carefully. Evras' sniffling made Skylla reach out to touch her shoulder, staring down into her face with a gentle expression. "I'm sorry, my princess. Everything will be alright. You will be alright. You'll just need cleaned up and a lot of rest. I'm... sorry," Skylla admitted carefully. Sorry that she had been able to do so little to help the princess. Whether the woman had known before she had fallen or not was unknown, but she could see the grief in the eyes of the princess.
Then she was pulling away and rising to her feet with her gaze on the priestess and wild redhead. For a moment, she had a thought about visiting the temple she knew to be in Colchis, but she was unsure of Lysander would allow her to go so far while she was still training.
Skylla swore under her breath, trying not to move Evras too much, just in case she hurt her. Looking up toward the Prince who seemed ready to lift her into his arms, her dark gaze was solemn. Especially when Evras expressed the pain she was feeling. A glance down the princess' body had her blanching and Skylla glanced up to Lysander for some sort of guidance. The man only nodded to affirm her thoughts.
Suddenly, she felt less panicked. Evras would not die, nor would she remain in pain. Now, her thoughts were entirely on helping Evras keep her dignity in public. Easing the pain was only part of it. Surely, she had realized now and the cry that the princess let out was not one of pain of body, but of grief.
The addition of the wild girl had Skylla tensing, turning her gaze quickly to the woman. But then the sight of the priestess approaching them brought a sort of relaxing feeling to Skylla's bones. Looking to both Zanon and the new priestess, Skylla frowned, "I think she's having a miscarriage. There is little that we can do to help but make her comfortable and help it pass," Skylla admitted softly, "She fell so hard..."
It was hard not to feel a rush of emotion, but Lysander's hand landed on her shoulder and he squeezed a little tightly as a quiet reminder not to lose her composure. "It would be best to take her home and have your own physicians to care for her," Skylla advised the prince carefully. Evras' sniffling made Skylla reach out to touch her shoulder, staring down into her face with a gentle expression. "I'm sorry, my princess. Everything will be alright. You will be alright. You'll just need cleaned up and a lot of rest. I'm... sorry," Skylla admitted carefully. Sorry that she had been able to do so little to help the princess. Whether the woman had known before she had fallen or not was unknown, but she could see the grief in the eyes of the princess.
Then she was pulling away and rising to her feet with her gaze on the priestess and wild redhead. For a moment, she had a thought about visiting the temple she knew to be in Colchis, but she was unsure of Lysander would allow her to go so far while she was still training.
Thea took in his words, listening to his reiteration in distrust of her family, shifting her glance away from the torrents of rain and miniature currents on the cobblestones to her sandal-shod feet, shifting in a manner that she felt rather than heard the squelch of the drenched leather beneath her feet. His questioning of her loyalty to her family let her sigh silently through her nose, a minuscule and almost unnoticeable shake of her head at his misunderstanding of his intention.
“It is not so much loyalty as it is individual desires,” she noted, eyeing him sidelong for a moment before turning her eyes back to the hazy, blue-grey world around them.
“Not all of us aspire to be our fathers,” Thea mused, almost under her breath. It was tragic, really, that Nethis took so much after their father, with constant political machinations in place and a distinctly distrusting approach to nearly every aspect of life. Her words also held a different timbre, knowing that the Crown Prince had no choice but to aspire to his own father’s place upon the throne - which one day would be his own.
Still, a selfish comment it was, and she quickly brushed it aside, noting that the shape of the clouds ahead had allowed for at least the briefest swatches of pale color to peek through. This storm would not last long. The torrents of rain began to relent slightly, as if the sky was taking a moment to breathe. Through the haze of falling rain, the shapes and forms of buildings reemerged, becoming less of a shadow and retaining more of their true colors.
Taking the rejection for what it was, Thea unfurled her arms to take a moment to unstick the soaked fabric from her legs. If the rain was lightening some, then perhaps those who had been sent to fetch the carriages would have returned by now and she could return home for a warm bath. The peaks of her chest fought to press through the fabric, sensitive from the cold and the wet.
Her motion was left undone as instinct turned her back to the wall again as the Crown Prince stepped into her space. Her bare shoulder-blades pressed against the wall fully this time, a deep inhale the only indication of her surprise at his proximity as she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.
In the back of her mind, Thea noted the irony of accepting his rejection of her offer and his body now being close enough for her to feel the heat emanating of his skin. Intimidation? Her eyes met his, unwavering, with only the slightest parting of her lips breaking through her expression.
He asked her, and she questioned it herself for a moment.
The vigor of her own base desires wanted so desperately to press her hands against his chest and arms and to graze her teeth along the prominent tendon of his neck and to press her body against his. These carnal instincts were held off by the grace of whatever god stood in audience among them. Recognizing his intimidation for what it was, an almost predictable approach coming from any man with his physique and station, Thea’s expression softened slightly from its initial reaction.
Their faces were perilously close, so much so that she could feel the heat of their breath on her cheeks.
Lifting her hand slightly, she ever so gently placed the pads of index and middle fingers just to the side of his chin, a soft smile curling at her lips.
“I have told you what I want, Vangelis,” she murmured softly, controlling the distance between their lips precariously as her lashes lowered a moment, then lifted to catch his eyes once again, “You know better than anyone that if I wanted to play into any game, it would already have been done, and we would be in a complete different circumstance on this very day. That is not my aim. You should know that well.”
Where her fingers had rested on his jaw, she allowed them to trace back and down along that long cord of his neck, letting her fingers fall away as they reached the apex of his collarbone.
“Take my words as you wish and refuse them if you must. It was only a question.”
Thea shrugged her shoulder slightly and smile a moment before ducking beneath his braced arm to step into the rain, glancing only briefly over her shoulder before calmly striding through the now-light rain towards the communal square again in search of her family.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Thea took in his words, listening to his reiteration in distrust of her family, shifting her glance away from the torrents of rain and miniature currents on the cobblestones to her sandal-shod feet, shifting in a manner that she felt rather than heard the squelch of the drenched leather beneath her feet. His questioning of her loyalty to her family let her sigh silently through her nose, a minuscule and almost unnoticeable shake of her head at his misunderstanding of his intention.
“It is not so much loyalty as it is individual desires,” she noted, eyeing him sidelong for a moment before turning her eyes back to the hazy, blue-grey world around them.
“Not all of us aspire to be our fathers,” Thea mused, almost under her breath. It was tragic, really, that Nethis took so much after their father, with constant political machinations in place and a distinctly distrusting approach to nearly every aspect of life. Her words also held a different timbre, knowing that the Crown Prince had no choice but to aspire to his own father’s place upon the throne - which one day would be his own.
Still, a selfish comment it was, and she quickly brushed it aside, noting that the shape of the clouds ahead had allowed for at least the briefest swatches of pale color to peek through. This storm would not last long. The torrents of rain began to relent slightly, as if the sky was taking a moment to breathe. Through the haze of falling rain, the shapes and forms of buildings reemerged, becoming less of a shadow and retaining more of their true colors.
Taking the rejection for what it was, Thea unfurled her arms to take a moment to unstick the soaked fabric from her legs. If the rain was lightening some, then perhaps those who had been sent to fetch the carriages would have returned by now and she could return home for a warm bath. The peaks of her chest fought to press through the fabric, sensitive from the cold and the wet.
Her motion was left undone as instinct turned her back to the wall again as the Crown Prince stepped into her space. Her bare shoulder-blades pressed against the wall fully this time, a deep inhale the only indication of her surprise at his proximity as she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.
In the back of her mind, Thea noted the irony of accepting his rejection of her offer and his body now being close enough for her to feel the heat emanating of his skin. Intimidation? Her eyes met his, unwavering, with only the slightest parting of her lips breaking through her expression.
He asked her, and she questioned it herself for a moment.
The vigor of her own base desires wanted so desperately to press her hands against his chest and arms and to graze her teeth along the prominent tendon of his neck and to press her body against his. These carnal instincts were held off by the grace of whatever god stood in audience among them. Recognizing his intimidation for what it was, an almost predictable approach coming from any man with his physique and station, Thea’s expression softened slightly from its initial reaction.
Their faces were perilously close, so much so that she could feel the heat of their breath on her cheeks.
Lifting her hand slightly, she ever so gently placed the pads of index and middle fingers just to the side of his chin, a soft smile curling at her lips.
“I have told you what I want, Vangelis,” she murmured softly, controlling the distance between their lips precariously as her lashes lowered a moment, then lifted to catch his eyes once again, “You know better than anyone that if I wanted to play into any game, it would already have been done, and we would be in a complete different circumstance on this very day. That is not my aim. You should know that well.”
Where her fingers had rested on his jaw, she allowed them to trace back and down along that long cord of his neck, letting her fingers fall away as they reached the apex of his collarbone.
“Take my words as you wish and refuse them if you must. It was only a question.”
Thea shrugged her shoulder slightly and smile a moment before ducking beneath his braced arm to step into the rain, glancing only briefly over her shoulder before calmly striding through the now-light rain towards the communal square again in search of her family.
Thea took in his words, listening to his reiteration in distrust of her family, shifting her glance away from the torrents of rain and miniature currents on the cobblestones to her sandal-shod feet, shifting in a manner that she felt rather than heard the squelch of the drenched leather beneath her feet. His questioning of her loyalty to her family let her sigh silently through her nose, a minuscule and almost unnoticeable shake of her head at his misunderstanding of his intention.
“It is not so much loyalty as it is individual desires,” she noted, eyeing him sidelong for a moment before turning her eyes back to the hazy, blue-grey world around them.
“Not all of us aspire to be our fathers,” Thea mused, almost under her breath. It was tragic, really, that Nethis took so much after their father, with constant political machinations in place and a distinctly distrusting approach to nearly every aspect of life. Her words also held a different timbre, knowing that the Crown Prince had no choice but to aspire to his own father’s place upon the throne - which one day would be his own.
Still, a selfish comment it was, and she quickly brushed it aside, noting that the shape of the clouds ahead had allowed for at least the briefest swatches of pale color to peek through. This storm would not last long. The torrents of rain began to relent slightly, as if the sky was taking a moment to breathe. Through the haze of falling rain, the shapes and forms of buildings reemerged, becoming less of a shadow and retaining more of their true colors.
Taking the rejection for what it was, Thea unfurled her arms to take a moment to unstick the soaked fabric from her legs. If the rain was lightening some, then perhaps those who had been sent to fetch the carriages would have returned by now and she could return home for a warm bath. The peaks of her chest fought to press through the fabric, sensitive from the cold and the wet.
Her motion was left undone as instinct turned her back to the wall again as the Crown Prince stepped into her space. Her bare shoulder-blades pressed against the wall fully this time, a deep inhale the only indication of her surprise at his proximity as she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.
In the back of her mind, Thea noted the irony of accepting his rejection of her offer and his body now being close enough for her to feel the heat emanating of his skin. Intimidation? Her eyes met his, unwavering, with only the slightest parting of her lips breaking through her expression.
He asked her, and she questioned it herself for a moment.
The vigor of her own base desires wanted so desperately to press her hands against his chest and arms and to graze her teeth along the prominent tendon of his neck and to press her body against his. These carnal instincts were held off by the grace of whatever god stood in audience among them. Recognizing his intimidation for what it was, an almost predictable approach coming from any man with his physique and station, Thea’s expression softened slightly from its initial reaction.
Their faces were perilously close, so much so that she could feel the heat of their breath on her cheeks.
Lifting her hand slightly, she ever so gently placed the pads of index and middle fingers just to the side of his chin, a soft smile curling at her lips.
“I have told you what I want, Vangelis,” she murmured softly, controlling the distance between their lips precariously as her lashes lowered a moment, then lifted to catch his eyes once again, “You know better than anyone that if I wanted to play into any game, it would already have been done, and we would be in a complete different circumstance on this very day. That is not my aim. You should know that well.”
Where her fingers had rested on his jaw, she allowed them to trace back and down along that long cord of his neck, letting her fingers fall away as they reached the apex of his collarbone.
“Take my words as you wish and refuse them if you must. It was only a question.”
Thea shrugged her shoulder slightly and smile a moment before ducking beneath his braced arm to step into the rain, glancing only briefly over her shoulder before calmly striding through the now-light rain towards the communal square again in search of her family.
Call him a fool, but Vangelis believed Thea when she intimated that she had no interested in trapping him; that her actions were simply as they appeared.
Perhaps it was his simplicity. Vangelis rarely lied - if ever - and instead turned to a a truth that was so direct, it was harsh and so pointed it was, by some, seen as threatening or rude. He was a man who did not bother with inefficient means of communication. He did not enjoy dancing around a conversation or playing games of deceit and lies. What you saw, was what you got with Vangelis. And it made for a natural assumption that others communicated in the same way.
That wasn't to say that he was naive. And his considerations and analysis of others were merited and intelligent. He was simply more eager to believe in the truth of someone's words than others at times.
And this was, apparently, one of those times.
The way in which Thea defied his intimidation, stood with confidence and met his gaze with a level of determination that was normally beyond the grasp of a liar or cheat was encouraging. As was the way she called him by name and refused to push her point as if tasked with achieving victory in her quest by another...
Thea's manner of personal interaction and casual acceptance of rejection, had Vangelis suspecting that she meant exactly what she was propositioning, without the ulterior motive of her family's ambitions.
Yet, the suspicion was still new in its conception and Vangelis wasn't ready to act on it, despite - or perhaps because of - the ripple of desire that sparked along his nerve-endings as Thea's attentions to her dress drew his gaze to her more feminine and commendable physical attributes. Attributes he had already tasted, yet had never truly experienced. Ignorant as he had been that single time way back when...
Allowing the woman to disappear into the calming rain, Vangelis was left to ponder such memories and thoughts, his skin heating despite the cold weather and his attentions diverted until he gave himself a mental shake and headed out into the rain himself, seeking out the carriages he had ordered and then taking one of the Kotas carts to the front of the halls where he knew his family were camping out, away from the rain.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Call him a fool, but Vangelis believed Thea when she intimated that she had no interested in trapping him; that her actions were simply as they appeared.
Perhaps it was his simplicity. Vangelis rarely lied - if ever - and instead turned to a a truth that was so direct, it was harsh and so pointed it was, by some, seen as threatening or rude. He was a man who did not bother with inefficient means of communication. He did not enjoy dancing around a conversation or playing games of deceit and lies. What you saw, was what you got with Vangelis. And it made for a natural assumption that others communicated in the same way.
That wasn't to say that he was naive. And his considerations and analysis of others were merited and intelligent. He was simply more eager to believe in the truth of someone's words than others at times.
And this was, apparently, one of those times.
The way in which Thea defied his intimidation, stood with confidence and met his gaze with a level of determination that was normally beyond the grasp of a liar or cheat was encouraging. As was the way she called him by name and refused to push her point as if tasked with achieving victory in her quest by another...
Thea's manner of personal interaction and casual acceptance of rejection, had Vangelis suspecting that she meant exactly what she was propositioning, without the ulterior motive of her family's ambitions.
Yet, the suspicion was still new in its conception and Vangelis wasn't ready to act on it, despite - or perhaps because of - the ripple of desire that sparked along his nerve-endings as Thea's attentions to her dress drew his gaze to her more feminine and commendable physical attributes. Attributes he had already tasted, yet had never truly experienced. Ignorant as he had been that single time way back when...
Allowing the woman to disappear into the calming rain, Vangelis was left to ponder such memories and thoughts, his skin heating despite the cold weather and his attentions diverted until he gave himself a mental shake and headed out into the rain himself, seeking out the carriages he had ordered and then taking one of the Kotas carts to the front of the halls where he knew his family were camping out, away from the rain.
Call him a fool, but Vangelis believed Thea when she intimated that she had no interested in trapping him; that her actions were simply as they appeared.
Perhaps it was his simplicity. Vangelis rarely lied - if ever - and instead turned to a a truth that was so direct, it was harsh and so pointed it was, by some, seen as threatening or rude. He was a man who did not bother with inefficient means of communication. He did not enjoy dancing around a conversation or playing games of deceit and lies. What you saw, was what you got with Vangelis. And it made for a natural assumption that others communicated in the same way.
That wasn't to say that he was naive. And his considerations and analysis of others were merited and intelligent. He was simply more eager to believe in the truth of someone's words than others at times.
And this was, apparently, one of those times.
The way in which Thea defied his intimidation, stood with confidence and met his gaze with a level of determination that was normally beyond the grasp of a liar or cheat was encouraging. As was the way she called him by name and refused to push her point as if tasked with achieving victory in her quest by another...
Thea's manner of personal interaction and casual acceptance of rejection, had Vangelis suspecting that she meant exactly what she was propositioning, without the ulterior motive of her family's ambitions.
Yet, the suspicion was still new in its conception and Vangelis wasn't ready to act on it, despite - or perhaps because of - the ripple of desire that sparked along his nerve-endings as Thea's attentions to her dress drew his gaze to her more feminine and commendable physical attributes. Attributes he had already tasted, yet had never truly experienced. Ignorant as he had been that single time way back when...
Allowing the woman to disappear into the calming rain, Vangelis was left to ponder such memories and thoughts, his skin heating despite the cold weather and his attentions diverted until he gave himself a mental shake and headed out into the rain himself, seeking out the carriages he had ordered and then taking one of the Kotas carts to the front of the halls where he knew his family were camping out, away from the rain.