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The Drowned were in position, poised and mouthing at the bit under the guiding hand of the Shade. They had been kept in waiting for months, silent and watchful shadows among the walls of Vasiliadon, but now? Now their leader had beckoned them forward. Now, with the news of their king’s disappearance, there was no better time to strike. An orchestrated attack throughout the city at their weakest point… the denizens of Taengea would come to remember this day for the rest of their paltry lives.
[Archontiko Condos]
Two Drowned Ones made their silent way into the wine cellars on the property, dodging members of the Order and using the chaos of the city to their advantage. By the time they made their way onto Condos property, the attention of the soldiers was fixed elsewhere—a few silenced guards assuring their safe passage to the cellars.
Once inside, cask after cask of wine was tipped on their sides, the rich maroons flowing over the floor like a river of blood. The casks were destroyed, the undistilled grapes scattered along the ground and smashed underfoot. Once their task was completed, they were gone as silently as they arrived, leaving behind a wake of destruction that would surely see the Condos struggling for weeks, if not months to come…
[Archontiko Leventi]
Another band of the Drowned converged on the Leventi manor, careful ghosts along the edges of the property as they waited for their moment to strike. Once the Order members were safely inside the building, demanding whatever supplies it was they came to attain, the Creeders were in action, descending on the stables and unlatching the stalls, the gates, the doors. Quiet as their Order commanded, they nonetheless managed to spook the beasts outside, whips and firebrands wielded to usher the animals from their lodgings. The thunderous sound of hoofbeats would alert any remaining on the property to the disturbance, and once the guards started filtering outside, the Drowned began to flee. One caught the edge of his dark cloak on a fence post, but once gone, no other trace remained…
[Kalospiti Dimitrou]
Only one of the Drowned was needed for this task, a window broken as he crept his way inside. Using the distraction of the Lady Evangelina’s near jewel theft, he slid along the corridor walls, a bloody bag clutched to his chest, until he found his way to the Lord and Lady’s bedchamber. Emptying the contents of the bag, it is seen to be a severed stag’s head, antlers shorn and instead shoved into the beast’s eyes. Carefully placing the stag’s head on one of the pillows, the Drowned One grabbed one of the Lord’s chitons from his wardrobe, stuffing it with the remaining pillows and a blanket until it somewhat resembled a human form. Situating his little dummy so that it rested below the stag’s head, he made his way back out of the room, leaving a blood trail in his wake…
[Mikaelidas Palati]
Another bloodied bag rested in the hand of this Drowned One, though its contents were remarkably even more macabre than the last. With the Queen, Prince, and Princesses occupied elsewhere, the Palati’s throne room was remarkably quiet and empty. One guard’s neck snapped, and the Creeder was at the throne, emptying his bag and carefully placing its contents on the seat.
Yet another severed head, this one human. Its features are remarkably similar to those of King Achilleas with a chiseled jaw, dark blue eyes, and brunette curls falling along the forehead. A gnarled crown of leaves and brambles is placed carefully within its hair before the Drowned One is making his exit, silent prayers sent to Hades himself that he would not be caught in his escape…
[Dikastirio]
While the Creed operated under the strict guise of discretion, there were times when the Shade knew that discretion would not send the right message. The leader of the Drowned stood back with a group of Creeders, unobtrusive as the others were signaled to fan out. Squirming sacks were held in several hands, obscured under robes, kept as quiet as possible. However, even in the chaos the Shade could see heads beginning to turn, curiosity getting the better of the peasantry. A silent signal was passed from the Shade to the others, the sacks upended and set loose into the chaos of the Dikastirio.
Rats, hundreds of them, swarmed the gathering place, the mangy creatures heading straight for the stockpiles of food set up around them. They burrowed their way into the bags and boxes, soiling whatever they touched and making a feast of what they could. Smiles rested under black wraps as screams went up through the Dikastirio.
All hail the Shade.
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The Drowned were in position, poised and mouthing at the bit under the guiding hand of the Shade. They had been kept in waiting for months, silent and watchful shadows among the walls of Vasiliadon, but now? Now their leader had beckoned them forward. Now, with the news of their king’s disappearance, there was no better time to strike. An orchestrated attack throughout the city at their weakest point… the denizens of Taengea would come to remember this day for the rest of their paltry lives.
[Archontiko Condos]
Two Drowned Ones made their silent way into the wine cellars on the property, dodging members of the Order and using the chaos of the city to their advantage. By the time they made their way onto Condos property, the attention of the soldiers was fixed elsewhere—a few silenced guards assuring their safe passage to the cellars.
Once inside, cask after cask of wine was tipped on their sides, the rich maroons flowing over the floor like a river of blood. The casks were destroyed, the undistilled grapes scattered along the ground and smashed underfoot. Once their task was completed, they were gone as silently as they arrived, leaving behind a wake of destruction that would surely see the Condos struggling for weeks, if not months to come…
[Archontiko Leventi]
Another band of the Drowned converged on the Leventi manor, careful ghosts along the edges of the property as they waited for their moment to strike. Once the Order members were safely inside the building, demanding whatever supplies it was they came to attain, the Creeders were in action, descending on the stables and unlatching the stalls, the gates, the doors. Quiet as their Order commanded, they nonetheless managed to spook the beasts outside, whips and firebrands wielded to usher the animals from their lodgings. The thunderous sound of hoofbeats would alert any remaining on the property to the disturbance, and once the guards started filtering outside, the Drowned began to flee. One caught the edge of his dark cloak on a fence post, but once gone, no other trace remained…
[Kalospiti Dimitrou]
Only one of the Drowned was needed for this task, a window broken as he crept his way inside. Using the distraction of the Lady Evangelina’s near jewel theft, he slid along the corridor walls, a bloody bag clutched to his chest, until he found his way to the Lord and Lady’s bedchamber. Emptying the contents of the bag, it is seen to be a severed stag’s head, antlers shorn and instead shoved into the beast’s eyes. Carefully placing the stag’s head on one of the pillows, the Drowned One grabbed one of the Lord’s chitons from his wardrobe, stuffing it with the remaining pillows and a blanket until it somewhat resembled a human form. Situating his little dummy so that it rested below the stag’s head, he made his way back out of the room, leaving a blood trail in his wake…
[Mikaelidas Palati]
Another bloodied bag rested in the hand of this Drowned One, though its contents were remarkably even more macabre than the last. With the Queen, Prince, and Princesses occupied elsewhere, the Palati’s throne room was remarkably quiet and empty. One guard’s neck snapped, and the Creeder was at the throne, emptying his bag and carefully placing its contents on the seat.
Yet another severed head, this one human. Its features are remarkably similar to those of King Achilleas with a chiseled jaw, dark blue eyes, and brunette curls falling along the forehead. A gnarled crown of leaves and brambles is placed carefully within its hair before the Drowned One is making his exit, silent prayers sent to Hades himself that he would not be caught in his escape…
[Dikastirio]
While the Creed operated under the strict guise of discretion, there were times when the Shade knew that discretion would not send the right message. The leader of the Drowned stood back with a group of Creeders, unobtrusive as the others were signaled to fan out. Squirming sacks were held in several hands, obscured under robes, kept as quiet as possible. However, even in the chaos the Shade could see heads beginning to turn, curiosity getting the better of the peasantry. A silent signal was passed from the Shade to the others, the sacks upended and set loose into the chaos of the Dikastirio.
Rats, hundreds of them, swarmed the gathering place, the mangy creatures heading straight for the stockpiles of food set up around them. They burrowed their way into the bags and boxes, soiling whatever they touched and making a feast of what they could. Smiles rested under black wraps as screams went up through the Dikastirio.
All hail the Shade.
The Drowned were in position, poised and mouthing at the bit under the guiding hand of the Shade. They had been kept in waiting for months, silent and watchful shadows among the walls of Vasiliadon, but now? Now their leader had beckoned them forward. Now, with the news of their king’s disappearance, there was no better time to strike. An orchestrated attack throughout the city at their weakest point… the denizens of Taengea would come to remember this day for the rest of their paltry lives.
[Archontiko Condos]
Two Drowned Ones made their silent way into the wine cellars on the property, dodging members of the Order and using the chaos of the city to their advantage. By the time they made their way onto Condos property, the attention of the soldiers was fixed elsewhere—a few silenced guards assuring their safe passage to the cellars.
Once inside, cask after cask of wine was tipped on their sides, the rich maroons flowing over the floor like a river of blood. The casks were destroyed, the undistilled grapes scattered along the ground and smashed underfoot. Once their task was completed, they were gone as silently as they arrived, leaving behind a wake of destruction that would surely see the Condos struggling for weeks, if not months to come…
[Archontiko Leventi]
Another band of the Drowned converged on the Leventi manor, careful ghosts along the edges of the property as they waited for their moment to strike. Once the Order members were safely inside the building, demanding whatever supplies it was they came to attain, the Creeders were in action, descending on the stables and unlatching the stalls, the gates, the doors. Quiet as their Order commanded, they nonetheless managed to spook the beasts outside, whips and firebrands wielded to usher the animals from their lodgings. The thunderous sound of hoofbeats would alert any remaining on the property to the disturbance, and once the guards started filtering outside, the Drowned began to flee. One caught the edge of his dark cloak on a fence post, but once gone, no other trace remained…
[Kalospiti Dimitrou]
Only one of the Drowned was needed for this task, a window broken as he crept his way inside. Using the distraction of the Lady Evangelina’s near jewel theft, he slid along the corridor walls, a bloody bag clutched to his chest, until he found his way to the Lord and Lady’s bedchamber. Emptying the contents of the bag, it is seen to be a severed stag’s head, antlers shorn and instead shoved into the beast’s eyes. Carefully placing the stag’s head on one of the pillows, the Drowned One grabbed one of the Lord’s chitons from his wardrobe, stuffing it with the remaining pillows and a blanket until it somewhat resembled a human form. Situating his little dummy so that it rested below the stag’s head, he made his way back out of the room, leaving a blood trail in his wake…
[Mikaelidas Palati]
Another bloodied bag rested in the hand of this Drowned One, though its contents were remarkably even more macabre than the last. With the Queen, Prince, and Princesses occupied elsewhere, the Palati’s throne room was remarkably quiet and empty. One guard’s neck snapped, and the Creeder was at the throne, emptying his bag and carefully placing its contents on the seat.
Yet another severed head, this one human. Its features are remarkably similar to those of King Achilleas with a chiseled jaw, dark blue eyes, and brunette curls falling along the forehead. A gnarled crown of leaves and brambles is placed carefully within its hair before the Drowned One is making his exit, silent prayers sent to Hades himself that he would not be caught in his escape…
[Dikastirio]
While the Creed operated under the strict guise of discretion, there were times when the Shade knew that discretion would not send the right message. The leader of the Drowned stood back with a group of Creeders, unobtrusive as the others were signaled to fan out. Squirming sacks were held in several hands, obscured under robes, kept as quiet as possible. However, even in the chaos the Shade could see heads beginning to turn, curiosity getting the better of the peasantry. A silent signal was passed from the Shade to the others, the sacks upended and set loose into the chaos of the Dikastirio.
Rats, hundreds of them, swarmed the gathering place, the mangy creatures heading straight for the stockpiles of food set up around them. They burrowed their way into the bags and boxes, soiling whatever they touched and making a feast of what they could. Smiles rested under black wraps as screams went up through the Dikastirio.
All hail the Shade.
Pia had gotten lost in the work, sorting through the blankets and clothing items that were being brought in. Tisiphone was asleep in the sling across her chest as the former queen created neat piles that could be distributed to people as necessary, only the tiniest wisp of blonde curls and the baby's fist against her mother's chiton gave a hint that the bundle at her breast was not yet more clothing. With her hair bound back and her clothes simple, she hardly looked the part of a queen, or even a lady of her status, taking orders and making sure that things were clearly organized as soldiers began coming up and taking from her piles.
The last thing she expected was to hear a familiar voice, but when she looked up and saw Gianna she very nearly burst into tears. She hadn't seen Stephanos' youngest sister since her return, and immediately she dropped everything and ran to embrace the girl warmly.
"Gianna! Oh gods I've missed you." Pia cupped Gianna's cheeks and smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing back just enough to show her the child who had given a small sound at the sudden movements. "Do you want to meet your niece?"
It was the joy she had been hoping to experience with the family as a whole, of sharing her daughters life, first moments and the growth over time. There was an ache in her heart and she wished more than anything Stephanos was here. This whole situation was horrible, being without her husband, uncertainty as to whether she would ever see him again, before even going into whether or not she would ever regain her status in society. And then there was the threat...Ever since Eliana had found the rattle covered in blood she had been living in fear. Her life was in danger, and her daughter had been threatened.
She didn't think much of the one rat, but then suddenly they were everywhere. Clutching Tisiphone to her chest and Gianna close by her hand, she tried to pull them out of the path of the pests, trying not to scream as her nausea boiled up once again. This was a nightmare, another nightmare, on top of all of the others and she couldn't take anymore. Gripping on to Gianna and her daughter was all that kept her upright. Not again, she couldn't do this again.
"Gia....we need to go, get out of here."
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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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Pia had gotten lost in the work, sorting through the blankets and clothing items that were being brought in. Tisiphone was asleep in the sling across her chest as the former queen created neat piles that could be distributed to people as necessary, only the tiniest wisp of blonde curls and the baby's fist against her mother's chiton gave a hint that the bundle at her breast was not yet more clothing. With her hair bound back and her clothes simple, she hardly looked the part of a queen, or even a lady of her status, taking orders and making sure that things were clearly organized as soldiers began coming up and taking from her piles.
The last thing she expected was to hear a familiar voice, but when she looked up and saw Gianna she very nearly burst into tears. She hadn't seen Stephanos' youngest sister since her return, and immediately she dropped everything and ran to embrace the girl warmly.
"Gianna! Oh gods I've missed you." Pia cupped Gianna's cheeks and smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing back just enough to show her the child who had given a small sound at the sudden movements. "Do you want to meet your niece?"
It was the joy she had been hoping to experience with the family as a whole, of sharing her daughters life, first moments and the growth over time. There was an ache in her heart and she wished more than anything Stephanos was here. This whole situation was horrible, being without her husband, uncertainty as to whether she would ever see him again, before even going into whether or not she would ever regain her status in society. And then there was the threat...Ever since Eliana had found the rattle covered in blood she had been living in fear. Her life was in danger, and her daughter had been threatened.
She didn't think much of the one rat, but then suddenly they were everywhere. Clutching Tisiphone to her chest and Gianna close by her hand, she tried to pull them out of the path of the pests, trying not to scream as her nausea boiled up once again. This was a nightmare, another nightmare, on top of all of the others and she couldn't take anymore. Gripping on to Gianna and her daughter was all that kept her upright. Not again, she couldn't do this again.
"Gia....we need to go, get out of here."
Pia had gotten lost in the work, sorting through the blankets and clothing items that were being brought in. Tisiphone was asleep in the sling across her chest as the former queen created neat piles that could be distributed to people as necessary, only the tiniest wisp of blonde curls and the baby's fist against her mother's chiton gave a hint that the bundle at her breast was not yet more clothing. With her hair bound back and her clothes simple, she hardly looked the part of a queen, or even a lady of her status, taking orders and making sure that things were clearly organized as soldiers began coming up and taking from her piles.
The last thing she expected was to hear a familiar voice, but when she looked up and saw Gianna she very nearly burst into tears. She hadn't seen Stephanos' youngest sister since her return, and immediately she dropped everything and ran to embrace the girl warmly.
"Gianna! Oh gods I've missed you." Pia cupped Gianna's cheeks and smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing back just enough to show her the child who had given a small sound at the sudden movements. "Do you want to meet your niece?"
It was the joy she had been hoping to experience with the family as a whole, of sharing her daughters life, first moments and the growth over time. There was an ache in her heart and she wished more than anything Stephanos was here. This whole situation was horrible, being without her husband, uncertainty as to whether she would ever see him again, before even going into whether or not she would ever regain her status in society. And then there was the threat...Ever since Eliana had found the rattle covered in blood she had been living in fear. Her life was in danger, and her daughter had been threatened.
She didn't think much of the one rat, but then suddenly they were everywhere. Clutching Tisiphone to her chest and Gianna close by her hand, she tried to pull them out of the path of the pests, trying not to scream as her nausea boiled up once again. This was a nightmare, another nightmare, on top of all of the others and she couldn't take anymore. Gripping on to Gianna and her daughter was all that kept her upright. Not again, she couldn't do this again.
"Gia....we need to go, get out of here."
[Archontiko Condos]
Cursed. They were all cursed. The Gods had finally seen fit to punish them for their sins, though why they would harm Achileas she knew not. He had always struck her as a thoroughly virtuous man, a model of propriety. Now, he was...what? Injured? Captured? Dead? Her brother would rejoice if the latter were the case. To Nikos, Achileas would be just another fallen King, another rung to climb on the ladder of success. And perhaps he was right, Achileas' death would bring their father closer to the throne, so would it not make sense for her to rejoice at this news? Yet how could she celebrate a good man coming to harm? That would make her a monster, something she refused to be.
And now there was more talk, whispers of unrest amongst the citizens. Some seemed to think that they would soon flood the capitol in search of sanctuary, and it was for these reasons that she now travelled, alone, to Vasiliadon. Her mother would join her eventually, but at present she was busy seeing to the safety of the treasures her husband kept stored away in his other enormous mansion, in which the two had been staying for the past several weeks. The quiet had been good for Ophelia, the solitude a welcome change from the constant noise of the city, but that was all over not. Her mother believed it best that the family remain united during this time, and Ophelia agreed. It would not do to leave Father and Nikos to deal with this alone.
Unquiet thoughts swirled in her mind as she leaned back against the plush carriage seat, closing her eyes to shut out both her worries and the headache that was now becoming more than a mere annoyance. As the carriage halted, however, her eyes fluttered open, and curiously she peered between the maroon curtains to see what the disturbance was. They had reached the walled city at last. As she leaned out of the window, she could hear her driver conversing with several men. Guards, she supposed.
"We ask that you open the gates for Lady Ophelia of Condos," she heard her driver say. She could not make out what was said in response, but the gates swung open just as the last vestige of daylight melted away. Twilight claimed the sky, bathing it in majestic hues of amber, carnelian and and mauve. For a moment, she was so awestruck by the sight that she did not notice the immediate change of circumstance. When she did, her mind was thrown into a state of confusion.
The city was in utter pandemonium. Chaos ruled, any semblance of order scattered to the winds, or so it seemed to her. How many of them were there? How many were there left to come?
Her driver was soon at her window, his typically smiling face now downcast into one of concern. "What is it?" she asked. "My Lady, I apologize for the inconvenience but it is not safe to take the carriage any further. The streets are too crowded, we may hit someone," his voice was tentative, almost as if he feared her wrath. She instead gave a somber nod, allowing him to help in her descent. "We cannot simply leave it here..." she glanced back at the carriage, but he shook his head. "I will stay with the carriage until it is safe to drive again. Some guards have kindly offered to escort you to your home in the city, will you allow them to attend you?" Ophelia glanced over at the three men who stood at attention nearby. Of the three, only one looked to be below thirty in age, and none above the age of fifty. They could protect her certainty, and she did not doubt their honour. "I thank you, kind gentlemen," she replied, allowing them to form a protective triangle around her.
Though her family home was not too far a distance, the walk felt like it stretched on eternally, for the countless gazes of terrified refugees bore into her soul. She wondered if they were attempting deliberately to catch her gaze after the fifth managed to meet her eyes directly. The air was bitterly cold, chilling her to the core, but she made not a single complaint. She was wrapped in warm layers after all, while many of the refugees' clothes were thin and worn, unsuited to the howling winds of winter.
"Are those more guards?" she asked, noticing that a few were already stationed outside her home. She raised an eyebrow, looking to the eldest of her escorts for an explanation. "Yes, My Lady. There is no need to be alarmed. The Order are simply making rounds to every noble and wealthy household to see if any stores might be spared, or if you might be able to house any of these asylum seekers." Ophelia glanced back at the crowd, taking note of a particularly frail child clinging desperately to the hand of her shivering mother. She knew that her father was not going to like this, but she prayed that Nikos would sway him in the right direction. Private a man as their father was, surely he had to see that he could not turn these people away, even if his only motivation for not doing so was family pride. And even if Nilos's only motivation for helping was that of his appearance, it was still something, and something was always better than nothing. If she could only convince them to house the refugees, she could help them. She would welcome them with open arms; she probably knew many of them from her previous charity works. They would take comfort from a familiar face. She could convince them not to be afraid, and for that reason, she could not be afraid. All would be well, she had to believe that. If Achileas did not return safely, then a new king would ascend the throne -- hopefully her father -- and all would rejoice. The Gods were not punishing them, they were sending them a blessing in disguise. Yes, a blessing...she had to believe it a blessing...
One of her three guards rapt on the door and almost instantly a servant came to answer it. Recognizing the servant, she offered the girl a small smile before crossing the threshold. "I thank you for your service," she murmured demurely, nodding her thanks to the three gentlemen as the dark-skinned Colchan closed the door behind her mistress.
Addressing the servant no further, Ophelia swept through the rooms in search of her family, soon coming upon them in an inner chamber. She curtsied low to her father and brother, offering them a timid smile. "I did write to tell you I would be returning," she explained. "Mother will be along just as soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?" at this, she cast a hopeful glance in Nikos' direction. She was about to ask what they believed the other noble houses would do, when a sudden crash caught her attention. It was faint, so faint that she was seldom sure she heard it. It could have been her imagination, it very well might have been. But she was almost certain she had heard something...
She strained her ears, but the sound did not come again. All was silent now. Had it been her imagination, then? The sleepless nights finally catching up with her? Surely it could not hurt to make certain?
"Forgive me, My Lords. It may well have been simply a woman's wild imaginings, but I could have sworn I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below..."
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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[Archontiko Condos]
Cursed. They were all cursed. The Gods had finally seen fit to punish them for their sins, though why they would harm Achileas she knew not. He had always struck her as a thoroughly virtuous man, a model of propriety. Now, he was...what? Injured? Captured? Dead? Her brother would rejoice if the latter were the case. To Nikos, Achileas would be just another fallen King, another rung to climb on the ladder of success. And perhaps he was right, Achileas' death would bring their father closer to the throne, so would it not make sense for her to rejoice at this news? Yet how could she celebrate a good man coming to harm? That would make her a monster, something she refused to be.
And now there was more talk, whispers of unrest amongst the citizens. Some seemed to think that they would soon flood the capitol in search of sanctuary, and it was for these reasons that she now travelled, alone, to Vasiliadon. Her mother would join her eventually, but at present she was busy seeing to the safety of the treasures her husband kept stored away in his other enormous mansion, in which the two had been staying for the past several weeks. The quiet had been good for Ophelia, the solitude a welcome change from the constant noise of the city, but that was all over not. Her mother believed it best that the family remain united during this time, and Ophelia agreed. It would not do to leave Father and Nikos to deal with this alone.
Unquiet thoughts swirled in her mind as she leaned back against the plush carriage seat, closing her eyes to shut out both her worries and the headache that was now becoming more than a mere annoyance. As the carriage halted, however, her eyes fluttered open, and curiously she peered between the maroon curtains to see what the disturbance was. They had reached the walled city at last. As she leaned out of the window, she could hear her driver conversing with several men. Guards, she supposed.
"We ask that you open the gates for Lady Ophelia of Condos," she heard her driver say. She could not make out what was said in response, but the gates swung open just as the last vestige of daylight melted away. Twilight claimed the sky, bathing it in majestic hues of amber, carnelian and and mauve. For a moment, she was so awestruck by the sight that she did not notice the immediate change of circumstance. When she did, her mind was thrown into a state of confusion.
The city was in utter pandemonium. Chaos ruled, any semblance of order scattered to the winds, or so it seemed to her. How many of them were there? How many were there left to come?
Her driver was soon at her window, his typically smiling face now downcast into one of concern. "What is it?" she asked. "My Lady, I apologize for the inconvenience but it is not safe to take the carriage any further. The streets are too crowded, we may hit someone," his voice was tentative, almost as if he feared her wrath. She instead gave a somber nod, allowing him to help in her descent. "We cannot simply leave it here..." she glanced back at the carriage, but he shook his head. "I will stay with the carriage until it is safe to drive again. Some guards have kindly offered to escort you to your home in the city, will you allow them to attend you?" Ophelia glanced over at the three men who stood at attention nearby. Of the three, only one looked to be below thirty in age, and none above the age of fifty. They could protect her certainty, and she did not doubt their honour. "I thank you, kind gentlemen," she replied, allowing them to form a protective triangle around her.
Though her family home was not too far a distance, the walk felt like it stretched on eternally, for the countless gazes of terrified refugees bore into her soul. She wondered if they were attempting deliberately to catch her gaze after the fifth managed to meet her eyes directly. The air was bitterly cold, chilling her to the core, but she made not a single complaint. She was wrapped in warm layers after all, while many of the refugees' clothes were thin and worn, unsuited to the howling winds of winter.
"Are those more guards?" she asked, noticing that a few were already stationed outside her home. She raised an eyebrow, looking to the eldest of her escorts for an explanation. "Yes, My Lady. There is no need to be alarmed. The Order are simply making rounds to every noble and wealthy household to see if any stores might be spared, or if you might be able to house any of these asylum seekers." Ophelia glanced back at the crowd, taking note of a particularly frail child clinging desperately to the hand of her shivering mother. She knew that her father was not going to like this, but she prayed that Nikos would sway him in the right direction. Private a man as their father was, surely he had to see that he could not turn these people away, even if his only motivation for not doing so was family pride. And even if Nilos's only motivation for helping was that of his appearance, it was still something, and something was always better than nothing. If she could only convince them to house the refugees, she could help them. She would welcome them with open arms; she probably knew many of them from her previous charity works. They would take comfort from a familiar face. She could convince them not to be afraid, and for that reason, she could not be afraid. All would be well, she had to believe that. If Achileas did not return safely, then a new king would ascend the throne -- hopefully her father -- and all would rejoice. The Gods were not punishing them, they were sending them a blessing in disguise. Yes, a blessing...she had to believe it a blessing...
One of her three guards rapt on the door and almost instantly a servant came to answer it. Recognizing the servant, she offered the girl a small smile before crossing the threshold. "I thank you for your service," she murmured demurely, nodding her thanks to the three gentlemen as the dark-skinned Colchan closed the door behind her mistress.
Addressing the servant no further, Ophelia swept through the rooms in search of her family, soon coming upon them in an inner chamber. She curtsied low to her father and brother, offering them a timid smile. "I did write to tell you I would be returning," she explained. "Mother will be along just as soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?" at this, she cast a hopeful glance in Nikos' direction. She was about to ask what they believed the other noble houses would do, when a sudden crash caught her attention. It was faint, so faint that she was seldom sure she heard it. It could have been her imagination, it very well might have been. But she was almost certain she had heard something...
She strained her ears, but the sound did not come again. All was silent now. Had it been her imagination, then? The sleepless nights finally catching up with her? Surely it could not hurt to make certain?
"Forgive me, My Lords. It may well have been simply a woman's wild imaginings, but I could have sworn I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below..."
[Archontiko Condos]
Cursed. They were all cursed. The Gods had finally seen fit to punish them for their sins, though why they would harm Achileas she knew not. He had always struck her as a thoroughly virtuous man, a model of propriety. Now, he was...what? Injured? Captured? Dead? Her brother would rejoice if the latter were the case. To Nikos, Achileas would be just another fallen King, another rung to climb on the ladder of success. And perhaps he was right, Achileas' death would bring their father closer to the throne, so would it not make sense for her to rejoice at this news? Yet how could she celebrate a good man coming to harm? That would make her a monster, something she refused to be.
And now there was more talk, whispers of unrest amongst the citizens. Some seemed to think that they would soon flood the capitol in search of sanctuary, and it was for these reasons that she now travelled, alone, to Vasiliadon. Her mother would join her eventually, but at present she was busy seeing to the safety of the treasures her husband kept stored away in his other enormous mansion, in which the two had been staying for the past several weeks. The quiet had been good for Ophelia, the solitude a welcome change from the constant noise of the city, but that was all over not. Her mother believed it best that the family remain united during this time, and Ophelia agreed. It would not do to leave Father and Nikos to deal with this alone.
Unquiet thoughts swirled in her mind as she leaned back against the plush carriage seat, closing her eyes to shut out both her worries and the headache that was now becoming more than a mere annoyance. As the carriage halted, however, her eyes fluttered open, and curiously she peered between the maroon curtains to see what the disturbance was. They had reached the walled city at last. As she leaned out of the window, she could hear her driver conversing with several men. Guards, she supposed.
"We ask that you open the gates for Lady Ophelia of Condos," she heard her driver say. She could not make out what was said in response, but the gates swung open just as the last vestige of daylight melted away. Twilight claimed the sky, bathing it in majestic hues of amber, carnelian and and mauve. For a moment, she was so awestruck by the sight that she did not notice the immediate change of circumstance. When she did, her mind was thrown into a state of confusion.
The city was in utter pandemonium. Chaos ruled, any semblance of order scattered to the winds, or so it seemed to her. How many of them were there? How many were there left to come?
Her driver was soon at her window, his typically smiling face now downcast into one of concern. "What is it?" she asked. "My Lady, I apologize for the inconvenience but it is not safe to take the carriage any further. The streets are too crowded, we may hit someone," his voice was tentative, almost as if he feared her wrath. She instead gave a somber nod, allowing him to help in her descent. "We cannot simply leave it here..." she glanced back at the carriage, but he shook his head. "I will stay with the carriage until it is safe to drive again. Some guards have kindly offered to escort you to your home in the city, will you allow them to attend you?" Ophelia glanced over at the three men who stood at attention nearby. Of the three, only one looked to be below thirty in age, and none above the age of fifty. They could protect her certainty, and she did not doubt their honour. "I thank you, kind gentlemen," she replied, allowing them to form a protective triangle around her.
Though her family home was not too far a distance, the walk felt like it stretched on eternally, for the countless gazes of terrified refugees bore into her soul. She wondered if they were attempting deliberately to catch her gaze after the fifth managed to meet her eyes directly. The air was bitterly cold, chilling her to the core, but she made not a single complaint. She was wrapped in warm layers after all, while many of the refugees' clothes were thin and worn, unsuited to the howling winds of winter.
"Are those more guards?" she asked, noticing that a few were already stationed outside her home. She raised an eyebrow, looking to the eldest of her escorts for an explanation. "Yes, My Lady. There is no need to be alarmed. The Order are simply making rounds to every noble and wealthy household to see if any stores might be spared, or if you might be able to house any of these asylum seekers." Ophelia glanced back at the crowd, taking note of a particularly frail child clinging desperately to the hand of her shivering mother. She knew that her father was not going to like this, but she prayed that Nikos would sway him in the right direction. Private a man as their father was, surely he had to see that he could not turn these people away, even if his only motivation for not doing so was family pride. And even if Nilos's only motivation for helping was that of his appearance, it was still something, and something was always better than nothing. If she could only convince them to house the refugees, she could help them. She would welcome them with open arms; she probably knew many of them from her previous charity works. They would take comfort from a familiar face. She could convince them not to be afraid, and for that reason, she could not be afraid. All would be well, she had to believe that. If Achileas did not return safely, then a new king would ascend the throne -- hopefully her father -- and all would rejoice. The Gods were not punishing them, they were sending them a blessing in disguise. Yes, a blessing...she had to believe it a blessing...
One of her three guards rapt on the door and almost instantly a servant came to answer it. Recognizing the servant, she offered the girl a small smile before crossing the threshold. "I thank you for your service," she murmured demurely, nodding her thanks to the three gentlemen as the dark-skinned Colchan closed the door behind her mistress.
Addressing the servant no further, Ophelia swept through the rooms in search of her family, soon coming upon them in an inner chamber. She curtsied low to her father and brother, offering them a timid smile. "I did write to tell you I would be returning," she explained. "Mother will be along just as soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?" at this, she cast a hopeful glance in Nikos' direction. She was about to ask what they believed the other noble houses would do, when a sudden crash caught her attention. It was faint, so faint that she was seldom sure she heard it. It could have been her imagination, it very well might have been. But she was almost certain she had heard something...
She strained her ears, but the sound did not come again. All was silent now. Had it been her imagination, then? The sleepless nights finally catching up with her? Surely it could not hurt to make certain?
"Forgive me, My Lords. It may well have been simply a woman's wild imaginings, but I could have sworn I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below..."
The Dikastirio
The carriage ride was a torment and a blessing. The latter because he got to watch the smile Theo tried to keep hidden, remember how she had done so such thing when she’d lain in his arms but hours before, and because he was still flush with the joy of having her back. The only thing that could sour his mood was this, this having to hide what was so clearly right, and knowing that while he held her heart in his hands, in name she belonged to his brother. That while she might walk beside him at the Dikastirio to present a united front to the people of Taengea, it wasn’t real.
Stepping down from the carriage first and then turning to assist the Queen and his cousin, he offered a hand to Eliana too, shooting her an expectant look. She might not like him, nor he her but he was Crown Prince and she wouldn’t snub dare snub his generosity. Releasing her hand once she had descended, he turned back to Theo, not hesitating before he smoothly offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you, your majesty”
Because no one would look twice at that, he was just doing his duty.
The royal party had not got far through the crowds when there was a sudden cry, sounds of a commotion, and Emilios’ head turned sharply toward the sound. His hand went without hesitation to the sword at his hip, his gaze intent as he searched for the cause of such a disturbance.
The crowd were suddenly pressing about them, and the Crown Prince sharpened his elbows to protect those he was with. There was another scream and then a rat, and another, scurried between their feet.
“Get back to the carriage,” he said to Theodora and Xene, before turning to the guards at their backs. “Get the Queen and the Princess out of here, immediately,” he said sharply.
He didn’t want to let go of Theo’s arm but he made himself as he pushed her lightly to follow the palati guards, his eyes scanning the dikastirio until he caught sight of something that made his heart stutter and his blood boil.
Black wraps. The Drowned.
They were supposed to be gone.
“Now!” he shouted, the blade at his hip drawing free with a hiss “Get out of here Theo, get to the palati and lock it down.” He was already gone, pushing his way through the people, a fear-driven fury burning in his breast. He would cut every last one of them down.
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The carriage ride was a torment and a blessing. The latter because he got to watch the smile Theo tried to keep hidden, remember how she had done so such thing when she’d lain in his arms but hours before, and because he was still flush with the joy of having her back. The only thing that could sour his mood was this, this having to hide what was so clearly right, and knowing that while he held her heart in his hands, in name she belonged to his brother. That while she might walk beside him at the Dikastirio to present a united front to the people of Taengea, it wasn’t real.
Stepping down from the carriage first and then turning to assist the Queen and his cousin, he offered a hand to Eliana too, shooting her an expectant look. She might not like him, nor he her but he was Crown Prince and she wouldn’t snub dare snub his generosity. Releasing her hand once she had descended, he turned back to Theo, not hesitating before he smoothly offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you, your majesty”
Because no one would look twice at that, he was just doing his duty.
The royal party had not got far through the crowds when there was a sudden cry, sounds of a commotion, and Emilios’ head turned sharply toward the sound. His hand went without hesitation to the sword at his hip, his gaze intent as he searched for the cause of such a disturbance.
The crowd were suddenly pressing about them, and the Crown Prince sharpened his elbows to protect those he was with. There was another scream and then a rat, and another, scurried between their feet.
“Get back to the carriage,” he said to Theodora and Xene, before turning to the guards at their backs. “Get the Queen and the Princess out of here, immediately,” he said sharply.
He didn’t want to let go of Theo’s arm but he made himself as he pushed her lightly to follow the palati guards, his eyes scanning the dikastirio until he caught sight of something that made his heart stutter and his blood boil.
Black wraps. The Drowned.
They were supposed to be gone.
“Now!” he shouted, the blade at his hip drawing free with a hiss “Get out of here Theo, get to the palati and lock it down.” He was already gone, pushing his way through the people, a fear-driven fury burning in his breast. He would cut every last one of them down.
The Dikastirio
The carriage ride was a torment and a blessing. The latter because he got to watch the smile Theo tried to keep hidden, remember how she had done so such thing when she’d lain in his arms but hours before, and because he was still flush with the joy of having her back. The only thing that could sour his mood was this, this having to hide what was so clearly right, and knowing that while he held her heart in his hands, in name she belonged to his brother. That while she might walk beside him at the Dikastirio to present a united front to the people of Taengea, it wasn’t real.
Stepping down from the carriage first and then turning to assist the Queen and his cousin, he offered a hand to Eliana too, shooting her an expectant look. She might not like him, nor he her but he was Crown Prince and she wouldn’t snub dare snub his generosity. Releasing her hand once she had descended, he turned back to Theo, not hesitating before he smoothly offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you, your majesty”
Because no one would look twice at that, he was just doing his duty.
The royal party had not got far through the crowds when there was a sudden cry, sounds of a commotion, and Emilios’ head turned sharply toward the sound. His hand went without hesitation to the sword at his hip, his gaze intent as he searched for the cause of such a disturbance.
The crowd were suddenly pressing about them, and the Crown Prince sharpened his elbows to protect those he was with. There was another scream and then a rat, and another, scurried between their feet.
“Get back to the carriage,” he said to Theodora and Xene, before turning to the guards at their backs. “Get the Queen and the Princess out of here, immediately,” he said sharply.
He didn’t want to let go of Theo’s arm but he made himself as he pushed her lightly to follow the palati guards, his eyes scanning the dikastirio until he caught sight of something that made his heart stutter and his blood boil.
Black wraps. The Drowned.
They were supposed to be gone.
“Now!” he shouted, the blade at his hip drawing free with a hiss “Get out of here Theo, get to the palati and lock it down.” He was already gone, pushing his way through the people, a fear-driven fury burning in his breast. He would cut every last one of them down.
[The Agora]
The boy’s face was twisting and contorting like wet paint before Avra’s eyes, though she doubted he was moving in reality. He was becoming more and more hideous with every moment that he did not apologize, did not respect her work and her humanity. He was nearly as stubborn as her, a fact that might have been amusing under different circumstances. But this was a masterpiece, and had long since been promised to another. Arete. The girl would likely be furious if Avra were to let the present for her lover warm the shoulders of a stranger who did not pay.
At that moment, a girl, even younger than the vile, presumptuous boy, approached. She seemed to know the wretched creature, and looked alarmed at the sight of the conflict. “It is already paid for,” she said tersely, trying to smooth her anger. It was not this girl’s fault that her friend was such a monster. Though, why anyone would want to be friends with such a ruiner of art, well… that was a mystery to Avra. “It was commissioned by Arete of Doralis and it is not for sale. Your friend does not seem to understand this fact.” The boy could not even meet her eye. Surely that meant he knew he was in the wrong. And yet still her precious tapestry was wrinkled in the clutches of his minions.
And there, worst of all, was Arete, storming towards them with a look of anger Avra knew to be present in her own eyes, as well. “Arete, I apologize,” she grimaced, long fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “Your commission was never meant to be touched by anyone else, let alone wrinkled and stolen by a rude boy.” But Arete was not even looking at her, leveling her wrath instead at the thief, who looked the tiniest bit abashed.
“You do not know the meaning of the word responsibility,” she said quietly, surprised as the boy denied any blame in the matter. He had chosen her stall. He had picked up her work. And he had told her she should be pleased about it. “I cannot speak for the soldiers, but you are the spineless worm.” But he was gone, leaving her tapestry crumpled in the hands of armed men far larger than she. Avra squared her shoulders, intent on reclaiming what was rightfully Arete’s by any means necessary, when, suddenly, everything somehow became even worse.
Rats, chaos, screams. Avra could not see where they were coming from but the volume in the Agora was building to a crescendo. The already busy square was evolving into something close to a mob. The soldiers, startled, dropped her tapestry on the filthy floor and started off to investigate, fighting against the waves and waves of people trying to breathe freely. Avra snatched the tapestry from the ground before it could be further trampled, but there were rats beginning to swarm the stalls, hungry, dirty, anything but beautiful. Avra’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of their tiny feet tearing holes in and soiling her work. She began to gather the contents of her stall as quickly as possible, heart pounding wildly. “I—I’m sorry—” she gasped at Arete, stuffing pieces into her large canvas bag with far less care than normal. “I promise, I will fix this—”
Figures in black stood out amongst the panicking crowd, and Avra’s heart sank. The Creed.
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[The Agora]
The boy’s face was twisting and contorting like wet paint before Avra’s eyes, though she doubted he was moving in reality. He was becoming more and more hideous with every moment that he did not apologize, did not respect her work and her humanity. He was nearly as stubborn as her, a fact that might have been amusing under different circumstances. But this was a masterpiece, and had long since been promised to another. Arete. The girl would likely be furious if Avra were to let the present for her lover warm the shoulders of a stranger who did not pay.
At that moment, a girl, even younger than the vile, presumptuous boy, approached. She seemed to know the wretched creature, and looked alarmed at the sight of the conflict. “It is already paid for,” she said tersely, trying to smooth her anger. It was not this girl’s fault that her friend was such a monster. Though, why anyone would want to be friends with such a ruiner of art, well… that was a mystery to Avra. “It was commissioned by Arete of Doralis and it is not for sale. Your friend does not seem to understand this fact.” The boy could not even meet her eye. Surely that meant he knew he was in the wrong. And yet still her precious tapestry was wrinkled in the clutches of his minions.
And there, worst of all, was Arete, storming towards them with a look of anger Avra knew to be present in her own eyes, as well. “Arete, I apologize,” she grimaced, long fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “Your commission was never meant to be touched by anyone else, let alone wrinkled and stolen by a rude boy.” But Arete was not even looking at her, leveling her wrath instead at the thief, who looked the tiniest bit abashed.
“You do not know the meaning of the word responsibility,” she said quietly, surprised as the boy denied any blame in the matter. He had chosen her stall. He had picked up her work. And he had told her she should be pleased about it. “I cannot speak for the soldiers, but you are the spineless worm.” But he was gone, leaving her tapestry crumpled in the hands of armed men far larger than she. Avra squared her shoulders, intent on reclaiming what was rightfully Arete’s by any means necessary, when, suddenly, everything somehow became even worse.
Rats, chaos, screams. Avra could not see where they were coming from but the volume in the Agora was building to a crescendo. The already busy square was evolving into something close to a mob. The soldiers, startled, dropped her tapestry on the filthy floor and started off to investigate, fighting against the waves and waves of people trying to breathe freely. Avra snatched the tapestry from the ground before it could be further trampled, but there were rats beginning to swarm the stalls, hungry, dirty, anything but beautiful. Avra’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of their tiny feet tearing holes in and soiling her work. She began to gather the contents of her stall as quickly as possible, heart pounding wildly. “I—I’m sorry—” she gasped at Arete, stuffing pieces into her large canvas bag with far less care than normal. “I promise, I will fix this—”
Figures in black stood out amongst the panicking crowd, and Avra’s heart sank. The Creed.
[The Agora]
The boy’s face was twisting and contorting like wet paint before Avra’s eyes, though she doubted he was moving in reality. He was becoming more and more hideous with every moment that he did not apologize, did not respect her work and her humanity. He was nearly as stubborn as her, a fact that might have been amusing under different circumstances. But this was a masterpiece, and had long since been promised to another. Arete. The girl would likely be furious if Avra were to let the present for her lover warm the shoulders of a stranger who did not pay.
At that moment, a girl, even younger than the vile, presumptuous boy, approached. She seemed to know the wretched creature, and looked alarmed at the sight of the conflict. “It is already paid for,” she said tersely, trying to smooth her anger. It was not this girl’s fault that her friend was such a monster. Though, why anyone would want to be friends with such a ruiner of art, well… that was a mystery to Avra. “It was commissioned by Arete of Doralis and it is not for sale. Your friend does not seem to understand this fact.” The boy could not even meet her eye. Surely that meant he knew he was in the wrong. And yet still her precious tapestry was wrinkled in the clutches of his minions.
And there, worst of all, was Arete, storming towards them with a look of anger Avra knew to be present in her own eyes, as well. “Arete, I apologize,” she grimaced, long fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “Your commission was never meant to be touched by anyone else, let alone wrinkled and stolen by a rude boy.” But Arete was not even looking at her, leveling her wrath instead at the thief, who looked the tiniest bit abashed.
“You do not know the meaning of the word responsibility,” she said quietly, surprised as the boy denied any blame in the matter. He had chosen her stall. He had picked up her work. And he had told her she should be pleased about it. “I cannot speak for the soldiers, but you are the spineless worm.” But he was gone, leaving her tapestry crumpled in the hands of armed men far larger than she. Avra squared her shoulders, intent on reclaiming what was rightfully Arete’s by any means necessary, when, suddenly, everything somehow became even worse.
Rats, chaos, screams. Avra could not see where they were coming from but the volume in the Agora was building to a crescendo. The already busy square was evolving into something close to a mob. The soldiers, startled, dropped her tapestry on the filthy floor and started off to investigate, fighting against the waves and waves of people trying to breathe freely. Avra snatched the tapestry from the ground before it could be further trampled, but there were rats beginning to swarm the stalls, hungry, dirty, anything but beautiful. Avra’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of their tiny feet tearing holes in and soiling her work. She began to gather the contents of her stall as quickly as possible, heart pounding wildly. “I—I’m sorry—” she gasped at Arete, stuffing pieces into her large canvas bag with far less care than normal. “I promise, I will fix this—”
Figures in black stood out amongst the panicking crowd, and Avra’s heart sank. The Creed.
[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
Gavriil’s irritation with the jewelry box was nothing when he saw that papers were overturned and shunted out and about with little care. When he’d left this morning, there were two stacks of neatly organized papers on his desk. Those papers were now scattered not only across the desk’s top, but the floor of his office, and over the two chairs by the fire. He stooped to rescue one page that lay perilously close to the firegrate. What could they have wanted in here that would be any use to the people immigrating into the city?
The Order would be brought to bear on this. This was unacceptable. He set the paper back on the desk, glaring at the disarray before putting a hand back on Evangelina and taking her back out of the room with him. Wherever he looked in the house there was chaos. Some of it looked completely deliberate, too, as though they were being targeted not for the benefit of others, but for some other, more nefarious purpose. In Vasiliadon, he didn’t put anything past some of his fellows. There were absolutely some who would take advantage of a situation like this.
He shared her feelings of relief that Alexa was not here. Iason, Gavriil was not concerned about and Dorothea, he’d have preferred here to elsewhere. “Where should we start?” Evangelina’s voice broke into his thoughts which were in danger of wandering towards his daughter and wondering if she was safe, and knowing she wasn’t. “We may end up having to put that garden you were dreaming of in after all…”
That drew the briefest of grim smiles but then it faded as his irritation returned. “Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.” Hers, his, his brother’s, his son’s, his daughters’. Things that definitely were not for the poor in Vasiliadon. Let the Order raid the larder and let them take away blankets and perhaps even some clothes. But documents? Baubles? Odds and ends? No. That was something else entirely and Gavriil didn’t like it one bit.
His steward, though old, was a stout fighter and was currently doing battle in the dining room with one of the Order members. Gavriil glanced in as they passed when he heard ”Aristocles! Let go! I thrashed you as a lad and I’ll do it again!”
To which Aristocles, obviously not liking that he was still thought of as a boy when he was a man full grown ground out, ”I’m twice your size, old man. Let go!” They were each on opposite ends of the longside of the table, the corners of a pillow gripped in each fist. Gavriil sighed when he heard an almighty rip. Feathers wafted into the hall behind them. He hated this.
“Add chickens and pillows to that list,” he said, steering her upstairs. After this he probably really would garden. He needed the outlet. It was when they reached the stairs, though, that he paused. A scent so familiar filled his nose and yet it was so wildly out of place that he didn’t recognize it for what it was until he saw the red trail coating the hallway.
“What-?” his shock was so great that he attempted to shift straight around his wife so that he could get up the stairs first. He held a hand behind him to Evangelina, attempting to stop her from following, suddenly concerned what he would find. With the Creed attacks on the capital still fresh in his mind, he was absolutely certain they would find a dead body. “Evie stay back,” he muttered but he didn’t make her do anything. He was creeping forward down the hall, sword drawn. Each doorway he passed might have a Creed member in it or if not Creed, some other assailant. But that...didn’t make sense. Not with so many Order members in the house.
Their room was the last on the left where the blood was worst. The door wasn’t closed, only pushed to, and Gavriil lay a careful hand on it, easing it back open. He stood stock still when he saw the horror that lay on the bed. There, in his place, on a pillow soaked with blood, lay the severed stag head. The whole scene was made so much worse for the holes gaping inside the skull, with the antlers protruding through where the eyes should have been.
“Evie, stay away,” Gavriil said but his voice was quiet and he was now looking around for whoever might have done this...but they were alone. Alone save for the commotion still going on downstairs.
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[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
Gavriil’s irritation with the jewelry box was nothing when he saw that papers were overturned and shunted out and about with little care. When he’d left this morning, there were two stacks of neatly organized papers on his desk. Those papers were now scattered not only across the desk’s top, but the floor of his office, and over the two chairs by the fire. He stooped to rescue one page that lay perilously close to the firegrate. What could they have wanted in here that would be any use to the people immigrating into the city?
The Order would be brought to bear on this. This was unacceptable. He set the paper back on the desk, glaring at the disarray before putting a hand back on Evangelina and taking her back out of the room with him. Wherever he looked in the house there was chaos. Some of it looked completely deliberate, too, as though they were being targeted not for the benefit of others, but for some other, more nefarious purpose. In Vasiliadon, he didn’t put anything past some of his fellows. There were absolutely some who would take advantage of a situation like this.
He shared her feelings of relief that Alexa was not here. Iason, Gavriil was not concerned about and Dorothea, he’d have preferred here to elsewhere. “Where should we start?” Evangelina’s voice broke into his thoughts which were in danger of wandering towards his daughter and wondering if she was safe, and knowing she wasn’t. “We may end up having to put that garden you were dreaming of in after all…”
That drew the briefest of grim smiles but then it faded as his irritation returned. “Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.” Hers, his, his brother’s, his son’s, his daughters’. Things that definitely were not for the poor in Vasiliadon. Let the Order raid the larder and let them take away blankets and perhaps even some clothes. But documents? Baubles? Odds and ends? No. That was something else entirely and Gavriil didn’t like it one bit.
His steward, though old, was a stout fighter and was currently doing battle in the dining room with one of the Order members. Gavriil glanced in as they passed when he heard ”Aristocles! Let go! I thrashed you as a lad and I’ll do it again!”
To which Aristocles, obviously not liking that he was still thought of as a boy when he was a man full grown ground out, ”I’m twice your size, old man. Let go!” They were each on opposite ends of the longside of the table, the corners of a pillow gripped in each fist. Gavriil sighed when he heard an almighty rip. Feathers wafted into the hall behind them. He hated this.
“Add chickens and pillows to that list,” he said, steering her upstairs. After this he probably really would garden. He needed the outlet. It was when they reached the stairs, though, that he paused. A scent so familiar filled his nose and yet it was so wildly out of place that he didn’t recognize it for what it was until he saw the red trail coating the hallway.
“What-?” his shock was so great that he attempted to shift straight around his wife so that he could get up the stairs first. He held a hand behind him to Evangelina, attempting to stop her from following, suddenly concerned what he would find. With the Creed attacks on the capital still fresh in his mind, he was absolutely certain they would find a dead body. “Evie stay back,” he muttered but he didn’t make her do anything. He was creeping forward down the hall, sword drawn. Each doorway he passed might have a Creed member in it or if not Creed, some other assailant. But that...didn’t make sense. Not with so many Order members in the house.
Their room was the last on the left where the blood was worst. The door wasn’t closed, only pushed to, and Gavriil lay a careful hand on it, easing it back open. He stood stock still when he saw the horror that lay on the bed. There, in his place, on a pillow soaked with blood, lay the severed stag head. The whole scene was made so much worse for the holes gaping inside the skull, with the antlers protruding through where the eyes should have been.
“Evie, stay away,” Gavriil said but his voice was quiet and he was now looking around for whoever might have done this...but they were alone. Alone save for the commotion still going on downstairs.
[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
Gavriil’s irritation with the jewelry box was nothing when he saw that papers were overturned and shunted out and about with little care. When he’d left this morning, there were two stacks of neatly organized papers on his desk. Those papers were now scattered not only across the desk’s top, but the floor of his office, and over the two chairs by the fire. He stooped to rescue one page that lay perilously close to the firegrate. What could they have wanted in here that would be any use to the people immigrating into the city?
The Order would be brought to bear on this. This was unacceptable. He set the paper back on the desk, glaring at the disarray before putting a hand back on Evangelina and taking her back out of the room with him. Wherever he looked in the house there was chaos. Some of it looked completely deliberate, too, as though they were being targeted not for the benefit of others, but for some other, more nefarious purpose. In Vasiliadon, he didn’t put anything past some of his fellows. There were absolutely some who would take advantage of a situation like this.
He shared her feelings of relief that Alexa was not here. Iason, Gavriil was not concerned about and Dorothea, he’d have preferred here to elsewhere. “Where should we start?” Evangelina’s voice broke into his thoughts which were in danger of wandering towards his daughter and wondering if she was safe, and knowing she wasn’t. “We may end up having to put that garden you were dreaming of in after all…”
That drew the briefest of grim smiles but then it faded as his irritation returned. “Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.” Hers, his, his brother’s, his son’s, his daughters’. Things that definitely were not for the poor in Vasiliadon. Let the Order raid the larder and let them take away blankets and perhaps even some clothes. But documents? Baubles? Odds and ends? No. That was something else entirely and Gavriil didn’t like it one bit.
His steward, though old, was a stout fighter and was currently doing battle in the dining room with one of the Order members. Gavriil glanced in as they passed when he heard ”Aristocles! Let go! I thrashed you as a lad and I’ll do it again!”
To which Aristocles, obviously not liking that he was still thought of as a boy when he was a man full grown ground out, ”I’m twice your size, old man. Let go!” They were each on opposite ends of the longside of the table, the corners of a pillow gripped in each fist. Gavriil sighed when he heard an almighty rip. Feathers wafted into the hall behind them. He hated this.
“Add chickens and pillows to that list,” he said, steering her upstairs. After this he probably really would garden. He needed the outlet. It was when they reached the stairs, though, that he paused. A scent so familiar filled his nose and yet it was so wildly out of place that he didn’t recognize it for what it was until he saw the red trail coating the hallway.
“What-?” his shock was so great that he attempted to shift straight around his wife so that he could get up the stairs first. He held a hand behind him to Evangelina, attempting to stop her from following, suddenly concerned what he would find. With the Creed attacks on the capital still fresh in his mind, he was absolutely certain they would find a dead body. “Evie stay back,” he muttered but he didn’t make her do anything. He was creeping forward down the hall, sword drawn. Each doorway he passed might have a Creed member in it or if not Creed, some other assailant. But that...didn’t make sense. Not with so many Order members in the house.
Their room was the last on the left where the blood was worst. The door wasn’t closed, only pushed to, and Gavriil lay a careful hand on it, easing it back open. He stood stock still when he saw the horror that lay on the bed. There, in his place, on a pillow soaked with blood, lay the severed stag head. The whole scene was made so much worse for the holes gaping inside the skull, with the antlers protruding through where the eyes should have been.
“Evie, stay away,” Gavriil said but his voice was quiet and he was now looking around for whoever might have done this...but they were alone. Alone save for the commotion still going on downstairs.
Stepping down from the carriage, the Queen took the Prince’s arm without hesitation, ignoring the little stutter of her heart as soon as she touched him. There was nothing untoward about his escort, she reminded herself; in the eyes of the rest of the kingdom, Emilios was her brother now, and such was expected of him. Of course, pressed up next to him this way, the way her stomach clenched didn’t feel very sisterly, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was appearances, and that’s what she was here for.
Walking at the Prince’s side, Theodora made a pretty sight, the deep burgundy of her chiton complementing the warm tones in her flawless skin. The sun glittered off the rubies encrusted in her tiara, gold bangles marching up her arms catching and reflecting the light, as well. For a single, shining moment, she actually felt comfortable and confident in her role as Queen, a feeling so seldom she thought to cherish it while it lasted. Eyes were on her, and for once, she didn’t feel derision or judgment—a warmth settling in her stomach knowing that she had done the right thing. The people would see her, Xene, and Emilios here today, and they would know that they were cared for. All would be well.
It didn’t take long for such illusions to be shattered, a high-pitched scream echoing through the Dikastirio her first clue that something was amiss. Alarm suffused her features, her grip tightening on Emilios’s arm as she cast her gaze around her to see what the matter was. She soon had her answer as rats flooded the ground in every direction, people swarming in their wake. Organized chaos turned into full on tumult, and Emilios was shouting and pushing her back toward the carriage.
He was right. They needed to get out of here.
Emilios was gone before she could say another word, wrapping her arms around Xene and Eliana as she fought to herd them back in the direction they came. Would that she could have brought the Prince, as well, but such was the lot of men and women. He had to fight, she had to find safety. There was no longer anything she could do here.
That was, until she saw her sister.
“Olympia!” she screamed across the crowd, no longer concerned with finding her way back to the carriage. The bundle she could see strapped to her sister’s chest made it that much more imperative that she reach her and get her to the carriage with the rest of them. What if she got trampled? Theodora would never forgive herself if she let something happen to Pia, not after everything that had already happened. She had to help her.
“Go!” she shouted at Xene and Eliana, shoving them in the direction of the carriage before hastening off toward where she saw Pia. “Get to the carriage! I’ll join you soon!” Before either of them could stop her, she was gone, lost in the thick of the crowd as her guards angrily stormed after her.
Everywhere was pandemonium. People were running in whatever direction they could go, rats crawling over feet, up clothing, swarming over the supplies that filled the Dikastirio. Bodies collided with her as she continued to push her way toward Pia, nearly causing her to lose her footing, but Theodora grimly pushed on, resolute that she would not be leaving this place without her sister. She couldn’t fail her again.
“Pia!” she screamed once more as she moved in closer, though a line of bodies still separated them both. It was then she saw the younger princess at her sister’s side, her face deepening into further lines of concern. “Gianna!” Hoping beyond hope they could hear her over the roar of the crowd, she made another desperate attempt to shove her way toward them, reaching out her hand…
It was then a man collided with her, knocking her to the ground where rats gathered by the hundreds. Shrieking as she fell, she scrambled in the dirt and kicked at the filthy animals that threatened to overwhelm her. Every attempt she made to regain her footing only resulted in being knocked to the ground again in the chaos of the crowd, curling into a ball and sending a prayer up to every god in existence that she would not face the fate she thought to spare her sister.
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Stepping down from the carriage, the Queen took the Prince’s arm without hesitation, ignoring the little stutter of her heart as soon as she touched him. There was nothing untoward about his escort, she reminded herself; in the eyes of the rest of the kingdom, Emilios was her brother now, and such was expected of him. Of course, pressed up next to him this way, the way her stomach clenched didn’t feel very sisterly, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was appearances, and that’s what she was here for.
Walking at the Prince’s side, Theodora made a pretty sight, the deep burgundy of her chiton complementing the warm tones in her flawless skin. The sun glittered off the rubies encrusted in her tiara, gold bangles marching up her arms catching and reflecting the light, as well. For a single, shining moment, she actually felt comfortable and confident in her role as Queen, a feeling so seldom she thought to cherish it while it lasted. Eyes were on her, and for once, she didn’t feel derision or judgment—a warmth settling in her stomach knowing that she had done the right thing. The people would see her, Xene, and Emilios here today, and they would know that they were cared for. All would be well.
It didn’t take long for such illusions to be shattered, a high-pitched scream echoing through the Dikastirio her first clue that something was amiss. Alarm suffused her features, her grip tightening on Emilios’s arm as she cast her gaze around her to see what the matter was. She soon had her answer as rats flooded the ground in every direction, people swarming in their wake. Organized chaos turned into full on tumult, and Emilios was shouting and pushing her back toward the carriage.
He was right. They needed to get out of here.
Emilios was gone before she could say another word, wrapping her arms around Xene and Eliana as she fought to herd them back in the direction they came. Would that she could have brought the Prince, as well, but such was the lot of men and women. He had to fight, she had to find safety. There was no longer anything she could do here.
That was, until she saw her sister.
“Olympia!” she screamed across the crowd, no longer concerned with finding her way back to the carriage. The bundle she could see strapped to her sister’s chest made it that much more imperative that she reach her and get her to the carriage with the rest of them. What if she got trampled? Theodora would never forgive herself if she let something happen to Pia, not after everything that had already happened. She had to help her.
“Go!” she shouted at Xene and Eliana, shoving them in the direction of the carriage before hastening off toward where she saw Pia. “Get to the carriage! I’ll join you soon!” Before either of them could stop her, she was gone, lost in the thick of the crowd as her guards angrily stormed after her.
Everywhere was pandemonium. People were running in whatever direction they could go, rats crawling over feet, up clothing, swarming over the supplies that filled the Dikastirio. Bodies collided with her as she continued to push her way toward Pia, nearly causing her to lose her footing, but Theodora grimly pushed on, resolute that she would not be leaving this place without her sister. She couldn’t fail her again.
“Pia!” she screamed once more as she moved in closer, though a line of bodies still separated them both. It was then she saw the younger princess at her sister’s side, her face deepening into further lines of concern. “Gianna!” Hoping beyond hope they could hear her over the roar of the crowd, she made another desperate attempt to shove her way toward them, reaching out her hand…
It was then a man collided with her, knocking her to the ground where rats gathered by the hundreds. Shrieking as she fell, she scrambled in the dirt and kicked at the filthy animals that threatened to overwhelm her. Every attempt she made to regain her footing only resulted in being knocked to the ground again in the chaos of the crowd, curling into a ball and sending a prayer up to every god in existence that she would not face the fate she thought to spare her sister.
Stepping down from the carriage, the Queen took the Prince’s arm without hesitation, ignoring the little stutter of her heart as soon as she touched him. There was nothing untoward about his escort, she reminded herself; in the eyes of the rest of the kingdom, Emilios was her brother now, and such was expected of him. Of course, pressed up next to him this way, the way her stomach clenched didn’t feel very sisterly, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was appearances, and that’s what she was here for.
Walking at the Prince’s side, Theodora made a pretty sight, the deep burgundy of her chiton complementing the warm tones in her flawless skin. The sun glittered off the rubies encrusted in her tiara, gold bangles marching up her arms catching and reflecting the light, as well. For a single, shining moment, she actually felt comfortable and confident in her role as Queen, a feeling so seldom she thought to cherish it while it lasted. Eyes were on her, and for once, she didn’t feel derision or judgment—a warmth settling in her stomach knowing that she had done the right thing. The people would see her, Xene, and Emilios here today, and they would know that they were cared for. All would be well.
It didn’t take long for such illusions to be shattered, a high-pitched scream echoing through the Dikastirio her first clue that something was amiss. Alarm suffused her features, her grip tightening on Emilios’s arm as she cast her gaze around her to see what the matter was. She soon had her answer as rats flooded the ground in every direction, people swarming in their wake. Organized chaos turned into full on tumult, and Emilios was shouting and pushing her back toward the carriage.
He was right. They needed to get out of here.
Emilios was gone before she could say another word, wrapping her arms around Xene and Eliana as she fought to herd them back in the direction they came. Would that she could have brought the Prince, as well, but such was the lot of men and women. He had to fight, she had to find safety. There was no longer anything she could do here.
That was, until she saw her sister.
“Olympia!” she screamed across the crowd, no longer concerned with finding her way back to the carriage. The bundle she could see strapped to her sister’s chest made it that much more imperative that she reach her and get her to the carriage with the rest of them. What if she got trampled? Theodora would never forgive herself if she let something happen to Pia, not after everything that had already happened. She had to help her.
“Go!” she shouted at Xene and Eliana, shoving them in the direction of the carriage before hastening off toward where she saw Pia. “Get to the carriage! I’ll join you soon!” Before either of them could stop her, she was gone, lost in the thick of the crowd as her guards angrily stormed after her.
Everywhere was pandemonium. People were running in whatever direction they could go, rats crawling over feet, up clothing, swarming over the supplies that filled the Dikastirio. Bodies collided with her as she continued to push her way toward Pia, nearly causing her to lose her footing, but Theodora grimly pushed on, resolute that she would not be leaving this place without her sister. She couldn’t fail her again.
“Pia!” she screamed once more as she moved in closer, though a line of bodies still separated them both. It was then she saw the younger princess at her sister’s side, her face deepening into further lines of concern. “Gianna!” Hoping beyond hope they could hear her over the roar of the crowd, she made another desperate attempt to shove her way toward them, reaching out her hand…
It was then a man collided with her, knocking her to the ground where rats gathered by the hundreds. Shrieking as she fell, she scrambled in the dirt and kicked at the filthy animals that threatened to overwhelm her. Every attempt she made to regain her footing only resulted in being knocked to the ground again in the chaos of the crowd, curling into a ball and sending a prayer up to every god in existence that she would not face the fate she thought to spare her sister.
[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
It might have been brief, and grim, but the smile Gavriil had given her was as welcoming as the sun peaking for a moment from behind clouds on a cool day. Basking there in it was a losing battle, she knew it from the start. The sun didn’t peak out from behind clouds before it was hidden away again, tucked behind the oppressive, grey shaded clouds. It was the same way with the smile; it was here just for a moment as a reminder that everything wasn’t always bad.
‘Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.’
The lines in her face returned and she found her eyes shifting wearily over the strangers in their home. She’d never really cared for things in her life but perhaps that was changing as she became a part of the Dimitrou family and was trying to settle into their world. So many of the belongings in Gavriil’s house held stories and memories, not just for him but for his entire family… that was just another one of those slow realizations of how different her family had been from his. Her home had things, expensive things, but they were just things. They didn’t hold the charms of the Dimitrou’s. They didn’t have stories or memories and they weren’t cherished in the same way. If a vase was broken it was thrown out and replaced with something three times more expensive.
Slanting a curious glance at Gavriil’s steward trying to wrench a pillow away from one of the order members, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Which God had they angered enough to make them have to wrestle just to keep such unimportant items as pillows? The sound of fabric ripping made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her body tighten and wonder if she should turn around. Gavriil’s steadying hand on her kept her from coming to a complete stop.
‘Add chickens and pillows to that list.’
Irritation wormed its way up, she knew if she looked behind her she’d see a mess of feathers and that wouldn’t be a task the order members would see to clean up later. “This is utterly ridiculous,” She huffed. She didn’t have the trained senses her husband had and other than feeling his body go on alert, she wasn’t aware of anything amiss. “We have to do something, Gavriil.” They were headed to the hallway to proceed up the stairs, the jewelry box still tucked under her arm.
‘What-?’
At first, Evangelina thought he was questioning her so she continued, “We have to do something or we won’t…” Her words suddenly faded along with her thoughts as she saw the red, it caused her mouth to suddenly go dry. There wasn’t any tricking her mind. It wasn’t wine stains. Gavriil shifted so he was up the stairs cautiously, one step at a time in front of her, ‘Evie stay back.’ But when had she ever followed orders? Right on his heels, she crept up the stairs, her breath held tightly in her lungs.
Her mind raced with a million different possibilities of what they could find at the end of this trailing bloodstain. When had she last seen Dorotheos? What if it was Alexa? Could she have been taken after they left? Dorothea? Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and her eyes flickered to her husband’s back. He’d never forgive himself if it was Dorothea or Alexa. A sudden, powerful illness washed over her as the worst case scenarios played through her mind. The ‘what if’s’ creeping from the dark, shadowy places of her mind. There were too many options, too many possibilities of things that she was coming to care dearly for that could be at the end of this line.
It took every bit of her strength to keep from rushing past him and down the hallway to find out the answers. But as soon as she looked down the hall at the top of the stairs, she knew it wasn’t in any of the other rooms. She didn’t need to follow the patchy path of red to know that whatever terror lay before them, lay in their room.
Staying close behind, she silently followed. One hand to her throat, hoping it’d ease the tightness and help her breath, the other one comfortingly wrapped itself around her waist. Her fingernails digging deeply into the fabric and sinking into the flesh of her waist. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she’d find bruises on herself from the action in the morning.
Pausing at their door, she all the anticipation of knowing what lay on the other side dissipated. The pint-sized woman would have been happy to run back down the stairs, past the stables into whatever wilderness she could find. Even before Gavriil spoke, she knew that she didn’t want to know, but the tension in his voice. She had to know, she had to be strong enough to carry whatever the burden was inside their room.
‘Evie, stay away.’
“Let me in, Gavriil.” Her quiet voice sounded like someone else’s as she spoke, it didn’t waver or sound as frightened at all as she felt, stepping past him Evangelina stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. Her spine stiffened, and anger seemed to seep in slowly. There in their bed, in a flood of red was a mutilated stag head, the beast's noble antlers crudely cut from his body and shoved into his eyes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. The shape of a body lay in Gavriil’s spot, calmly she stepped past her husband. Her face entirely neutral, reaching down for the sheet, she yanked it back to reveal the stuffed pillows. She supposed she could be thankful at least it wasn’t actually someone’s body.
Standing over the stag, she frowned. It was a warning of things to come, not a threat, not something to scare them but a simple, crude message. They weren’t safe, no one was safe. Taking in a sharp breath, she finally lifted her gaze to Gavriil and swallowed, “I’ll get some of the maids up here to clean this mess up.” Her lip curled around the word mess and she walked over to stand next to him again, her hand coming to rest on his chest. There would be retribution, if she had to burn the entirety of the city down to kill the rats that were infesting it. “We will be just fine.” There was a bitter hardness to her words that sounded far more like her mother’s tone after she’d just had just gone to battle with her uncle. She might have been a Dimitrou now, but her tone was most definitely Leventi.
"I want everyone out of this house and I want them out now. I don't care who they are," there was absolutely no room for argument in her tone.
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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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[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
It might have been brief, and grim, but the smile Gavriil had given her was as welcoming as the sun peaking for a moment from behind clouds on a cool day. Basking there in it was a losing battle, she knew it from the start. The sun didn’t peak out from behind clouds before it was hidden away again, tucked behind the oppressive, grey shaded clouds. It was the same way with the smile; it was here just for a moment as a reminder that everything wasn’t always bad.
‘Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.’
The lines in her face returned and she found her eyes shifting wearily over the strangers in their home. She’d never really cared for things in her life but perhaps that was changing as she became a part of the Dimitrou family and was trying to settle into their world. So many of the belongings in Gavriil’s house held stories and memories, not just for him but for his entire family… that was just another one of those slow realizations of how different her family had been from his. Her home had things, expensive things, but they were just things. They didn’t hold the charms of the Dimitrou’s. They didn’t have stories or memories and they weren’t cherished in the same way. If a vase was broken it was thrown out and replaced with something three times more expensive.
Slanting a curious glance at Gavriil’s steward trying to wrench a pillow away from one of the order members, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Which God had they angered enough to make them have to wrestle just to keep such unimportant items as pillows? The sound of fabric ripping made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her body tighten and wonder if she should turn around. Gavriil’s steadying hand on her kept her from coming to a complete stop.
‘Add chickens and pillows to that list.’
Irritation wormed its way up, she knew if she looked behind her she’d see a mess of feathers and that wouldn’t be a task the order members would see to clean up later. “This is utterly ridiculous,” She huffed. She didn’t have the trained senses her husband had and other than feeling his body go on alert, she wasn’t aware of anything amiss. “We have to do something, Gavriil.” They were headed to the hallway to proceed up the stairs, the jewelry box still tucked under her arm.
‘What-?’
At first, Evangelina thought he was questioning her so she continued, “We have to do something or we won’t…” Her words suddenly faded along with her thoughts as she saw the red, it caused her mouth to suddenly go dry. There wasn’t any tricking her mind. It wasn’t wine stains. Gavriil shifted so he was up the stairs cautiously, one step at a time in front of her, ‘Evie stay back.’ But when had she ever followed orders? Right on his heels, she crept up the stairs, her breath held tightly in her lungs.
Her mind raced with a million different possibilities of what they could find at the end of this trailing bloodstain. When had she last seen Dorotheos? What if it was Alexa? Could she have been taken after they left? Dorothea? Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and her eyes flickered to her husband’s back. He’d never forgive himself if it was Dorothea or Alexa. A sudden, powerful illness washed over her as the worst case scenarios played through her mind. The ‘what if’s’ creeping from the dark, shadowy places of her mind. There were too many options, too many possibilities of things that she was coming to care dearly for that could be at the end of this line.
It took every bit of her strength to keep from rushing past him and down the hallway to find out the answers. But as soon as she looked down the hall at the top of the stairs, she knew it wasn’t in any of the other rooms. She didn’t need to follow the patchy path of red to know that whatever terror lay before them, lay in their room.
Staying close behind, she silently followed. One hand to her throat, hoping it’d ease the tightness and help her breath, the other one comfortingly wrapped itself around her waist. Her fingernails digging deeply into the fabric and sinking into the flesh of her waist. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she’d find bruises on herself from the action in the morning.
Pausing at their door, she all the anticipation of knowing what lay on the other side dissipated. The pint-sized woman would have been happy to run back down the stairs, past the stables into whatever wilderness she could find. Even before Gavriil spoke, she knew that she didn’t want to know, but the tension in his voice. She had to know, she had to be strong enough to carry whatever the burden was inside their room.
‘Evie, stay away.’
“Let me in, Gavriil.” Her quiet voice sounded like someone else’s as she spoke, it didn’t waver or sound as frightened at all as she felt, stepping past him Evangelina stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. Her spine stiffened, and anger seemed to seep in slowly. There in their bed, in a flood of red was a mutilated stag head, the beast's noble antlers crudely cut from his body and shoved into his eyes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. The shape of a body lay in Gavriil’s spot, calmly she stepped past her husband. Her face entirely neutral, reaching down for the sheet, she yanked it back to reveal the stuffed pillows. She supposed she could be thankful at least it wasn’t actually someone’s body.
Standing over the stag, she frowned. It was a warning of things to come, not a threat, not something to scare them but a simple, crude message. They weren’t safe, no one was safe. Taking in a sharp breath, she finally lifted her gaze to Gavriil and swallowed, “I’ll get some of the maids up here to clean this mess up.” Her lip curled around the word mess and she walked over to stand next to him again, her hand coming to rest on his chest. There would be retribution, if she had to burn the entirety of the city down to kill the rats that were infesting it. “We will be just fine.” There was a bitter hardness to her words that sounded far more like her mother’s tone after she’d just had just gone to battle with her uncle. She might have been a Dimitrou now, but her tone was most definitely Leventi.
"I want everyone out of this house and I want them out now. I don't care who they are," there was absolutely no room for argument in her tone.
[KALOSPÍTI DIMITROU]
It might have been brief, and grim, but the smile Gavriil had given her was as welcoming as the sun peaking for a moment from behind clouds on a cool day. Basking there in it was a losing battle, she knew it from the start. The sun didn’t peak out from behind clouds before it was hidden away again, tucked behind the oppressive, grey shaded clouds. It was the same way with the smile; it was here just for a moment as a reminder that everything wasn’t always bad.
‘Let us see what else of yours they are attempting to make off with.’
The lines in her face returned and she found her eyes shifting wearily over the strangers in their home. She’d never really cared for things in her life but perhaps that was changing as she became a part of the Dimitrou family and was trying to settle into their world. So many of the belongings in Gavriil’s house held stories and memories, not just for him but for his entire family… that was just another one of those slow realizations of how different her family had been from his. Her home had things, expensive things, but they were just things. They didn’t hold the charms of the Dimitrou’s. They didn’t have stories or memories and they weren’t cherished in the same way. If a vase was broken it was thrown out and replaced with something three times more expensive.
Slanting a curious glance at Gavriil’s steward trying to wrench a pillow away from one of the order members, she raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Which God had they angered enough to make them have to wrestle just to keep such unimportant items as pillows? The sound of fabric ripping made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her body tighten and wonder if she should turn around. Gavriil’s steadying hand on her kept her from coming to a complete stop.
‘Add chickens and pillows to that list.’
Irritation wormed its way up, she knew if she looked behind her she’d see a mess of feathers and that wouldn’t be a task the order members would see to clean up later. “This is utterly ridiculous,” She huffed. She didn’t have the trained senses her husband had and other than feeling his body go on alert, she wasn’t aware of anything amiss. “We have to do something, Gavriil.” They were headed to the hallway to proceed up the stairs, the jewelry box still tucked under her arm.
‘What-?’
At first, Evangelina thought he was questioning her so she continued, “We have to do something or we won’t…” Her words suddenly faded along with her thoughts as she saw the red, it caused her mouth to suddenly go dry. There wasn’t any tricking her mind. It wasn’t wine stains. Gavriil shifted so he was up the stairs cautiously, one step at a time in front of her, ‘Evie stay back.’ But when had she ever followed orders? Right on his heels, she crept up the stairs, her breath held tightly in her lungs.
Her mind raced with a million different possibilities of what they could find at the end of this trailing bloodstain. When had she last seen Dorotheos? What if it was Alexa? Could she have been taken after they left? Dorothea? Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest and her eyes flickered to her husband’s back. He’d never forgive himself if it was Dorothea or Alexa. A sudden, powerful illness washed over her as the worst case scenarios played through her mind. The ‘what if’s’ creeping from the dark, shadowy places of her mind. There were too many options, too many possibilities of things that she was coming to care dearly for that could be at the end of this line.
It took every bit of her strength to keep from rushing past him and down the hallway to find out the answers. But as soon as she looked down the hall at the top of the stairs, she knew it wasn’t in any of the other rooms. She didn’t need to follow the patchy path of red to know that whatever terror lay before them, lay in their room.
Staying close behind, she silently followed. One hand to her throat, hoping it’d ease the tightness and help her breath, the other one comfortingly wrapped itself around her waist. Her fingernails digging deeply into the fabric and sinking into the flesh of her waist. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she’d find bruises on herself from the action in the morning.
Pausing at their door, she all the anticipation of knowing what lay on the other side dissipated. The pint-sized woman would have been happy to run back down the stairs, past the stables into whatever wilderness she could find. Even before Gavriil spoke, she knew that she didn’t want to know, but the tension in his voice. She had to know, she had to be strong enough to carry whatever the burden was inside their room.
‘Evie, stay away.’
“Let me in, Gavriil.” Her quiet voice sounded like someone else’s as she spoke, it didn’t waver or sound as frightened at all as she felt, stepping past him Evangelina stopped dead in her tracks at the sight. Her spine stiffened, and anger seemed to seep in slowly. There in their bed, in a flood of red was a mutilated stag head, the beast's noble antlers crudely cut from his body and shoved into his eyes. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. The shape of a body lay in Gavriil’s spot, calmly she stepped past her husband. Her face entirely neutral, reaching down for the sheet, she yanked it back to reveal the stuffed pillows. She supposed she could be thankful at least it wasn’t actually someone’s body.
Standing over the stag, she frowned. It was a warning of things to come, not a threat, not something to scare them but a simple, crude message. They weren’t safe, no one was safe. Taking in a sharp breath, she finally lifted her gaze to Gavriil and swallowed, “I’ll get some of the maids up here to clean this mess up.” Her lip curled around the word mess and she walked over to stand next to him again, her hand coming to rest on his chest. There would be retribution, if she had to burn the entirety of the city down to kill the rats that were infesting it. “We will be just fine.” There was a bitter hardness to her words that sounded far more like her mother’s tone after she’d just had just gone to battle with her uncle. She might have been a Dimitrou now, but her tone was most definitely Leventi.
"I want everyone out of this house and I want them out now. I don't care who they are," there was absolutely no room for argument in her tone.
Gianna knew her brother’s wife—her sister—had returned to Taengea. In the weeks since word of Olympia’s return to the Leventi estate had reached her, the youngest princess had longed to see the dethroned queen. Her heart ached to meet her infant niece, to hold a piece of her brother in his continued absence. Why had she not made an effort to see the older woman earlier? Gianna was not sure she could answer that question. Perhaps she feared seeing Olympia would simply remind her of the pain she felt that first night of Irakles’s betrayal, the reason Olympia and Stephanos had to steal away for their own safety to begin with.
How wrong she was. The tears welled as soon as their eyes met. Gianna could not get to the brunette fast enough. Her name from Olympia’s lips was an experience she never even realized she had desperately missed. With her cheeks cupped and a kiss of greeting pressed to her forehead, Gianna fought to stay upright. Her knees felt like buckling as a weight that had gone unnoticed until this very moment was lifted from her shoulders. It was then that Olympia withdrew, revealing a bundle strapped to her chest. She swore her heart skipped a beat when she saw the mop of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the very shade as her brother’s, staring up at her.
“Do you want to meet your niece?”
Those were words she had only heard whispered in her dreams. She had imagined the little baby, described by her brother in his missives, but her mind could never do the newest generation of Mikaelidas justice. She reached for the tiny human and grinned when Tisiphone grabbed her finger. Somehow, in the middle of the chaos around her, she found stillness. But that peace was wont to be very short-lived. Gianna glanced up to offer a smile to Olympia, but the compliments she wished to express turned to questions of concern at seeing the woman’s expression. Olympia grasped her hand as screams rose, Gianna frantically assessed the scene.
Rats. A few rats here or there would not give the blonde pause, in fact she would be inclined to offer a sick or injured one assistance. Gianna had never seen so many rodents in a single place at one time, much less somewhere already inundated with people! It seemed that everywhere she looked was a swarm of the little bodies. She felt Olympia’s grip tighten, pulling her closer.
“Gia….we need to go, get out of here.”
It was Olympia’s voice and sense of urgency that finally spurred Gianna into action. With one hand already in Olympia’s, she wrapped her free arm around the woman and her child, helping to shield Tisiphone from the crowd. Bundled together, the pair began to push through the crush of the mob. She did not know where they were heading in the present moment, but she knew they needed to eventually end up at the paláti, there would be protection within the walls. In the distance, she spotted the Royal carriage, knowing it held her sister and cousins. If they could make it to the carriage before they left, they would be safe.
She turned to Olympia to bring her attention to the carriage, but whipped her head back as she heard her name above the discord. She frantically searched for the source of the voice, locking eyes with Theodora only moments before she disappeared from sight. Gianna gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. They had to get to Theodora and fast. The blonde had heard tales of wild stampedes and the consequences of any poor creature unfortunate enough to be caught in the path. Theodora was already small in stature, underfoot of a panicked crowd and with a swarm of pests in the mix, the queen did not stand a chance.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Gianna tugged Olympia in the direction she had last seen Theodora, shoving against bodies in her attempt to stay upright and hold onto Olympia. She frantically searched the ground for the fallen woman, waving her arm back and forth in front of her to part the crowd as they slowly made their way. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Gianna found a balled up Theodora at her feet. She considered sending Olympia on her way to the carriage, but would not be able to live with herself if something were to happen to the woman and her child along the way. She squeezed Olympia’s hand as she stated, “Whatever you do, do not lose your footing.”
Turning back to Theodora, she dropped onto her haunches, careful to keep her feet underneath herself. She reached out once, quickly withdrawing her hand as the queen kicked at the rodents in the street. Before she could make another attempt, she rocked backwards to barely escape being trampled by a young boy who was not paying any attention in his rush for safety. Frustrated, she sat forward once more and reached out for Theodora, catching the woman by the ankle as she called her name. She extended her other hand, offering the brunette what little assistance she could in their current predicament.
“Theodora! Take my hand. Take it and pull!” she yelled, praying her cousin could hear her order. In a perfect world, her plan would succeed. They would clasp hands and tug as Gianna pushed up with her legs, pulling the both of them into an upright (if not standing) position. Of course, in a perfect world the dikastírio would not be overrun by rats. In a perfect world, her father would still be alive and king of Taengea and there would be no war with Egypt. But Gianna was far from entertaining any sort of illusions pertaining to some sort of perfect world. All she could hope for in the present moment was to rescue Theodora from the rodents and crowd and help both of the former Leventi women to the carriage so they all may find refuge.
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Gianna knew her brother’s wife—her sister—had returned to Taengea. In the weeks since word of Olympia’s return to the Leventi estate had reached her, the youngest princess had longed to see the dethroned queen. Her heart ached to meet her infant niece, to hold a piece of her brother in his continued absence. Why had she not made an effort to see the older woman earlier? Gianna was not sure she could answer that question. Perhaps she feared seeing Olympia would simply remind her of the pain she felt that first night of Irakles’s betrayal, the reason Olympia and Stephanos had to steal away for their own safety to begin with.
How wrong she was. The tears welled as soon as their eyes met. Gianna could not get to the brunette fast enough. Her name from Olympia’s lips was an experience she never even realized she had desperately missed. With her cheeks cupped and a kiss of greeting pressed to her forehead, Gianna fought to stay upright. Her knees felt like buckling as a weight that had gone unnoticed until this very moment was lifted from her shoulders. It was then that Olympia withdrew, revealing a bundle strapped to her chest. She swore her heart skipped a beat when she saw the mop of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the very shade as her brother’s, staring up at her.
“Do you want to meet your niece?”
Those were words she had only heard whispered in her dreams. She had imagined the little baby, described by her brother in his missives, but her mind could never do the newest generation of Mikaelidas justice. She reached for the tiny human and grinned when Tisiphone grabbed her finger. Somehow, in the middle of the chaos around her, she found stillness. But that peace was wont to be very short-lived. Gianna glanced up to offer a smile to Olympia, but the compliments she wished to express turned to questions of concern at seeing the woman’s expression. Olympia grasped her hand as screams rose, Gianna frantically assessed the scene.
Rats. A few rats here or there would not give the blonde pause, in fact she would be inclined to offer a sick or injured one assistance. Gianna had never seen so many rodents in a single place at one time, much less somewhere already inundated with people! It seemed that everywhere she looked was a swarm of the little bodies. She felt Olympia’s grip tighten, pulling her closer.
“Gia….we need to go, get out of here.”
It was Olympia’s voice and sense of urgency that finally spurred Gianna into action. With one hand already in Olympia’s, she wrapped her free arm around the woman and her child, helping to shield Tisiphone from the crowd. Bundled together, the pair began to push through the crush of the mob. She did not know where they were heading in the present moment, but she knew they needed to eventually end up at the paláti, there would be protection within the walls. In the distance, she spotted the Royal carriage, knowing it held her sister and cousins. If they could make it to the carriage before they left, they would be safe.
She turned to Olympia to bring her attention to the carriage, but whipped her head back as she heard her name above the discord. She frantically searched for the source of the voice, locking eyes with Theodora only moments before she disappeared from sight. Gianna gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. They had to get to Theodora and fast. The blonde had heard tales of wild stampedes and the consequences of any poor creature unfortunate enough to be caught in the path. Theodora was already small in stature, underfoot of a panicked crowd and with a swarm of pests in the mix, the queen did not stand a chance.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Gianna tugged Olympia in the direction she had last seen Theodora, shoving against bodies in her attempt to stay upright and hold onto Olympia. She frantically searched the ground for the fallen woman, waving her arm back and forth in front of her to part the crowd as they slowly made their way. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Gianna found a balled up Theodora at her feet. She considered sending Olympia on her way to the carriage, but would not be able to live with herself if something were to happen to the woman and her child along the way. She squeezed Olympia’s hand as she stated, “Whatever you do, do not lose your footing.”
Turning back to Theodora, she dropped onto her haunches, careful to keep her feet underneath herself. She reached out once, quickly withdrawing her hand as the queen kicked at the rodents in the street. Before she could make another attempt, she rocked backwards to barely escape being trampled by a young boy who was not paying any attention in his rush for safety. Frustrated, she sat forward once more and reached out for Theodora, catching the woman by the ankle as she called her name. She extended her other hand, offering the brunette what little assistance she could in their current predicament.
“Theodora! Take my hand. Take it and pull!” she yelled, praying her cousin could hear her order. In a perfect world, her plan would succeed. They would clasp hands and tug as Gianna pushed up with her legs, pulling the both of them into an upright (if not standing) position. Of course, in a perfect world the dikastírio would not be overrun by rats. In a perfect world, her father would still be alive and king of Taengea and there would be no war with Egypt. But Gianna was far from entertaining any sort of illusions pertaining to some sort of perfect world. All she could hope for in the present moment was to rescue Theodora from the rodents and crowd and help both of the former Leventi women to the carriage so they all may find refuge.
Gianna knew her brother’s wife—her sister—had returned to Taengea. In the weeks since word of Olympia’s return to the Leventi estate had reached her, the youngest princess had longed to see the dethroned queen. Her heart ached to meet her infant niece, to hold a piece of her brother in his continued absence. Why had she not made an effort to see the older woman earlier? Gianna was not sure she could answer that question. Perhaps she feared seeing Olympia would simply remind her of the pain she felt that first night of Irakles’s betrayal, the reason Olympia and Stephanos had to steal away for their own safety to begin with.
How wrong she was. The tears welled as soon as their eyes met. Gianna could not get to the brunette fast enough. Her name from Olympia’s lips was an experience she never even realized she had desperately missed. With her cheeks cupped and a kiss of greeting pressed to her forehead, Gianna fought to stay upright. Her knees felt like buckling as a weight that had gone unnoticed until this very moment was lifted from her shoulders. It was then that Olympia withdrew, revealing a bundle strapped to her chest. She swore her heart skipped a beat when she saw the mop of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the very shade as her brother’s, staring up at her.
“Do you want to meet your niece?”
Those were words she had only heard whispered in her dreams. She had imagined the little baby, described by her brother in his missives, but her mind could never do the newest generation of Mikaelidas justice. She reached for the tiny human and grinned when Tisiphone grabbed her finger. Somehow, in the middle of the chaos around her, she found stillness. But that peace was wont to be very short-lived. Gianna glanced up to offer a smile to Olympia, but the compliments she wished to express turned to questions of concern at seeing the woman’s expression. Olympia grasped her hand as screams rose, Gianna frantically assessed the scene.
Rats. A few rats here or there would not give the blonde pause, in fact she would be inclined to offer a sick or injured one assistance. Gianna had never seen so many rodents in a single place at one time, much less somewhere already inundated with people! It seemed that everywhere she looked was a swarm of the little bodies. She felt Olympia’s grip tighten, pulling her closer.
“Gia….we need to go, get out of here.”
It was Olympia’s voice and sense of urgency that finally spurred Gianna into action. With one hand already in Olympia’s, she wrapped her free arm around the woman and her child, helping to shield Tisiphone from the crowd. Bundled together, the pair began to push through the crush of the mob. She did not know where they were heading in the present moment, but she knew they needed to eventually end up at the paláti, there would be protection within the walls. In the distance, she spotted the Royal carriage, knowing it held her sister and cousins. If they could make it to the carriage before they left, they would be safe.
She turned to Olympia to bring her attention to the carriage, but whipped her head back as she heard her name above the discord. She frantically searched for the source of the voice, locking eyes with Theodora only moments before she disappeared from sight. Gianna gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. They had to get to Theodora and fast. The blonde had heard tales of wild stampedes and the consequences of any poor creature unfortunate enough to be caught in the path. Theodora was already small in stature, underfoot of a panicked crowd and with a swarm of pests in the mix, the queen did not stand a chance.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Gianna tugged Olympia in the direction she had last seen Theodora, shoving against bodies in her attempt to stay upright and hold onto Olympia. She frantically searched the ground for the fallen woman, waving her arm back and forth in front of her to part the crowd as they slowly made their way. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Gianna found a balled up Theodora at her feet. She considered sending Olympia on her way to the carriage, but would not be able to live with herself if something were to happen to the woman and her child along the way. She squeezed Olympia’s hand as she stated, “Whatever you do, do not lose your footing.”
Turning back to Theodora, she dropped onto her haunches, careful to keep her feet underneath herself. She reached out once, quickly withdrawing her hand as the queen kicked at the rodents in the street. Before she could make another attempt, she rocked backwards to barely escape being trampled by a young boy who was not paying any attention in his rush for safety. Frustrated, she sat forward once more and reached out for Theodora, catching the woman by the ankle as she called her name. She extended her other hand, offering the brunette what little assistance she could in their current predicament.
“Theodora! Take my hand. Take it and pull!” she yelled, praying her cousin could hear her order. In a perfect world, her plan would succeed. They would clasp hands and tug as Gianna pushed up with her legs, pulling the both of them into an upright (if not standing) position. Of course, in a perfect world the dikastírio would not be overrun by rats. In a perfect world, her father would still be alive and king of Taengea and there would be no war with Egypt. But Gianna was far from entertaining any sort of illusions pertaining to some sort of perfect world. All she could hope for in the present moment was to rescue Theodora from the rodents and crowd and help both of the former Leventi women to the carriage so they all may find refuge.
[The Agora]
Her knees were trembling, shaking as she stood opposite Alastor -- her eyes on the female merchant. She wanted to help, wanted to try to mitigate whatever this disturbance was. She could not fathom the boy that she’d grown to love just stealing. Regardless of the orders of the Order, there had to be a way to resolve this in a way that was fair to all parties involved. Her fingers curled into a fist as the merchant finally spoke, telling them both that the tapestry was paid for already by someone else. Sara opened her mouth to inquire about a different piece that might be available when the owner of that piece came upon them with a shout.
She ducked her head as she turned to find Arete of Doralis. She had never met her before of course, but that did not make her any less imposing -- especially with such righteous fury in her eyes. Sara rocked back on her heels, unsure of what to do or say as an exchange flew right over her head. And then Alastor was turning on his heel to take his leave.
The uncomfortable ache in her chest returned, and Sara rubbed it absently. She turned to Avra, bowing her head. ”I apologize for him.” She said, only sparing a glance for Arete before turning to chase after him. She could not let him go again without saying something to him. Even if he was working with that man -- that Agathon -- she could not let him become something even he couldn’t recognize. If this was what he wanted, if he truly desired being a stranger compared to the sweet boy she’d grown to love from afar then she needed to know.
Her stride faltered as screams began to rise up across the agora, making her turn. Rats began to flood the street, making even Sara -- who was not scared of any creature -- pick up her hems. A shiver of revulsion swept across her skin and panic started to sweep among the refugees, the soldiers and merchants. Sara turned back the way she had been going. Rats continued to brush past her legs, causing chaos in their wake. Figures in black robes caught the corner of her eye, making her freeze once more in fear. The Creed. She knew so little about them, save that they lived only to destroy the very family she belonged to.
Her mother had always warned her and Tasia both that despite being bastards, they may be targets as well if only to get to their father. He was dead, but that did not mean she couldn’t be used against someone like...like Emilios. Quickly turning away, Sara pressed through the crowd trying to create distance.
”Alastor!” She shouted, unsure if anyone could hear much of anything above the chaos going on around them. ”Alastor, please! Where are you?” She just needed an ally, a familiar face right now. Where was he when she needed him?
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[The Agora]
Her knees were trembling, shaking as she stood opposite Alastor -- her eyes on the female merchant. She wanted to help, wanted to try to mitigate whatever this disturbance was. She could not fathom the boy that she’d grown to love just stealing. Regardless of the orders of the Order, there had to be a way to resolve this in a way that was fair to all parties involved. Her fingers curled into a fist as the merchant finally spoke, telling them both that the tapestry was paid for already by someone else. Sara opened her mouth to inquire about a different piece that might be available when the owner of that piece came upon them with a shout.
She ducked her head as she turned to find Arete of Doralis. She had never met her before of course, but that did not make her any less imposing -- especially with such righteous fury in her eyes. Sara rocked back on her heels, unsure of what to do or say as an exchange flew right over her head. And then Alastor was turning on his heel to take his leave.
The uncomfortable ache in her chest returned, and Sara rubbed it absently. She turned to Avra, bowing her head. ”I apologize for him.” She said, only sparing a glance for Arete before turning to chase after him. She could not let him go again without saying something to him. Even if he was working with that man -- that Agathon -- she could not let him become something even he couldn’t recognize. If this was what he wanted, if he truly desired being a stranger compared to the sweet boy she’d grown to love from afar then she needed to know.
Her stride faltered as screams began to rise up across the agora, making her turn. Rats began to flood the street, making even Sara -- who was not scared of any creature -- pick up her hems. A shiver of revulsion swept across her skin and panic started to sweep among the refugees, the soldiers and merchants. Sara turned back the way she had been going. Rats continued to brush past her legs, causing chaos in their wake. Figures in black robes caught the corner of her eye, making her freeze once more in fear. The Creed. She knew so little about them, save that they lived only to destroy the very family she belonged to.
Her mother had always warned her and Tasia both that despite being bastards, they may be targets as well if only to get to their father. He was dead, but that did not mean she couldn’t be used against someone like...like Emilios. Quickly turning away, Sara pressed through the crowd trying to create distance.
”Alastor!” She shouted, unsure if anyone could hear much of anything above the chaos going on around them. ”Alastor, please! Where are you?” She just needed an ally, a familiar face right now. Where was he when she needed him?
[The Agora]
Her knees were trembling, shaking as she stood opposite Alastor -- her eyes on the female merchant. She wanted to help, wanted to try to mitigate whatever this disturbance was. She could not fathom the boy that she’d grown to love just stealing. Regardless of the orders of the Order, there had to be a way to resolve this in a way that was fair to all parties involved. Her fingers curled into a fist as the merchant finally spoke, telling them both that the tapestry was paid for already by someone else. Sara opened her mouth to inquire about a different piece that might be available when the owner of that piece came upon them with a shout.
She ducked her head as she turned to find Arete of Doralis. She had never met her before of course, but that did not make her any less imposing -- especially with such righteous fury in her eyes. Sara rocked back on her heels, unsure of what to do or say as an exchange flew right over her head. And then Alastor was turning on his heel to take his leave.
The uncomfortable ache in her chest returned, and Sara rubbed it absently. She turned to Avra, bowing her head. ”I apologize for him.” She said, only sparing a glance for Arete before turning to chase after him. She could not let him go again without saying something to him. Even if he was working with that man -- that Agathon -- she could not let him become something even he couldn’t recognize. If this was what he wanted, if he truly desired being a stranger compared to the sweet boy she’d grown to love from afar then she needed to know.
Her stride faltered as screams began to rise up across the agora, making her turn. Rats began to flood the street, making even Sara -- who was not scared of any creature -- pick up her hems. A shiver of revulsion swept across her skin and panic started to sweep among the refugees, the soldiers and merchants. Sara turned back the way she had been going. Rats continued to brush past her legs, causing chaos in their wake. Figures in black robes caught the corner of her eye, making her freeze once more in fear. The Creed. She knew so little about them, save that they lived only to destroy the very family she belonged to.
Her mother had always warned her and Tasia both that despite being bastards, they may be targets as well if only to get to their father. He was dead, but that did not mean she couldn’t be used against someone like...like Emilios. Quickly turning away, Sara pressed through the crowd trying to create distance.
”Alastor!” She shouted, unsure if anyone could hear much of anything above the chaos going on around them. ”Alastor, please! Where are you?” She just needed an ally, a familiar face right now. Where was he when she needed him?
Xene had never felt anything but comfortable in the presence of Theodora. It was hard not to. She was a magnetic force to be reckoned with, and even now she was growing into herself as a queen, not just a lady. The princess herself appreciated such a shift in temperament, returning the soft kiss to the skin of her queen and her friend. Xene held Theodora's arm for just one moment, giving her a kind smile before they all piled into the carriage. The princess gave a single nod back to Heron, giving him permission to remain behind.
They were with Emilios, and there would be numerous guards in the Dikastirio. They would be safe enough for Heron to take a few moments of rest to himself. Xene knew that he would likely visit Zach's empty grave, and that made her heartsick for just a moment. But she could not express that to her cousins and only settled peacefully beside Eliana in the carriage. Her blue gaze was stuck out the window, her golden eyebrows neither knit nor lifted. In short, she was at peace, knowing that they had much work to do and not much time to complete it.
The carriage stopped, and they filed out. Princess Xene walked beside the queen, looking up and smiling at her sisters both. Olympia had Tisi, and Gianna was with her. She was pleased to see both of them, having so much to say to them both. But they didn't get very far, the princess' gaze drifting to the group of people carrying wiggling sacks. It was Xene who let her steps falter, her brows furrowing very slightly in question of what was going on...
Rats.
Blue eyes widening in both shock and horror, Xene reached out to touch Emilios' arm, but found herself suddenly being ushered back to the carriage as the rats poured out of sacks, overwhelming the building and heading right for their food stores. Her heart was racing, and she resisted being shoved back into the carriage. She was not a woman who ran away from fear. Not anymore. She recalled running into the shallows of the sea in order to drag injured soldiers from the waters. This situation was no different. Xene did not sit idle.
Pushing past Emilios when she saw Theodora run for Olympia and Gianna, she was following close by, shoving her hand into the top of her gown in order to pull the small dagger that she'd been keeping in her dress. For her own protection. Paranoia knew no bounds, and she felt safer knowing she had a chance to protect herself. She blinked, and Theodora was on the ground, curled up in a ball. "Theodora!" Xene shrieked aloud, pushing through panicking bodies in an attempt to get to her cousin. "No. No, not again. Not today," she was breathing to herself, pushing past people in time to see Gianna reaching for Theodora.
The panic for her sister was intense, but the princess found herself reaching for Olympia instead, coming right up nearly against her, attempting to shield her front and her niece against her chest. Reaching a hand up to touch Pia's face and get her attention, Xene's other hand slashed at a rat that was trying to crawl up her dress. The dagger cut deep and blood sprayed, but the creature hit the floor dead. "Come. Gianna has Theodora. We need to get you back to the carriage," Xene said quickly, trying to be heard over the roar of people panicking.
Turning quickly, she reached her free hand back for Olympia to take, "Take my hand, keep close," she said quickly, starting to try and lead her back through the frenzied crowd. Looking to her side, Xene snapped at her sister, "Get her on her feet, Gianna! Emilios!" she snarled then, looking toward her sword-wielding cousin. "The queen!"
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Xene had never felt anything but comfortable in the presence of Theodora. It was hard not to. She was a magnetic force to be reckoned with, and even now she was growing into herself as a queen, not just a lady. The princess herself appreciated such a shift in temperament, returning the soft kiss to the skin of her queen and her friend. Xene held Theodora's arm for just one moment, giving her a kind smile before they all piled into the carriage. The princess gave a single nod back to Heron, giving him permission to remain behind.
They were with Emilios, and there would be numerous guards in the Dikastirio. They would be safe enough for Heron to take a few moments of rest to himself. Xene knew that he would likely visit Zach's empty grave, and that made her heartsick for just a moment. But she could not express that to her cousins and only settled peacefully beside Eliana in the carriage. Her blue gaze was stuck out the window, her golden eyebrows neither knit nor lifted. In short, she was at peace, knowing that they had much work to do and not much time to complete it.
The carriage stopped, and they filed out. Princess Xene walked beside the queen, looking up and smiling at her sisters both. Olympia had Tisi, and Gianna was with her. She was pleased to see both of them, having so much to say to them both. But they didn't get very far, the princess' gaze drifting to the group of people carrying wiggling sacks. It was Xene who let her steps falter, her brows furrowing very slightly in question of what was going on...
Rats.
Blue eyes widening in both shock and horror, Xene reached out to touch Emilios' arm, but found herself suddenly being ushered back to the carriage as the rats poured out of sacks, overwhelming the building and heading right for their food stores. Her heart was racing, and she resisted being shoved back into the carriage. She was not a woman who ran away from fear. Not anymore. She recalled running into the shallows of the sea in order to drag injured soldiers from the waters. This situation was no different. Xene did not sit idle.
Pushing past Emilios when she saw Theodora run for Olympia and Gianna, she was following close by, shoving her hand into the top of her gown in order to pull the small dagger that she'd been keeping in her dress. For her own protection. Paranoia knew no bounds, and she felt safer knowing she had a chance to protect herself. She blinked, and Theodora was on the ground, curled up in a ball. "Theodora!" Xene shrieked aloud, pushing through panicking bodies in an attempt to get to her cousin. "No. No, not again. Not today," she was breathing to herself, pushing past people in time to see Gianna reaching for Theodora.
The panic for her sister was intense, but the princess found herself reaching for Olympia instead, coming right up nearly against her, attempting to shield her front and her niece against her chest. Reaching a hand up to touch Pia's face and get her attention, Xene's other hand slashed at a rat that was trying to crawl up her dress. The dagger cut deep and blood sprayed, but the creature hit the floor dead. "Come. Gianna has Theodora. We need to get you back to the carriage," Xene said quickly, trying to be heard over the roar of people panicking.
Turning quickly, she reached her free hand back for Olympia to take, "Take my hand, keep close," she said quickly, starting to try and lead her back through the frenzied crowd. Looking to her side, Xene snapped at her sister, "Get her on her feet, Gianna! Emilios!" she snarled then, looking toward her sword-wielding cousin. "The queen!"
Xene had never felt anything but comfortable in the presence of Theodora. It was hard not to. She was a magnetic force to be reckoned with, and even now she was growing into herself as a queen, not just a lady. The princess herself appreciated such a shift in temperament, returning the soft kiss to the skin of her queen and her friend. Xene held Theodora's arm for just one moment, giving her a kind smile before they all piled into the carriage. The princess gave a single nod back to Heron, giving him permission to remain behind.
They were with Emilios, and there would be numerous guards in the Dikastirio. They would be safe enough for Heron to take a few moments of rest to himself. Xene knew that he would likely visit Zach's empty grave, and that made her heartsick for just a moment. But she could not express that to her cousins and only settled peacefully beside Eliana in the carriage. Her blue gaze was stuck out the window, her golden eyebrows neither knit nor lifted. In short, she was at peace, knowing that they had much work to do and not much time to complete it.
The carriage stopped, and they filed out. Princess Xene walked beside the queen, looking up and smiling at her sisters both. Olympia had Tisi, and Gianna was with her. She was pleased to see both of them, having so much to say to them both. But they didn't get very far, the princess' gaze drifting to the group of people carrying wiggling sacks. It was Xene who let her steps falter, her brows furrowing very slightly in question of what was going on...
Rats.
Blue eyes widening in both shock and horror, Xene reached out to touch Emilios' arm, but found herself suddenly being ushered back to the carriage as the rats poured out of sacks, overwhelming the building and heading right for their food stores. Her heart was racing, and she resisted being shoved back into the carriage. She was not a woman who ran away from fear. Not anymore. She recalled running into the shallows of the sea in order to drag injured soldiers from the waters. This situation was no different. Xene did not sit idle.
Pushing past Emilios when she saw Theodora run for Olympia and Gianna, she was following close by, shoving her hand into the top of her gown in order to pull the small dagger that she'd been keeping in her dress. For her own protection. Paranoia knew no bounds, and she felt safer knowing she had a chance to protect herself. She blinked, and Theodora was on the ground, curled up in a ball. "Theodora!" Xene shrieked aloud, pushing through panicking bodies in an attempt to get to her cousin. "No. No, not again. Not today," she was breathing to herself, pushing past people in time to see Gianna reaching for Theodora.
The panic for her sister was intense, but the princess found herself reaching for Olympia instead, coming right up nearly against her, attempting to shield her front and her niece against her chest. Reaching a hand up to touch Pia's face and get her attention, Xene's other hand slashed at a rat that was trying to crawl up her dress. The dagger cut deep and blood sprayed, but the creature hit the floor dead. "Come. Gianna has Theodora. We need to get you back to the carriage," Xene said quickly, trying to be heard over the roar of people panicking.
Turning quickly, she reached her free hand back for Olympia to take, "Take my hand, keep close," she said quickly, starting to try and lead her back through the frenzied crowd. Looking to her side, Xene snapped at her sister, "Get her on her feet, Gianna! Emilios!" she snarled then, looking toward her sword-wielding cousin. "The queen!"
Nikos had already set about the task of dealing with figuring out what House Condos could spare for rations and space. There had to be a balance that would appease the people and keep his father and lover from becoming too irate over the intrusions. Yes, Nikos understood that if this influx of citizens lasted too long, they would all be in die straits. He understood that without the people to grow the crops, the food stores would dwindle. But he had to have faith that the war would end and things would return as they were before that was a real threat.
Against popular opinion of his character, the younger Condos lord also prayed that Achilleas would be found alive. No one deserved to die at the hands of captives in war. Nikos wanted the throne, yes. He wanted that seat for his family. For his father, and ultimately himself. But not at the cost of his cousin possibly being tortured by Egyptians.
Faith in the gods, he reminded himself. They all needed to have faith in the gods.
Nikos re-entered the sitting room his father had taken up an agitated residence in for the time being. He was coming to check on Nikolias, to be sure that his father was not working himself up too much from the agitation the situation was bringing up. If his mother and sister were home… Oh! He looked up to see Ophelia coming in from the other door.
’Mother will be along soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?’
Nik squared his shoulders and stepped in with a response, ”We will be, I think. I’m coordinating with the servants and the Order to garner what we can spare and how many we might be able to house here. Will you follow me, Ophelia? I could use your help keeping the servants on task until Mother arrives.”
As they traversed the corridor towards the pantries, they ran into one of the Order soldiers who bore a report of panic at the arcus.
’Forgive me, … I could have sword I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below….’
Nikos frowned deeply. What in the nine hells was going on? He was about to dismiss the notion that anything was amiss in their own home, when a servant came running towards them, ranting about broken wine casks. ”No… no no no.” Nikos took off at a run, not bothering to check if his sister and the soldier were following him or not. He rushed into the store room, only to splash through a puddle of red wine flooding the floor. ”What happened here?!” Nikos was fuming, a vein in his temple serving as visible evidence of that, even if he had not raised his voice to such levels. He stormed out of the pantry and was on the verge of ordering everyone into the courtyard for interrogation, when another servant, a young man, came with stories of rats in the arcus. Rats released by the Creed!
Nik looked at his sister, true panic in his crystal blue eyes. ”Where is Arete?” Nikos demanded of the closest Condos guard. ’She was seen headed for the arcus, my lord.’ Nikos felt like there was a giants fist gripping his heart, and threatening to wrench it free of his chest. ”My sword. Fetch my sword!” He turned to Ophelia. ”You cannot leave the manor. Promise me. Stay with Father.” He grabbed at another guard, for the first had run off after Nik’s sword. ”Take your best men and find the Lady Olivia. Ensure her safe return to this house. Now! Go!” Where was Captain Petros when he needed him?
The house was a buzzing with activity as Nikos rushed for the exit. He was met by the soldier bearing his personal sword. Nik strapped it to his waist and looked to Olivia again. ”Promise me you will remain indoors, O. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that he rushed from the manor with guards hot on his heels.
Evie, Arete, Eleni. Mother. … Imma … even his bastard children. If the Creed were here with the force it suggested to pull off the things that he was hearing had been done as they moved through the city, no one was safe. How was this possible? Stephanos had eradicated them! Or so everyone had thought.
He made his way to the source of the panic. Rats running through the streets, screams of men and women alike. Cries of the returning to doom them all. ”Arete!” he screamed, looking for a place to climb to gain a higher vantage point to search the crowd. As he did though, he spotted the black wrapped figures.
Nikos was not a military man; he’d only served a minimum stent with the militia when he was younger. He was not a warring man, much preferring to settle disputes with an honorable duel. But today, his home had been attacked. His mistress was somewhere in this chaos. Imma and Evie were hopefully safely at home away from the hysterical crowd. He prayed that Eleni, who had become a close friend these past months, was safe at home as well. He needed to find Arete and get her home. (Nik had brought Arete to the city to be safe from the war. He'd never have imagined that the Creed would resurface like this!) He wanted to ensure that the children he’d sired – even if he didn’t claim them in name – were unharmed. But in his search, he would do his damnedest to strike down every Drowned One he came across.
Nik pulled forth his sword and joined ranks with the soldiers fighting the Creed invaders.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Nikos had already set about the task of dealing with figuring out what House Condos could spare for rations and space. There had to be a balance that would appease the people and keep his father and lover from becoming too irate over the intrusions. Yes, Nikos understood that if this influx of citizens lasted too long, they would all be in die straits. He understood that without the people to grow the crops, the food stores would dwindle. But he had to have faith that the war would end and things would return as they were before that was a real threat.
Against popular opinion of his character, the younger Condos lord also prayed that Achilleas would be found alive. No one deserved to die at the hands of captives in war. Nikos wanted the throne, yes. He wanted that seat for his family. For his father, and ultimately himself. But not at the cost of his cousin possibly being tortured by Egyptians.
Faith in the gods, he reminded himself. They all needed to have faith in the gods.
Nikos re-entered the sitting room his father had taken up an agitated residence in for the time being. He was coming to check on Nikolias, to be sure that his father was not working himself up too much from the agitation the situation was bringing up. If his mother and sister were home… Oh! He looked up to see Ophelia coming in from the other door.
’Mother will be along soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?’
Nik squared his shoulders and stepped in with a response, ”We will be, I think. I’m coordinating with the servants and the Order to garner what we can spare and how many we might be able to house here. Will you follow me, Ophelia? I could use your help keeping the servants on task until Mother arrives.”
As they traversed the corridor towards the pantries, they ran into one of the Order soldiers who bore a report of panic at the arcus.
’Forgive me, … I could have sword I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below….’
Nikos frowned deeply. What in the nine hells was going on? He was about to dismiss the notion that anything was amiss in their own home, when a servant came running towards them, ranting about broken wine casks. ”No… no no no.” Nikos took off at a run, not bothering to check if his sister and the soldier were following him or not. He rushed into the store room, only to splash through a puddle of red wine flooding the floor. ”What happened here?!” Nikos was fuming, a vein in his temple serving as visible evidence of that, even if he had not raised his voice to such levels. He stormed out of the pantry and was on the verge of ordering everyone into the courtyard for interrogation, when another servant, a young man, came with stories of rats in the arcus. Rats released by the Creed!
Nik looked at his sister, true panic in his crystal blue eyes. ”Where is Arete?” Nikos demanded of the closest Condos guard. ’She was seen headed for the arcus, my lord.’ Nikos felt like there was a giants fist gripping his heart, and threatening to wrench it free of his chest. ”My sword. Fetch my sword!” He turned to Ophelia. ”You cannot leave the manor. Promise me. Stay with Father.” He grabbed at another guard, for the first had run off after Nik’s sword. ”Take your best men and find the Lady Olivia. Ensure her safe return to this house. Now! Go!” Where was Captain Petros when he needed him?
The house was a buzzing with activity as Nikos rushed for the exit. He was met by the soldier bearing his personal sword. Nik strapped it to his waist and looked to Olivia again. ”Promise me you will remain indoors, O. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that he rushed from the manor with guards hot on his heels.
Evie, Arete, Eleni. Mother. … Imma … even his bastard children. If the Creed were here with the force it suggested to pull off the things that he was hearing had been done as they moved through the city, no one was safe. How was this possible? Stephanos had eradicated them! Or so everyone had thought.
He made his way to the source of the panic. Rats running through the streets, screams of men and women alike. Cries of the returning to doom them all. ”Arete!” he screamed, looking for a place to climb to gain a higher vantage point to search the crowd. As he did though, he spotted the black wrapped figures.
Nikos was not a military man; he’d only served a minimum stent with the militia when he was younger. He was not a warring man, much preferring to settle disputes with an honorable duel. But today, his home had been attacked. His mistress was somewhere in this chaos. Imma and Evie were hopefully safely at home away from the hysterical crowd. He prayed that Eleni, who had become a close friend these past months, was safe at home as well. He needed to find Arete and get her home. (Nik had brought Arete to the city to be safe from the war. He'd never have imagined that the Creed would resurface like this!) He wanted to ensure that the children he’d sired – even if he didn’t claim them in name – were unharmed. But in his search, he would do his damnedest to strike down every Drowned One he came across.
Nik pulled forth his sword and joined ranks with the soldiers fighting the Creed invaders.
Nikos had already set about the task of dealing with figuring out what House Condos could spare for rations and space. There had to be a balance that would appease the people and keep his father and lover from becoming too irate over the intrusions. Yes, Nikos understood that if this influx of citizens lasted too long, they would all be in die straits. He understood that without the people to grow the crops, the food stores would dwindle. But he had to have faith that the war would end and things would return as they were before that was a real threat.
Against popular opinion of his character, the younger Condos lord also prayed that Achilleas would be found alive. No one deserved to die at the hands of captives in war. Nikos wanted the throne, yes. He wanted that seat for his family. For his father, and ultimately himself. But not at the cost of his cousin possibly being tortured by Egyptians.
Faith in the gods, he reminded himself. They all needed to have faith in the gods.
Nikos re-entered the sitting room his father had taken up an agitated residence in for the time being. He was coming to check on Nikolias, to be sure that his father was not working himself up too much from the agitation the situation was bringing up. If his mother and sister were home… Oh! He looked up to see Ophelia coming in from the other door.
’Mother will be along soon as she is able. My escorts informed me of the situation. Tell me, are we able to aid the refugees in any way?’
Nik squared his shoulders and stepped in with a response, ”We will be, I think. I’m coordinating with the servants and the Order to garner what we can spare and how many we might be able to house here. Will you follow me, Ophelia? I could use your help keeping the servants on task until Mother arrives.”
As they traversed the corridor towards the pantries, they ran into one of the Order soldiers who bore a report of panic at the arcus.
’Forgive me, … I could have sword I heard something. A faint crash somewhere down below….’
Nikos frowned deeply. What in the nine hells was going on? He was about to dismiss the notion that anything was amiss in their own home, when a servant came running towards them, ranting about broken wine casks. ”No… no no no.” Nikos took off at a run, not bothering to check if his sister and the soldier were following him or not. He rushed into the store room, only to splash through a puddle of red wine flooding the floor. ”What happened here?!” Nikos was fuming, a vein in his temple serving as visible evidence of that, even if he had not raised his voice to such levels. He stormed out of the pantry and was on the verge of ordering everyone into the courtyard for interrogation, when another servant, a young man, came with stories of rats in the arcus. Rats released by the Creed!
Nik looked at his sister, true panic in his crystal blue eyes. ”Where is Arete?” Nikos demanded of the closest Condos guard. ’She was seen headed for the arcus, my lord.’ Nikos felt like there was a giants fist gripping his heart, and threatening to wrench it free of his chest. ”My sword. Fetch my sword!” He turned to Ophelia. ”You cannot leave the manor. Promise me. Stay with Father.” He grabbed at another guard, for the first had run off after Nik’s sword. ”Take your best men and find the Lady Olivia. Ensure her safe return to this house. Now! Go!” Where was Captain Petros when he needed him?
The house was a buzzing with activity as Nikos rushed for the exit. He was met by the soldier bearing his personal sword. Nik strapped it to his waist and looked to Olivia again. ”Promise me you will remain indoors, O. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that he rushed from the manor with guards hot on his heels.
Evie, Arete, Eleni. Mother. … Imma … even his bastard children. If the Creed were here with the force it suggested to pull off the things that he was hearing had been done as they moved through the city, no one was safe. How was this possible? Stephanos had eradicated them! Or so everyone had thought.
He made his way to the source of the panic. Rats running through the streets, screams of men and women alike. Cries of the returning to doom them all. ”Arete!” he screamed, looking for a place to climb to gain a higher vantage point to search the crowd. As he did though, he spotted the black wrapped figures.
Nikos was not a military man; he’d only served a minimum stent with the militia when he was younger. He was not a warring man, much preferring to settle disputes with an honorable duel. But today, his home had been attacked. His mistress was somewhere in this chaos. Imma and Evie were hopefully safely at home away from the hysterical crowd. He prayed that Eleni, who had become a close friend these past months, was safe at home as well. He needed to find Arete and get her home. (Nik had brought Arete to the city to be safe from the war. He'd never have imagined that the Creed would resurface like this!) He wanted to ensure that the children he’d sired – even if he didn’t claim them in name – were unharmed. But in his search, he would do his damnedest to strike down every Drowned One he came across.
Nik pulled forth his sword and joined ranks with the soldiers fighting the Creed invaders.
(House Condos)
Praise the Gods. Nikos had made the right decision, though she had little doubt that he would. Beneath all his romantic machinations, he was a just and honourable man, not the type to leave their citizens to starve and struggle in the streets. Bestowing upon him a smile as radiant as the sun, she turned then to her father and dipped a respectful curtsy.
"You will excuse me, I pray, dear Father?"
Turning immediately back to her brother, she inclined her head in a nod. "Of course I will follow. I shall gladly be of any assistance I can," she said softly, allowing him to lead her from the room. They were stopped in their tracks by an Order member, who began to speak of a disturbance at the arcus. Ophelia looked to her brother, raising a delicate brow. Panic suddenly gripped her, but she kept her expression neutral for his sake.
And then came the noise, that faint crash that had caught her attention. Did she dare dismiss it? Had it only been her imagination? At first she thought so, but then a servant came barrelling towards them, hair dishevelled and eyes large as drachma.
"THe wine...they smashed the wine! The floors of the cellars run red, My Lord...they silenced the guards. We know not how they got in or out, but the wine..."
Ophelia's jaw dropped. So that had been the sound that she had heard. Somehow, their precious sanctum had been infiltrated, their most sacred commodity destroyed without care. Like thieves in the night, strangers had slipped into their home and stolen her sense of security. For a moment she could only stand there, still as a statue, terror freezing her in place. Her mind was as frozen as her body. The first thing she registered when her brain came alive again was her brother's retreat; he was racing towards the store room, having not bothered to glance behind him. On instinct her shaking legs began to move, slowly at first then faster, until she too was moving at a run.
Her slippered feet were instantly soaked through, scarlet liquid bleeding through the fine kid skin. The young rose gasped as she took in the devastation around her: smashed casks littered the crimson stained ground. Her brother, moving among the chaos, was in a rage. He had no need of a booming voice to convey this, as a tiny purple vein pulsating on his temple conveyed it to absolute perfection. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him in some way, but what could she say? All she could do was stare in horrified confusion at the turmoil, wondering what kind of monster would commit such an atrocious act, and furthermore why they would do so. "Why would anyone do this?" she whispered, backing slowly out of the room as she attempted to regulate her breathing. "What possible reason could anyone have to do a thing like this?"
As another servant approached, Ophelia felt true terror grip her. She wanted to order the man away, but he spoke before she could. She doubted she could have found the words anyway, for her tongue felt as heavy as lead. She swayed slightly on her feet at the word 'Creed,' her face turning a deathly shade of white. Was that who had been here? Was that who had done this? No, surely not...they had been at the arcus, causing their mayhem there. But who, then, had destroyed their wine casks?
'Where is Arete?'
This question snapped her quickly out of her daze, as she realized that she had yet to catch a single glimpse of the woman. There may have been no love between herself and her brother's mistress, but she would never wish her hurt.
'She was seen headed for the arcus, My Lord.'
Ophelia felt in that moment that she could easily be sick. Of all the days for Arete to wander off, get herself into trouble, it had to be today! Had she not thought to bring a guard? Was she out there all alone, undefended and with no way of returning to the safety of the archontiko? Arete could be a handful, but she did not deserve whatever fate the Creed might have in store for her.
Just as she was about to suggest that somebody retrieve her, Nikos called for his sword. Her stomach dropped as she realized his intentions. He was going to risk himself, his safety, possibly his life, for...what? For who? A girl he would never, could never marry? You would do the same for Evanthe, a knowing voice whispered in her mind. It was this that kept her silent. Arete had committed no great wrong. The true atrocity would be leaving her to the mercy of The Creed. Deep in her heart, she knew that Nikos' intended actions were nothing short of heroic.
He turned to her then, commanding her promise that she would remain in the manor. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded slowly. "I shan't leave, but have you considered the possibility that it might have been The Creed who did...this?" she enquired, her voice faltering as she gestured with a trembling hand toward the open wine cellar. "What if they know how to get in? Can you give the guards an order to lock the house down and open the gates only to yourself and any escorts of Mother or Arete? I would feel much safer if that were the case." She felt as though the whole world was spinning around her. As Nikos made arrangements for their mother's protection, Ophelia backed up against the nearest wall and began to focus on her breathing, taking slow and steady breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart. It would not do for the servants to see her in such a state: she must be a pillar of serenity, lest her lack of it send them into uproar. Most servants looked to their masters for indication on how to think and feel, it was known, so if she was unbalanced, they would be too. The whole household would be thrown into discord.
As her brother made for the exit, Ophelia reached for her dignity and followed him through the labyrinthine hallways to see him off. As he turned once again to address her, she advanced towards him and laid a gentle hand upon his chest. "I shall obey, My Lord. You have my solemn oath. Go forth and save your beloved with no fear that I shall be endangered, for I will take no risks, and may the Gods protect both you and Arete."
Although she had rarely spoken a gentle word about or towards his mistress, she was utterly sincere in her wish for the girl's protection. She watched from the threshold of the archontiko's front entrance as her brother stepped out into the Appellaios eventide. There she stood until his figure disappeared from her sight, silently praying for his safe return.
Hades, I prithee, do not claim my brother on this night; Ares, if you hear me, may you guide his hand so that his sword swings true. Athena, I beg you, help him to make the wisest choices, the choices that will send him back to me. Zeus, great father of us all, watch over your over your children this night, both Nikos and Arete, and guard them from all harm. This I beg in all humility.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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Check out their information page here.
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(House Condos)
Praise the Gods. Nikos had made the right decision, though she had little doubt that he would. Beneath all his romantic machinations, he was a just and honourable man, not the type to leave their citizens to starve and struggle in the streets. Bestowing upon him a smile as radiant as the sun, she turned then to her father and dipped a respectful curtsy.
"You will excuse me, I pray, dear Father?"
Turning immediately back to her brother, she inclined her head in a nod. "Of course I will follow. I shall gladly be of any assistance I can," she said softly, allowing him to lead her from the room. They were stopped in their tracks by an Order member, who began to speak of a disturbance at the arcus. Ophelia looked to her brother, raising a delicate brow. Panic suddenly gripped her, but she kept her expression neutral for his sake.
And then came the noise, that faint crash that had caught her attention. Did she dare dismiss it? Had it only been her imagination? At first she thought so, but then a servant came barrelling towards them, hair dishevelled and eyes large as drachma.
"THe wine...they smashed the wine! The floors of the cellars run red, My Lord...they silenced the guards. We know not how they got in or out, but the wine..."
Ophelia's jaw dropped. So that had been the sound that she had heard. Somehow, their precious sanctum had been infiltrated, their most sacred commodity destroyed without care. Like thieves in the night, strangers had slipped into their home and stolen her sense of security. For a moment she could only stand there, still as a statue, terror freezing her in place. Her mind was as frozen as her body. The first thing she registered when her brain came alive again was her brother's retreat; he was racing towards the store room, having not bothered to glance behind him. On instinct her shaking legs began to move, slowly at first then faster, until she too was moving at a run.
Her slippered feet were instantly soaked through, scarlet liquid bleeding through the fine kid skin. The young rose gasped as she took in the devastation around her: smashed casks littered the crimson stained ground. Her brother, moving among the chaos, was in a rage. He had no need of a booming voice to convey this, as a tiny purple vein pulsating on his temple conveyed it to absolute perfection. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him in some way, but what could she say? All she could do was stare in horrified confusion at the turmoil, wondering what kind of monster would commit such an atrocious act, and furthermore why they would do so. "Why would anyone do this?" she whispered, backing slowly out of the room as she attempted to regulate her breathing. "What possible reason could anyone have to do a thing like this?"
As another servant approached, Ophelia felt true terror grip her. She wanted to order the man away, but he spoke before she could. She doubted she could have found the words anyway, for her tongue felt as heavy as lead. She swayed slightly on her feet at the word 'Creed,' her face turning a deathly shade of white. Was that who had been here? Was that who had done this? No, surely not...they had been at the arcus, causing their mayhem there. But who, then, had destroyed their wine casks?
'Where is Arete?'
This question snapped her quickly out of her daze, as she realized that she had yet to catch a single glimpse of the woman. There may have been no love between herself and her brother's mistress, but she would never wish her hurt.
'She was seen headed for the arcus, My Lord.'
Ophelia felt in that moment that she could easily be sick. Of all the days for Arete to wander off, get herself into trouble, it had to be today! Had she not thought to bring a guard? Was she out there all alone, undefended and with no way of returning to the safety of the archontiko? Arete could be a handful, but she did not deserve whatever fate the Creed might have in store for her.
Just as she was about to suggest that somebody retrieve her, Nikos called for his sword. Her stomach dropped as she realized his intentions. He was going to risk himself, his safety, possibly his life, for...what? For who? A girl he would never, could never marry? You would do the same for Evanthe, a knowing voice whispered in her mind. It was this that kept her silent. Arete had committed no great wrong. The true atrocity would be leaving her to the mercy of The Creed. Deep in her heart, she knew that Nikos' intended actions were nothing short of heroic.
He turned to her then, commanding her promise that she would remain in the manor. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded slowly. "I shan't leave, but have you considered the possibility that it might have been The Creed who did...this?" she enquired, her voice faltering as she gestured with a trembling hand toward the open wine cellar. "What if they know how to get in? Can you give the guards an order to lock the house down and open the gates only to yourself and any escorts of Mother or Arete? I would feel much safer if that were the case." She felt as though the whole world was spinning around her. As Nikos made arrangements for their mother's protection, Ophelia backed up against the nearest wall and began to focus on her breathing, taking slow and steady breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart. It would not do for the servants to see her in such a state: she must be a pillar of serenity, lest her lack of it send them into uproar. Most servants looked to their masters for indication on how to think and feel, it was known, so if she was unbalanced, they would be too. The whole household would be thrown into discord.
As her brother made for the exit, Ophelia reached for her dignity and followed him through the labyrinthine hallways to see him off. As he turned once again to address her, she advanced towards him and laid a gentle hand upon his chest. "I shall obey, My Lord. You have my solemn oath. Go forth and save your beloved with no fear that I shall be endangered, for I will take no risks, and may the Gods protect both you and Arete."
Although she had rarely spoken a gentle word about or towards his mistress, she was utterly sincere in her wish for the girl's protection. She watched from the threshold of the archontiko's front entrance as her brother stepped out into the Appellaios eventide. There she stood until his figure disappeared from her sight, silently praying for his safe return.
Hades, I prithee, do not claim my brother on this night; Ares, if you hear me, may you guide his hand so that his sword swings true. Athena, I beg you, help him to make the wisest choices, the choices that will send him back to me. Zeus, great father of us all, watch over your over your children this night, both Nikos and Arete, and guard them from all harm. This I beg in all humility.
(House Condos)
Praise the Gods. Nikos had made the right decision, though she had little doubt that he would. Beneath all his romantic machinations, he was a just and honourable man, not the type to leave their citizens to starve and struggle in the streets. Bestowing upon him a smile as radiant as the sun, she turned then to her father and dipped a respectful curtsy.
"You will excuse me, I pray, dear Father?"
Turning immediately back to her brother, she inclined her head in a nod. "Of course I will follow. I shall gladly be of any assistance I can," she said softly, allowing him to lead her from the room. They were stopped in their tracks by an Order member, who began to speak of a disturbance at the arcus. Ophelia looked to her brother, raising a delicate brow. Panic suddenly gripped her, but she kept her expression neutral for his sake.
And then came the noise, that faint crash that had caught her attention. Did she dare dismiss it? Had it only been her imagination? At first she thought so, but then a servant came barrelling towards them, hair dishevelled and eyes large as drachma.
"THe wine...they smashed the wine! The floors of the cellars run red, My Lord...they silenced the guards. We know not how they got in or out, but the wine..."
Ophelia's jaw dropped. So that had been the sound that she had heard. Somehow, their precious sanctum had been infiltrated, their most sacred commodity destroyed without care. Like thieves in the night, strangers had slipped into their home and stolen her sense of security. For a moment she could only stand there, still as a statue, terror freezing her in place. Her mind was as frozen as her body. The first thing she registered when her brain came alive again was her brother's retreat; he was racing towards the store room, having not bothered to glance behind him. On instinct her shaking legs began to move, slowly at first then faster, until she too was moving at a run.
Her slippered feet were instantly soaked through, scarlet liquid bleeding through the fine kid skin. The young rose gasped as she took in the devastation around her: smashed casks littered the crimson stained ground. Her brother, moving among the chaos, was in a rage. He had no need of a booming voice to convey this, as a tiny purple vein pulsating on his temple conveyed it to absolute perfection. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him in some way, but what could she say? All she could do was stare in horrified confusion at the turmoil, wondering what kind of monster would commit such an atrocious act, and furthermore why they would do so. "Why would anyone do this?" she whispered, backing slowly out of the room as she attempted to regulate her breathing. "What possible reason could anyone have to do a thing like this?"
As another servant approached, Ophelia felt true terror grip her. She wanted to order the man away, but he spoke before she could. She doubted she could have found the words anyway, for her tongue felt as heavy as lead. She swayed slightly on her feet at the word 'Creed,' her face turning a deathly shade of white. Was that who had been here? Was that who had done this? No, surely not...they had been at the arcus, causing their mayhem there. But who, then, had destroyed their wine casks?
'Where is Arete?'
This question snapped her quickly out of her daze, as she realized that she had yet to catch a single glimpse of the woman. There may have been no love between herself and her brother's mistress, but she would never wish her hurt.
'She was seen headed for the arcus, My Lord.'
Ophelia felt in that moment that she could easily be sick. Of all the days for Arete to wander off, get herself into trouble, it had to be today! Had she not thought to bring a guard? Was she out there all alone, undefended and with no way of returning to the safety of the archontiko? Arete could be a handful, but she did not deserve whatever fate the Creed might have in store for her.
Just as she was about to suggest that somebody retrieve her, Nikos called for his sword. Her stomach dropped as she realized his intentions. He was going to risk himself, his safety, possibly his life, for...what? For who? A girl he would never, could never marry? You would do the same for Evanthe, a knowing voice whispered in her mind. It was this that kept her silent. Arete had committed no great wrong. The true atrocity would be leaving her to the mercy of The Creed. Deep in her heart, she knew that Nikos' intended actions were nothing short of heroic.
He turned to her then, commanding her promise that she would remain in the manor. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded slowly. "I shan't leave, but have you considered the possibility that it might have been The Creed who did...this?" she enquired, her voice faltering as she gestured with a trembling hand toward the open wine cellar. "What if they know how to get in? Can you give the guards an order to lock the house down and open the gates only to yourself and any escorts of Mother or Arete? I would feel much safer if that were the case." She felt as though the whole world was spinning around her. As Nikos made arrangements for their mother's protection, Ophelia backed up against the nearest wall and began to focus on her breathing, taking slow and steady breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart. It would not do for the servants to see her in such a state: she must be a pillar of serenity, lest her lack of it send them into uproar. Most servants looked to their masters for indication on how to think and feel, it was known, so if she was unbalanced, they would be too. The whole household would be thrown into discord.
As her brother made for the exit, Ophelia reached for her dignity and followed him through the labyrinthine hallways to see him off. As he turned once again to address her, she advanced towards him and laid a gentle hand upon his chest. "I shall obey, My Lord. You have my solemn oath. Go forth and save your beloved with no fear that I shall be endangered, for I will take no risks, and may the Gods protect both you and Arete."
Although she had rarely spoken a gentle word about or towards his mistress, she was utterly sincere in her wish for the girl's protection. She watched from the threshold of the archontiko's front entrance as her brother stepped out into the Appellaios eventide. There she stood until his figure disappeared from her sight, silently praying for his safe return.
Hades, I prithee, do not claim my brother on this night; Ares, if you hear me, may you guide his hand so that his sword swings true. Athena, I beg you, help him to make the wisest choices, the choices that will send him back to me. Zeus, great father of us all, watch over your over your children this night, both Nikos and Arete, and guard them from all harm. This I beg in all humility.
It has been SO LONg since Irakles had seen the sun. One would think being buried six feet under would be detrimental to one's health, yet there Irakles stood healthy as a horse, if a little dusty. Would anyone lend him a hand?
But that was something that could be tackled later. For right now, he had a certain pep in her step as she moved through the halls of the streets, searching for some form of entertainment during this not so pleasant morning. Even though it wasn’t exactly terrible outside, the early winter chill ensured that the air was crisp and cold. Not to mention everything being so wet from the more frequent rainfalls. He wanted to rage against the intrusion into his refuge of the politics he so despised with the arrival of the soldiers. But being the noble he had been raised to be, he dared not. He was uncomfortable enough in court in general without having anyone find out that he was not perfectly composed.
It was easier, to be the faceless monster. It was his burden to be the one that showed a smile while ruining lives. Alastor found a long tapestry, richly decorated and well above the means needed for such a make. This merchant put sweat and time into this, and the boy was remiss to take it from her, but... it met his requirements.
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It has been SO LONg since Irakles had seen the sun. One would think being buried six feet under would be detrimental to one's health, yet there Irakles stood healthy as a horse, if a little dusty. Would anyone lend him a hand?
But that was something that could be tackled later. For right now, he had a certain pep in her step as she moved through the halls of the streets, searching for some form of entertainment during this not so pleasant morning. Even though it wasn’t exactly terrible outside, the early winter chill ensured that the air was crisp and cold. Not to mention everything being so wet from the more frequent rainfalls. He wanted to rage against the intrusion into his refuge of the politics he so despised with the arrival of the soldiers. But being the noble he had been raised to be, he dared not. He was uncomfortable enough in court in general without having anyone find out that he was not perfectly composed.
It was easier, to be the faceless monster. It was his burden to be the one that showed a smile while ruining lives. Alastor found a long tapestry, richly decorated and well above the means needed for such a make. This merchant put sweat and time into this, and the boy was remiss to take it from her, but... it met his requirements.
It has been SO LONg since Irakles had seen the sun. One would think being buried six feet under would be detrimental to one's health, yet there Irakles stood healthy as a horse, if a little dusty. Would anyone lend him a hand?
But that was something that could be tackled later. For right now, he had a certain pep in her step as she moved through the halls of the streets, searching for some form of entertainment during this not so pleasant morning. Even though it wasn’t exactly terrible outside, the early winter chill ensured that the air was crisp and cold. Not to mention everything being so wet from the more frequent rainfalls. He wanted to rage against the intrusion into his refuge of the politics he so despised with the arrival of the soldiers. But being the noble he had been raised to be, he dared not. He was uncomfortable enough in court in general without having anyone find out that he was not perfectly composed.
It was easier, to be the faceless monster. It was his burden to be the one that showed a smile while ruining lives. Alastor found a long tapestry, richly decorated and well above the means needed for such a make. This merchant put sweat and time into this, and the boy was remiss to take it from her, but... it met his requirements.
