The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Her eyes were wide as she stared at a face, but there was no placing it in the mind of her fear. Pressing her eyes shut, she was praying in her native tongue. It was to gods she had once believed in as a child, ones that she had felt had abandoned her in her time of need. It was amusing how, when things were at their worst, prayer was what came natural.
Past blurred into present as the smell of fire and ash and burning surrounded her. The sounds of popping trees was a sound one would never forget. And it was something that echoed in her ears that kept her under the bed. Pressing her hands into her ears, she shook her head begging with them to leave her alone. Of course, they wouldn’t understand what she was saying, but the words were there. The fear was there.
Fire took everything from her once.
Her sobs were thick in her throat, eyes opening wide as she looked between the two sets of eyes staring up at her. Olena couldn’t hold back the sob that broke through her incoherent prayers. Her fear turned into panic, wondering what she could say to these two for them to leave her alone. Safe didn’t mean anything to her in that moment, as she couldn’t decide what was real and what was a memory. Hadn’t her mother tried to coax her out to run? Hadn’t her sister begged her to come out so they could escape?
Why did this all feel like it had happened before?
There was a shift in the room. Perhaps it was the lack of heat closing in around her. Or maybe it was the distance in the sounds of chaos that were expected. But between one moment to the next, Olena shifted back into reality. The eyes looking at her were not family, but the patient faces of the two women she had started to learn to care for. Cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, she wiggled out from under the bed. Panic filled her as she processed that everything within these walls was going to be lost.
“The cloth!” She said, picking up the discarded white material from the floor and the spool of red thread next to it. There would have been no understanding as to why it was important, but she pulled it close. What else mattered if she didn’t have this? If he was still alive, they would need it.
“I don’t know what else to take.” She cried, hands pressing into Ariadne’s. “He has so little.” Her lament was lost to her own tears. All she could do was pull on the tunic he had left behind, surrounded by the smell of him. It helped calm the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her again. With one hand holding Ariadne, the other reached out to Chrysanthe, “Thank you for coming back for me.” The popping got louder, the fire raging closer. “Is Persephone out?” She asked, needing anything else to focus on until they were free from danger.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Her eyes were wide as she stared at a face, but there was no placing it in the mind of her fear. Pressing her eyes shut, she was praying in her native tongue. It was to gods she had once believed in as a child, ones that she had felt had abandoned her in her time of need. It was amusing how, when things were at their worst, prayer was what came natural.
Past blurred into present as the smell of fire and ash and burning surrounded her. The sounds of popping trees was a sound one would never forget. And it was something that echoed in her ears that kept her under the bed. Pressing her hands into her ears, she shook her head begging with them to leave her alone. Of course, they wouldn’t understand what she was saying, but the words were there. The fear was there.
Fire took everything from her once.
Her sobs were thick in her throat, eyes opening wide as she looked between the two sets of eyes staring up at her. Olena couldn’t hold back the sob that broke through her incoherent prayers. Her fear turned into panic, wondering what she could say to these two for them to leave her alone. Safe didn’t mean anything to her in that moment, as she couldn’t decide what was real and what was a memory. Hadn’t her mother tried to coax her out to run? Hadn’t her sister begged her to come out so they could escape?
Why did this all feel like it had happened before?
There was a shift in the room. Perhaps it was the lack of heat closing in around her. Or maybe it was the distance in the sounds of chaos that were expected. But between one moment to the next, Olena shifted back into reality. The eyes looking at her were not family, but the patient faces of the two women she had started to learn to care for. Cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, she wiggled out from under the bed. Panic filled her as she processed that everything within these walls was going to be lost.
“The cloth!” She said, picking up the discarded white material from the floor and the spool of red thread next to it. There would have been no understanding as to why it was important, but she pulled it close. What else mattered if she didn’t have this? If he was still alive, they would need it.
“I don’t know what else to take.” She cried, hands pressing into Ariadne’s. “He has so little.” Her lament was lost to her own tears. All she could do was pull on the tunic he had left behind, surrounded by the smell of him. It helped calm the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her again. With one hand holding Ariadne, the other reached out to Chrysanthe, “Thank you for coming back for me.” The popping got louder, the fire raging closer. “Is Persephone out?” She asked, needing anything else to focus on until they were free from danger.
Her eyes were wide as she stared at a face, but there was no placing it in the mind of her fear. Pressing her eyes shut, she was praying in her native tongue. It was to gods she had once believed in as a child, ones that she had felt had abandoned her in her time of need. It was amusing how, when things were at their worst, prayer was what came natural.
Past blurred into present as the smell of fire and ash and burning surrounded her. The sounds of popping trees was a sound one would never forget. And it was something that echoed in her ears that kept her under the bed. Pressing her hands into her ears, she shook her head begging with them to leave her alone. Of course, they wouldn’t understand what she was saying, but the words were there. The fear was there.
Fire took everything from her once.
Her sobs were thick in her throat, eyes opening wide as she looked between the two sets of eyes staring up at her. Olena couldn’t hold back the sob that broke through her incoherent prayers. Her fear turned into panic, wondering what she could say to these two for them to leave her alone. Safe didn’t mean anything to her in that moment, as she couldn’t decide what was real and what was a memory. Hadn’t her mother tried to coax her out to run? Hadn’t her sister begged her to come out so they could escape?
Why did this all feel like it had happened before?
There was a shift in the room. Perhaps it was the lack of heat closing in around her. Or maybe it was the distance in the sounds of chaos that were expected. But between one moment to the next, Olena shifted back into reality. The eyes looking at her were not family, but the patient faces of the two women she had started to learn to care for. Cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, she wiggled out from under the bed. Panic filled her as she processed that everything within these walls was going to be lost.
“The cloth!” She said, picking up the discarded white material from the floor and the spool of red thread next to it. There would have been no understanding as to why it was important, but she pulled it close. What else mattered if she didn’t have this? If he was still alive, they would need it.
“I don’t know what else to take.” She cried, hands pressing into Ariadne’s. “He has so little.” Her lament was lost to her own tears. All she could do was pull on the tunic he had left behind, surrounded by the smell of him. It helped calm the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her again. With one hand holding Ariadne, the other reached out to Chrysanthe, “Thank you for coming back for me.” The popping got louder, the fire raging closer. “Is Persephone out?” She asked, needing anything else to focus on until they were free from danger.
Persephone did not answer him before even more danger was suddenly in their midst. The approach of the new rider had Iason swinging his mount between the queen and perceived attacker. His sword was drawn in an instant and as he recognized the man before them he felt the blood rush in his ears with rage. It was a new feeling for the Dimitrou, most of his life he’d had little to cause him anything beyond the most basic of annoyances, and he’d learned at his father’s knee how best to control his temper, but the sight of the Stravos lord daring to approach them as the world burned around him was infuriating. Perhaps because of how little sleep he’d gotten, or the fear around them, or his desperate need to keep Persephone safe, but even as she spoke he felt his hand tighten on his sword to prevent himself from drawing it across the man’s throat.
Keeping his expression as stoic as he could, there was a fire in his blue eyes that was scarcely concealed disgust. This was the man who had raised the monster who had tried to kill him and his fiancee, the one who surely had set this blaze to utterly destroy the home and lands of one of his own nobles. The man who had been declared a traitor before the whole senate and removed from the line of succession. Was it possible that no one else found this a problem? No one had managed to keep him in any sort of line, and now it was just further proof that he’d stepped beyond it. He was a spoiled boy throwing a tantrum, not a king to rule a country. As much as he hated the idea of being king himself at least he knew how to lead and care for people.
“Your hands before you, my lord. Prove you are unarmed.” Though the honorific was left in place he felt his jaw clench at the words. With his sword lifted at the man he kept his tone steady and his gaze fixed to watch for any sudden movement. “With your majesty’s blessing, I would have him bound and blindfolded until such time as we could question him safely.”
He didn’t know if Persephone would permit such treatment of the man, but he did not trust the accuracy of an arrow when someone was mounted, and he didn’t think she would ever have him walk. No it would be best for all if his hands were bound to the saddle, his eyes covered so that he could not give away their location when they finally stopped if he was to escape. Iason himself would willingly hold the lead of his horse to ensure the traitor’s father did not escape.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jul 26, 2020 12:24:29 GMT
Posted In Up In Smoke on Jul 26, 2020 12:24:29 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone did not answer him before even more danger was suddenly in their midst. The approach of the new rider had Iason swinging his mount between the queen and perceived attacker. His sword was drawn in an instant and as he recognized the man before them he felt the blood rush in his ears with rage. It was a new feeling for the Dimitrou, most of his life he’d had little to cause him anything beyond the most basic of annoyances, and he’d learned at his father’s knee how best to control his temper, but the sight of the Stravos lord daring to approach them as the world burned around him was infuriating. Perhaps because of how little sleep he’d gotten, or the fear around them, or his desperate need to keep Persephone safe, but even as she spoke he felt his hand tighten on his sword to prevent himself from drawing it across the man’s throat.
Keeping his expression as stoic as he could, there was a fire in his blue eyes that was scarcely concealed disgust. This was the man who had raised the monster who had tried to kill him and his fiancee, the one who surely had set this blaze to utterly destroy the home and lands of one of his own nobles. The man who had been declared a traitor before the whole senate and removed from the line of succession. Was it possible that no one else found this a problem? No one had managed to keep him in any sort of line, and now it was just further proof that he’d stepped beyond it. He was a spoiled boy throwing a tantrum, not a king to rule a country. As much as he hated the idea of being king himself at least he knew how to lead and care for people.
“Your hands before you, my lord. Prove you are unarmed.” Though the honorific was left in place he felt his jaw clench at the words. With his sword lifted at the man he kept his tone steady and his gaze fixed to watch for any sudden movement. “With your majesty’s blessing, I would have him bound and blindfolded until such time as we could question him safely.”
He didn’t know if Persephone would permit such treatment of the man, but he did not trust the accuracy of an arrow when someone was mounted, and he didn’t think she would ever have him walk. No it would be best for all if his hands were bound to the saddle, his eyes covered so that he could not give away their location when they finally stopped if he was to escape. Iason himself would willingly hold the lead of his horse to ensure the traitor’s father did not escape.
Persephone did not answer him before even more danger was suddenly in their midst. The approach of the new rider had Iason swinging his mount between the queen and perceived attacker. His sword was drawn in an instant and as he recognized the man before them he felt the blood rush in his ears with rage. It was a new feeling for the Dimitrou, most of his life he’d had little to cause him anything beyond the most basic of annoyances, and he’d learned at his father’s knee how best to control his temper, but the sight of the Stravos lord daring to approach them as the world burned around him was infuriating. Perhaps because of how little sleep he’d gotten, or the fear around them, or his desperate need to keep Persephone safe, but even as she spoke he felt his hand tighten on his sword to prevent himself from drawing it across the man’s throat.
Keeping his expression as stoic as he could, there was a fire in his blue eyes that was scarcely concealed disgust. This was the man who had raised the monster who had tried to kill him and his fiancee, the one who surely had set this blaze to utterly destroy the home and lands of one of his own nobles. The man who had been declared a traitor before the whole senate and removed from the line of succession. Was it possible that no one else found this a problem? No one had managed to keep him in any sort of line, and now it was just further proof that he’d stepped beyond it. He was a spoiled boy throwing a tantrum, not a king to rule a country. As much as he hated the idea of being king himself at least he knew how to lead and care for people.
“Your hands before you, my lord. Prove you are unarmed.” Though the honorific was left in place he felt his jaw clench at the words. With his sword lifted at the man he kept his tone steady and his gaze fixed to watch for any sudden movement. “With your majesty’s blessing, I would have him bound and blindfolded until such time as we could question him safely.”
He didn’t know if Persephone would permit such treatment of the man, but he did not trust the accuracy of an arrow when someone was mounted, and he didn’t think she would ever have him walk. No it would be best for all if his hands were bound to the saddle, his eyes covered so that he could not give away their location when they finally stopped if he was to escape. Iason himself would willingly hold the lead of his horse to ensure the traitor’s father did not escape.
As the forest burned only half a mile away, the flames spreading quickly and headed towards the house, Persephone remained where she was, unwilling to leave without the others that had been inside the estate. It was one thing to lose a home, to lose the memories within it and all that they might mean - she was fully aware of how that felt. But it was a loss unlike any other to subject a loss of life to such traumas. She would not see it happen here. She would not leave until all who had stood and travelled with her were by her side and mounted ready to leave together. Despite the smoke and the dark, grittiness in the air as the fore drew closer, she could wait a little longer.
Coughing delicately behind her hand, maintaining the length in her back and crown, Persephone nodded when one of Iris' servants ran to her to confirm that all of the estate hands and slaves had been released into the fields and were running for shelter elsewhere. Only the privileged that had stayed within the estate itself were still to be accounted for.
When Iason spoke, defensive of her safety as always yet bending to her instruction on how to handle Keikelius, Persephone felt no sympathy in making the Stravos lord's life any easier. This was, after all, the man who had allowed his son to run riot and destroy her home and life. Made her think her sister was dead for two months. And how likely hunted her in a way that led to fires and the destruction of others. He deserved little respect, nor was he entitled to the immediate trust that would see him treated as anything but a prisoner. Not when fire was a literal threat upon their heels.
"Do what you think is best, Lord Iason." Persephone responded, giving him full reign of choice over how the man was treated. "So long as there is no permanent damage to his person and he will not slow us in our escape, I see no reason to not take every precaution to protect ourselves."
Keikelius' son had painted her as an outlaw and a coward. Now he would have to deal with being treated at the hands of said outlaw...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
As the forest burned only half a mile away, the flames spreading quickly and headed towards the house, Persephone remained where she was, unwilling to leave without the others that had been inside the estate. It was one thing to lose a home, to lose the memories within it and all that they might mean - she was fully aware of how that felt. But it was a loss unlike any other to subject a loss of life to such traumas. She would not see it happen here. She would not leave until all who had stood and travelled with her were by her side and mounted ready to leave together. Despite the smoke and the dark, grittiness in the air as the fore drew closer, she could wait a little longer.
Coughing delicately behind her hand, maintaining the length in her back and crown, Persephone nodded when one of Iris' servants ran to her to confirm that all of the estate hands and slaves had been released into the fields and were running for shelter elsewhere. Only the privileged that had stayed within the estate itself were still to be accounted for.
When Iason spoke, defensive of her safety as always yet bending to her instruction on how to handle Keikelius, Persephone felt no sympathy in making the Stravos lord's life any easier. This was, after all, the man who had allowed his son to run riot and destroy her home and life. Made her think her sister was dead for two months. And how likely hunted her in a way that led to fires and the destruction of others. He deserved little respect, nor was he entitled to the immediate trust that would see him treated as anything but a prisoner. Not when fire was a literal threat upon their heels.
"Do what you think is best, Lord Iason." Persephone responded, giving him full reign of choice over how the man was treated. "So long as there is no permanent damage to his person and he will not slow us in our escape, I see no reason to not take every precaution to protect ourselves."
Keikelius' son had painted her as an outlaw and a coward. Now he would have to deal with being treated at the hands of said outlaw...
As the forest burned only half a mile away, the flames spreading quickly and headed towards the house, Persephone remained where she was, unwilling to leave without the others that had been inside the estate. It was one thing to lose a home, to lose the memories within it and all that they might mean - she was fully aware of how that felt. But it was a loss unlike any other to subject a loss of life to such traumas. She would not see it happen here. She would not leave until all who had stood and travelled with her were by her side and mounted ready to leave together. Despite the smoke and the dark, grittiness in the air as the fore drew closer, she could wait a little longer.
Coughing delicately behind her hand, maintaining the length in her back and crown, Persephone nodded when one of Iris' servants ran to her to confirm that all of the estate hands and slaves had been released into the fields and were running for shelter elsewhere. Only the privileged that had stayed within the estate itself were still to be accounted for.
When Iason spoke, defensive of her safety as always yet bending to her instruction on how to handle Keikelius, Persephone felt no sympathy in making the Stravos lord's life any easier. This was, after all, the man who had allowed his son to run riot and destroy her home and life. Made her think her sister was dead for two months. And how likely hunted her in a way that led to fires and the destruction of others. He deserved little respect, nor was he entitled to the immediate trust that would see him treated as anything but a prisoner. Not when fire was a literal threat upon their heels.
"Do what you think is best, Lord Iason." Persephone responded, giving him full reign of choice over how the man was treated. "So long as there is no permanent damage to his person and he will not slow us in our escape, I see no reason to not take every precaution to protect ourselves."
Keikelius' son had painted her as an outlaw and a coward. Now he would have to deal with being treated at the hands of said outlaw...
The lord did not expect a warm welcome. In fact, he had hoped for the least warm of welcomes from his own niece. Because she was correct in her thoughts. Keikelius had allowed his son to run rampant through Athenia, doing what he wished while Keikelius himself tried to shore up his business accounts and keep the rest of the family afloat while they bled money into the harbor. The thought of Elias' betrayal still made Keikelius' blood boil despite the stilted peace he had tried to find with his far-reaching child. There had been plans set in motion and Elias' inability to follow any of them or keep himself or Princess Circenia in the loop of anything was one of the reasons that Keikelius was standing here.
While Keikelius still supported his son, and he would have done anything himself to see the boy on the throne, Lord Keikelius had his own hard limits when it came to the destruction caused. Never had he expected Elias to hold the Kingdom hostage through famine. Never had he expected Elias to go to such lengths as to burn another house's province. Lord Keikelius was not close to Lord Alehandros. Not in any regard. But the Master of Trade knew the man well enough that he knew that Lord Alehandros would take this act as an act of war. A few days from now, Lord Alehandros would begin to mobilize his troops to hit back against Elias with a force that Keikelius was sure that Elias did not understand.
None of this was holding to any plans that the family had formulated amongst themselves. Elias was a dangerous factor in this entire debacle and as Keikelius looked about the forest, witnessing the fires growing for himself, Keikelius knew for a fact that his son would raze every province to the ground if it meant he could claw his way up onto Athenia's throne. Lord Stravos would not see that happen even if he did favor witnessing Elias as King. There had to be another way. Force was not working, and Keikelius' gaze landed on the queen once more. Careful maneuvering would be needed now, because if it came to the Xanthos and Antonis against the Stravos and the Marikas, Elias would lose outright. A military man himself, even Keikelius could see such a contingency.
All this fire would do would be to rouse one of Antonis' largest forces of military. The Foxlights were archers and guerrilla fighters, trained amongst the trees and used to using their surroundings to their advantage. Burning their forests would arouse rage but it would do nothing to their strength. Keikelius internally flinched at the thought of Captain Praxiteles and the cool rage that would stitch into his shoulders as he stood ready to raze Elias' own forces to the ground. Keikelius' entire purpose was to avoid physical war and bloodshed. There could not be a repeat of Aetaea if Athenia was to find a stable peace. There was a point where Elias would push too far and peace would no longer be a thought nor an option.
Lord Iason pushing himself between the queen and Keikelius himself did not bother him. Nor did Lord Iason's wish to prove that Keikelius was unarmed. Keikelius was not unarmed, but he would never be against relinquishing his weapons if it would buy the slightest semblance of peace and trust from the two royals. Lifting his hands in the dim glow of the growing firelight, he moved his head only to cough into his arm as the smoke began to scratch at his lungs. Then he pushed back the sides of his drab cloak, showing his sword and dagger on his hip. Dropping his hands to his lap, he immediately undid the belt at his waist, removing the two blades and offering them both to Lord Iason, "I am unarmed as of this moment," he said very calmly, never letting his dark gaze waver from the man's face.
Under normal circumstances, he never would have given up his weapons. He would have fought to the death. But that was not the goal here. "Once you remove them from my person you may do with me as you wish. I did not come to add to the chaos that Elias has created here," Keikelius said just as calmly as before, "I stood for you in the senate then and I will continue to do so now," and though he did look straight at Iason, his words were directed toward Persephone and Persephone alone.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The lord did not expect a warm welcome. In fact, he had hoped for the least warm of welcomes from his own niece. Because she was correct in her thoughts. Keikelius had allowed his son to run rampant through Athenia, doing what he wished while Keikelius himself tried to shore up his business accounts and keep the rest of the family afloat while they bled money into the harbor. The thought of Elias' betrayal still made Keikelius' blood boil despite the stilted peace he had tried to find with his far-reaching child. There had been plans set in motion and Elias' inability to follow any of them or keep himself or Princess Circenia in the loop of anything was one of the reasons that Keikelius was standing here.
While Keikelius still supported his son, and he would have done anything himself to see the boy on the throne, Lord Keikelius had his own hard limits when it came to the destruction caused. Never had he expected Elias to hold the Kingdom hostage through famine. Never had he expected Elias to go to such lengths as to burn another house's province. Lord Keikelius was not close to Lord Alehandros. Not in any regard. But the Master of Trade knew the man well enough that he knew that Lord Alehandros would take this act as an act of war. A few days from now, Lord Alehandros would begin to mobilize his troops to hit back against Elias with a force that Keikelius was sure that Elias did not understand.
None of this was holding to any plans that the family had formulated amongst themselves. Elias was a dangerous factor in this entire debacle and as Keikelius looked about the forest, witnessing the fires growing for himself, Keikelius knew for a fact that his son would raze every province to the ground if it meant he could claw his way up onto Athenia's throne. Lord Stravos would not see that happen even if he did favor witnessing Elias as King. There had to be another way. Force was not working, and Keikelius' gaze landed on the queen once more. Careful maneuvering would be needed now, because if it came to the Xanthos and Antonis against the Stravos and the Marikas, Elias would lose outright. A military man himself, even Keikelius could see such a contingency.
All this fire would do would be to rouse one of Antonis' largest forces of military. The Foxlights were archers and guerrilla fighters, trained amongst the trees and used to using their surroundings to their advantage. Burning their forests would arouse rage but it would do nothing to their strength. Keikelius internally flinched at the thought of Captain Praxiteles and the cool rage that would stitch into his shoulders as he stood ready to raze Elias' own forces to the ground. Keikelius' entire purpose was to avoid physical war and bloodshed. There could not be a repeat of Aetaea if Athenia was to find a stable peace. There was a point where Elias would push too far and peace would no longer be a thought nor an option.
Lord Iason pushing himself between the queen and Keikelius himself did not bother him. Nor did Lord Iason's wish to prove that Keikelius was unarmed. Keikelius was not unarmed, but he would never be against relinquishing his weapons if it would buy the slightest semblance of peace and trust from the two royals. Lifting his hands in the dim glow of the growing firelight, he moved his head only to cough into his arm as the smoke began to scratch at his lungs. Then he pushed back the sides of his drab cloak, showing his sword and dagger on his hip. Dropping his hands to his lap, he immediately undid the belt at his waist, removing the two blades and offering them both to Lord Iason, "I am unarmed as of this moment," he said very calmly, never letting his dark gaze waver from the man's face.
Under normal circumstances, he never would have given up his weapons. He would have fought to the death. But that was not the goal here. "Once you remove them from my person you may do with me as you wish. I did not come to add to the chaos that Elias has created here," Keikelius said just as calmly as before, "I stood for you in the senate then and I will continue to do so now," and though he did look straight at Iason, his words were directed toward Persephone and Persephone alone.
The lord did not expect a warm welcome. In fact, he had hoped for the least warm of welcomes from his own niece. Because she was correct in her thoughts. Keikelius had allowed his son to run rampant through Athenia, doing what he wished while Keikelius himself tried to shore up his business accounts and keep the rest of the family afloat while they bled money into the harbor. The thought of Elias' betrayal still made Keikelius' blood boil despite the stilted peace he had tried to find with his far-reaching child. There had been plans set in motion and Elias' inability to follow any of them or keep himself or Princess Circenia in the loop of anything was one of the reasons that Keikelius was standing here.
While Keikelius still supported his son, and he would have done anything himself to see the boy on the throne, Lord Keikelius had his own hard limits when it came to the destruction caused. Never had he expected Elias to hold the Kingdom hostage through famine. Never had he expected Elias to go to such lengths as to burn another house's province. Lord Keikelius was not close to Lord Alehandros. Not in any regard. But the Master of Trade knew the man well enough that he knew that Lord Alehandros would take this act as an act of war. A few days from now, Lord Alehandros would begin to mobilize his troops to hit back against Elias with a force that Keikelius was sure that Elias did not understand.
None of this was holding to any plans that the family had formulated amongst themselves. Elias was a dangerous factor in this entire debacle and as Keikelius looked about the forest, witnessing the fires growing for himself, Keikelius knew for a fact that his son would raze every province to the ground if it meant he could claw his way up onto Athenia's throne. Lord Stravos would not see that happen even if he did favor witnessing Elias as King. There had to be another way. Force was not working, and Keikelius' gaze landed on the queen once more. Careful maneuvering would be needed now, because if it came to the Xanthos and Antonis against the Stravos and the Marikas, Elias would lose outright. A military man himself, even Keikelius could see such a contingency.
All this fire would do would be to rouse one of Antonis' largest forces of military. The Foxlights were archers and guerrilla fighters, trained amongst the trees and used to using their surroundings to their advantage. Burning their forests would arouse rage but it would do nothing to their strength. Keikelius internally flinched at the thought of Captain Praxiteles and the cool rage that would stitch into his shoulders as he stood ready to raze Elias' own forces to the ground. Keikelius' entire purpose was to avoid physical war and bloodshed. There could not be a repeat of Aetaea if Athenia was to find a stable peace. There was a point where Elias would push too far and peace would no longer be a thought nor an option.
Lord Iason pushing himself between the queen and Keikelius himself did not bother him. Nor did Lord Iason's wish to prove that Keikelius was unarmed. Keikelius was not unarmed, but he would never be against relinquishing his weapons if it would buy the slightest semblance of peace and trust from the two royals. Lifting his hands in the dim glow of the growing firelight, he moved his head only to cough into his arm as the smoke began to scratch at his lungs. Then he pushed back the sides of his drab cloak, showing his sword and dagger on his hip. Dropping his hands to his lap, he immediately undid the belt at his waist, removing the two blades and offering them both to Lord Iason, "I am unarmed as of this moment," he said very calmly, never letting his dark gaze waver from the man's face.
Under normal circumstances, he never would have given up his weapons. He would have fought to the death. But that was not the goal here. "Once you remove them from my person you may do with me as you wish. I did not come to add to the chaos that Elias has created here," Keikelius said just as calmly as before, "I stood for you in the senate then and I will continue to do so now," and though he did look straight at Iason, his words were directed toward Persephone and Persephone alone.
Together, Ariadne and Chrysanthe huddled on the floor at the edge of the bed, peering in at a startled Olena. Ari sent a silent prayer up to the gods that they would escape this madness. For she knew their lives were at stake and that getting out of this room quickly meant their survival. She could only hope that Persephone had already made her way out, for there would be nothing more Ariadne could do at this point. She would not have time to rescue their little trio and the queen both. The lady’s maid felt her heartbeat quickening, the adrenaline starting to rush. She let none of that show, however, as she shared a glance with Chrysanthe and held out a hand to Olena.
Blessedly, the woman crawled out from under the bed, looking about the room wildly. Ariadne didn’t question a thing—she understood that the most random things might hold personal value. She had found a small bag in the room and held it open so that Olena could deposit the cloth and anything else she wanted to take inside the bag. Like Ariadne, Chrysanthe didn’t appear to be carrying anything on her and she hoped that it would be all right. There was precious little time to get out and make an escape from the woods before everything was aflame.
“Do you need to get anything?” she whispered to Chrysanthe, hoping the answer was no, but knowing that wherever the three of them were going, it was together. If she needed to get something, then they would get it. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Olena as she grasped Ariadne’s hand. The girl gave a reassuring squeeze, hoping to convey some small measure of comfort.
“We’d never leave you,” she said. “I am not sure about Persephone, but there were people looking for her. We have to trust that they found her. We won’t have time to search everywhere.” This would be a moment in her life that she would never forget, as much as Ariadne was already wishing it was over. This was just the beginning. She steeled herself for their escape through the manor’s walls. She was still learning her way around, but hoped they could make it outside without too many wrong turns.
Together, she and Chrysanthe held Olena between them, gently guiding her from the room and down the maze of halls. Ariadne felt her heart beating faster, but forced herself to take deep breaths to control her fear. The smoke was beginning to drift in, exacerbating her anxiety, but it helped that she had to stay strong for Olena. Knowing that her fear might make it worse for the others helped Ariadne to keep in control. She knew that the moment she let go, she would be unable to stop her emotions from flooding through and that would not be good for any of them right now. She needed to stay in control in order to survive this night.
Somehow, the trio managed to make their way out of the manor and into a courtyard near the stables, clutching each other tight. In that moment, Ari wasn’t sure who needed each other more, but felt profoundly grateful for the two women at her side. Within a moment, she spotted Persephone and Iason, hardly taking in anything else about the scene, but letting some relief sink in knowing her lady was alive. Now, to remain so for the rest of the evening. She hoped that Lady Iris and her husband would be behind them so that they all could get out.
The maids approached Persephone, Ariadne not yet willing to let herself collapse. “Is there anyone left inside?” she asked, breathlessly, energy coursing through her so quickly she felt she could hardly keep in control. “What about the horses? Can we ride? Olena will need help.” She nearly felt that she would too, but not just yet would she fall. No, she would stay strong for them.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Aug 25, 2020 20:46:11 GMT
Posted In Up In Smoke on Aug 25, 2020 20:46:11 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Together, Ariadne and Chrysanthe huddled on the floor at the edge of the bed, peering in at a startled Olena. Ari sent a silent prayer up to the gods that they would escape this madness. For she knew their lives were at stake and that getting out of this room quickly meant their survival. She could only hope that Persephone had already made her way out, for there would be nothing more Ariadne could do at this point. She would not have time to rescue their little trio and the queen both. The lady’s maid felt her heartbeat quickening, the adrenaline starting to rush. She let none of that show, however, as she shared a glance with Chrysanthe and held out a hand to Olena.
Blessedly, the woman crawled out from under the bed, looking about the room wildly. Ariadne didn’t question a thing—she understood that the most random things might hold personal value. She had found a small bag in the room and held it open so that Olena could deposit the cloth and anything else she wanted to take inside the bag. Like Ariadne, Chrysanthe didn’t appear to be carrying anything on her and she hoped that it would be all right. There was precious little time to get out and make an escape from the woods before everything was aflame.
“Do you need to get anything?” she whispered to Chrysanthe, hoping the answer was no, but knowing that wherever the three of them were going, it was together. If she needed to get something, then they would get it. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Olena as she grasped Ariadne’s hand. The girl gave a reassuring squeeze, hoping to convey some small measure of comfort.
“We’d never leave you,” she said. “I am not sure about Persephone, but there were people looking for her. We have to trust that they found her. We won’t have time to search everywhere.” This would be a moment in her life that she would never forget, as much as Ariadne was already wishing it was over. This was just the beginning. She steeled herself for their escape through the manor’s walls. She was still learning her way around, but hoped they could make it outside without too many wrong turns.
Together, she and Chrysanthe held Olena between them, gently guiding her from the room and down the maze of halls. Ariadne felt her heart beating faster, but forced herself to take deep breaths to control her fear. The smoke was beginning to drift in, exacerbating her anxiety, but it helped that she had to stay strong for Olena. Knowing that her fear might make it worse for the others helped Ariadne to keep in control. She knew that the moment she let go, she would be unable to stop her emotions from flooding through and that would not be good for any of them right now. She needed to stay in control in order to survive this night.
Somehow, the trio managed to make their way out of the manor and into a courtyard near the stables, clutching each other tight. In that moment, Ari wasn’t sure who needed each other more, but felt profoundly grateful for the two women at her side. Within a moment, she spotted Persephone and Iason, hardly taking in anything else about the scene, but letting some relief sink in knowing her lady was alive. Now, to remain so for the rest of the evening. She hoped that Lady Iris and her husband would be behind them so that they all could get out.
The maids approached Persephone, Ariadne not yet willing to let herself collapse. “Is there anyone left inside?” she asked, breathlessly, energy coursing through her so quickly she felt she could hardly keep in control. “What about the horses? Can we ride? Olena will need help.” She nearly felt that she would too, but not just yet would she fall. No, she would stay strong for them.
Together, Ariadne and Chrysanthe huddled on the floor at the edge of the bed, peering in at a startled Olena. Ari sent a silent prayer up to the gods that they would escape this madness. For she knew their lives were at stake and that getting out of this room quickly meant their survival. She could only hope that Persephone had already made her way out, for there would be nothing more Ariadne could do at this point. She would not have time to rescue their little trio and the queen both. The lady’s maid felt her heartbeat quickening, the adrenaline starting to rush. She let none of that show, however, as she shared a glance with Chrysanthe and held out a hand to Olena.
Blessedly, the woman crawled out from under the bed, looking about the room wildly. Ariadne didn’t question a thing—she understood that the most random things might hold personal value. She had found a small bag in the room and held it open so that Olena could deposit the cloth and anything else she wanted to take inside the bag. Like Ariadne, Chrysanthe didn’t appear to be carrying anything on her and she hoped that it would be all right. There was precious little time to get out and make an escape from the woods before everything was aflame.
“Do you need to get anything?” she whispered to Chrysanthe, hoping the answer was no, but knowing that wherever the three of them were going, it was together. If she needed to get something, then they would get it. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Olena as she grasped Ariadne’s hand. The girl gave a reassuring squeeze, hoping to convey some small measure of comfort.
“We’d never leave you,” she said. “I am not sure about Persephone, but there were people looking for her. We have to trust that they found her. We won’t have time to search everywhere.” This would be a moment in her life that she would never forget, as much as Ariadne was already wishing it was over. This was just the beginning. She steeled herself for their escape through the manor’s walls. She was still learning her way around, but hoped they could make it outside without too many wrong turns.
Together, she and Chrysanthe held Olena between them, gently guiding her from the room and down the maze of halls. Ariadne felt her heart beating faster, but forced herself to take deep breaths to control her fear. The smoke was beginning to drift in, exacerbating her anxiety, but it helped that she had to stay strong for Olena. Knowing that her fear might make it worse for the others helped Ariadne to keep in control. She knew that the moment she let go, she would be unable to stop her emotions from flooding through and that would not be good for any of them right now. She needed to stay in control in order to survive this night.
Somehow, the trio managed to make their way out of the manor and into a courtyard near the stables, clutching each other tight. In that moment, Ari wasn’t sure who needed each other more, but felt profoundly grateful for the two women at her side. Within a moment, she spotted Persephone and Iason, hardly taking in anything else about the scene, but letting some relief sink in knowing her lady was alive. Now, to remain so for the rest of the evening. She hoped that Lady Iris and her husband would be behind them so that they all could get out.
The maids approached Persephone, Ariadne not yet willing to let herself collapse. “Is there anyone left inside?” she asked, breathlessly, energy coursing through her so quickly she felt she could hardly keep in control. “What about the horses? Can we ride? Olena will need help.” She nearly felt that she would too, but not just yet would she fall. No, she would stay strong for them.
Making it back to Aimias' side as soon as his voice trailed through the burning walls of her home, Iris kept glancing about, almost thinking of how much she would have rather burned with the rest of her life. But she had Aimias to think about. Aimias and Phillipa. The little girl she had learned to love so fully and so completely that she could not just give up just because her world was literally burning around her. Everything uniquely familiar that she had ever known was to be turned to ash and she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but run from the fate that the gods had handed her.
Did they disfavor her? Had she angered Haephestus? Had she irritated Artemis? Apollo? Zeus? Gaia? Hera, even? Aphrodite? What could had done to deserve this in the eyes of the gods themselves?
Looking silently up into the face of her husband, Iris paused for only seconds before she simply grabbed his hand and the two of them started to make their way out of the burning manor. "I think everyone is out," she said softly, almost inaudible amongst the crackling of flames and the sounds of voices outside. She took long strides, ducking under one archway and then another. Smoke was filling her lungs and she had to pull her himation up over her mouth, trying not to cough her lungs out before they made it outside.
But soon enough, she was dragging Aimias down the stairs and into the front lawns. It was there that Iris paused at the sight of Lord Keikelius, rage and disgust filling her gaze in an instant, though she could see that that situation was being handled. So she kept her mouth shut, rushing to the horse that she had ridden back to the manor when the flames had only just started. Everything she needed to keep safe was in her possession. And Gaios'. The man was already streaking in the other direction, Iris was sure. As far from Aetaea as he could get himself. Iris knew where he would escape to, but she would not say where yet.
If someone had found out Persephone was here so easily, she was going to keep just a few secrets close to her own chest.
The lady only glanced at the queen, her green gaze unreadable in these initial moments where the realization was stark that her home had been razed. And she was angry, though she didn't set her jaw, allowing herself to simply listen and wait for orders to be given to her. If she did not have to make the choices then and there, then she wouldn't. She wouldn't make a single one and she would allow everyone else around her to push her in the direction they pleased. Her will to be stubborn, to keep fire in her heart, to stay wild and free... that was gone with the burning of most everything she held dear. She didn't even spare a second glance at her husband, not wanting to have any sort of conversation or have to give any input on anything.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sept 2, 2020 22:44:23 GMT
Posted In Up In Smoke on Sept 2, 2020 22:44:23 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Making it back to Aimias' side as soon as his voice trailed through the burning walls of her home, Iris kept glancing about, almost thinking of how much she would have rather burned with the rest of her life. But she had Aimias to think about. Aimias and Phillipa. The little girl she had learned to love so fully and so completely that she could not just give up just because her world was literally burning around her. Everything uniquely familiar that she had ever known was to be turned to ash and she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but run from the fate that the gods had handed her.
Did they disfavor her? Had she angered Haephestus? Had she irritated Artemis? Apollo? Zeus? Gaia? Hera, even? Aphrodite? What could had done to deserve this in the eyes of the gods themselves?
Looking silently up into the face of her husband, Iris paused for only seconds before she simply grabbed his hand and the two of them started to make their way out of the burning manor. "I think everyone is out," she said softly, almost inaudible amongst the crackling of flames and the sounds of voices outside. She took long strides, ducking under one archway and then another. Smoke was filling her lungs and she had to pull her himation up over her mouth, trying not to cough her lungs out before they made it outside.
But soon enough, she was dragging Aimias down the stairs and into the front lawns. It was there that Iris paused at the sight of Lord Keikelius, rage and disgust filling her gaze in an instant, though she could see that that situation was being handled. So she kept her mouth shut, rushing to the horse that she had ridden back to the manor when the flames had only just started. Everything she needed to keep safe was in her possession. And Gaios'. The man was already streaking in the other direction, Iris was sure. As far from Aetaea as he could get himself. Iris knew where he would escape to, but she would not say where yet.
If someone had found out Persephone was here so easily, she was going to keep just a few secrets close to her own chest.
The lady only glanced at the queen, her green gaze unreadable in these initial moments where the realization was stark that her home had been razed. And she was angry, though she didn't set her jaw, allowing herself to simply listen and wait for orders to be given to her. If she did not have to make the choices then and there, then she wouldn't. She wouldn't make a single one and she would allow everyone else around her to push her in the direction they pleased. Her will to be stubborn, to keep fire in her heart, to stay wild and free... that was gone with the burning of most everything she held dear. She didn't even spare a second glance at her husband, not wanting to have any sort of conversation or have to give any input on anything.
Making it back to Aimias' side as soon as his voice trailed through the burning walls of her home, Iris kept glancing about, almost thinking of how much she would have rather burned with the rest of her life. But she had Aimias to think about. Aimias and Phillipa. The little girl she had learned to love so fully and so completely that she could not just give up just because her world was literally burning around her. Everything uniquely familiar that she had ever known was to be turned to ash and she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but run from the fate that the gods had handed her.
Did they disfavor her? Had she angered Haephestus? Had she irritated Artemis? Apollo? Zeus? Gaia? Hera, even? Aphrodite? What could had done to deserve this in the eyes of the gods themselves?
Looking silently up into the face of her husband, Iris paused for only seconds before she simply grabbed his hand and the two of them started to make their way out of the burning manor. "I think everyone is out," she said softly, almost inaudible amongst the crackling of flames and the sounds of voices outside. She took long strides, ducking under one archway and then another. Smoke was filling her lungs and she had to pull her himation up over her mouth, trying not to cough her lungs out before they made it outside.
But soon enough, she was dragging Aimias down the stairs and into the front lawns. It was there that Iris paused at the sight of Lord Keikelius, rage and disgust filling her gaze in an instant, though she could see that that situation was being handled. So she kept her mouth shut, rushing to the horse that she had ridden back to the manor when the flames had only just started. Everything she needed to keep safe was in her possession. And Gaios'. The man was already streaking in the other direction, Iris was sure. As far from Aetaea as he could get himself. Iris knew where he would escape to, but she would not say where yet.
If someone had found out Persephone was here so easily, she was going to keep just a few secrets close to her own chest.
The lady only glanced at the queen, her green gaze unreadable in these initial moments where the realization was stark that her home had been razed. And she was angry, though she didn't set her jaw, allowing herself to simply listen and wait for orders to be given to her. If she did not have to make the choices then and there, then she wouldn't. She wouldn't make a single one and she would allow everyone else around her to push her in the direction they pleased. Her will to be stubborn, to keep fire in her heart, to stay wild and free... that was gone with the burning of most everything she held dear. She didn't even spare a second glance at her husband, not wanting to have any sort of conversation or have to give any input on anything.
Aimias couldn’t think on which God he or his wife had angered. Surely it was he who had brought the wrath upon them, but trying to focus on which he should try to make amends with was too exhausting. If he thought too much on it, he may end up risking their lives for the simple act of a prayer. For now, he focused on the grip on his wife’s hand, the two of them moving with speed towards the nearest exit.
He’d been too glad that Phillipa was safely tucked away in the mountains with his family. He couldn’t imagine putting her through this, trying to keep her safe and his wife while rushing to protect her from the burning building. The chance of her dying in the flames would have been too great.
They both reached the bottom stairs and out to the grounds in a coughing fit, smoke getting thicker as the fire began to rage on in the house behind them. It would only be a matter of time before the grounds were no longer safe. Eyes moving rapidly around to those there, he was most shocked to Keikelius there. His glare could have cut stone, but there was no need for him to say anything either-- it appeared that Lord Iason was focused on that task well enough. His focus was on the rest of the guests who had made their way out at almost the same time as they had. The woman looked scattered, especially the foreign girl.
He mounted his horse, pulling it around to the ladies. “Here-- she can ride with me.” Aimias said, putting his hand out for her to take. She seemed nervous, like she didn’t do well on horses. But as her hand wrapped into his, he didn’t give her a choice as he pulled her up with him. She was shaking, and there was no way that he would allow her to settle in behind him. Perhaps if he had thought her a better rider, he might have. Instead, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her safe.
His eyes moved to the other girls, watching as they were assisted onto horses themselves. “We have to ride.” He made the comment to the rest of the group, knowing that Iason would agree. “My Queen, where should we go?” He said, eyes looking specifically at the youngest of the girls. He wouldn’t say where he thought they should go, or give any other indication as to the list he'd given his Queen days earlier. “We must get to safety.” They had allies-- he just hoped that they would think of the one place no one would look.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sept 6, 2020 21:57:25 GMT
Posted In Up In Smoke on Sept 6, 2020 21:57:25 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Aimias couldn’t think on which God he or his wife had angered. Surely it was he who had brought the wrath upon them, but trying to focus on which he should try to make amends with was too exhausting. If he thought too much on it, he may end up risking their lives for the simple act of a prayer. For now, he focused on the grip on his wife’s hand, the two of them moving with speed towards the nearest exit.
He’d been too glad that Phillipa was safely tucked away in the mountains with his family. He couldn’t imagine putting her through this, trying to keep her safe and his wife while rushing to protect her from the burning building. The chance of her dying in the flames would have been too great.
They both reached the bottom stairs and out to the grounds in a coughing fit, smoke getting thicker as the fire began to rage on in the house behind them. It would only be a matter of time before the grounds were no longer safe. Eyes moving rapidly around to those there, he was most shocked to Keikelius there. His glare could have cut stone, but there was no need for him to say anything either-- it appeared that Lord Iason was focused on that task well enough. His focus was on the rest of the guests who had made their way out at almost the same time as they had. The woman looked scattered, especially the foreign girl.
He mounted his horse, pulling it around to the ladies. “Here-- she can ride with me.” Aimias said, putting his hand out for her to take. She seemed nervous, like she didn’t do well on horses. But as her hand wrapped into his, he didn’t give her a choice as he pulled her up with him. She was shaking, and there was no way that he would allow her to settle in behind him. Perhaps if he had thought her a better rider, he might have. Instead, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her safe.
His eyes moved to the other girls, watching as they were assisted onto horses themselves. “We have to ride.” He made the comment to the rest of the group, knowing that Iason would agree. “My Queen, where should we go?” He said, eyes looking specifically at the youngest of the girls. He wouldn’t say where he thought they should go, or give any other indication as to the list he'd given his Queen days earlier. “We must get to safety.” They had allies-- he just hoped that they would think of the one place no one would look.
Aimias couldn’t think on which God he or his wife had angered. Surely it was he who had brought the wrath upon them, but trying to focus on which he should try to make amends with was too exhausting. If he thought too much on it, he may end up risking their lives for the simple act of a prayer. For now, he focused on the grip on his wife’s hand, the two of them moving with speed towards the nearest exit.
He’d been too glad that Phillipa was safely tucked away in the mountains with his family. He couldn’t imagine putting her through this, trying to keep her safe and his wife while rushing to protect her from the burning building. The chance of her dying in the flames would have been too great.
They both reached the bottom stairs and out to the grounds in a coughing fit, smoke getting thicker as the fire began to rage on in the house behind them. It would only be a matter of time before the grounds were no longer safe. Eyes moving rapidly around to those there, he was most shocked to Keikelius there. His glare could have cut stone, but there was no need for him to say anything either-- it appeared that Lord Iason was focused on that task well enough. His focus was on the rest of the guests who had made their way out at almost the same time as they had. The woman looked scattered, especially the foreign girl.
He mounted his horse, pulling it around to the ladies. “Here-- she can ride with me.” Aimias said, putting his hand out for her to take. She seemed nervous, like she didn’t do well on horses. But as her hand wrapped into his, he didn’t give her a choice as he pulled her up with him. She was shaking, and there was no way that he would allow her to settle in behind him. Perhaps if he had thought her a better rider, he might have. Instead, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her safe.
His eyes moved to the other girls, watching as they were assisted onto horses themselves. “We have to ride.” He made the comment to the rest of the group, knowing that Iason would agree. “My Queen, where should we go?” He said, eyes looking specifically at the youngest of the girls. He wouldn’t say where he thought they should go, or give any other indication as to the list he'd given his Queen days earlier. “We must get to safety.” They had allies-- he just hoped that they would think of the one place no one would look.
It was not long before the flames had engulfed the forest, and curled their way along the dry trees to find the manor house. Rafail had watched the spread from a protected distance, half-glad he had remembered to confirm the direction of the wind before giving his men the instruction to burn the place. This was not exactly an activity in which he had previously taken part (the closest to it had likely been watching some of the farmers in Thesnia burn infected crops when they were unlikely enough to have them), and the intricacies of burning someone's home did not come easily to him.
He had watched for a long time, drawn in by a morbid fascination with the site of the place. Oddly, it was a fine sight: in the late hour, the sky was tinged an inky shade, and the thick flames burned bright in the dark so that not even the stars were visible. There was a satisfying scent of smoke in the air, lingering even as the fire began to die down, and Rafail finally shifted on his horse to face the soldiers that now carried burned-out torches, a new command on his lips. By now, anybody who remained trapped within the house should have been burned to a near crisp, so that their bodies would be nothing more than a black mass decorated by a few telltale pieces of half-melted jewellery.
"Find me the body," he commanded them, his attention drifting slowly back towards the house. The Marikas was not unwise: it would have been foolish for him to investigate the remains himself, lest he was seen by some prying eyes that had somehow survived. He might well have been glad to aid his cousin in his plans, but he was not thoroughly prepared to have his own family name besmirched because he had been seen in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It was already enough that he had allowed his Uncle Keikelius - who had vanished more than a little suspiciously - to accompany him.
It was a long wait. Rafail had never been the most patient individual, too used to quicker indulgences, and he found his brow furrowing as the men took their time with the search. When at last they returned, their faces too were contorted with concern, and he knew at once they did not bring him the information he desired.
"My Lord," one of them had stumbled, with the awkwardness that tends to accompany the bearers of distress. "We searched, but we found no body. There is no sign of the Queen."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing, my Lord. Signs, perhaps, of an escape - some of the men believe they saw someone in the distance - but nothing more."
For a little while, Rafail said nothing, only watching the distant estate with an air of confusion, as if unable to fathom the possibility that the plan should have failed. He had planned this to the best of his ability, and nothing should have been left to chance. And yet. Clearly, there was some outside factor of which he had been unaware.
The blonde slipped from his handsome horse to join those men on the ground, tilting his head towards the charred building, already striding in its direction as he spoke. "Let me see. Perhaps you have missed her, given how unused you must be to contact with the royal families."
He had expected some blunder caused by a lack of knowledge of Persephone's face or distinguishing features, perhaps some telltale jewel that they had not recognised. What he found on his own approach, however, was nothing more than blackness. Every surface which might once have borne colour had been reduced to nothing, and soot somehow stuck onto his expensive chiton without his noticing. Rafail frowned, dropping a hand to his waist as he surveyed the mess, not daring to step further into the still-smouldering nightmare. It seemed unlikely that anything had survived and he did not wish to investigate much further otherwise, already feeling the ash crawling into his throat. He cleared his throat, eyes running over everything before he nodded with conviction.
"Find me a body, then. Any young woman, I do not care, so long as she is charred enough that she cannot be identified. Perhaps Elias will find some use in a false body." It was unlikely, but Rafail supposed there was no harm in trying. "And be quick. We need to leave this place." Besides, he still needed to figure out how exactly Persephone had been alerted to their presence, although he had rather an idea.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was not long before the flames had engulfed the forest, and curled their way along the dry trees to find the manor house. Rafail had watched the spread from a protected distance, half-glad he had remembered to confirm the direction of the wind before giving his men the instruction to burn the place. This was not exactly an activity in which he had previously taken part (the closest to it had likely been watching some of the farmers in Thesnia burn infected crops when they were unlikely enough to have them), and the intricacies of burning someone's home did not come easily to him.
He had watched for a long time, drawn in by a morbid fascination with the site of the place. Oddly, it was a fine sight: in the late hour, the sky was tinged an inky shade, and the thick flames burned bright in the dark so that not even the stars were visible. There was a satisfying scent of smoke in the air, lingering even as the fire began to die down, and Rafail finally shifted on his horse to face the soldiers that now carried burned-out torches, a new command on his lips. By now, anybody who remained trapped within the house should have been burned to a near crisp, so that their bodies would be nothing more than a black mass decorated by a few telltale pieces of half-melted jewellery.
"Find me the body," he commanded them, his attention drifting slowly back towards the house. The Marikas was not unwise: it would have been foolish for him to investigate the remains himself, lest he was seen by some prying eyes that had somehow survived. He might well have been glad to aid his cousin in his plans, but he was not thoroughly prepared to have his own family name besmirched because he had been seen in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It was already enough that he had allowed his Uncle Keikelius - who had vanished more than a little suspiciously - to accompany him.
It was a long wait. Rafail had never been the most patient individual, too used to quicker indulgences, and he found his brow furrowing as the men took their time with the search. When at last they returned, their faces too were contorted with concern, and he knew at once they did not bring him the information he desired.
"My Lord," one of them had stumbled, with the awkwardness that tends to accompany the bearers of distress. "We searched, but we found no body. There is no sign of the Queen."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing, my Lord. Signs, perhaps, of an escape - some of the men believe they saw someone in the distance - but nothing more."
For a little while, Rafail said nothing, only watching the distant estate with an air of confusion, as if unable to fathom the possibility that the plan should have failed. He had planned this to the best of his ability, and nothing should have been left to chance. And yet. Clearly, there was some outside factor of which he had been unaware.
The blonde slipped from his handsome horse to join those men on the ground, tilting his head towards the charred building, already striding in its direction as he spoke. "Let me see. Perhaps you have missed her, given how unused you must be to contact with the royal families."
He had expected some blunder caused by a lack of knowledge of Persephone's face or distinguishing features, perhaps some telltale jewel that they had not recognised. What he found on his own approach, however, was nothing more than blackness. Every surface which might once have borne colour had been reduced to nothing, and soot somehow stuck onto his expensive chiton without his noticing. Rafail frowned, dropping a hand to his waist as he surveyed the mess, not daring to step further into the still-smouldering nightmare. It seemed unlikely that anything had survived and he did not wish to investigate much further otherwise, already feeling the ash crawling into his throat. He cleared his throat, eyes running over everything before he nodded with conviction.
"Find me a body, then. Any young woman, I do not care, so long as she is charred enough that she cannot be identified. Perhaps Elias will find some use in a false body." It was unlikely, but Rafail supposed there was no harm in trying. "And be quick. We need to leave this place." Besides, he still needed to figure out how exactly Persephone had been alerted to their presence, although he had rather an idea.
It was not long before the flames had engulfed the forest, and curled their way along the dry trees to find the manor house. Rafail had watched the spread from a protected distance, half-glad he had remembered to confirm the direction of the wind before giving his men the instruction to burn the place. This was not exactly an activity in which he had previously taken part (the closest to it had likely been watching some of the farmers in Thesnia burn infected crops when they were unlikely enough to have them), and the intricacies of burning someone's home did not come easily to him.
He had watched for a long time, drawn in by a morbid fascination with the site of the place. Oddly, it was a fine sight: in the late hour, the sky was tinged an inky shade, and the thick flames burned bright in the dark so that not even the stars were visible. There was a satisfying scent of smoke in the air, lingering even as the fire began to die down, and Rafail finally shifted on his horse to face the soldiers that now carried burned-out torches, a new command on his lips. By now, anybody who remained trapped within the house should have been burned to a near crisp, so that their bodies would be nothing more than a black mass decorated by a few telltale pieces of half-melted jewellery.
"Find me the body," he commanded them, his attention drifting slowly back towards the house. The Marikas was not unwise: it would have been foolish for him to investigate the remains himself, lest he was seen by some prying eyes that had somehow survived. He might well have been glad to aid his cousin in his plans, but he was not thoroughly prepared to have his own family name besmirched because he had been seen in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It was already enough that he had allowed his Uncle Keikelius - who had vanished more than a little suspiciously - to accompany him.
It was a long wait. Rafail had never been the most patient individual, too used to quicker indulgences, and he found his brow furrowing as the men took their time with the search. When at last they returned, their faces too were contorted with concern, and he knew at once they did not bring him the information he desired.
"My Lord," one of them had stumbled, with the awkwardness that tends to accompany the bearers of distress. "We searched, but we found no body. There is no sign of the Queen."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing, my Lord. Signs, perhaps, of an escape - some of the men believe they saw someone in the distance - but nothing more."
For a little while, Rafail said nothing, only watching the distant estate with an air of confusion, as if unable to fathom the possibility that the plan should have failed. He had planned this to the best of his ability, and nothing should have been left to chance. And yet. Clearly, there was some outside factor of which he had been unaware.
The blonde slipped from his handsome horse to join those men on the ground, tilting his head towards the charred building, already striding in its direction as he spoke. "Let me see. Perhaps you have missed her, given how unused you must be to contact with the royal families."
He had expected some blunder caused by a lack of knowledge of Persephone's face or distinguishing features, perhaps some telltale jewel that they had not recognised. What he found on his own approach, however, was nothing more than blackness. Every surface which might once have borne colour had been reduced to nothing, and soot somehow stuck onto his expensive chiton without his noticing. Rafail frowned, dropping a hand to his waist as he surveyed the mess, not daring to step further into the still-smouldering nightmare. It seemed unlikely that anything had survived and he did not wish to investigate much further otherwise, already feeling the ash crawling into his throat. He cleared his throat, eyes running over everything before he nodded with conviction.
"Find me a body, then. Any young woman, I do not care, so long as she is charred enough that she cannot be identified. Perhaps Elias will find some use in a false body." It was unlikely, but Rafail supposed there was no harm in trying. "And be quick. We need to leave this place." Besides, he still needed to figure out how exactly Persephone had been alerted to their presence, although he had rather an idea.