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Anastasia spent years spinning yarns, with tales of days past and the legends of the Gods filling taverns and the central plateia alike. But, today, Anastasia of the Siren's Song had another plan. The siren given legs had every intention of showing herself as the acrobat she'd trained herself to be. She'd done performances all along the Aegean, marking herself as a busker for royals and commoners alike to enjoy, and she'd reinforce that notion. Before that, however, she sought to limber her body, to loosen the knots that formed throughout the days. Her chiton was neatly folded within a sack that held her other possessions, leaving the woman in only a strophion and a skirted garment that clung about her waist.
It drew eyes, for her to be so immodest, but the attention lavished was for a purpose. To draw people to her as languid movements shifted her from pose to pose... it was a necessity. People giving Anastasia their attention led to them lauding her with their coin, next, and she'd give them plenty of reason for which to donate to the cause that was her comfort. Placing herself into an easy forward split, she leaned her body forward, pressing her chest to just above her knee, forehead resting against her leg ad she felt the burn against her thighs and along her back. She let in a breath, lifting up her body before she twirled about in place, letting the fabric of her skirt fall back into place before she began.
Anastasia had already drawn a small group to her, astute Taengeans who saw the signs of a performer readying herself for an act. Acrobatics did not lead well without music, and it seemed that a forward-thinking lyre player caught drift of her intentions. He tested out his instrument before settling a raised platform as a makeshift seat, then sat upon it as the acrobat began her effort. Anastasia offered a bow to the crowd, but did not speak to them, acknowledging the presence before shifting her weight forward. She rolled her shoulders, catching her weight on her hands, the fabric of her skirt falling to gravity as she lifted herself onto her fingertips. She wove a circular pattern with her hands, twirling on her hands so that the skirt followed the motion before lifting herself off and back onto her feet.
Features flushed with the motion, Anastasia took an easy breath, shifting her weight back and forth in a smooth sort of dance. She winked at a young male patron who'd dashed forward to place a number of coins in a saucer on the ground. Red as a beet, the boy backed off, blending into the crowd as Anastasia continued her little dance, guiding herself to a nearby building. She dashed forward, using the momentum to throw herself forward. Her feet barely touched the wall before she kicked off, propelling herself into a back flip. Sticking the landing perfectly, Anastasia grinned at the crowd. Several more moved to place a coin or two into her saucer, the little clay receptacle filling up more and more.
The acrobat shifted between flips and dance, the minutes passing her by in a flurry of poised movement. To cap off her performance, Anastasia shifted her weight, allowing her hips to sway to and fro with several steps. She raised her hands, pulling momentum with a shift in movement before kicking off from the ground. Guiding her body into a front flip, she landed on her feet before a similar, but reversed momentum tugged her backwards. Repeating an alternation between front and back flips for several moment, she offered one last bow at the crowd before letting herself rest.
A racing heart and soreness in her legs and abdomen, Anastasia at last allowed herself to sit, holding up the saucer but not making an effort to count it until the crowd had dispersed. Handing the lyre player a number of coins for his own efforts, she allowed herself some peace, unsuspecting of the confrontation that was to follow. She intended to get dressed, but sought to regulate her heartbeat and breathing before constricting her body with an additional garment.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was value in versatility.
Anastasia spent years spinning yarns, with tales of days past and the legends of the Gods filling taverns and the central plateia alike. But, today, Anastasia of the Siren's Song had another plan. The siren given legs had every intention of showing herself as the acrobat she'd trained herself to be. She'd done performances all along the Aegean, marking herself as a busker for royals and commoners alike to enjoy, and she'd reinforce that notion. Before that, however, she sought to limber her body, to loosen the knots that formed throughout the days. Her chiton was neatly folded within a sack that held her other possessions, leaving the woman in only a strophion and a skirted garment that clung about her waist.
It drew eyes, for her to be so immodest, but the attention lavished was for a purpose. To draw people to her as languid movements shifted her from pose to pose... it was a necessity. People giving Anastasia their attention led to them lauding her with their coin, next, and she'd give them plenty of reason for which to donate to the cause that was her comfort. Placing herself into an easy forward split, she leaned her body forward, pressing her chest to just above her knee, forehead resting against her leg ad she felt the burn against her thighs and along her back. She let in a breath, lifting up her body before she twirled about in place, letting the fabric of her skirt fall back into place before she began.
Anastasia had already drawn a small group to her, astute Taengeans who saw the signs of a performer readying herself for an act. Acrobatics did not lead well without music, and it seemed that a forward-thinking lyre player caught drift of her intentions. He tested out his instrument before settling a raised platform as a makeshift seat, then sat upon it as the acrobat began her effort. Anastasia offered a bow to the crowd, but did not speak to them, acknowledging the presence before shifting her weight forward. She rolled her shoulders, catching her weight on her hands, the fabric of her skirt falling to gravity as she lifted herself onto her fingertips. She wove a circular pattern with her hands, twirling on her hands so that the skirt followed the motion before lifting herself off and back onto her feet.
Features flushed with the motion, Anastasia took an easy breath, shifting her weight back and forth in a smooth sort of dance. She winked at a young male patron who'd dashed forward to place a number of coins in a saucer on the ground. Red as a beet, the boy backed off, blending into the crowd as Anastasia continued her little dance, guiding herself to a nearby building. She dashed forward, using the momentum to throw herself forward. Her feet barely touched the wall before she kicked off, propelling herself into a back flip. Sticking the landing perfectly, Anastasia grinned at the crowd. Several more moved to place a coin or two into her saucer, the little clay receptacle filling up more and more.
The acrobat shifted between flips and dance, the minutes passing her by in a flurry of poised movement. To cap off her performance, Anastasia shifted her weight, allowing her hips to sway to and fro with several steps. She raised her hands, pulling momentum with a shift in movement before kicking off from the ground. Guiding her body into a front flip, she landed on her feet before a similar, but reversed momentum tugged her backwards. Repeating an alternation between front and back flips for several moment, she offered one last bow at the crowd before letting herself rest.
A racing heart and soreness in her legs and abdomen, Anastasia at last allowed herself to sit, holding up the saucer but not making an effort to count it until the crowd had dispersed. Handing the lyre player a number of coins for his own efforts, she allowed herself some peace, unsuspecting of the confrontation that was to follow. She intended to get dressed, but sought to regulate her heartbeat and breathing before constricting her body with an additional garment.
There was value in versatility.
Anastasia spent years spinning yarns, with tales of days past and the legends of the Gods filling taverns and the central plateia alike. But, today, Anastasia of the Siren's Song had another plan. The siren given legs had every intention of showing herself as the acrobat she'd trained herself to be. She'd done performances all along the Aegean, marking herself as a busker for royals and commoners alike to enjoy, and she'd reinforce that notion. Before that, however, she sought to limber her body, to loosen the knots that formed throughout the days. Her chiton was neatly folded within a sack that held her other possessions, leaving the woman in only a strophion and a skirted garment that clung about her waist.
It drew eyes, for her to be so immodest, but the attention lavished was for a purpose. To draw people to her as languid movements shifted her from pose to pose... it was a necessity. People giving Anastasia their attention led to them lauding her with their coin, next, and she'd give them plenty of reason for which to donate to the cause that was her comfort. Placing herself into an easy forward split, she leaned her body forward, pressing her chest to just above her knee, forehead resting against her leg ad she felt the burn against her thighs and along her back. She let in a breath, lifting up her body before she twirled about in place, letting the fabric of her skirt fall back into place before she began.
Anastasia had already drawn a small group to her, astute Taengeans who saw the signs of a performer readying herself for an act. Acrobatics did not lead well without music, and it seemed that a forward-thinking lyre player caught drift of her intentions. He tested out his instrument before settling a raised platform as a makeshift seat, then sat upon it as the acrobat began her effort. Anastasia offered a bow to the crowd, but did not speak to them, acknowledging the presence before shifting her weight forward. She rolled her shoulders, catching her weight on her hands, the fabric of her skirt falling to gravity as she lifted herself onto her fingertips. She wove a circular pattern with her hands, twirling on her hands so that the skirt followed the motion before lifting herself off and back onto her feet.
Features flushed with the motion, Anastasia took an easy breath, shifting her weight back and forth in a smooth sort of dance. She winked at a young male patron who'd dashed forward to place a number of coins in a saucer on the ground. Red as a beet, the boy backed off, blending into the crowd as Anastasia continued her little dance, guiding herself to a nearby building. She dashed forward, using the momentum to throw herself forward. Her feet barely touched the wall before she kicked off, propelling herself into a back flip. Sticking the landing perfectly, Anastasia grinned at the crowd. Several more moved to place a coin or two into her saucer, the little clay receptacle filling up more and more.
The acrobat shifted between flips and dance, the minutes passing her by in a flurry of poised movement. To cap off her performance, Anastasia shifted her weight, allowing her hips to sway to and fro with several steps. She raised her hands, pulling momentum with a shift in movement before kicking off from the ground. Guiding her body into a front flip, she landed on her feet before a similar, but reversed momentum tugged her backwards. Repeating an alternation between front and back flips for several moment, she offered one last bow at the crowd before letting herself rest.
A racing heart and soreness in her legs and abdomen, Anastasia at last allowed herself to sit, holding up the saucer but not making an effort to count it until the crowd had dispersed. Handing the lyre player a number of coins for his own efforts, she allowed herself some peace, unsuspecting of the confrontation that was to follow. She intended to get dressed, but sought to regulate her heartbeat and breathing before constricting her body with an additional garment.
Dafni clapped. Of course she did, she was a lady after all. So she clapped as the incredible Acrobat performed her act, spinning and stretching and flipping her body in uncanny ways. It was incredible and intoxicating to watch such a gorgeous woman perform in such a way, making her own body into a piece of art. And for a moment Dafni let herself get lost in the women's movements, wishing for some inane reason, that she was able to do half those things. But that was just silly. A silly thought for a silly girl. Dafni was a lady. A courtier. The daughter of an important man from an important family and it would be beyond unseemly for her to even think such a thing let alone if she ever actually acted on it!
The moment ended with the last twang of the lyre. Now she was back to herself. A little rich girl out on the town with her attendants and guard hovering just seconds behind her at all times, ready to spew her poison on an unsuspecting victim. She was here to put this conniving bitch in her place. With measured steps and the swish of her perfectly respectable rich blue Peplos about her thighs Dafni approached the woman. She had waited until the enthralled crowd had all made their flatteries and dispensed their gold of course. This was not a conversation to be interrupted by some enamored well wisher of the performer. This… Anastasia of Lands Afar. Dafni had heard of her of course. She had been a hot topic on the courts with her considerable skills sets. She had listened little to the stories then. Not caring about her supposed beauty since she could not possibly be as fetching as Dafni herself. She had heard the tale of her siren song of a voice and the wonderful tales she spun. But still it had not interested Dafni. What had finally caught her attention had been the whispering in the hall. Maids with their heads pressed together and lips moving with the urgency of sharing the private moments between individuals they had no right to gossip about.
In this case Dafni had let it go, settled her back against one of the marble columns in her home and just listened. The more she had heard, the angered she had grown. This… this woman that she approached now… this woman had seduced her sister. This commoner had touched Melina in a way only a husband should touch her! No, Dafni was beyond angry, she was furious. For a simple traveling performer to take advantage of her sister was more than she could handle and she would never allow it to happen again. She would protect her sister even if her Melina never knew about it, even if she didn’t want her to. Proper ladies did not succumb to the enticements of such rabble. If the rumors spread? Well, she would get rid of the woman before that ever happened.
At Sixteen and with a modest high such as she sported Danfi was not exactly intimidating. Her features were more of those one might expect on a precious figurine than a wrathful Royal. But still she approached the woman just as she was turning away from giving the Lyre player his fair share of coin. Fingering a gold piece she held it up between two dainty fingers. Her face was a mask of cold calm, but her eyes, oh her bewitching eyes gave her away. Green fire flared within their depths, spitting and lashing until they were almost alive in her sockets. As Danfi laid eyes upon just how pretty the woman was, her furry only grew, jealousy a raging and untamed beast in her heart. She did not like that this commoner could match her in looks and exceed her in allure of body all at the same time. No she did not like that at all.
“You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana..?” She asked with a petty innocence her gaze made transparent. “Anastana of Lands Afar yes?” Her lips parted and a crocodile smile bloomed. “I have heard so much about you.” Dafni gushed with a saccharine sweetness.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Dafni clapped. Of course she did, she was a lady after all. So she clapped as the incredible Acrobat performed her act, spinning and stretching and flipping her body in uncanny ways. It was incredible and intoxicating to watch such a gorgeous woman perform in such a way, making her own body into a piece of art. And for a moment Dafni let herself get lost in the women's movements, wishing for some inane reason, that she was able to do half those things. But that was just silly. A silly thought for a silly girl. Dafni was a lady. A courtier. The daughter of an important man from an important family and it would be beyond unseemly for her to even think such a thing let alone if she ever actually acted on it!
The moment ended with the last twang of the lyre. Now she was back to herself. A little rich girl out on the town with her attendants and guard hovering just seconds behind her at all times, ready to spew her poison on an unsuspecting victim. She was here to put this conniving bitch in her place. With measured steps and the swish of her perfectly respectable rich blue Peplos about her thighs Dafni approached the woman. She had waited until the enthralled crowd had all made their flatteries and dispensed their gold of course. This was not a conversation to be interrupted by some enamored well wisher of the performer. This… Anastasia of Lands Afar. Dafni had heard of her of course. She had been a hot topic on the courts with her considerable skills sets. She had listened little to the stories then. Not caring about her supposed beauty since she could not possibly be as fetching as Dafni herself. She had heard the tale of her siren song of a voice and the wonderful tales she spun. But still it had not interested Dafni. What had finally caught her attention had been the whispering in the hall. Maids with their heads pressed together and lips moving with the urgency of sharing the private moments between individuals they had no right to gossip about.
In this case Dafni had let it go, settled her back against one of the marble columns in her home and just listened. The more she had heard, the angered she had grown. This… this woman that she approached now… this woman had seduced her sister. This commoner had touched Melina in a way only a husband should touch her! No, Dafni was beyond angry, she was furious. For a simple traveling performer to take advantage of her sister was more than she could handle and she would never allow it to happen again. She would protect her sister even if her Melina never knew about it, even if she didn’t want her to. Proper ladies did not succumb to the enticements of such rabble. If the rumors spread? Well, she would get rid of the woman before that ever happened.
At Sixteen and with a modest high such as she sported Danfi was not exactly intimidating. Her features were more of those one might expect on a precious figurine than a wrathful Royal. But still she approached the woman just as she was turning away from giving the Lyre player his fair share of coin. Fingering a gold piece she held it up between two dainty fingers. Her face was a mask of cold calm, but her eyes, oh her bewitching eyes gave her away. Green fire flared within their depths, spitting and lashing until they were almost alive in her sockets. As Danfi laid eyes upon just how pretty the woman was, her furry only grew, jealousy a raging and untamed beast in her heart. She did not like that this commoner could match her in looks and exceed her in allure of body all at the same time. No she did not like that at all.
“You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana..?” She asked with a petty innocence her gaze made transparent. “Anastana of Lands Afar yes?” Her lips parted and a crocodile smile bloomed. “I have heard so much about you.” Dafni gushed with a saccharine sweetness.
Dafni clapped. Of course she did, she was a lady after all. So she clapped as the incredible Acrobat performed her act, spinning and stretching and flipping her body in uncanny ways. It was incredible and intoxicating to watch such a gorgeous woman perform in such a way, making her own body into a piece of art. And for a moment Dafni let herself get lost in the women's movements, wishing for some inane reason, that she was able to do half those things. But that was just silly. A silly thought for a silly girl. Dafni was a lady. A courtier. The daughter of an important man from an important family and it would be beyond unseemly for her to even think such a thing let alone if she ever actually acted on it!
The moment ended with the last twang of the lyre. Now she was back to herself. A little rich girl out on the town with her attendants and guard hovering just seconds behind her at all times, ready to spew her poison on an unsuspecting victim. She was here to put this conniving bitch in her place. With measured steps and the swish of her perfectly respectable rich blue Peplos about her thighs Dafni approached the woman. She had waited until the enthralled crowd had all made their flatteries and dispensed their gold of course. This was not a conversation to be interrupted by some enamored well wisher of the performer. This… Anastasia of Lands Afar. Dafni had heard of her of course. She had been a hot topic on the courts with her considerable skills sets. She had listened little to the stories then. Not caring about her supposed beauty since she could not possibly be as fetching as Dafni herself. She had heard the tale of her siren song of a voice and the wonderful tales she spun. But still it had not interested Dafni. What had finally caught her attention had been the whispering in the hall. Maids with their heads pressed together and lips moving with the urgency of sharing the private moments between individuals they had no right to gossip about.
In this case Dafni had let it go, settled her back against one of the marble columns in her home and just listened. The more she had heard, the angered she had grown. This… this woman that she approached now… this woman had seduced her sister. This commoner had touched Melina in a way only a husband should touch her! No, Dafni was beyond angry, she was furious. For a simple traveling performer to take advantage of her sister was more than she could handle and she would never allow it to happen again. She would protect her sister even if her Melina never knew about it, even if she didn’t want her to. Proper ladies did not succumb to the enticements of such rabble. If the rumors spread? Well, she would get rid of the woman before that ever happened.
At Sixteen and with a modest high such as she sported Danfi was not exactly intimidating. Her features were more of those one might expect on a precious figurine than a wrathful Royal. But still she approached the woman just as she was turning away from giving the Lyre player his fair share of coin. Fingering a gold piece she held it up between two dainty fingers. Her face was a mask of cold calm, but her eyes, oh her bewitching eyes gave her away. Green fire flared within their depths, spitting and lashing until they were almost alive in her sockets. As Danfi laid eyes upon just how pretty the woman was, her furry only grew, jealousy a raging and untamed beast in her heart. She did not like that this commoner could match her in looks and exceed her in allure of body all at the same time. No she did not like that at all.
“You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana..?” She asked with a petty innocence her gaze made transparent. “Anastana of Lands Afar yes?” Her lips parted and a crocodile smile bloomed. “I have heard so much about you.” Dafni gushed with a saccharine sweetness.
The life of Anastasia of the Siren's Song was never dry or uneventful. An existence of her own making, full of fabrications and outlandishness that suited her sensibilities perfectly. The siren given legs, the nymph from lands afar... Whatever it was that she chose to call herself in her tale-weaving perpetuated her other shows and their success. She rolled the dice with perception, believing that every controversy, every action only served to spread her name wider and wider. There was the worry, deep-seeded, that caused her to spread her horizons and travel incessantly... but it was far away today. Vasiliadon was one of Ana's favourite places to be, after all.
Anastasia allowed herself to recover from the ordeal of her performance, laughing off the burning within her muscles. She'd been just about to dig into her things for her wine-skin, a familiar practice to help in the process of recovery... but her efforts were waylaid by the fact that not everyone seemed to disperse after the show. While most were keen to give the performer her privacy, there were always those few who tried to harass her afterwards. Ordinarily, they were men with deep pockets, the sort she was prone to giving a shot at her, if only to rebuke them and run away with some more of their coins in her possession.
But, this was nothing like that. Instead, she saw a young woman, clearly noble in bearing by the finery of her dress and the elegant beauty given to her in stance. She was beautiful, as well, though perhaps a shade too young to catch Anastasia's fancy. But... she looked eerily familiar. In her, she saw the flash of a familiar face, but couldn't quite place it. Maybe she'd been in the crowds before and caught her attention? Possible, but unlikely. Unable to come to a conclusion, she let it slide. It didn't really matter, especially as Ana met the woman's eyes.
Her face was so calm, but Hades looked to be in her stare. Anastasia prided herself in the ability to read people but... what could the reason be? Ana did not ask the woman what she wanted, but did pop the stopper that kept her wine-skin sealed. She placed it to her lips, not moving from her position on the ground as she tilted her head. While Dafni's stare held hellfire in it, Anastasia's own held a polite interest, especially as the woman began to talk.
This was no noble. Nobles were high-brow and stiff just like this young woman, but she held the sort of petulance in her that almost demanded royal status to truly hold capture to. If she thought more deeply on it, the bard was reminded staunchly of Evangelina of Leventi. But rather than looking bored and even resigned to something, this girl clearly had something to say to her. Something angry and possibly all-too interesting for the young woman to listen to.
"You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana...?"
Is this a joke?
There were cheers throughout the show of her name. It was spoken throughout the town and any intelligent person would be able to put it to memory almost immediately. After all, how many common-born women walked around with such a name? She chose it on a whim, spoken to a Harimtu for the first time more than a half-decade earlier... but never had cause to regret the decision.
Already, Ana was driven to ire. The sort of game this woman was playing was incredibly obvious. There was something she was angry about. Was she a married woman? Had Anastasia taken too much of her husband's attention away from her? There were far too many reasons, all just as petty and nonsensical as the last, that occurred to her. But, Ana was not so easily given to anger. Though the annoyance was buried within her, she stamped it out with a swig of her wine, flashing the woman a bright smile before at last rising to her feet.
The skirt that clung to her waist was balled up in her fingers, a respectful curtsy showing the royal girl that she was acknowledged.
"But not my name, it seems!"
A girlish giggle escaped her lips, those hazel eyes bright and wide as she made proper eye contact with the woman.
"Though, I would never fault someone for such a thing. It is a difficult name to pronounce, after all." Her words were teasing and light, a playfulness in them just as she went on,
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Lands Afar is so... passe," she corrected gently. Again, she offered a curtsy before she asked,
"I can tell, my lady, that you're a woman of high birth. A Leventi, perhaps? Do you have business with me?" she wondered.
It was better to cut to the chase.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The life of Anastasia of the Siren's Song was never dry or uneventful. An existence of her own making, full of fabrications and outlandishness that suited her sensibilities perfectly. The siren given legs, the nymph from lands afar... Whatever it was that she chose to call herself in her tale-weaving perpetuated her other shows and their success. She rolled the dice with perception, believing that every controversy, every action only served to spread her name wider and wider. There was the worry, deep-seeded, that caused her to spread her horizons and travel incessantly... but it was far away today. Vasiliadon was one of Ana's favourite places to be, after all.
Anastasia allowed herself to recover from the ordeal of her performance, laughing off the burning within her muscles. She'd been just about to dig into her things for her wine-skin, a familiar practice to help in the process of recovery... but her efforts were waylaid by the fact that not everyone seemed to disperse after the show. While most were keen to give the performer her privacy, there were always those few who tried to harass her afterwards. Ordinarily, they were men with deep pockets, the sort she was prone to giving a shot at her, if only to rebuke them and run away with some more of their coins in her possession.
But, this was nothing like that. Instead, she saw a young woman, clearly noble in bearing by the finery of her dress and the elegant beauty given to her in stance. She was beautiful, as well, though perhaps a shade too young to catch Anastasia's fancy. But... she looked eerily familiar. In her, she saw the flash of a familiar face, but couldn't quite place it. Maybe she'd been in the crowds before and caught her attention? Possible, but unlikely. Unable to come to a conclusion, she let it slide. It didn't really matter, especially as Ana met the woman's eyes.
Her face was so calm, but Hades looked to be in her stare. Anastasia prided herself in the ability to read people but... what could the reason be? Ana did not ask the woman what she wanted, but did pop the stopper that kept her wine-skin sealed. She placed it to her lips, not moving from her position on the ground as she tilted her head. While Dafni's stare held hellfire in it, Anastasia's own held a polite interest, especially as the woman began to talk.
This was no noble. Nobles were high-brow and stiff just like this young woman, but she held the sort of petulance in her that almost demanded royal status to truly hold capture to. If she thought more deeply on it, the bard was reminded staunchly of Evangelina of Leventi. But rather than looking bored and even resigned to something, this girl clearly had something to say to her. Something angry and possibly all-too interesting for the young woman to listen to.
"You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana...?"
Is this a joke?
There were cheers throughout the show of her name. It was spoken throughout the town and any intelligent person would be able to put it to memory almost immediately. After all, how many common-born women walked around with such a name? She chose it on a whim, spoken to a Harimtu for the first time more than a half-decade earlier... but never had cause to regret the decision.
Already, Ana was driven to ire. The sort of game this woman was playing was incredibly obvious. There was something she was angry about. Was she a married woman? Had Anastasia taken too much of her husband's attention away from her? There were far too many reasons, all just as petty and nonsensical as the last, that occurred to her. But, Ana was not so easily given to anger. Though the annoyance was buried within her, she stamped it out with a swig of her wine, flashing the woman a bright smile before at last rising to her feet.
The skirt that clung to her waist was balled up in her fingers, a respectful curtsy showing the royal girl that she was acknowledged.
"But not my name, it seems!"
A girlish giggle escaped her lips, those hazel eyes bright and wide as she made proper eye contact with the woman.
"Though, I would never fault someone for such a thing. It is a difficult name to pronounce, after all." Her words were teasing and light, a playfulness in them just as she went on,
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Lands Afar is so... passe," she corrected gently. Again, she offered a curtsy before she asked,
"I can tell, my lady, that you're a woman of high birth. A Leventi, perhaps? Do you have business with me?" she wondered.
It was better to cut to the chase.
The life of Anastasia of the Siren's Song was never dry or uneventful. An existence of her own making, full of fabrications and outlandishness that suited her sensibilities perfectly. The siren given legs, the nymph from lands afar... Whatever it was that she chose to call herself in her tale-weaving perpetuated her other shows and their success. She rolled the dice with perception, believing that every controversy, every action only served to spread her name wider and wider. There was the worry, deep-seeded, that caused her to spread her horizons and travel incessantly... but it was far away today. Vasiliadon was one of Ana's favourite places to be, after all.
Anastasia allowed herself to recover from the ordeal of her performance, laughing off the burning within her muscles. She'd been just about to dig into her things for her wine-skin, a familiar practice to help in the process of recovery... but her efforts were waylaid by the fact that not everyone seemed to disperse after the show. While most were keen to give the performer her privacy, there were always those few who tried to harass her afterwards. Ordinarily, they were men with deep pockets, the sort she was prone to giving a shot at her, if only to rebuke them and run away with some more of their coins in her possession.
But, this was nothing like that. Instead, she saw a young woman, clearly noble in bearing by the finery of her dress and the elegant beauty given to her in stance. She was beautiful, as well, though perhaps a shade too young to catch Anastasia's fancy. But... she looked eerily familiar. In her, she saw the flash of a familiar face, but couldn't quite place it. Maybe she'd been in the crowds before and caught her attention? Possible, but unlikely. Unable to come to a conclusion, she let it slide. It didn't really matter, especially as Ana met the woman's eyes.
Her face was so calm, but Hades looked to be in her stare. Anastasia prided herself in the ability to read people but... what could the reason be? Ana did not ask the woman what she wanted, but did pop the stopper that kept her wine-skin sealed. She placed it to her lips, not moving from her position on the ground as she tilted her head. While Dafni's stare held hellfire in it, Anastasia's own held a polite interest, especially as the woman began to talk.
This was no noble. Nobles were high-brow and stiff just like this young woman, but she held the sort of petulance in her that almost demanded royal status to truly hold capture to. If she thought more deeply on it, the bard was reminded staunchly of Evangelina of Leventi. But rather than looking bored and even resigned to something, this girl clearly had something to say to her. Something angry and possibly all-too interesting for the young woman to listen to.
"You are Aneya, no no, what was it, Anastana...?"
Is this a joke?
There were cheers throughout the show of her name. It was spoken throughout the town and any intelligent person would be able to put it to memory almost immediately. After all, how many common-born women walked around with such a name? She chose it on a whim, spoken to a Harimtu for the first time more than a half-decade earlier... but never had cause to regret the decision.
Already, Ana was driven to ire. The sort of game this woman was playing was incredibly obvious. There was something she was angry about. Was she a married woman? Had Anastasia taken too much of her husband's attention away from her? There were far too many reasons, all just as petty and nonsensical as the last, that occurred to her. But, Ana was not so easily given to anger. Though the annoyance was buried within her, she stamped it out with a swig of her wine, flashing the woman a bright smile before at last rising to her feet.
The skirt that clung to her waist was balled up in her fingers, a respectful curtsy showing the royal girl that she was acknowledged.
"But not my name, it seems!"
A girlish giggle escaped her lips, those hazel eyes bright and wide as she made proper eye contact with the woman.
"Though, I would never fault someone for such a thing. It is a difficult name to pronounce, after all." Her words were teasing and light, a playfulness in them just as she went on,
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Lands Afar is so... passe," she corrected gently. Again, she offered a curtsy before she asked,
"I can tell, my lady, that you're a woman of high birth. A Leventi, perhaps? Do you have business with me?" she wondered.
It was better to cut to the chase.
Dafni’s lips curled in distaste as the beautiful woman before her batted her pretty little eyelashes and said her pretty little words. If it had not been for the spare details Danfi was able to pry from Melina's sorrow pinched throat she may even have been taken in by the niceties, but she had come prepared. She would not be taken in by the same act as her sister had. Oh no. Dafni had listened to her sister cry. She had watched the tears drip down Melina’s cheeks and seen the spiral of her sister's thoughts in those common brown eyes that Dafni found so lovable. This woman, this commoner had played with her sisters emotions and now she would pay. This, well this was just the beginning of Dafni’s plans. She would have this bitch blacklisted from the city, god’s help her, she would have it done.
“Hard to pronounce?” Dafni asked with a tittering giggle as she brought one immaculately manicured hand, tipped with long elegant fingers, up to her plush lips as if to hide the extent of her smile. “Far from it my dear, simply so foolish as to not spark the memory!” Sighing she waved away the mocking laughter as if it were the polite thing to do. As if she did not want to give the wrong impression. “And it seems even you find it so as you need to liven it up with fabrications of the deep. But I will give you this a siren you may well be, I could smell the stink of the ocean on you even among the riff raff you spread your legs and arched your back for and called it dance. You even flipped for them like a good dog!” She gasped conspiratorially as if it was all such an interesting game of gossip back at court. A new juicy tale to be spread about a party in hushed voices and punctual giggles, smiles and expressions hidden behind fans and the rims of glasses filled with rich red wine. And in this market square, it was Anastasia to which Dafni was gossiping with. The way she stood so close, the intimate and secretive way she shared words. The amused smiles that flitted across her lips.
However, a true courtier would see what she was doing even from the crowd, and it was not sharing idle gossip and fainting shock and awe. For her lips were curved with a shape edge to them and cruelty snuggled into her eyes, purring and stretching like a contented cat as it soaked in the reactions to its words. She wondered how long the performer would play the game before she'd have had enough, before she could not take anymore and anger cracked her façade. Dafni was not good at many things, word games included, but when it came to insults and passive aggressive compliments she was the queen. They were the words she played with at court. And they were also the reason she was famous in those circles as well. Not for the way she ferreted and plied secrets like her parents, the way she wanted to be, but for the way she formulated and spewed her catty insults. And at this moment she could not have been more proud of her craft.
“I mean my goodness when was the last time you bathed, I feel as if the stink of the docks has taken up residence in this here market.” Dafni mused aloud and looked around as if she indeed expected to find rotting fish and soiled streets all around her. “Never you mind I know the finances can be tight for your lot.” She whispered with a flick of her hand. Sighing she pressed one finger to her bottom lip and tapped it, gaze running over the woman, assessing, as if weighing some thought.
“Ah yes my business with you. It is very simple really, I will be on my way and goodness knows forget about you in naught but a moment once it is taken care of.” She said dismissively with a crinkling of her nose as if the memory of the woman itself was currently causing her pain before continuing. “That is of course, as long as you do the smart thing.” She laughed then, as if the thought of the other woman not doing so was inane. “I want you out of the city within the week!” The cheery words at odds with the intent and of that same conceited crocodile smile. It spread so wide this time, and her eyes glittering with so much hate mixed with the smallest dash of pleasure, that it was as if the real creature stood here in Dafni’s stead. Mouth wide ready to eat her whole. “And of course if you do not, well..” she sniggered “I’ll have all the more fun”. Her plush lips whispered as Dafni leaned in just a little closer, a little more intimately. Like a lover her lips caressed the words as they drifted by, savoring the taste of them as the world welcomed their poison.
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Dafni’s lips curled in distaste as the beautiful woman before her batted her pretty little eyelashes and said her pretty little words. If it had not been for the spare details Danfi was able to pry from Melina's sorrow pinched throat she may even have been taken in by the niceties, but she had come prepared. She would not be taken in by the same act as her sister had. Oh no. Dafni had listened to her sister cry. She had watched the tears drip down Melina’s cheeks and seen the spiral of her sister's thoughts in those common brown eyes that Dafni found so lovable. This woman, this commoner had played with her sisters emotions and now she would pay. This, well this was just the beginning of Dafni’s plans. She would have this bitch blacklisted from the city, god’s help her, she would have it done.
“Hard to pronounce?” Dafni asked with a tittering giggle as she brought one immaculately manicured hand, tipped with long elegant fingers, up to her plush lips as if to hide the extent of her smile. “Far from it my dear, simply so foolish as to not spark the memory!” Sighing she waved away the mocking laughter as if it were the polite thing to do. As if she did not want to give the wrong impression. “And it seems even you find it so as you need to liven it up with fabrications of the deep. But I will give you this a siren you may well be, I could smell the stink of the ocean on you even among the riff raff you spread your legs and arched your back for and called it dance. You even flipped for them like a good dog!” She gasped conspiratorially as if it was all such an interesting game of gossip back at court. A new juicy tale to be spread about a party in hushed voices and punctual giggles, smiles and expressions hidden behind fans and the rims of glasses filled with rich red wine. And in this market square, it was Anastasia to which Dafni was gossiping with. The way she stood so close, the intimate and secretive way she shared words. The amused smiles that flitted across her lips.
However, a true courtier would see what she was doing even from the crowd, and it was not sharing idle gossip and fainting shock and awe. For her lips were curved with a shape edge to them and cruelty snuggled into her eyes, purring and stretching like a contented cat as it soaked in the reactions to its words. She wondered how long the performer would play the game before she'd have had enough, before she could not take anymore and anger cracked her façade. Dafni was not good at many things, word games included, but when it came to insults and passive aggressive compliments she was the queen. They were the words she played with at court. And they were also the reason she was famous in those circles as well. Not for the way she ferreted and plied secrets like her parents, the way she wanted to be, but for the way she formulated and spewed her catty insults. And at this moment she could not have been more proud of her craft.
“I mean my goodness when was the last time you bathed, I feel as if the stink of the docks has taken up residence in this here market.” Dafni mused aloud and looked around as if she indeed expected to find rotting fish and soiled streets all around her. “Never you mind I know the finances can be tight for your lot.” She whispered with a flick of her hand. Sighing she pressed one finger to her bottom lip and tapped it, gaze running over the woman, assessing, as if weighing some thought.
“Ah yes my business with you. It is very simple really, I will be on my way and goodness knows forget about you in naught but a moment once it is taken care of.” She said dismissively with a crinkling of her nose as if the memory of the woman itself was currently causing her pain before continuing. “That is of course, as long as you do the smart thing.” She laughed then, as if the thought of the other woman not doing so was inane. “I want you out of the city within the week!” The cheery words at odds with the intent and of that same conceited crocodile smile. It spread so wide this time, and her eyes glittering with so much hate mixed with the smallest dash of pleasure, that it was as if the real creature stood here in Dafni’s stead. Mouth wide ready to eat her whole. “And of course if you do not, well..” she sniggered “I’ll have all the more fun”. Her plush lips whispered as Dafni leaned in just a little closer, a little more intimately. Like a lover her lips caressed the words as they drifted by, savoring the taste of them as the world welcomed their poison.
Dafni’s lips curled in distaste as the beautiful woman before her batted her pretty little eyelashes and said her pretty little words. If it had not been for the spare details Danfi was able to pry from Melina's sorrow pinched throat she may even have been taken in by the niceties, but she had come prepared. She would not be taken in by the same act as her sister had. Oh no. Dafni had listened to her sister cry. She had watched the tears drip down Melina’s cheeks and seen the spiral of her sister's thoughts in those common brown eyes that Dafni found so lovable. This woman, this commoner had played with her sisters emotions and now she would pay. This, well this was just the beginning of Dafni’s plans. She would have this bitch blacklisted from the city, god’s help her, she would have it done.
“Hard to pronounce?” Dafni asked with a tittering giggle as she brought one immaculately manicured hand, tipped with long elegant fingers, up to her plush lips as if to hide the extent of her smile. “Far from it my dear, simply so foolish as to not spark the memory!” Sighing she waved away the mocking laughter as if it were the polite thing to do. As if she did not want to give the wrong impression. “And it seems even you find it so as you need to liven it up with fabrications of the deep. But I will give you this a siren you may well be, I could smell the stink of the ocean on you even among the riff raff you spread your legs and arched your back for and called it dance. You even flipped for them like a good dog!” She gasped conspiratorially as if it was all such an interesting game of gossip back at court. A new juicy tale to be spread about a party in hushed voices and punctual giggles, smiles and expressions hidden behind fans and the rims of glasses filled with rich red wine. And in this market square, it was Anastasia to which Dafni was gossiping with. The way she stood so close, the intimate and secretive way she shared words. The amused smiles that flitted across her lips.
However, a true courtier would see what she was doing even from the crowd, and it was not sharing idle gossip and fainting shock and awe. For her lips were curved with a shape edge to them and cruelty snuggled into her eyes, purring and stretching like a contented cat as it soaked in the reactions to its words. She wondered how long the performer would play the game before she'd have had enough, before she could not take anymore and anger cracked her façade. Dafni was not good at many things, word games included, but when it came to insults and passive aggressive compliments she was the queen. They were the words she played with at court. And they were also the reason she was famous in those circles as well. Not for the way she ferreted and plied secrets like her parents, the way she wanted to be, but for the way she formulated and spewed her catty insults. And at this moment she could not have been more proud of her craft.
“I mean my goodness when was the last time you bathed, I feel as if the stink of the docks has taken up residence in this here market.” Dafni mused aloud and looked around as if she indeed expected to find rotting fish and soiled streets all around her. “Never you mind I know the finances can be tight for your lot.” She whispered with a flick of her hand. Sighing she pressed one finger to her bottom lip and tapped it, gaze running over the woman, assessing, as if weighing some thought.
“Ah yes my business with you. It is very simple really, I will be on my way and goodness knows forget about you in naught but a moment once it is taken care of.” She said dismissively with a crinkling of her nose as if the memory of the woman itself was currently causing her pain before continuing. “That is of course, as long as you do the smart thing.” She laughed then, as if the thought of the other woman not doing so was inane. “I want you out of the city within the week!” The cheery words at odds with the intent and of that same conceited crocodile smile. It spread so wide this time, and her eyes glittering with so much hate mixed with the smallest dash of pleasure, that it was as if the real creature stood here in Dafni’s stead. Mouth wide ready to eat her whole. “And of course if you do not, well..” she sniggered “I’ll have all the more fun”. Her plush lips whispered as Dafni leaned in just a little closer, a little more intimately. Like a lover her lips caressed the words as they drifted by, savoring the taste of them as the world welcomed their poison.
How mighty the royals of Taengea were!
Anastasia withheld the chuckle that sought to escape her as she listened to the girl called her name 'foolish', a hand raised in a backhanded attempt to hide her own growing humour at the words she let out. Hecklers were nothing new to Anastasia, with swindled tavern folk she'd batted her eyelashes for to get free drinks usually coming to try to get a word or a grab at her. This seemed different. This girl, whose name she still didn't know, held some sort of hilarious anger behind her. Petite and demure-in-seeming, it was alsways so common to find someone a hair taller, or significantly taller. Always used to looking up Anastasia was, but the more Dafni spoke, the smaller she seemed.
It's sad, when little girls make a fool of themselves.
The jilted and the angry always needed their say, but often they interrupted performances rather than oh so politely waiting to the end. Already, Anastasia had her take in her sack, ready to leave and the crowd dispersing.
You're kidding me, she went on, with callous threats imposed and the idea that this girl had any means of carrying them out. Could she corral enough of an effort from her father or a brother to do much of anything? Anastasia was vibrant and made a performance out of life, but she was no waif to be intimidated, and the chuckle on her lips gave way to a curved smile. She lowered her voice as she drew closer to Dafni. She'd dare not put her hands on the woman, but she did pace well within distance enough as to put her words for the girl and the girl alone.
"Oh no, my lady, how could the smell of fish ever be present so close to the harbour? Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?" She appended the thought with a girlish giggle. The sack slung over her shoulder.
"You'll forget about me, but force me out of town nonetheless? I pity the sad wretch daddy's guards pluck off the street in that instance. Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention? Please, daddy can't fight all of your little battles for you, whelp."
Anastasia was no so displeased by their continued proximity. Dafni finished speaking, and it allowed Ana to let her digits dance delicately, never quite touching the mouthy royal whore, but her proximity could be felt.
"I'll do no such thing. In fact," she indeed did press her hand to the Leventi's shoulder, just a soft pop to push the woman back a step before she added,
"I'll perform in front of your manor and parade myself about to my heart's content. I'll ensure the sounds of their cheers reach your room and my name echoes into your skull. How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way."
Anastasia let out a laugh before she added,
"Does daddy know that you're out?"
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How mighty the royals of Taengea were!
Anastasia withheld the chuckle that sought to escape her as she listened to the girl called her name 'foolish', a hand raised in a backhanded attempt to hide her own growing humour at the words she let out. Hecklers were nothing new to Anastasia, with swindled tavern folk she'd batted her eyelashes for to get free drinks usually coming to try to get a word or a grab at her. This seemed different. This girl, whose name she still didn't know, held some sort of hilarious anger behind her. Petite and demure-in-seeming, it was alsways so common to find someone a hair taller, or significantly taller. Always used to looking up Anastasia was, but the more Dafni spoke, the smaller she seemed.
It's sad, when little girls make a fool of themselves.
The jilted and the angry always needed their say, but often they interrupted performances rather than oh so politely waiting to the end. Already, Anastasia had her take in her sack, ready to leave and the crowd dispersing.
You're kidding me, she went on, with callous threats imposed and the idea that this girl had any means of carrying them out. Could she corral enough of an effort from her father or a brother to do much of anything? Anastasia was vibrant and made a performance out of life, but she was no waif to be intimidated, and the chuckle on her lips gave way to a curved smile. She lowered her voice as she drew closer to Dafni. She'd dare not put her hands on the woman, but she did pace well within distance enough as to put her words for the girl and the girl alone.
"Oh no, my lady, how could the smell of fish ever be present so close to the harbour? Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?" She appended the thought with a girlish giggle. The sack slung over her shoulder.
"You'll forget about me, but force me out of town nonetheless? I pity the sad wretch daddy's guards pluck off the street in that instance. Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention? Please, daddy can't fight all of your little battles for you, whelp."
Anastasia was no so displeased by their continued proximity. Dafni finished speaking, and it allowed Ana to let her digits dance delicately, never quite touching the mouthy royal whore, but her proximity could be felt.
"I'll do no such thing. In fact," she indeed did press her hand to the Leventi's shoulder, just a soft pop to push the woman back a step before she added,
"I'll perform in front of your manor and parade myself about to my heart's content. I'll ensure the sounds of their cheers reach your room and my name echoes into your skull. How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way."
Anastasia let out a laugh before she added,
"Does daddy know that you're out?"
How mighty the royals of Taengea were!
Anastasia withheld the chuckle that sought to escape her as she listened to the girl called her name 'foolish', a hand raised in a backhanded attempt to hide her own growing humour at the words she let out. Hecklers were nothing new to Anastasia, with swindled tavern folk she'd batted her eyelashes for to get free drinks usually coming to try to get a word or a grab at her. This seemed different. This girl, whose name she still didn't know, held some sort of hilarious anger behind her. Petite and demure-in-seeming, it was alsways so common to find someone a hair taller, or significantly taller. Always used to looking up Anastasia was, but the more Dafni spoke, the smaller she seemed.
It's sad, when little girls make a fool of themselves.
The jilted and the angry always needed their say, but often they interrupted performances rather than oh so politely waiting to the end. Already, Anastasia had her take in her sack, ready to leave and the crowd dispersing.
You're kidding me, she went on, with callous threats imposed and the idea that this girl had any means of carrying them out. Could she corral enough of an effort from her father or a brother to do much of anything? Anastasia was vibrant and made a performance out of life, but she was no waif to be intimidated, and the chuckle on her lips gave way to a curved smile. She lowered her voice as she drew closer to Dafni. She'd dare not put her hands on the woman, but she did pace well within distance enough as to put her words for the girl and the girl alone.
"Oh no, my lady, how could the smell of fish ever be present so close to the harbour? Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?" She appended the thought with a girlish giggle. The sack slung over her shoulder.
"You'll forget about me, but force me out of town nonetheless? I pity the sad wretch daddy's guards pluck off the street in that instance. Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention? Please, daddy can't fight all of your little battles for you, whelp."
Anastasia was no so displeased by their continued proximity. Dafni finished speaking, and it allowed Ana to let her digits dance delicately, never quite touching the mouthy royal whore, but her proximity could be felt.
"I'll do no such thing. In fact," she indeed did press her hand to the Leventi's shoulder, just a soft pop to push the woman back a step before she added,
"I'll perform in front of your manor and parade myself about to my heart's content. I'll ensure the sounds of their cheers reach your room and my name echoes into your skull. How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way."
Anastasia let out a laugh before she added,
"Does daddy know that you're out?"
“Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?” “Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention?” “Welp” “How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way.”
The tramps' words made hate seethe under Dafni’s skin like a living thing. Boiling and hissing and snapping at the barrier of her flesh in an attempt to break free and be released into the world. But not yet. Not quite yet. As Anastasia drew even closer, placed her hand upon the young Leventi’s shoulder, and pushed... she nearly grinned. She nearly tipped her head back and laughed, a caustic self satisfied laugh. But not yet. Not quite yet. Instead she screamed. Screamed so loud and at such a pitch as to gainer even Hades attention from the depths of the underworld. Oh by the gods how she screamed. Lacing the piercing vocals with a startled anguish and terror any actor could be proud of. Like the hero of a story felled by the evil beast, she allowed her body to go limp and tumble like a soft petal to the earth. Limbs spread out over the flagstone, arms cushioning her head and legs carelessly tangled in her peplos.
As soon as flesh met stone Dafni cried out again in true pain as she intentionally slapped her arms down harder than necessary. Pinpricks of pain sear her nerves and blood starting to gather in little pools between the cracks and divots of the street. Immediately tears started to blur her visions, making her gems green eyes stand out even more than before.
“She assaulted me! Guards! Guards!” Dafni yelled hysterically while great sobs erupted from her throat. Shaky arms desperately seeking purchase to leverage her torso into a sitting position. As soon as her face was once more visible Dafni made sure to widen her eyes as big as she could and coax the fattest possible tears from her ducts. She cared little if she remained pretty, (a rare mentality), only that her distress was seen and responded too. Of course, the theatrics were only to push the point home and make the spectacle as public as possible. The young leventi going so far as to scramble away from Anastasia as if she was frightened beyond all her wits of the woman.
Dafni’s guards were already moving even as she fell, approaching the other woman with hard flinty expressions. The maid that attended her on these outings rushing to her side in mere seconds to fuss and worry. Taking an intense interest in the abrasions that now marred her forearms and elbows. They were small things, superficial really, but even the thin trails of blood that crawled across her skin were enough cause to have the street rat taken care of. Anastasia of Lands Afar had just, in all intents and purposes, assaulted a Leventi; a noble of the highest class - and Dafni was going to make sure everyone knew it. Feral bitches like her needed to be taught their place, and that task had been passed to Dafni the second the waif had thought it advisable to play with Melina. Nobody, fucking nobody messed with her sisters; except for her - but nobody else.
“Anastasia of Lands Afar attacked me!” Dafni kept yelling “She attacked me!” Appearing a blubbering mess to any who starred on, the young Leventi made herself look as young and innocent as possible while remaining sprawled upon the ground and simultaneously showcasing her bloodied elbows and tear stained face. The attendant cooed to her and gave empty platitudes and assurances as Dafni continued her dramatics and watched her guards take up positions in front of her. Hands caressing weapons and eyes trained on Anastasia… but nothing more. That would not do. Not at all!
“Arrest her!” Dafni screeched when she realized they were not going to do anything further than stand there, she was their main priority and detaining the other woman would leave her vulnerable. “Arrest the foreign bitch! She has assaulted a noble woman yet she stands there free? Arrest her I say, arrest her!”
The young Leventi’s performance was quickly drawing a crowd of onlookers and the other affluent in attendance nodded their heads in agreement. A few even taking up the cry. Hiccupping as one does when they shed tears, Dafni finally permitted her maid to draw her to her feet, face a mask of fear and pain. But her eyes, those bewitching green eyes that sat luminous in the pretty façade of her face looked on with a twisted sort of pleasure. And they were looking straight at Anastasia. Beat that they seemed to whisper snide and simpering like the girl herself.
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“Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?” “Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention?” “Welp” “How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way.”
The tramps' words made hate seethe under Dafni’s skin like a living thing. Boiling and hissing and snapping at the barrier of her flesh in an attempt to break free and be released into the world. But not yet. Not quite yet. As Anastasia drew even closer, placed her hand upon the young Leventi’s shoulder, and pushed... she nearly grinned. She nearly tipped her head back and laughed, a caustic self satisfied laugh. But not yet. Not quite yet. Instead she screamed. Screamed so loud and at such a pitch as to gainer even Hades attention from the depths of the underworld. Oh by the gods how she screamed. Lacing the piercing vocals with a startled anguish and terror any actor could be proud of. Like the hero of a story felled by the evil beast, she allowed her body to go limp and tumble like a soft petal to the earth. Limbs spread out over the flagstone, arms cushioning her head and legs carelessly tangled in her peplos.
As soon as flesh met stone Dafni cried out again in true pain as she intentionally slapped her arms down harder than necessary. Pinpricks of pain sear her nerves and blood starting to gather in little pools between the cracks and divots of the street. Immediately tears started to blur her visions, making her gems green eyes stand out even more than before.
“She assaulted me! Guards! Guards!” Dafni yelled hysterically while great sobs erupted from her throat. Shaky arms desperately seeking purchase to leverage her torso into a sitting position. As soon as her face was once more visible Dafni made sure to widen her eyes as big as she could and coax the fattest possible tears from her ducts. She cared little if she remained pretty, (a rare mentality), only that her distress was seen and responded too. Of course, the theatrics were only to push the point home and make the spectacle as public as possible. The young leventi going so far as to scramble away from Anastasia as if she was frightened beyond all her wits of the woman.
Dafni’s guards were already moving even as she fell, approaching the other woman with hard flinty expressions. The maid that attended her on these outings rushing to her side in mere seconds to fuss and worry. Taking an intense interest in the abrasions that now marred her forearms and elbows. They were small things, superficial really, but even the thin trails of blood that crawled across her skin were enough cause to have the street rat taken care of. Anastasia of Lands Afar had just, in all intents and purposes, assaulted a Leventi; a noble of the highest class - and Dafni was going to make sure everyone knew it. Feral bitches like her needed to be taught their place, and that task had been passed to Dafni the second the waif had thought it advisable to play with Melina. Nobody, fucking nobody messed with her sisters; except for her - but nobody else.
“Anastasia of Lands Afar attacked me!” Dafni kept yelling “She attacked me!” Appearing a blubbering mess to any who starred on, the young Leventi made herself look as young and innocent as possible while remaining sprawled upon the ground and simultaneously showcasing her bloodied elbows and tear stained face. The attendant cooed to her and gave empty platitudes and assurances as Dafni continued her dramatics and watched her guards take up positions in front of her. Hands caressing weapons and eyes trained on Anastasia… but nothing more. That would not do. Not at all!
“Arrest her!” Dafni screeched when she realized they were not going to do anything further than stand there, she was their main priority and detaining the other woman would leave her vulnerable. “Arrest the foreign bitch! She has assaulted a noble woman yet she stands there free? Arrest her I say, arrest her!”
The young Leventi’s performance was quickly drawing a crowd of onlookers and the other affluent in attendance nodded their heads in agreement. A few even taking up the cry. Hiccupping as one does when they shed tears, Dafni finally permitted her maid to draw her to her feet, face a mask of fear and pain. But her eyes, those bewitching green eyes that sat luminous in the pretty façade of her face looked on with a twisted sort of pleasure. And they were looking straight at Anastasia. Beat that they seemed to whisper snide and simpering like the girl herself.
“Surely, this isn't your first time outside of your house, is it?” “Will the little royal girl chirp like a chicken and hope her father pays attention?” “Welp” “How very like a twelve year old to stamp her feet and try to get her way.”
The tramps' words made hate seethe under Dafni’s skin like a living thing. Boiling and hissing and snapping at the barrier of her flesh in an attempt to break free and be released into the world. But not yet. Not quite yet. As Anastasia drew even closer, placed her hand upon the young Leventi’s shoulder, and pushed... she nearly grinned. She nearly tipped her head back and laughed, a caustic self satisfied laugh. But not yet. Not quite yet. Instead she screamed. Screamed so loud and at such a pitch as to gainer even Hades attention from the depths of the underworld. Oh by the gods how she screamed. Lacing the piercing vocals with a startled anguish and terror any actor could be proud of. Like the hero of a story felled by the evil beast, she allowed her body to go limp and tumble like a soft petal to the earth. Limbs spread out over the flagstone, arms cushioning her head and legs carelessly tangled in her peplos.
As soon as flesh met stone Dafni cried out again in true pain as she intentionally slapped her arms down harder than necessary. Pinpricks of pain sear her nerves and blood starting to gather in little pools between the cracks and divots of the street. Immediately tears started to blur her visions, making her gems green eyes stand out even more than before.
“She assaulted me! Guards! Guards!” Dafni yelled hysterically while great sobs erupted from her throat. Shaky arms desperately seeking purchase to leverage her torso into a sitting position. As soon as her face was once more visible Dafni made sure to widen her eyes as big as she could and coax the fattest possible tears from her ducts. She cared little if she remained pretty, (a rare mentality), only that her distress was seen and responded too. Of course, the theatrics were only to push the point home and make the spectacle as public as possible. The young leventi going so far as to scramble away from Anastasia as if she was frightened beyond all her wits of the woman.
Dafni’s guards were already moving even as she fell, approaching the other woman with hard flinty expressions. The maid that attended her on these outings rushing to her side in mere seconds to fuss and worry. Taking an intense interest in the abrasions that now marred her forearms and elbows. They were small things, superficial really, but even the thin trails of blood that crawled across her skin were enough cause to have the street rat taken care of. Anastasia of Lands Afar had just, in all intents and purposes, assaulted a Leventi; a noble of the highest class - and Dafni was going to make sure everyone knew it. Feral bitches like her needed to be taught their place, and that task had been passed to Dafni the second the waif had thought it advisable to play with Melina. Nobody, fucking nobody messed with her sisters; except for her - but nobody else.
“Anastasia of Lands Afar attacked me!” Dafni kept yelling “She attacked me!” Appearing a blubbering mess to any who starred on, the young Leventi made herself look as young and innocent as possible while remaining sprawled upon the ground and simultaneously showcasing her bloodied elbows and tear stained face. The attendant cooed to her and gave empty platitudes and assurances as Dafni continued her dramatics and watched her guards take up positions in front of her. Hands caressing weapons and eyes trained on Anastasia… but nothing more. That would not do. Not at all!
“Arrest her!” Dafni screeched when she realized they were not going to do anything further than stand there, she was their main priority and detaining the other woman would leave her vulnerable. “Arrest the foreign bitch! She has assaulted a noble woman yet she stands there free? Arrest her I say, arrest her!”
The young Leventi’s performance was quickly drawing a crowd of onlookers and the other affluent in attendance nodded their heads in agreement. A few even taking up the cry. Hiccupping as one does when they shed tears, Dafni finally permitted her maid to draw her to her feet, face a mask of fear and pain. But her eyes, those bewitching green eyes that sat luminous in the pretty façade of her face looked on with a twisted sort of pleasure. And they were looking straight at Anastasia. Beat that they seemed to whisper snide and simpering like the girl herself.
Anastasia didn't give a fuck who this girl thought she was.
Royal or not, there was no way some little nothing girl with her hateful words and some chip on her shoulder could ever cause the fall of Anastasia of the Siren's Song. At least, that's what the bard thought before she let out that laugh. Then... the scream. The little whore sounded like a banshee, wailing out her infinite lament, screeching pathetically in the effort to eradicate whatever poor soul had earned her ire.
It was driveling and it was sad.
What did catch her attention, however, was the follow along. Accused of assault, and again, called Anastasia of Lands Afar... When did she ever call herself that? Who'd called her that? While some seemed to agree with her, others still seemed confused. Others shouted out. The crowd around the both of them tried as they might to shout over their fellows, with nothing heard and Ana looked back at the young girl to roll her eyes.
"Arrest her, I say, arrest her!" Anastasia spoke out in a mocking tone, unable to be heard by most others for the ruckus that was developing. The pair were encircled by the crowd, and Ana found even a trickle of fear coursing through her as her wrist was clutched, only for her to whip it back and send a young man tumbling to the ground as a result. She hissed quietly, staring daggers at the instigator before she said,
"You're a little whore in a pretty dress. No one of consequence will ever listen to you."
The siren found the guards growing closer and closer, and she made her efforts then. The woman reached into her knapsack, tying her long, chocolate tresses into a tail that she flung over her shoulder. Intent on using the chaos to escape and rearrange her attire. Disguise was the pinnacle of her art, the effort to escape scrutiny, to wear a different ensemble and make herself invisible.
The divide between the work of a bard in snaring attention and the need for a thief to rid herself of that attention... Anastasia banished her fear and blew Dafni a kiss before melting into the crowd. With her knapsack in tow, whomever touched her and tried to keep her still would find a stinging red bloom on their face.
Anastasia ran away. It was what she did, but this girl... she heard her name in the madness of it all, concerned peasants fawning over their precious 'Dafni of Leventi'.
That bitch is going to pay for this, she swore to herself.
But, for the moment... guards and chaos weren't good for business. As far as she was concerned... she was never here. When the distance between the crowd and Anastasia grew, she changed herself into a proper chiton, tossing aside the trappings she'd worn in her performance in favour of the azure fabrics she loved so dearly.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Anastasia didn't give a fuck who this girl thought she was.
Royal or not, there was no way some little nothing girl with her hateful words and some chip on her shoulder could ever cause the fall of Anastasia of the Siren's Song. At least, that's what the bard thought before she let out that laugh. Then... the scream. The little whore sounded like a banshee, wailing out her infinite lament, screeching pathetically in the effort to eradicate whatever poor soul had earned her ire.
It was driveling and it was sad.
What did catch her attention, however, was the follow along. Accused of assault, and again, called Anastasia of Lands Afar... When did she ever call herself that? Who'd called her that? While some seemed to agree with her, others still seemed confused. Others shouted out. The crowd around the both of them tried as they might to shout over their fellows, with nothing heard and Ana looked back at the young girl to roll her eyes.
"Arrest her, I say, arrest her!" Anastasia spoke out in a mocking tone, unable to be heard by most others for the ruckus that was developing. The pair were encircled by the crowd, and Ana found even a trickle of fear coursing through her as her wrist was clutched, only for her to whip it back and send a young man tumbling to the ground as a result. She hissed quietly, staring daggers at the instigator before she said,
"You're a little whore in a pretty dress. No one of consequence will ever listen to you."
The siren found the guards growing closer and closer, and she made her efforts then. The woman reached into her knapsack, tying her long, chocolate tresses into a tail that she flung over her shoulder. Intent on using the chaos to escape and rearrange her attire. Disguise was the pinnacle of her art, the effort to escape scrutiny, to wear a different ensemble and make herself invisible.
The divide between the work of a bard in snaring attention and the need for a thief to rid herself of that attention... Anastasia banished her fear and blew Dafni a kiss before melting into the crowd. With her knapsack in tow, whomever touched her and tried to keep her still would find a stinging red bloom on their face.
Anastasia ran away. It was what she did, but this girl... she heard her name in the madness of it all, concerned peasants fawning over their precious 'Dafni of Leventi'.
That bitch is going to pay for this, she swore to herself.
But, for the moment... guards and chaos weren't good for business. As far as she was concerned... she was never here. When the distance between the crowd and Anastasia grew, she changed herself into a proper chiton, tossing aside the trappings she'd worn in her performance in favour of the azure fabrics she loved so dearly.
Anastasia didn't give a fuck who this girl thought she was.
Royal or not, there was no way some little nothing girl with her hateful words and some chip on her shoulder could ever cause the fall of Anastasia of the Siren's Song. At least, that's what the bard thought before she let out that laugh. Then... the scream. The little whore sounded like a banshee, wailing out her infinite lament, screeching pathetically in the effort to eradicate whatever poor soul had earned her ire.
It was driveling and it was sad.
What did catch her attention, however, was the follow along. Accused of assault, and again, called Anastasia of Lands Afar... When did she ever call herself that? Who'd called her that? While some seemed to agree with her, others still seemed confused. Others shouted out. The crowd around the both of them tried as they might to shout over their fellows, with nothing heard and Ana looked back at the young girl to roll her eyes.
"Arrest her, I say, arrest her!" Anastasia spoke out in a mocking tone, unable to be heard by most others for the ruckus that was developing. The pair were encircled by the crowd, and Ana found even a trickle of fear coursing through her as her wrist was clutched, only for her to whip it back and send a young man tumbling to the ground as a result. She hissed quietly, staring daggers at the instigator before she said,
"You're a little whore in a pretty dress. No one of consequence will ever listen to you."
The siren found the guards growing closer and closer, and she made her efforts then. The woman reached into her knapsack, tying her long, chocolate tresses into a tail that she flung over her shoulder. Intent on using the chaos to escape and rearrange her attire. Disguise was the pinnacle of her art, the effort to escape scrutiny, to wear a different ensemble and make herself invisible.
The divide between the work of a bard in snaring attention and the need for a thief to rid herself of that attention... Anastasia banished her fear and blew Dafni a kiss before melting into the crowd. With her knapsack in tow, whomever touched her and tried to keep her still would find a stinging red bloom on their face.
Anastasia ran away. It was what she did, but this girl... she heard her name in the madness of it all, concerned peasants fawning over their precious 'Dafni of Leventi'.
That bitch is going to pay for this, she swore to herself.
But, for the moment... guards and chaos weren't good for business. As far as she was concerned... she was never here. When the distance between the crowd and Anastasia grew, she changed herself into a proper chiton, tossing aside the trappings she'd worn in her performance in favour of the azure fabrics she loved so dearly.
It was with a sneering little smile that Dafni watched the bitch melt into the crowd, the petty little kiss making the young Leventi nearly see red. They would see who the whore of little consequence was when she told her father what had happened here. He may not take her seriously on most occasions but this was not one such occasion. A leventi had been touched, no shoved to the ground by a commoner and he could not stand idly by even if he held little respect for his youngest daughter. Dafni knew what had needed doing to capture the proper amount of attention from her busy father, and she believed she had played it near perfectly.
Even so, even as she knew she was the victor in this battle, she seethed. She was enraged it had not gone perfect, no, she was something beyond enraged that the self proclaimed fishy feme fatale was escaping into the confusion of the crowd. A crowd Dafni herself had been instrumental in creating. It was through her own desire to make this a public humiliation that allowed the woman the cover of a bumbling mass of idiotic bystanders. She wanted to scream that her guards apprehend the uppity street rat for not only daring to touch her but her sister as well. She wanted to claw up her perfect face until the luminous beauty of Anastasia was no more. A common bitch like that didn't deserve such beauty. She didn’t deserve to have even been in Melina’s, or gods forbid Dafni’s, presence.
As the crowd realized the object of their ire had disappeared a confused murmur went through the crowd and a visible ripple of movement passed over the gathered as turning heads tried to spot the villain of Dafni’s dramatic story. A few crystalline tears shimmered on the smooth pale curve of Dafni’s cheek as she continued to play the part of the accosted courtier. Whimpering she let her lady's maid peel her from the disgusting ground and straighten her garments until she once more resembled a woman with a mediocrity of decorum. Swiping at the leaking liquid Dafni allowed herself to be led away from the scene by her attendants gentle hands and guards impassive stares. As the crowd likewise dispersed the street returned to its trickle of customers pursuing goods as if nothing had happened. It was as if the drama never existed, there were no more snide words and screaming accusations only the quiet whispering of wind and buzz of conversation.
It was over… for now. But Dafni was not done destroying Anastasia of lands afar, not even close.
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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It was with a sneering little smile that Dafni watched the bitch melt into the crowd, the petty little kiss making the young Leventi nearly see red. They would see who the whore of little consequence was when she told her father what had happened here. He may not take her seriously on most occasions but this was not one such occasion. A leventi had been touched, no shoved to the ground by a commoner and he could not stand idly by even if he held little respect for his youngest daughter. Dafni knew what had needed doing to capture the proper amount of attention from her busy father, and she believed she had played it near perfectly.
Even so, even as she knew she was the victor in this battle, she seethed. She was enraged it had not gone perfect, no, she was something beyond enraged that the self proclaimed fishy feme fatale was escaping into the confusion of the crowd. A crowd Dafni herself had been instrumental in creating. It was through her own desire to make this a public humiliation that allowed the woman the cover of a bumbling mass of idiotic bystanders. She wanted to scream that her guards apprehend the uppity street rat for not only daring to touch her but her sister as well. She wanted to claw up her perfect face until the luminous beauty of Anastasia was no more. A common bitch like that didn't deserve such beauty. She didn’t deserve to have even been in Melina’s, or gods forbid Dafni’s, presence.
As the crowd realized the object of their ire had disappeared a confused murmur went through the crowd and a visible ripple of movement passed over the gathered as turning heads tried to spot the villain of Dafni’s dramatic story. A few crystalline tears shimmered on the smooth pale curve of Dafni’s cheek as she continued to play the part of the accosted courtier. Whimpering she let her lady's maid peel her from the disgusting ground and straighten her garments until she once more resembled a woman with a mediocrity of decorum. Swiping at the leaking liquid Dafni allowed herself to be led away from the scene by her attendants gentle hands and guards impassive stares. As the crowd likewise dispersed the street returned to its trickle of customers pursuing goods as if nothing had happened. It was as if the drama never existed, there were no more snide words and screaming accusations only the quiet whispering of wind and buzz of conversation.
It was over… for now. But Dafni was not done destroying Anastasia of lands afar, not even close.
It was with a sneering little smile that Dafni watched the bitch melt into the crowd, the petty little kiss making the young Leventi nearly see red. They would see who the whore of little consequence was when she told her father what had happened here. He may not take her seriously on most occasions but this was not one such occasion. A leventi had been touched, no shoved to the ground by a commoner and he could not stand idly by even if he held little respect for his youngest daughter. Dafni knew what had needed doing to capture the proper amount of attention from her busy father, and she believed she had played it near perfectly.
Even so, even as she knew she was the victor in this battle, she seethed. She was enraged it had not gone perfect, no, she was something beyond enraged that the self proclaimed fishy feme fatale was escaping into the confusion of the crowd. A crowd Dafni herself had been instrumental in creating. It was through her own desire to make this a public humiliation that allowed the woman the cover of a bumbling mass of idiotic bystanders. She wanted to scream that her guards apprehend the uppity street rat for not only daring to touch her but her sister as well. She wanted to claw up her perfect face until the luminous beauty of Anastasia was no more. A common bitch like that didn't deserve such beauty. She didn’t deserve to have even been in Melina’s, or gods forbid Dafni’s, presence.
As the crowd realized the object of their ire had disappeared a confused murmur went through the crowd and a visible ripple of movement passed over the gathered as turning heads tried to spot the villain of Dafni’s dramatic story. A few crystalline tears shimmered on the smooth pale curve of Dafni’s cheek as she continued to play the part of the accosted courtier. Whimpering she let her lady's maid peel her from the disgusting ground and straighten her garments until she once more resembled a woman with a mediocrity of decorum. Swiping at the leaking liquid Dafni allowed herself to be led away from the scene by her attendants gentle hands and guards impassive stares. As the crowd likewise dispersed the street returned to its trickle of customers pursuing goods as if nothing had happened. It was as if the drama never existed, there were no more snide words and screaming accusations only the quiet whispering of wind and buzz of conversation.
It was over… for now. But Dafni was not done destroying Anastasia of lands afar, not even close.