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A new year is upon us, and the Kassotis celebrate it in style. Invitations have been sent to friends near and far. From the cold mountains of Colchis, the scholars of Athenia, and the people at home- Greeks gather in Argothia and specifically Kalospiti Sappheire to party. Tables have been set up for gambling- high rollers only. An endless amount of alcohol is served by elegant, luxurious women that for the price will be happy to keep you company for the night. Remember: What happens in Argothia, stays in Argothia.
Event Ideas
There are gambling tables set up. Are you having a good night or a bad night? Perhaps you got a little too drunk and decided to get in a fight. Remember: The Kassotis always make sure to collect on their debts. While the private residences are closed off there are guest rooms you can stumble into. Maybe one of the Hataerae caught your eye- or perhaps a lonely noble? No one would judge if you disappear for a bit and reappear a little worse for wear. This is a party with notable people, from military captains to royals. Are you a merchant trying to make some extra coin in Argothia? Or maybe you are sneaking in wanting in on all the action?
JD
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JD
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A new year is upon us, and the Kassotis celebrate it in style. Invitations have been sent to friends near and far. From the cold mountains of Colchis, the scholars of Athenia, and the people at home- Greeks gather in Argothia and specifically Kalospiti Sappheire to party. Tables have been set up for gambling- high rollers only. An endless amount of alcohol is served by elegant, luxurious women that for the price will be happy to keep you company for the night. Remember: What happens in Argothia, stays in Argothia.
Event Ideas
There are gambling tables set up. Are you having a good night or a bad night? Perhaps you got a little too drunk and decided to get in a fight. Remember: The Kassotis always make sure to collect on their debts. While the private residences are closed off there are guest rooms you can stumble into. Maybe one of the Hataerae caught your eye- or perhaps a lonely noble? No one would judge if you disappear for a bit and reappear a little worse for wear. This is a party with notable people, from military captains to royals. Are you a merchant trying to make some extra coin in Argothia? Or maybe you are sneaking in wanting in on all the action?
Gold is the New Black Provincial Story - Taengea
A new year is upon us, and the Kassotis celebrate it in style. Invitations have been sent to friends near and far. From the cold mountains of Colchis, the scholars of Athenia, and the people at home- Greeks gather in Argothia and specifically Kalospiti Sappheire to party. Tables have been set up for gambling- high rollers only. An endless amount of alcohol is served by elegant, luxurious women that for the price will be happy to keep you company for the night. Remember: What happens in Argothia, stays in Argothia.
Event Ideas
There are gambling tables set up. Are you having a good night or a bad night? Perhaps you got a little too drunk and decided to get in a fight. Remember: The Kassotis always make sure to collect on their debts. While the private residences are closed off there are guest rooms you can stumble into. Maybe one of the Hataerae caught your eye- or perhaps a lonely noble? No one would judge if you disappear for a bit and reappear a little worse for wear. This is a party with notable people, from military captains to royals. Are you a merchant trying to make some extra coin in Argothia? Or maybe you are sneaking in wanting in on all the action?
fuck you jd
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fuck you jd
fuck you jd
In all honestly, the last truly dedicated thoughts that Orion had toward the event were in the initial stages, particularly when it came to allotting the coin for the event and determining the appropriate invitations to be sent to lands afar. Not only were there the usual suspects who had made the journey in the past, but also new business dealings and potential matches for the brood of unmarried and of-age children under the Kassotis roof.
While the priority would be to show out their heir, Erasmos, and potentially secure a future baroness at his side, there was now the arrangement he had with his daughter, Eliana, to consider. It would be unorthodox but not unheard of for a daughter of a second son to be wed before a barony's heir. Over half the time they had agreed upon had lapsed and still the girl, so adamant to sever her ties with her bloodline, had not made any progress. Before long, the baton would be passed into his hands. So, it made perfectly good sense for him to extend invitations out of his usual circle and into potential-suitor territory.
If he could secure something along the way for Rhea as well, all the better.
Out of touch beyond the occasional update on who had confirmed or declined the invitation, Orion left the remainder of the planning in Diogenes' capable hands. This left him to tend to the day to day matters, unbothered by it all until he could not seem to walk through the estate without tripping over or being blocked by some stranger or another hanging tapestries and decor across the kalopisti.
Eyes and ears kept him abreast of his children's progress, preparations, and arrivals into the province as he dressed and readied himself and met with his brother at the foyer overlook. It pleased Orion that, while their color of attire was similar, they were true to form with wearing a brighter hue of blue than Orion's navy. It suited their natures, entirely.
"A fine night, indeed," Orion said, clasping his brother's forearm and nodding to Ioanna in acknowledgement. Their paths had not crossed that day, so upon seeing him, he could not help but smile and nod at his brother's comment. Orion was pleasant and far from socially inept, but lacked the overflow of charisma his brother bore. Diogenes was born for this.
Looking out over the forms below, he scanned quickly as saw familiar faces among them. Already, he was picking the order of greetings for his path, knowing that there would be interruptions along the way.
"You know me too well," he noted, but sliding a glance over to his brother, "But, if all of our intended guests do attend as planned, I may find myself quite preoccupied." After all, even if Eliana did not make a choice tonight, he would be better to able to make it for her...
"Though...I do expect to see you at the tables at least once before the sun rises. If I am not mistaken, you are still terrible at cards..."
Orion smirked. He was not one to frivolously play with his coin, but on a night such as this, knowing it would just be recycled, multiplied, and added back into their coffers, he give in to his competitive side and get a rise out of Diogenes from time to time...
"Shall we?"
And with that, they began their descent into the fray.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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In all honestly, the last truly dedicated thoughts that Orion had toward the event were in the initial stages, particularly when it came to allotting the coin for the event and determining the appropriate invitations to be sent to lands afar. Not only were there the usual suspects who had made the journey in the past, but also new business dealings and potential matches for the brood of unmarried and of-age children under the Kassotis roof.
While the priority would be to show out their heir, Erasmos, and potentially secure a future baroness at his side, there was now the arrangement he had with his daughter, Eliana, to consider. It would be unorthodox but not unheard of for a daughter of a second son to be wed before a barony's heir. Over half the time they had agreed upon had lapsed and still the girl, so adamant to sever her ties with her bloodline, had not made any progress. Before long, the baton would be passed into his hands. So, it made perfectly good sense for him to extend invitations out of his usual circle and into potential-suitor territory.
If he could secure something along the way for Rhea as well, all the better.
Out of touch beyond the occasional update on who had confirmed or declined the invitation, Orion left the remainder of the planning in Diogenes' capable hands. This left him to tend to the day to day matters, unbothered by it all until he could not seem to walk through the estate without tripping over or being blocked by some stranger or another hanging tapestries and decor across the kalopisti.
Eyes and ears kept him abreast of his children's progress, preparations, and arrivals into the province as he dressed and readied himself and met with his brother at the foyer overlook. It pleased Orion that, while their color of attire was similar, they were true to form with wearing a brighter hue of blue than Orion's navy. It suited their natures, entirely.
"A fine night, indeed," Orion said, clasping his brother's forearm and nodding to Ioanna in acknowledgement. Their paths had not crossed that day, so upon seeing him, he could not help but smile and nod at his brother's comment. Orion was pleasant and far from socially inept, but lacked the overflow of charisma his brother bore. Diogenes was born for this.
Looking out over the forms below, he scanned quickly as saw familiar faces among them. Already, he was picking the order of greetings for his path, knowing that there would be interruptions along the way.
"You know me too well," he noted, but sliding a glance over to his brother, "But, if all of our intended guests do attend as planned, I may find myself quite preoccupied." After all, even if Eliana did not make a choice tonight, he would be better to able to make it for her...
"Though...I do expect to see you at the tables at least once before the sun rises. If I am not mistaken, you are still terrible at cards..."
Orion smirked. He was not one to frivolously play with his coin, but on a night such as this, knowing it would just be recycled, multiplied, and added back into their coffers, he give in to his competitive side and get a rise out of Diogenes from time to time...
"Shall we?"
And with that, they began their descent into the fray.
In all honestly, the last truly dedicated thoughts that Orion had toward the event were in the initial stages, particularly when it came to allotting the coin for the event and determining the appropriate invitations to be sent to lands afar. Not only were there the usual suspects who had made the journey in the past, but also new business dealings and potential matches for the brood of unmarried and of-age children under the Kassotis roof.
While the priority would be to show out their heir, Erasmos, and potentially secure a future baroness at his side, there was now the arrangement he had with his daughter, Eliana, to consider. It would be unorthodox but not unheard of for a daughter of a second son to be wed before a barony's heir. Over half the time they had agreed upon had lapsed and still the girl, so adamant to sever her ties with her bloodline, had not made any progress. Before long, the baton would be passed into his hands. So, it made perfectly good sense for him to extend invitations out of his usual circle and into potential-suitor territory.
If he could secure something along the way for Rhea as well, all the better.
Out of touch beyond the occasional update on who had confirmed or declined the invitation, Orion left the remainder of the planning in Diogenes' capable hands. This left him to tend to the day to day matters, unbothered by it all until he could not seem to walk through the estate without tripping over or being blocked by some stranger or another hanging tapestries and decor across the kalopisti.
Eyes and ears kept him abreast of his children's progress, preparations, and arrivals into the province as he dressed and readied himself and met with his brother at the foyer overlook. It pleased Orion that, while their color of attire was similar, they were true to form with wearing a brighter hue of blue than Orion's navy. It suited their natures, entirely.
"A fine night, indeed," Orion said, clasping his brother's forearm and nodding to Ioanna in acknowledgement. Their paths had not crossed that day, so upon seeing him, he could not help but smile and nod at his brother's comment. Orion was pleasant and far from socially inept, but lacked the overflow of charisma his brother bore. Diogenes was born for this.
Looking out over the forms below, he scanned quickly as saw familiar faces among them. Already, he was picking the order of greetings for his path, knowing that there would be interruptions along the way.
"You know me too well," he noted, but sliding a glance over to his brother, "But, if all of our intended guests do attend as planned, I may find myself quite preoccupied." After all, even if Eliana did not make a choice tonight, he would be better to able to make it for her...
"Though...I do expect to see you at the tables at least once before the sun rises. If I am not mistaken, you are still terrible at cards..."
Orion smirked. He was not one to frivolously play with his coin, but on a night such as this, knowing it would just be recycled, multiplied, and added back into their coffers, he give in to his competitive side and get a rise out of Diogenes from time to time...
"Shall we?"
And with that, they began their descent into the fray.
Dione loved a good party and Argothia certainly knew how to throw them. It was not the first one that the eldest daughter of the Nikolaos had attended, which was why she’d gladly accepted the invitation to return. Argothia was arguably more fun than any part of Athenia which she thought had far too many scholars and stuffy senators. Her nose wrinkled at the thought of home, and all of the distasteful events currently unfolding there. Now was not the time to be thinking of such droll things, not when she had come to have a good time and perhaps test the waters of a match.
She was only starting her search in earnest, content until now to climb the social ladders in Athenia on her own, but she was starting to press into that glass ceiling that kept her from reaching the full potential that she knew she possessed. She just needed to break it by securing an auspicious match and then she could unfurl her wings more fully. It was important to her, because if she could marry well then her family would want for nothing. Her dear brother would still have to become the Baron of their family at some point, but perhaps she could buy him a little while longer. As for the rest of the Nikolaos brood, they could marry however they saw fit. For love, for status, not at all. She could give that to them, while grasping what she wanted most.
Influence.
The blonde allowed her thoughts to drift away as she accepted a glass of wine from one of the passing servants. She was dressed in one of her favorite chitons, the color as scarlet as her wine and edged in black. It was draped in a way that was arguably a little more risque than perhaps appropriate for a woman of her breeding but she wanted to be noticed. It was pinned carefully at her shoulders to create an adequate drape for her chest, cinched tightly at the waist to accentuate the fullness of her hips and perhaps just short enough to be ‘improper’.
It was Argothia! She was allowed to be a little mischievous. So long as she didn’t actually commit to something that she couldn’t fulfill, she would be fine. The glass found the softness of her lips as she took a long drink. She wondered if they might have something a little…stronger than wine for later, but so far she had not heard the right murmur of whispers that would lead her to believe that there might be opium or the like within the party. The thing was as raucous as ever, full of people from every walk of respectable life. You would find no poors here, at least not by invitation.
Her green gaze flickered across the room, grazing the groups of people -- dancers, gamblers, drinkers -- they were all here. She smiled secretly into her glass. She wished Athenia looked like this. She pulled the glass away after a moment, the deliciously bitter tang of wine on her tongue lingering as she turned to look for Agathe. They’d come to the party together, but quickly split up to ‘divide and conquer’ as her friend had so eloquently put it. Agathe had no such reservations when it came to men. She enjoyed them like delicate chocolates, each one an exciting flavor that she simply had to try. The woman was nowhere in sight, and somehow that was fine. Agathe was one of the royal families, and a prize for any man here. Perhaps it was better that she was nowhere to be found, because Dione could focus on being the center of attention.
She wandered through the crow, sipping her wine as she went. When her glass was empty, she took another. She stopped and chatted with fellow party-goers, flashing them a smile and flirting shamelessly with any man who looked wealthy enough to be of consequence. She took to the balcony after a while, the air heavy and almost oppressively warm. It was much cooler in the night air, the coldness of it nearly taking her breath after the warmth of the inside.
It seemed that she was not the only one who’d needed a break from the inside. A few other figures were taking their time on the balcony, some engaged in things as innocent as another drink -- while others were…. Her cheeks reddened as she averted her gaze. Luckily the balcony was large enough that she wouldn’t have to get close, so she left the muffled music behind the doors and strode right for someone standing all alone it seemed.
Surprise registered across her features as she recognized the larger figure. @aphrodite be praised. She thought with a little thrill. It was none other than Achilleas of Mikaelidas. She hesitated, soothing her fluster like the feathers of a bird, reaching up to touch her hair nervously before she sauntered to join him, leaning over the balcony just to his left. ”A surprise seeing you in a place like this.” She said in a smooth voice, tilting her face up to watch the stars. ”Does not seem like your kind of thing, if you ask me.”
She smiled, a genuine one, as she twisted her neck to look at him from the corner of her eye. She was impossibly small compared to his height, but that was easily brushed over. ”Although, if you are out here instead of in there...I’d say that I’m at least partially right.” She let her gaze drift back to the stars. It was truly a beautiful night. She lifted her glass to her lips, her free hand dangled over the empty air.
”How is that darling little sister of yours, my lord?” She recalled the youngster -- a girl of no older than thirteen or fourteen -- and all of her bright eyed enthusiasm. She had been so very excited to visit Athenia, and subsequently got lost during an excursion on her own. Dione had been kind enough to escort the girl back to the lodgings they’d been using at the time, reminded of her own younger siblings. ”Dione of Nikolaos.” She offered at last, not surprised if he didn’t remember her. Their meeting in Athenia had been short, but she’d found it memorable enough.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Dione loved a good party and Argothia certainly knew how to throw them. It was not the first one that the eldest daughter of the Nikolaos had attended, which was why she’d gladly accepted the invitation to return. Argothia was arguably more fun than any part of Athenia which she thought had far too many scholars and stuffy senators. Her nose wrinkled at the thought of home, and all of the distasteful events currently unfolding there. Now was not the time to be thinking of such droll things, not when she had come to have a good time and perhaps test the waters of a match.
She was only starting her search in earnest, content until now to climb the social ladders in Athenia on her own, but she was starting to press into that glass ceiling that kept her from reaching the full potential that she knew she possessed. She just needed to break it by securing an auspicious match and then she could unfurl her wings more fully. It was important to her, because if she could marry well then her family would want for nothing. Her dear brother would still have to become the Baron of their family at some point, but perhaps she could buy him a little while longer. As for the rest of the Nikolaos brood, they could marry however they saw fit. For love, for status, not at all. She could give that to them, while grasping what she wanted most.
Influence.
The blonde allowed her thoughts to drift away as she accepted a glass of wine from one of the passing servants. She was dressed in one of her favorite chitons, the color as scarlet as her wine and edged in black. It was draped in a way that was arguably a little more risque than perhaps appropriate for a woman of her breeding but she wanted to be noticed. It was pinned carefully at her shoulders to create an adequate drape for her chest, cinched tightly at the waist to accentuate the fullness of her hips and perhaps just short enough to be ‘improper’.
It was Argothia! She was allowed to be a little mischievous. So long as she didn’t actually commit to something that she couldn’t fulfill, she would be fine. The glass found the softness of her lips as she took a long drink. She wondered if they might have something a little…stronger than wine for later, but so far she had not heard the right murmur of whispers that would lead her to believe that there might be opium or the like within the party. The thing was as raucous as ever, full of people from every walk of respectable life. You would find no poors here, at least not by invitation.
Her green gaze flickered across the room, grazing the groups of people -- dancers, gamblers, drinkers -- they were all here. She smiled secretly into her glass. She wished Athenia looked like this. She pulled the glass away after a moment, the deliciously bitter tang of wine on her tongue lingering as she turned to look for Agathe. They’d come to the party together, but quickly split up to ‘divide and conquer’ as her friend had so eloquently put it. Agathe had no such reservations when it came to men. She enjoyed them like delicate chocolates, each one an exciting flavor that she simply had to try. The woman was nowhere in sight, and somehow that was fine. Agathe was one of the royal families, and a prize for any man here. Perhaps it was better that she was nowhere to be found, because Dione could focus on being the center of attention.
She wandered through the crow, sipping her wine as she went. When her glass was empty, she took another. She stopped and chatted with fellow party-goers, flashing them a smile and flirting shamelessly with any man who looked wealthy enough to be of consequence. She took to the balcony after a while, the air heavy and almost oppressively warm. It was much cooler in the night air, the coldness of it nearly taking her breath after the warmth of the inside.
It seemed that she was not the only one who’d needed a break from the inside. A few other figures were taking their time on the balcony, some engaged in things as innocent as another drink -- while others were…. Her cheeks reddened as she averted her gaze. Luckily the balcony was large enough that she wouldn’t have to get close, so she left the muffled music behind the doors and strode right for someone standing all alone it seemed.
Surprise registered across her features as she recognized the larger figure. @aphrodite be praised. She thought with a little thrill. It was none other than Achilleas of Mikaelidas. She hesitated, soothing her fluster like the feathers of a bird, reaching up to touch her hair nervously before she sauntered to join him, leaning over the balcony just to his left. ”A surprise seeing you in a place like this.” She said in a smooth voice, tilting her face up to watch the stars. ”Does not seem like your kind of thing, if you ask me.”
She smiled, a genuine one, as she twisted her neck to look at him from the corner of her eye. She was impossibly small compared to his height, but that was easily brushed over. ”Although, if you are out here instead of in there...I’d say that I’m at least partially right.” She let her gaze drift back to the stars. It was truly a beautiful night. She lifted her glass to her lips, her free hand dangled over the empty air.
”How is that darling little sister of yours, my lord?” She recalled the youngster -- a girl of no older than thirteen or fourteen -- and all of her bright eyed enthusiasm. She had been so very excited to visit Athenia, and subsequently got lost during an excursion on her own. Dione had been kind enough to escort the girl back to the lodgings they’d been using at the time, reminded of her own younger siblings. ”Dione of Nikolaos.” She offered at last, not surprised if he didn’t remember her. Their meeting in Athenia had been short, but she’d found it memorable enough.
Dione loved a good party and Argothia certainly knew how to throw them. It was not the first one that the eldest daughter of the Nikolaos had attended, which was why she’d gladly accepted the invitation to return. Argothia was arguably more fun than any part of Athenia which she thought had far too many scholars and stuffy senators. Her nose wrinkled at the thought of home, and all of the distasteful events currently unfolding there. Now was not the time to be thinking of such droll things, not when she had come to have a good time and perhaps test the waters of a match.
She was only starting her search in earnest, content until now to climb the social ladders in Athenia on her own, but she was starting to press into that glass ceiling that kept her from reaching the full potential that she knew she possessed. She just needed to break it by securing an auspicious match and then she could unfurl her wings more fully. It was important to her, because if she could marry well then her family would want for nothing. Her dear brother would still have to become the Baron of their family at some point, but perhaps she could buy him a little while longer. As for the rest of the Nikolaos brood, they could marry however they saw fit. For love, for status, not at all. She could give that to them, while grasping what she wanted most.
Influence.
The blonde allowed her thoughts to drift away as she accepted a glass of wine from one of the passing servants. She was dressed in one of her favorite chitons, the color as scarlet as her wine and edged in black. It was draped in a way that was arguably a little more risque than perhaps appropriate for a woman of her breeding but she wanted to be noticed. It was pinned carefully at her shoulders to create an adequate drape for her chest, cinched tightly at the waist to accentuate the fullness of her hips and perhaps just short enough to be ‘improper’.
It was Argothia! She was allowed to be a little mischievous. So long as she didn’t actually commit to something that she couldn’t fulfill, she would be fine. The glass found the softness of her lips as she took a long drink. She wondered if they might have something a little…stronger than wine for later, but so far she had not heard the right murmur of whispers that would lead her to believe that there might be opium or the like within the party. The thing was as raucous as ever, full of people from every walk of respectable life. You would find no poors here, at least not by invitation.
Her green gaze flickered across the room, grazing the groups of people -- dancers, gamblers, drinkers -- they were all here. She smiled secretly into her glass. She wished Athenia looked like this. She pulled the glass away after a moment, the deliciously bitter tang of wine on her tongue lingering as she turned to look for Agathe. They’d come to the party together, but quickly split up to ‘divide and conquer’ as her friend had so eloquently put it. Agathe had no such reservations when it came to men. She enjoyed them like delicate chocolates, each one an exciting flavor that she simply had to try. The woman was nowhere in sight, and somehow that was fine. Agathe was one of the royal families, and a prize for any man here. Perhaps it was better that she was nowhere to be found, because Dione could focus on being the center of attention.
She wandered through the crow, sipping her wine as she went. When her glass was empty, she took another. She stopped and chatted with fellow party-goers, flashing them a smile and flirting shamelessly with any man who looked wealthy enough to be of consequence. She took to the balcony after a while, the air heavy and almost oppressively warm. It was much cooler in the night air, the coldness of it nearly taking her breath after the warmth of the inside.
It seemed that she was not the only one who’d needed a break from the inside. A few other figures were taking their time on the balcony, some engaged in things as innocent as another drink -- while others were…. Her cheeks reddened as she averted her gaze. Luckily the balcony was large enough that she wouldn’t have to get close, so she left the muffled music behind the doors and strode right for someone standing all alone it seemed.
Surprise registered across her features as she recognized the larger figure. @aphrodite be praised. She thought with a little thrill. It was none other than Achilleas of Mikaelidas. She hesitated, soothing her fluster like the feathers of a bird, reaching up to touch her hair nervously before she sauntered to join him, leaning over the balcony just to his left. ”A surprise seeing you in a place like this.” She said in a smooth voice, tilting her face up to watch the stars. ”Does not seem like your kind of thing, if you ask me.”
She smiled, a genuine one, as she twisted her neck to look at him from the corner of her eye. She was impossibly small compared to his height, but that was easily brushed over. ”Although, if you are out here instead of in there...I’d say that I’m at least partially right.” She let her gaze drift back to the stars. It was truly a beautiful night. She lifted her glass to her lips, her free hand dangled over the empty air.
”How is that darling little sister of yours, my lord?” She recalled the youngster -- a girl of no older than thirteen or fourteen -- and all of her bright eyed enthusiasm. She had been so very excited to visit Athenia, and subsequently got lost during an excursion on her own. Dione had been kind enough to escort the girl back to the lodgings they’d been using at the time, reminded of her own younger siblings. ”Dione of Nikolaos.” She offered at last, not surprised if he didn’t remember her. Their meeting in Athenia had been short, but she’d found it memorable enough.
‘Bet you can’t jump it.’
Sil looked at the fountain, squinted a bit. It wasn’t high, the wall hitting slightly above his knees, and the width of it hardly seemed a challenge either. The young lord turned a disbelieving look upon the Taengean. He must be further into his cups than Sil had thought to think that an impossibility, “The fuck I can’t” Sil replied, shoving lightly at Spiros’ arm. He was some friend of Pallas’, whom Sil had managed to misplace somewhere, but was fair enough company. Especially when one was drunk as Sil was right now.
They’d started early, impatient for the celebration proper to begin, and Silanos had already lost an unhealthy amount of gold playing cards. He should know better really, he’d hung around with Pallas long enough to see that the House always won in the end, but where was the fun in that? At least it made him lighter, and therefore more likely to succeed in this challenge that had just been laid at his feet.
“Could almost step over it” the Colchian bragged, pushing his cup into the other’s hand as he backed off a few paces. “That nice knife of yours if I win. And...I’ll graciously step aside and let you bed that blonde who was smiling at me if you lose.”
That wasn’t so much of a sacrifice anyway. Silanos had plans with a different blonde, Eleni having told him she was coming to Argothia for the celebrations. He just had to remember not to get too wasted before she got here. Which was fine, because right now, he had a fountain to jump.
“Here hold this” he muttered, pushing his cup into the hand of the other youth who backed off a little. Silanos did too, taking a few steps backwards so he might get a bit of a run-up, paying no heed to the onlookers from the balcony above. He ran, jumped, just about remembered to tuck his feet up high enough to not catch the low wall and landed on the other side, narrowly avoiding careening into a servant circulating with more wine.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, looping an arm about her shoulders and steadying himself for a moment “Don’t mind if I do sweetheart” Sil grinned triumphantly and plucked a cup from the tray before spinning to find Spiros. “What did I tell you?”
Of course, having been so shown up, the Taengean was going to have a go too, and Sil tilted his head as he surveyed the slightly unsteady gate of his friend. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Maybe he should stop him.
“Go on then.”
Silanos stood well back and folded his arms across his chest, a little smirk playing over his lips. He had a feeling about how this was going to turn out.
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‘Bet you can’t jump it.’
Sil looked at the fountain, squinted a bit. It wasn’t high, the wall hitting slightly above his knees, and the width of it hardly seemed a challenge either. The young lord turned a disbelieving look upon the Taengean. He must be further into his cups than Sil had thought to think that an impossibility, “The fuck I can’t” Sil replied, shoving lightly at Spiros’ arm. He was some friend of Pallas’, whom Sil had managed to misplace somewhere, but was fair enough company. Especially when one was drunk as Sil was right now.
They’d started early, impatient for the celebration proper to begin, and Silanos had already lost an unhealthy amount of gold playing cards. He should know better really, he’d hung around with Pallas long enough to see that the House always won in the end, but where was the fun in that? At least it made him lighter, and therefore more likely to succeed in this challenge that had just been laid at his feet.
“Could almost step over it” the Colchian bragged, pushing his cup into the other’s hand as he backed off a few paces. “That nice knife of yours if I win. And...I’ll graciously step aside and let you bed that blonde who was smiling at me if you lose.”
That wasn’t so much of a sacrifice anyway. Silanos had plans with a different blonde, Eleni having told him she was coming to Argothia for the celebrations. He just had to remember not to get too wasted before she got here. Which was fine, because right now, he had a fountain to jump.
“Here hold this” he muttered, pushing his cup into the hand of the other youth who backed off a little. Silanos did too, taking a few steps backwards so he might get a bit of a run-up, paying no heed to the onlookers from the balcony above. He ran, jumped, just about remembered to tuck his feet up high enough to not catch the low wall and landed on the other side, narrowly avoiding careening into a servant circulating with more wine.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, looping an arm about her shoulders and steadying himself for a moment “Don’t mind if I do sweetheart” Sil grinned triumphantly and plucked a cup from the tray before spinning to find Spiros. “What did I tell you?”
Of course, having been so shown up, the Taengean was going to have a go too, and Sil tilted his head as he surveyed the slightly unsteady gate of his friend. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Maybe he should stop him.
“Go on then.”
Silanos stood well back and folded his arms across his chest, a little smirk playing over his lips. He had a feeling about how this was going to turn out.
‘Bet you can’t jump it.’
Sil looked at the fountain, squinted a bit. It wasn’t high, the wall hitting slightly above his knees, and the width of it hardly seemed a challenge either. The young lord turned a disbelieving look upon the Taengean. He must be further into his cups than Sil had thought to think that an impossibility, “The fuck I can’t” Sil replied, shoving lightly at Spiros’ arm. He was some friend of Pallas’, whom Sil had managed to misplace somewhere, but was fair enough company. Especially when one was drunk as Sil was right now.
They’d started early, impatient for the celebration proper to begin, and Silanos had already lost an unhealthy amount of gold playing cards. He should know better really, he’d hung around with Pallas long enough to see that the House always won in the end, but where was the fun in that? At least it made him lighter, and therefore more likely to succeed in this challenge that had just been laid at his feet.
“Could almost step over it” the Colchian bragged, pushing his cup into the other’s hand as he backed off a few paces. “That nice knife of yours if I win. And...I’ll graciously step aside and let you bed that blonde who was smiling at me if you lose.”
That wasn’t so much of a sacrifice anyway. Silanos had plans with a different blonde, Eleni having told him she was coming to Argothia for the celebrations. He just had to remember not to get too wasted before she got here. Which was fine, because right now, he had a fountain to jump.
“Here hold this” he muttered, pushing his cup into the hand of the other youth who backed off a little. Silanos did too, taking a few steps backwards so he might get a bit of a run-up, paying no heed to the onlookers from the balcony above. He ran, jumped, just about remembered to tuck his feet up high enough to not catch the low wall and landed on the other side, narrowly avoiding careening into a servant circulating with more wine.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, looping an arm about her shoulders and steadying himself for a moment “Don’t mind if I do sweetheart” Sil grinned triumphantly and plucked a cup from the tray before spinning to find Spiros. “What did I tell you?”
Of course, having been so shown up, the Taengean was going to have a go too, and Sil tilted his head as he surveyed the slightly unsteady gate of his friend. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Maybe he should stop him.
“Go on then.”
Silanos stood well back and folded his arms across his chest, a little smirk playing over his lips. He had a feeling about how this was going to turn out.
There were enough of these events that Achilleas managed to avoid, whether it be through carefully arranged conflicts or ensuring he was tied up on business in another province. He would never fail to attend without a proper reason and was careful to ensure he showed his face when there was an expectation that he would.
This event was one such occasion. The Kassotis family, whilst lesser nobility, were indeed movers and shakers, so refusing an invitation to their celebration fell firmly into the ‘not acceptable’. He’d already seen his father and Meena doing the rounds, so could at least relax insofar as that his attendance would have been noted.
For once, Achilleas did not doubt that his younger brother would put in an appearance as well. For whilst Emilios tended to avoid courtly gatherings like the plague - and mostly got away with it because Achilleas was there - this soirée was much more up the second son’s street. It was Achilleas himself who was less at ease in such a setting.
He wasn’t much of a gambler; he found it more stressful than exhilarating, so the card tables and dice games didn’t hold much attraction after a couple of games to show willing towards a Mikaelidas baron who had corralled him not soon after he’d arrived. Now, Achilleas had broken away from the endless small talk and gossip that he held little interest in and stepped outside for a few moments. He let the cooler air clear his head, growing foggy with the fast poured wine that he kept trying to avoid. Not one to drink very much, he could feel its effects already and decided he would just not drink this current cup that he held, and the people wouldn’t keep trying to refill it.
Bracing one hand on the stone rail of the balcony, he was half-watching the youngsters who were taking turns to leap over the fountain in the gardens below, egging eachother other on. The inevitability of someone landing in the fountain instead was enough to hold his attention for a few moments, some light relief where he could relax away from the social smiles and false charm demanded within.
He was dimly aware of others who looked for a similar respite from the hustle and bustle of the inside of the manor. Still, He didn’t pay too much heed until he sensed a presence in his little corner of the balcony, at which point the Mikaelidas man pushed up from his lean and turned to see who had approached.
‘A surprise seeing you in a place like this. Does not seem like your kind of thing if you ask me’
Achilleas looked upon a dainty blonde, sweet features in profile as she tipped her face up toward the skies, and he knew he knew her, had met her before, but it took him a moment to place the when and where.
“Do I make it so terribly obvious?” He asked with a faint smile, to buy himself a little time, but by the time he’d finished speaking he’d realised where he’d seen her before and why it was him, that ought to be surprised by her presence, in truth.
Dione of...Niko...something. A vassal house Xanthos in Athenia if he recalled correctly, he’d met the girl briefly earlier in the year when he’d visited.
He was reminded that the trip hadn’t been his idea or even his choice in the next when the blonde asked after Sara and Achilleas gave a small shrug. “She is well enough. Her mother is here tonight, she will likely know better than I”
The lord was not close to his half-siblings, despite having been volunteered to chaperone them in their trip to Athenia. Achilleas spent most of his time in Euttica, and his visits to Vasiliadon were usually filled with senate business, doing his father’s bidding, and when he could arrange it, Briseis.
‘Dione of Nikolaos’ she said, and he was glad that he could answer honestly when he replied. “I remember. And what has you so far from home, my lady Nikolaos?”
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There were enough of these events that Achilleas managed to avoid, whether it be through carefully arranged conflicts or ensuring he was tied up on business in another province. He would never fail to attend without a proper reason and was careful to ensure he showed his face when there was an expectation that he would.
This event was one such occasion. The Kassotis family, whilst lesser nobility, were indeed movers and shakers, so refusing an invitation to their celebration fell firmly into the ‘not acceptable’. He’d already seen his father and Meena doing the rounds, so could at least relax insofar as that his attendance would have been noted.
For once, Achilleas did not doubt that his younger brother would put in an appearance as well. For whilst Emilios tended to avoid courtly gatherings like the plague - and mostly got away with it because Achilleas was there - this soirée was much more up the second son’s street. It was Achilleas himself who was less at ease in such a setting.
He wasn’t much of a gambler; he found it more stressful than exhilarating, so the card tables and dice games didn’t hold much attraction after a couple of games to show willing towards a Mikaelidas baron who had corralled him not soon after he’d arrived. Now, Achilleas had broken away from the endless small talk and gossip that he held little interest in and stepped outside for a few moments. He let the cooler air clear his head, growing foggy with the fast poured wine that he kept trying to avoid. Not one to drink very much, he could feel its effects already and decided he would just not drink this current cup that he held, and the people wouldn’t keep trying to refill it.
Bracing one hand on the stone rail of the balcony, he was half-watching the youngsters who were taking turns to leap over the fountain in the gardens below, egging eachother other on. The inevitability of someone landing in the fountain instead was enough to hold his attention for a few moments, some light relief where he could relax away from the social smiles and false charm demanded within.
He was dimly aware of others who looked for a similar respite from the hustle and bustle of the inside of the manor. Still, He didn’t pay too much heed until he sensed a presence in his little corner of the balcony, at which point the Mikaelidas man pushed up from his lean and turned to see who had approached.
‘A surprise seeing you in a place like this. Does not seem like your kind of thing if you ask me’
Achilleas looked upon a dainty blonde, sweet features in profile as she tipped her face up toward the skies, and he knew he knew her, had met her before, but it took him a moment to place the when and where.
“Do I make it so terribly obvious?” He asked with a faint smile, to buy himself a little time, but by the time he’d finished speaking he’d realised where he’d seen her before and why it was him, that ought to be surprised by her presence, in truth.
Dione of...Niko...something. A vassal house Xanthos in Athenia if he recalled correctly, he’d met the girl briefly earlier in the year when he’d visited.
He was reminded that the trip hadn’t been his idea or even his choice in the next when the blonde asked after Sara and Achilleas gave a small shrug. “She is well enough. Her mother is here tonight, she will likely know better than I”
The lord was not close to his half-siblings, despite having been volunteered to chaperone them in their trip to Athenia. Achilleas spent most of his time in Euttica, and his visits to Vasiliadon were usually filled with senate business, doing his father’s bidding, and when he could arrange it, Briseis.
‘Dione of Nikolaos’ she said, and he was glad that he could answer honestly when he replied. “I remember. And what has you so far from home, my lady Nikolaos?”
There were enough of these events that Achilleas managed to avoid, whether it be through carefully arranged conflicts or ensuring he was tied up on business in another province. He would never fail to attend without a proper reason and was careful to ensure he showed his face when there was an expectation that he would.
This event was one such occasion. The Kassotis family, whilst lesser nobility, were indeed movers and shakers, so refusing an invitation to their celebration fell firmly into the ‘not acceptable’. He’d already seen his father and Meena doing the rounds, so could at least relax insofar as that his attendance would have been noted.
For once, Achilleas did not doubt that his younger brother would put in an appearance as well. For whilst Emilios tended to avoid courtly gatherings like the plague - and mostly got away with it because Achilleas was there - this soirée was much more up the second son’s street. It was Achilleas himself who was less at ease in such a setting.
He wasn’t much of a gambler; he found it more stressful than exhilarating, so the card tables and dice games didn’t hold much attraction after a couple of games to show willing towards a Mikaelidas baron who had corralled him not soon after he’d arrived. Now, Achilleas had broken away from the endless small talk and gossip that he held little interest in and stepped outside for a few moments. He let the cooler air clear his head, growing foggy with the fast poured wine that he kept trying to avoid. Not one to drink very much, he could feel its effects already and decided he would just not drink this current cup that he held, and the people wouldn’t keep trying to refill it.
Bracing one hand on the stone rail of the balcony, he was half-watching the youngsters who were taking turns to leap over the fountain in the gardens below, egging eachother other on. The inevitability of someone landing in the fountain instead was enough to hold his attention for a few moments, some light relief where he could relax away from the social smiles and false charm demanded within.
He was dimly aware of others who looked for a similar respite from the hustle and bustle of the inside of the manor. Still, He didn’t pay too much heed until he sensed a presence in his little corner of the balcony, at which point the Mikaelidas man pushed up from his lean and turned to see who had approached.
‘A surprise seeing you in a place like this. Does not seem like your kind of thing if you ask me’
Achilleas looked upon a dainty blonde, sweet features in profile as she tipped her face up toward the skies, and he knew he knew her, had met her before, but it took him a moment to place the when and where.
“Do I make it so terribly obvious?” He asked with a faint smile, to buy himself a little time, but by the time he’d finished speaking he’d realised where he’d seen her before and why it was him, that ought to be surprised by her presence, in truth.
Dione of...Niko...something. A vassal house Xanthos in Athenia if he recalled correctly, he’d met the girl briefly earlier in the year when he’d visited.
He was reminded that the trip hadn’t been his idea or even his choice in the next when the blonde asked after Sara and Achilleas gave a small shrug. “She is well enough. Her mother is here tonight, she will likely know better than I”
The lord was not close to his half-siblings, despite having been volunteered to chaperone them in their trip to Athenia. Achilleas spent most of his time in Euttica, and his visits to Vasiliadon were usually filled with senate business, doing his father’s bidding, and when he could arrange it, Briseis.
‘Dione of Nikolaos’ she said, and he was glad that he could answer honestly when he replied. “I remember. And what has you so far from home, my lady Nikolaos?”
There was nothing like an Argothian party. Now current feelings about her family aside, Eliana could never speak ill of their gatherings. It was lavish, it was over the top, and dare Eliana say it… it was fun. Now, her uncle was absolutely humiliating and Eliana did her best to avoid being anywhere near him. He was a man far too open for Eliana’s comfort. There came an age where one should just… accept that you’re old and be fine with it. Diogenes didn’t agree evidently.
But the most important person to avoid was her father. While an event like this might behoove Erasmos, who was in need of a wife to be his baroness, the constantly ticking tock was ever something to pressure Eliana. He wanted her to marry, he even gave her the ability to choose. And yet so far… there had been no one that caught Eliana’s attention.
Well, that wasn’t true. Just not anyone she could actually marry.
Avoiding her uncle and father, however, was particularly difficult when they all lived in the same house and had people arriving at the same time. No matter how much Eliana may want to remain out of their sight, it just wasn’t feasible. Well, not for Eliana at least. The others were much more successful. Pallas had been out drinking well before the party was set to begin, and hadn’t been seen all day. Rhea left Eliana’s side almost immediately to go gambling. Esdras had found stadium friends to mingle with, and Erasmos looked horribly uncomfortable as different ladies went to talk to him. The poor man.
She saw her uncle and her father begin their descent into the fray. All the while Eliana hadn’t decided where she wanted to go. In one end she saw the Lord Achilleas. Her stomach began to bubble at the sight of him. She nearly went to greet him, only to see a woman had already made her way to him. No, I shouldn’t. Eliana thought resigned. This was her opportunity to find someone. Should the gods be willing she’d find her match here today.
The fuck I can’t. Eliana’s eyes slid to the source of the noise. Silanos. Almost immediately they shot to the sky. Nope, nope, nope. She said she’d find her match today not…
“Uncle! Dad!” Eliana had been standing in place for too long. “Ioanna,” She greeted her uncle’s mistress. Ugh, that was such a weird thing to think. Why was Eliana nervous? She was never nervous, not at parties.
Then again there seemed nowhere that would be safe here. One end a really handsome Lord talking to a beautiful woman. The other end… well, Silanos.
“You guys don’t have a drink in your hands. Let me go get you o-” Just as she said that a woman carrying a tray started walking by. “Oh, here we go.” Eliana passed the three of them mugs and grabbed one for herself.
This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it?
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There was nothing like an Argothian party. Now current feelings about her family aside, Eliana could never speak ill of their gatherings. It was lavish, it was over the top, and dare Eliana say it… it was fun. Now, her uncle was absolutely humiliating and Eliana did her best to avoid being anywhere near him. He was a man far too open for Eliana’s comfort. There came an age where one should just… accept that you’re old and be fine with it. Diogenes didn’t agree evidently.
But the most important person to avoid was her father. While an event like this might behoove Erasmos, who was in need of a wife to be his baroness, the constantly ticking tock was ever something to pressure Eliana. He wanted her to marry, he even gave her the ability to choose. And yet so far… there had been no one that caught Eliana’s attention.
Well, that wasn’t true. Just not anyone she could actually marry.
Avoiding her uncle and father, however, was particularly difficult when they all lived in the same house and had people arriving at the same time. No matter how much Eliana may want to remain out of their sight, it just wasn’t feasible. Well, not for Eliana at least. The others were much more successful. Pallas had been out drinking well before the party was set to begin, and hadn’t been seen all day. Rhea left Eliana’s side almost immediately to go gambling. Esdras had found stadium friends to mingle with, and Erasmos looked horribly uncomfortable as different ladies went to talk to him. The poor man.
She saw her uncle and her father begin their descent into the fray. All the while Eliana hadn’t decided where she wanted to go. In one end she saw the Lord Achilleas. Her stomach began to bubble at the sight of him. She nearly went to greet him, only to see a woman had already made her way to him. No, I shouldn’t. Eliana thought resigned. This was her opportunity to find someone. Should the gods be willing she’d find her match here today.
The fuck I can’t. Eliana’s eyes slid to the source of the noise. Silanos. Almost immediately they shot to the sky. Nope, nope, nope. She said she’d find her match today not…
“Uncle! Dad!” Eliana had been standing in place for too long. “Ioanna,” She greeted her uncle’s mistress. Ugh, that was such a weird thing to think. Why was Eliana nervous? She was never nervous, not at parties.
Then again there seemed nowhere that would be safe here. One end a really handsome Lord talking to a beautiful woman. The other end… well, Silanos.
“You guys don’t have a drink in your hands. Let me go get you o-” Just as she said that a woman carrying a tray started walking by. “Oh, here we go.” Eliana passed the three of them mugs and grabbed one for herself.
This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it?
There was nothing like an Argothian party. Now current feelings about her family aside, Eliana could never speak ill of their gatherings. It was lavish, it was over the top, and dare Eliana say it… it was fun. Now, her uncle was absolutely humiliating and Eliana did her best to avoid being anywhere near him. He was a man far too open for Eliana’s comfort. There came an age where one should just… accept that you’re old and be fine with it. Diogenes didn’t agree evidently.
But the most important person to avoid was her father. While an event like this might behoove Erasmos, who was in need of a wife to be his baroness, the constantly ticking tock was ever something to pressure Eliana. He wanted her to marry, he even gave her the ability to choose. And yet so far… there had been no one that caught Eliana’s attention.
Well, that wasn’t true. Just not anyone she could actually marry.
Avoiding her uncle and father, however, was particularly difficult when they all lived in the same house and had people arriving at the same time. No matter how much Eliana may want to remain out of their sight, it just wasn’t feasible. Well, not for Eliana at least. The others were much more successful. Pallas had been out drinking well before the party was set to begin, and hadn’t been seen all day. Rhea left Eliana’s side almost immediately to go gambling. Esdras had found stadium friends to mingle with, and Erasmos looked horribly uncomfortable as different ladies went to talk to him. The poor man.
She saw her uncle and her father begin their descent into the fray. All the while Eliana hadn’t decided where she wanted to go. In one end she saw the Lord Achilleas. Her stomach began to bubble at the sight of him. She nearly went to greet him, only to see a woman had already made her way to him. No, I shouldn’t. Eliana thought resigned. This was her opportunity to find someone. Should the gods be willing she’d find her match here today.
The fuck I can’t. Eliana’s eyes slid to the source of the noise. Silanos. Almost immediately they shot to the sky. Nope, nope, nope. She said she’d find her match today not…
“Uncle! Dad!” Eliana had been standing in place for too long. “Ioanna,” She greeted her uncle’s mistress. Ugh, that was such a weird thing to think. Why was Eliana nervous? She was never nervous, not at parties.
Then again there seemed nowhere that would be safe here. One end a really handsome Lord talking to a beautiful woman. The other end… well, Silanos.
“You guys don’t have a drink in your hands. Let me go get you o-” Just as she said that a woman carrying a tray started walking by. “Oh, here we go.” Eliana passed the three of them mugs and grabbed one for herself.
This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it?
Invitations went far and wide for the Kassotis New Year’s Extravaganza. It was one of the hottest events of the year. Diogenese always managed to outdo himself. It was a tad… flamboyant for Tythra’s taste, but there was good fun to be had. It was no place for her daughters, of course, but… well, Tythra could indulge every once in a while.
Besides, Tythra was here on business as well. Taengea saw many of Drakos’s metals, whether it be for weapons or for artwork. Sometimes business brought Tythra out here personally. She never made an effort to go to Kassotis events. But if fate brought her here… well, who was she to try to deny it?
The Princess was dressed in her finest. A navy chiton with a slit that ran down her right side. Her hair was delicately pulled up, braided with interwoven gems (Drakos Gems of course, only the finest) pinned into it. Her neck gleaned from silver, the finest that Colchis could offer (Egypt liked to pretend it was better, but like their people it was dirty). Diamonds decorated her wrist, simple and pure. And as always, the confident and polite smile was on her face.
The Princess of Colchis brought no date to the event, of course. Since the death of her late husband she had always been unaccompanied. It was no strange thing seeing her without a man by her side. And yet, in Taengea she did always get… looks. Some Lords were still unused to talking politics with a woman. You would think after nearly 13 years of a woman on the senate in Colchis that those in Taengea would at least warm up slightly to the idea.
What a constant disappointment men could be. Tythra was in a group of them. The men argued back and forth about trade routes. Honestly, it was more tiresome than court if she were to be completely honest. In particular the stubbornness of one of the Lord’s in particular. Finally, Tythra had to speak.
“While certainly paying for the speed of the boat rather than the wagon should be accounted for, you’re simply missing the point. The opportunity cost for the extra wasted storage because you are ordering in such small of volume is simply more than the additional price you’re willing to give him.” Tythra raised her brow at them.
The group, noticing her for seemingly for the first time, looked aghast that she would dare speak trade to Lords. Tythra didn’t lower her stare or budge an inch.
“Well.. Yes, exactly, my Lady. The price is being set far too low to justify me using my ships. Should you be prioritizing speed, you either must increase your volume or you’ll have to pay for my wasted space.” One of the Lords cleared his throat.
“Oh now you have a woman bartering for you?” The other laughed.
“Princess.” Tythra corrected smoothly. Oh how boring. Tythra’s eye danced around and across the room she finally saw the one person she was actually interested to see.
Hello, Hello, Lord Orion.
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Invitations went far and wide for the Kassotis New Year’s Extravaganza. It was one of the hottest events of the year. Diogenese always managed to outdo himself. It was a tad… flamboyant for Tythra’s taste, but there was good fun to be had. It was no place for her daughters, of course, but… well, Tythra could indulge every once in a while.
Besides, Tythra was here on business as well. Taengea saw many of Drakos’s metals, whether it be for weapons or for artwork. Sometimes business brought Tythra out here personally. She never made an effort to go to Kassotis events. But if fate brought her here… well, who was she to try to deny it?
The Princess was dressed in her finest. A navy chiton with a slit that ran down her right side. Her hair was delicately pulled up, braided with interwoven gems (Drakos Gems of course, only the finest) pinned into it. Her neck gleaned from silver, the finest that Colchis could offer (Egypt liked to pretend it was better, but like their people it was dirty). Diamonds decorated her wrist, simple and pure. And as always, the confident and polite smile was on her face.
The Princess of Colchis brought no date to the event, of course. Since the death of her late husband she had always been unaccompanied. It was no strange thing seeing her without a man by her side. And yet, in Taengea she did always get… looks. Some Lords were still unused to talking politics with a woman. You would think after nearly 13 years of a woman on the senate in Colchis that those in Taengea would at least warm up slightly to the idea.
What a constant disappointment men could be. Tythra was in a group of them. The men argued back and forth about trade routes. Honestly, it was more tiresome than court if she were to be completely honest. In particular the stubbornness of one of the Lord’s in particular. Finally, Tythra had to speak.
“While certainly paying for the speed of the boat rather than the wagon should be accounted for, you’re simply missing the point. The opportunity cost for the extra wasted storage because you are ordering in such small of volume is simply more than the additional price you’re willing to give him.” Tythra raised her brow at them.
The group, noticing her for seemingly for the first time, looked aghast that she would dare speak trade to Lords. Tythra didn’t lower her stare or budge an inch.
“Well.. Yes, exactly, my Lady. The price is being set far too low to justify me using my ships. Should you be prioritizing speed, you either must increase your volume or you’ll have to pay for my wasted space.” One of the Lords cleared his throat.
“Oh now you have a woman bartering for you?” The other laughed.
“Princess.” Tythra corrected smoothly. Oh how boring. Tythra’s eye danced around and across the room she finally saw the one person she was actually interested to see.
Hello, Hello, Lord Orion.
Invitations went far and wide for the Kassotis New Year’s Extravaganza. It was one of the hottest events of the year. Diogenese always managed to outdo himself. It was a tad… flamboyant for Tythra’s taste, but there was good fun to be had. It was no place for her daughters, of course, but… well, Tythra could indulge every once in a while.
Besides, Tythra was here on business as well. Taengea saw many of Drakos’s metals, whether it be for weapons or for artwork. Sometimes business brought Tythra out here personally. She never made an effort to go to Kassotis events. But if fate brought her here… well, who was she to try to deny it?
The Princess was dressed in her finest. A navy chiton with a slit that ran down her right side. Her hair was delicately pulled up, braided with interwoven gems (Drakos Gems of course, only the finest) pinned into it. Her neck gleaned from silver, the finest that Colchis could offer (Egypt liked to pretend it was better, but like their people it was dirty). Diamonds decorated her wrist, simple and pure. And as always, the confident and polite smile was on her face.
The Princess of Colchis brought no date to the event, of course. Since the death of her late husband she had always been unaccompanied. It was no strange thing seeing her without a man by her side. And yet, in Taengea she did always get… looks. Some Lords were still unused to talking politics with a woman. You would think after nearly 13 years of a woman on the senate in Colchis that those in Taengea would at least warm up slightly to the idea.
What a constant disappointment men could be. Tythra was in a group of them. The men argued back and forth about trade routes. Honestly, it was more tiresome than court if she were to be completely honest. In particular the stubbornness of one of the Lord’s in particular. Finally, Tythra had to speak.
“While certainly paying for the speed of the boat rather than the wagon should be accounted for, you’re simply missing the point. The opportunity cost for the extra wasted storage because you are ordering in such small of volume is simply more than the additional price you’re willing to give him.” Tythra raised her brow at them.
The group, noticing her for seemingly for the first time, looked aghast that she would dare speak trade to Lords. Tythra didn’t lower her stare or budge an inch.
“Well.. Yes, exactly, my Lady. The price is being set far too low to justify me using my ships. Should you be prioritizing speed, you either must increase your volume or you’ll have to pay for my wasted space.” One of the Lords cleared his throat.
“Oh now you have a woman bartering for you?” The other laughed.
“Princess.” Tythra corrected smoothly. Oh how boring. Tythra’s eye danced around and across the room she finally saw the one person she was actually interested to see.
Hello, Hello, Lord Orion.
While it was the duty of the ruling family to make an appearance at these events, Gianna’s was not typically a name on the list of attendees. Argothia, for all of its splendor in the daylight, had a far more salacious reputation after dark. A reputation that her brother and cousin reveled in. And so the obligation was most often left to Stephanos and Emilios as the only two members of the family who would draw any true pleasure from a night of debauchery. However, with her twenty-second birthday on the horizon, the youngest Mikaelidas had decided to exhibit a touch of her own recklessness.
Her upcoming birthday (and a touch of curiosity) was the reason she had approached Stephanos in the courtyard, perhaps to his surprise as she informed him she would be accompanying him that evening. The carriage to Argothia had been quieter than was typical for the Mikaelidas siblings and Gianna could not help but to attribute it to her presence. Her sister’s expression was unreadable as the younger of the two had studied her features. She feared for the bench with her brother and sister staring her down, afraid she would bore a hole through the carriage if she sank any deeper. Their arrival could not come soon enough.
Gianna made a hasty exit, almost tripping over her chiton in her initial steps away from her family. When she had found enough distance, she finally stopped to collect herself. She was a princess, after all, and while this was Argothia, she would still be expected to uphold some level of propriety. Her hands first reached to adjust her diadem—smaller than most in her collection and comprised of delicate gold filigree, it almost disappeared amongst the honey blonde curls that framed her face. She had chosen a cream-colored silk chiton and instructed her handmaiden to leave little to the imagination in dressing her.
Golden cuffs had been placed on her upper arm and of course her family crest was around her throat, the finishing touch which she caressed before making her grand entrance into the throng. She navigated the bodies, making small talk where appropriate and gracefully exiting the conversations when possible. She took a goblet of wine from a passing tray, lifting it to her lips. This was the part she liked the least. The meaningless conversation with nobles who were seeking nothing more than gossip to spread. However, this evening was also draped in additional finery—and gambling.
With gambling on the forefront of her mind, Gianna made her way through the crowd. While she was not versed in the games being played, she found she enjoyed watching the nobles and wealthy merchants immersed in the practice. The amount of money that changed hands at the tables was almost disgusting, the princess could never imagine playing around with such substantial numbers, knowing there was a chance her purse would be completely emptied in a single evening. Even more surprised to find her chalice empty upon lifting it once more, she motioned for a servant who was carrying a carafe of wine.
With her goblet full once again, Gianna continued her quest. Weaving amongst the tables and murmuring her encouragement to familiar faces as she noticed them. It was as she was fending off a drunken Taengean noble who guaranteed her the time of her life if she promised to keep him company for the remainder of the event that a roar of laughter pierced the din. She welcomed the lapse in the man’s attention and slipped away, pressing herself against the nearest wall in search of the source of the uproar, hoping to thank her savior. Clutching her wine a little too closely to her breast, Gianna scanned the faces in the crowd, utterly underwhelmed by what she saw.
That is, until she met a pair of eyes as silver as the moonlight that danced on the sea. Her goblet lifted to her lips and she sipped as she drank in the view before her. Even seated, she could tell the man was big, perhaps even more so than her brothers. In a black chiton with gold accents, the princess knew she was looking at a very wealthy man—perhaps a noble from across the sea? Her eyes wandered for a moment before returning to the silver-eyed man. She was startled to find he had not looked away and so she offered him a small smile as pink crept into her cheeks.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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While it was the duty of the ruling family to make an appearance at these events, Gianna’s was not typically a name on the list of attendees. Argothia, for all of its splendor in the daylight, had a far more salacious reputation after dark. A reputation that her brother and cousin reveled in. And so the obligation was most often left to Stephanos and Emilios as the only two members of the family who would draw any true pleasure from a night of debauchery. However, with her twenty-second birthday on the horizon, the youngest Mikaelidas had decided to exhibit a touch of her own recklessness.
Her upcoming birthday (and a touch of curiosity) was the reason she had approached Stephanos in the courtyard, perhaps to his surprise as she informed him she would be accompanying him that evening. The carriage to Argothia had been quieter than was typical for the Mikaelidas siblings and Gianna could not help but to attribute it to her presence. Her sister’s expression was unreadable as the younger of the two had studied her features. She feared for the bench with her brother and sister staring her down, afraid she would bore a hole through the carriage if she sank any deeper. Their arrival could not come soon enough.
Gianna made a hasty exit, almost tripping over her chiton in her initial steps away from her family. When she had found enough distance, she finally stopped to collect herself. She was a princess, after all, and while this was Argothia, she would still be expected to uphold some level of propriety. Her hands first reached to adjust her diadem—smaller than most in her collection and comprised of delicate gold filigree, it almost disappeared amongst the honey blonde curls that framed her face. She had chosen a cream-colored silk chiton and instructed her handmaiden to leave little to the imagination in dressing her.
Golden cuffs had been placed on her upper arm and of course her family crest was around her throat, the finishing touch which she caressed before making her grand entrance into the throng. She navigated the bodies, making small talk where appropriate and gracefully exiting the conversations when possible. She took a goblet of wine from a passing tray, lifting it to her lips. This was the part she liked the least. The meaningless conversation with nobles who were seeking nothing more than gossip to spread. However, this evening was also draped in additional finery—and gambling.
With gambling on the forefront of her mind, Gianna made her way through the crowd. While she was not versed in the games being played, she found she enjoyed watching the nobles and wealthy merchants immersed in the practice. The amount of money that changed hands at the tables was almost disgusting, the princess could never imagine playing around with such substantial numbers, knowing there was a chance her purse would be completely emptied in a single evening. Even more surprised to find her chalice empty upon lifting it once more, she motioned for a servant who was carrying a carafe of wine.
With her goblet full once again, Gianna continued her quest. Weaving amongst the tables and murmuring her encouragement to familiar faces as she noticed them. It was as she was fending off a drunken Taengean noble who guaranteed her the time of her life if she promised to keep him company for the remainder of the event that a roar of laughter pierced the din. She welcomed the lapse in the man’s attention and slipped away, pressing herself against the nearest wall in search of the source of the uproar, hoping to thank her savior. Clutching her wine a little too closely to her breast, Gianna scanned the faces in the crowd, utterly underwhelmed by what she saw.
That is, until she met a pair of eyes as silver as the moonlight that danced on the sea. Her goblet lifted to her lips and she sipped as she drank in the view before her. Even seated, she could tell the man was big, perhaps even more so than her brothers. In a black chiton with gold accents, the princess knew she was looking at a very wealthy man—perhaps a noble from across the sea? Her eyes wandered for a moment before returning to the silver-eyed man. She was startled to find he had not looked away and so she offered him a small smile as pink crept into her cheeks.
While it was the duty of the ruling family to make an appearance at these events, Gianna’s was not typically a name on the list of attendees. Argothia, for all of its splendor in the daylight, had a far more salacious reputation after dark. A reputation that her brother and cousin reveled in. And so the obligation was most often left to Stephanos and Emilios as the only two members of the family who would draw any true pleasure from a night of debauchery. However, with her twenty-second birthday on the horizon, the youngest Mikaelidas had decided to exhibit a touch of her own recklessness.
Her upcoming birthday (and a touch of curiosity) was the reason she had approached Stephanos in the courtyard, perhaps to his surprise as she informed him she would be accompanying him that evening. The carriage to Argothia had been quieter than was typical for the Mikaelidas siblings and Gianna could not help but to attribute it to her presence. Her sister’s expression was unreadable as the younger of the two had studied her features. She feared for the bench with her brother and sister staring her down, afraid she would bore a hole through the carriage if she sank any deeper. Their arrival could not come soon enough.
Gianna made a hasty exit, almost tripping over her chiton in her initial steps away from her family. When she had found enough distance, she finally stopped to collect herself. She was a princess, after all, and while this was Argothia, she would still be expected to uphold some level of propriety. Her hands first reached to adjust her diadem—smaller than most in her collection and comprised of delicate gold filigree, it almost disappeared amongst the honey blonde curls that framed her face. She had chosen a cream-colored silk chiton and instructed her handmaiden to leave little to the imagination in dressing her.
Golden cuffs had been placed on her upper arm and of course her family crest was around her throat, the finishing touch which she caressed before making her grand entrance into the throng. She navigated the bodies, making small talk where appropriate and gracefully exiting the conversations when possible. She took a goblet of wine from a passing tray, lifting it to her lips. This was the part she liked the least. The meaningless conversation with nobles who were seeking nothing more than gossip to spread. However, this evening was also draped in additional finery—and gambling.
With gambling on the forefront of her mind, Gianna made her way through the crowd. While she was not versed in the games being played, she found she enjoyed watching the nobles and wealthy merchants immersed in the practice. The amount of money that changed hands at the tables was almost disgusting, the princess could never imagine playing around with such substantial numbers, knowing there was a chance her purse would be completely emptied in a single evening. Even more surprised to find her chalice empty upon lifting it once more, she motioned for a servant who was carrying a carafe of wine.
With her goblet full once again, Gianna continued her quest. Weaving amongst the tables and murmuring her encouragement to familiar faces as she noticed them. It was as she was fending off a drunken Taengean noble who guaranteed her the time of her life if she promised to keep him company for the remainder of the event that a roar of laughter pierced the din. She welcomed the lapse in the man’s attention and slipped away, pressing herself against the nearest wall in search of the source of the uproar, hoping to thank her savior. Clutching her wine a little too closely to her breast, Gianna scanned the faces in the crowd, utterly underwhelmed by what she saw.
That is, until she met a pair of eyes as silver as the moonlight that danced on the sea. Her goblet lifted to her lips and she sipped as she drank in the view before her. Even seated, she could tell the man was big, perhaps even more so than her brothers. In a black chiton with gold accents, the princess knew she was looking at a very wealthy man—perhaps a noble from across the sea? Her eyes wandered for a moment before returning to the silver-eyed man. She was startled to find he had not looked away and so she offered him a small smile as pink crept into her cheeks.
Mihail had always feigned disinterest in most matters (he tended to think that doing otherwise was an unnecessary show of weakness), but he had never hidden his love for events. That, he supposed, was not a trait shared by many of the Thanasis (Thea appeared an exception) but, then again, he had never been too similar to the rest of his family, and did not mind the oddity. If an act served to separate him from Father or Dysius, then he could see no fault in it.
The invitation had arrived and been pounced upon quickly by the youngest of the family, who had been extremely glad for the opportunity to travel elsewhere, despite the adamant hatred he possessed for water. Colchis was simply not the place to be during the colder months of the year, unless one liked that sort of thing, and Mihail knew for sure that he did not. It seemed to darken his skin and turn that carefully maintained porcelain complexion into something altogether pinker, something which had never appealed. Besides, playing in the snow was messy, and he had loathed anything he perceived as messy from a relatively young age (not that it had always stopped him). No, winter had to be spent elsewhere as often as possible, and when it was not, then it would have to be ignored through some several-month distraction.
It was two weeks to Taengea, which Mihail had classically spent hidden away as often as possible, ignoring the fearfulness of the journey while he considered his choices of outfit and attempted to ration out his supply of drugs and wine before they arrived, lest he have to borrow some from Thea ('borrow' here being a far kinder word for the theft he was actually committing). When they finally arrived at the home the Thanasis tended to use when they spent time in the other kingdom, he had not hesitated to request a bath, thoroughly displeased with the concept that he should not enjoy the basic privilege of cleanliness solely because he had been made to travel by boat. The event itself was to be the following evening (the ship had arrived a couple of days late by the dire inconvenience of weather), and one did not want to attend a party without feeling as fresh and flawless as was possible.
It was a common truth that one should start as they meant to go on, and that was a sentiment that the twenty-three-year-old had taken to heart a long while ago now. The way he started his year would undoubtedly affect the rest of it, and that was precisely why he intended to stun with the outfit on which he had settled after much deliberation. It had taken the full day to find all the individual pieces he required, but together, they were perfect.
In an odd change from his favoured red — Mihail so rarely fell out of the habit of wearing his house colours at every occasion — he had selected a gown which began in dark indigo and appeared to fade into a gorgeous turquoise-green towards the hem through the magic of fabric folds. In a nod to Taengea itself, delicately-embroidered peacock eyes hung from the hem, and the whole thing was cinched tightly around the waist with a thick golden belt which dripped with similarly-shaped chained coins. He thought he looked beautiful. It took a lot for the Thanasi to feel genuinely comfortable in an outfit rather than solely pretty, and this was one of those rare moments. Even the diadem designed from thin fibres of gold that were splayed out to resemble the peacock's tail, and dotted with tiny but bright sapphires to mimic those eyes once more was flawless, and he did not mind the loss of his traditional serpentine theme when it was replaced with something so attractive. He felt relaxed and perfect and like a real princess for once.
There had been a few glances from the servants when he had made his way downstairs, although whether they stared due to the extravagance of the outfit as a whole or because they knew it was the sort of thing for which he would have been chastised at home he did not know, but the looks only made Mihail prouder. He could not help but drop his hands to his hips, matching the aureate nails (if only one knew the struggle to find such a colour!) to his belt, and smiling at the staff as though he was not a horrid example of the class divide. "Do you like it?"
He was not in the mood for a real response, however, and rather more keen just to get to the party itself, so if he had received any response, it was ignored as he stalked away towards the home's entrance, where the carriage was already waiting for him and his sister, half-kept waiting by the time that the dark-haired man had taken to slash streaks of smeared black-and-gold neatly out from his eyes. An almost apologetic smile was tossed towards Thea, as though he could not quite bring himself to make a comment on his tardiness but wished to, though the way he fluttered his eyelashes in a request for forgiveness implied otherwise. He had not yet grown out of that childish thought that his sisters should forgive him all in the world solely because he acted cutely towards her.
Argothia was some distance away, but not so tediously far that the trip grew tedious. Mihail had some skill in passing the time within his own thoughts, absent-mindedly twisting the metallic vines climbing his arms into new positions while he waited for them to arrive, impatient to reach the party. He wanted to drink and smoke and flirt with those who did not mind spending an evening with someone thoroughly unknown, and he had not dressed up so elegantly and thoughtfully for his entire ensemble to be wasted on a journey. The pout resting on his features was only moderately petulant, and the quiet clanking of his nails against his rings was only minimally irritating. But, at last, they arrived, and he wasted no time in directing himself immediately to where one of the women serving wine stood, selecting a goblet for either hand so that he could drown his want for drink quickly.
It was excellent wine, and it was barely several minutes before he had replaced the pair with a new, albeit single glass, relishing the sweet taste on his tongue. It was entirely worth the boat trip, as he had expected, and more so worth the hours of preparation for the outfit and ornaments and careful intricate updo of his thick black curls that reached well past his shoulders by now. Mihail was thoroughly in his element.
Although there were plenty present who the Thanasi quickly recognised, he made no move to approach any of them (although his eyes did wander naturally towards Prince Achilleas for a moment, still thinking him unduly handsome despite the fact they had yet to interact in the manner that he so desired). Instead, he opted to linger, slowly finishing the third goblet of wine as he surveyed the scene, attempting to determine which of the myriad activities should take his fancy first.
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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Mihail had always feigned disinterest in most matters (he tended to think that doing otherwise was an unnecessary show of weakness), but he had never hidden his love for events. That, he supposed, was not a trait shared by many of the Thanasis (Thea appeared an exception) but, then again, he had never been too similar to the rest of his family, and did not mind the oddity. If an act served to separate him from Father or Dysius, then he could see no fault in it.
The invitation had arrived and been pounced upon quickly by the youngest of the family, who had been extremely glad for the opportunity to travel elsewhere, despite the adamant hatred he possessed for water. Colchis was simply not the place to be during the colder months of the year, unless one liked that sort of thing, and Mihail knew for sure that he did not. It seemed to darken his skin and turn that carefully maintained porcelain complexion into something altogether pinker, something which had never appealed. Besides, playing in the snow was messy, and he had loathed anything he perceived as messy from a relatively young age (not that it had always stopped him). No, winter had to be spent elsewhere as often as possible, and when it was not, then it would have to be ignored through some several-month distraction.
It was two weeks to Taengea, which Mihail had classically spent hidden away as often as possible, ignoring the fearfulness of the journey while he considered his choices of outfit and attempted to ration out his supply of drugs and wine before they arrived, lest he have to borrow some from Thea ('borrow' here being a far kinder word for the theft he was actually committing). When they finally arrived at the home the Thanasis tended to use when they spent time in the other kingdom, he had not hesitated to request a bath, thoroughly displeased with the concept that he should not enjoy the basic privilege of cleanliness solely because he had been made to travel by boat. The event itself was to be the following evening (the ship had arrived a couple of days late by the dire inconvenience of weather), and one did not want to attend a party without feeling as fresh and flawless as was possible.
It was a common truth that one should start as they meant to go on, and that was a sentiment that the twenty-three-year-old had taken to heart a long while ago now. The way he started his year would undoubtedly affect the rest of it, and that was precisely why he intended to stun with the outfit on which he had settled after much deliberation. It had taken the full day to find all the individual pieces he required, but together, they were perfect.
In an odd change from his favoured red — Mihail so rarely fell out of the habit of wearing his house colours at every occasion — he had selected a gown which began in dark indigo and appeared to fade into a gorgeous turquoise-green towards the hem through the magic of fabric folds. In a nod to Taengea itself, delicately-embroidered peacock eyes hung from the hem, and the whole thing was cinched tightly around the waist with a thick golden belt which dripped with similarly-shaped chained coins. He thought he looked beautiful. It took a lot for the Thanasi to feel genuinely comfortable in an outfit rather than solely pretty, and this was one of those rare moments. Even the diadem designed from thin fibres of gold that were splayed out to resemble the peacock's tail, and dotted with tiny but bright sapphires to mimic those eyes once more was flawless, and he did not mind the loss of his traditional serpentine theme when it was replaced with something so attractive. He felt relaxed and perfect and like a real princess for once.
There had been a few glances from the servants when he had made his way downstairs, although whether they stared due to the extravagance of the outfit as a whole or because they knew it was the sort of thing for which he would have been chastised at home he did not know, but the looks only made Mihail prouder. He could not help but drop his hands to his hips, matching the aureate nails (if only one knew the struggle to find such a colour!) to his belt, and smiling at the staff as though he was not a horrid example of the class divide. "Do you like it?"
He was not in the mood for a real response, however, and rather more keen just to get to the party itself, so if he had received any response, it was ignored as he stalked away towards the home's entrance, where the carriage was already waiting for him and his sister, half-kept waiting by the time that the dark-haired man had taken to slash streaks of smeared black-and-gold neatly out from his eyes. An almost apologetic smile was tossed towards Thea, as though he could not quite bring himself to make a comment on his tardiness but wished to, though the way he fluttered his eyelashes in a request for forgiveness implied otherwise. He had not yet grown out of that childish thought that his sisters should forgive him all in the world solely because he acted cutely towards her.
Argothia was some distance away, but not so tediously far that the trip grew tedious. Mihail had some skill in passing the time within his own thoughts, absent-mindedly twisting the metallic vines climbing his arms into new positions while he waited for them to arrive, impatient to reach the party. He wanted to drink and smoke and flirt with those who did not mind spending an evening with someone thoroughly unknown, and he had not dressed up so elegantly and thoughtfully for his entire ensemble to be wasted on a journey. The pout resting on his features was only moderately petulant, and the quiet clanking of his nails against his rings was only minimally irritating. But, at last, they arrived, and he wasted no time in directing himself immediately to where one of the women serving wine stood, selecting a goblet for either hand so that he could drown his want for drink quickly.
It was excellent wine, and it was barely several minutes before he had replaced the pair with a new, albeit single glass, relishing the sweet taste on his tongue. It was entirely worth the boat trip, as he had expected, and more so worth the hours of preparation for the outfit and ornaments and careful intricate updo of his thick black curls that reached well past his shoulders by now. Mihail was thoroughly in his element.
Although there were plenty present who the Thanasi quickly recognised, he made no move to approach any of them (although his eyes did wander naturally towards Prince Achilleas for a moment, still thinking him unduly handsome despite the fact they had yet to interact in the manner that he so desired). Instead, he opted to linger, slowly finishing the third goblet of wine as he surveyed the scene, attempting to determine which of the myriad activities should take his fancy first.
Mihail had always feigned disinterest in most matters (he tended to think that doing otherwise was an unnecessary show of weakness), but he had never hidden his love for events. That, he supposed, was not a trait shared by many of the Thanasis (Thea appeared an exception) but, then again, he had never been too similar to the rest of his family, and did not mind the oddity. If an act served to separate him from Father or Dysius, then he could see no fault in it.
The invitation had arrived and been pounced upon quickly by the youngest of the family, who had been extremely glad for the opportunity to travel elsewhere, despite the adamant hatred he possessed for water. Colchis was simply not the place to be during the colder months of the year, unless one liked that sort of thing, and Mihail knew for sure that he did not. It seemed to darken his skin and turn that carefully maintained porcelain complexion into something altogether pinker, something which had never appealed. Besides, playing in the snow was messy, and he had loathed anything he perceived as messy from a relatively young age (not that it had always stopped him). No, winter had to be spent elsewhere as often as possible, and when it was not, then it would have to be ignored through some several-month distraction.
It was two weeks to Taengea, which Mihail had classically spent hidden away as often as possible, ignoring the fearfulness of the journey while he considered his choices of outfit and attempted to ration out his supply of drugs and wine before they arrived, lest he have to borrow some from Thea ('borrow' here being a far kinder word for the theft he was actually committing). When they finally arrived at the home the Thanasis tended to use when they spent time in the other kingdom, he had not hesitated to request a bath, thoroughly displeased with the concept that he should not enjoy the basic privilege of cleanliness solely because he had been made to travel by boat. The event itself was to be the following evening (the ship had arrived a couple of days late by the dire inconvenience of weather), and one did not want to attend a party without feeling as fresh and flawless as was possible.
It was a common truth that one should start as they meant to go on, and that was a sentiment that the twenty-three-year-old had taken to heart a long while ago now. The way he started his year would undoubtedly affect the rest of it, and that was precisely why he intended to stun with the outfit on which he had settled after much deliberation. It had taken the full day to find all the individual pieces he required, but together, they were perfect.
In an odd change from his favoured red — Mihail so rarely fell out of the habit of wearing his house colours at every occasion — he had selected a gown which began in dark indigo and appeared to fade into a gorgeous turquoise-green towards the hem through the magic of fabric folds. In a nod to Taengea itself, delicately-embroidered peacock eyes hung from the hem, and the whole thing was cinched tightly around the waist with a thick golden belt which dripped with similarly-shaped chained coins. He thought he looked beautiful. It took a lot for the Thanasi to feel genuinely comfortable in an outfit rather than solely pretty, and this was one of those rare moments. Even the diadem designed from thin fibres of gold that were splayed out to resemble the peacock's tail, and dotted with tiny but bright sapphires to mimic those eyes once more was flawless, and he did not mind the loss of his traditional serpentine theme when it was replaced with something so attractive. He felt relaxed and perfect and like a real princess for once.
There had been a few glances from the servants when he had made his way downstairs, although whether they stared due to the extravagance of the outfit as a whole or because they knew it was the sort of thing for which he would have been chastised at home he did not know, but the looks only made Mihail prouder. He could not help but drop his hands to his hips, matching the aureate nails (if only one knew the struggle to find such a colour!) to his belt, and smiling at the staff as though he was not a horrid example of the class divide. "Do you like it?"
He was not in the mood for a real response, however, and rather more keen just to get to the party itself, so if he had received any response, it was ignored as he stalked away towards the home's entrance, where the carriage was already waiting for him and his sister, half-kept waiting by the time that the dark-haired man had taken to slash streaks of smeared black-and-gold neatly out from his eyes. An almost apologetic smile was tossed towards Thea, as though he could not quite bring himself to make a comment on his tardiness but wished to, though the way he fluttered his eyelashes in a request for forgiveness implied otherwise. He had not yet grown out of that childish thought that his sisters should forgive him all in the world solely because he acted cutely towards her.
Argothia was some distance away, but not so tediously far that the trip grew tedious. Mihail had some skill in passing the time within his own thoughts, absent-mindedly twisting the metallic vines climbing his arms into new positions while he waited for them to arrive, impatient to reach the party. He wanted to drink and smoke and flirt with those who did not mind spending an evening with someone thoroughly unknown, and he had not dressed up so elegantly and thoughtfully for his entire ensemble to be wasted on a journey. The pout resting on his features was only moderately petulant, and the quiet clanking of his nails against his rings was only minimally irritating. But, at last, they arrived, and he wasted no time in directing himself immediately to where one of the women serving wine stood, selecting a goblet for either hand so that he could drown his want for drink quickly.
It was excellent wine, and it was barely several minutes before he had replaced the pair with a new, albeit single glass, relishing the sweet taste on his tongue. It was entirely worth the boat trip, as he had expected, and more so worth the hours of preparation for the outfit and ornaments and careful intricate updo of his thick black curls that reached well past his shoulders by now. Mihail was thoroughly in his element.
Although there were plenty present who the Thanasi quickly recognised, he made no move to approach any of them (although his eyes did wander naturally towards Prince Achilleas for a moment, still thinking him unduly handsome despite the fact they had yet to interact in the manner that he so desired). Instead, he opted to linger, slowly finishing the third goblet of wine as he surveyed the scene, attempting to determine which of the myriad activities should take his fancy first.
There weren’t a lot of reasons for Damocles to have received an invitation from Argothia, save for the fact that he was amongst the more senior military leaders of Colchis, an honor he had gained not by birthright or the circumstances of his lineage, for he had not even one drop of noble, let alone royal, blood, but rather because of his cunning, his talents and his skills as both a commander and administrator. Besides, it was common knowledge that, even amongst the lords of Taengea, the Kassotis family knew just how to throw a party, one that promised to be every bit as grand as the ones that had been sent out every time a new year was had in Greece.
Now, Damocles may not have been an aristocrat, but, because of his experience with court, and his own obstinate refusal to spend his own private purse frivolously, he knew how to not only look line one, but also look like a particularly wealthy noble given his precisely counted budget. It was common knowledge that a night in Argothia meant lavishness, but extravaganzas like the ones that the famed Lord Diogenes hosted meant that he had to be at his best. Dressed in a regal chiton of midnight black with gold trimmings, and adorned with carefully selected jewelry that ranged from the belt that hugged his waist, the armbands around his powerful arms, the rings on his long, but calloused fingers, and his very own personal fibulae, Damocles looked far removed from his actual rank and could easily have been mistaken by a man of higher station. Yet, it wasn’t just his clothes that gave way for his image, for his beard was carefully trimmed and groomed, his hair was neatly spruced and organized, and his steps were confident, denoting a certain pride that could easily border on arrogance, had he not learned to temper his worst impulses before in the courtly sessions of Midas. It was true, he was a militant by profession, but, even his worst detractors had to admit that Damocles always clean up nicely, and today was no excuse, even if it had cost him far more than he wished to ever confess.
Yet, even if it had been an expensive appearance, Damocles knew that, for his own personal ambitions, grand in scope and far in their vastness, he had to not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk, and look every bit as impressive as his military resume suggested at face value. Thus, even if he had spent more on this one evening than he usually allowed himself over a month, the Captain of the Damned knew that every coin spent was going to be worth it. Perception was everything after all, and when it came to events as significant as these, image spoke louder than ones words. The money he had used was therefore not an expense in his eyes, but rather an investment, one that had to be tendered to carefully if he wanted to reap a reward of sorts tonight. Fortunately for him, the return on his investment would yield a lot quicker than he anticipated, namely in the form of the gambling halls of the lavish Taengean province.
Now, gossip and courtly functions might not have been an event he personally loved to indulge in too much, but when it came to gaming, it was another matter altogether. Card and dice games had been a source of much respite in Colchis, and a source of continuous revenue for Damocles in the capital city of Midas whenever he visited that place whence the day called for the political side of his career. He might not have indulged much in drugs, but, wine, gambling and, yes, prostitution, were vices that he did very much sate when possible. It was no surprise that he hence made bold for one of the gaming tables and placed his bet, grinning widely as his fingers found their purchase on a goblet of wine that soon met his lips. Excitement was evident on his face, and even if he knew he had to behave a bit for the night, once the results of his first round were announced by the game runner that dealt his cards, his mirthful laugh rung and blended with the others manifested by similar winners of that night.
It was not the first time Damocles had visited Taengea, for he had visited this kingdom before in the past for an extended period of time after returning from a war in the North that he rather not talk about, given the insult that had been dealt whence Vangelis refused to promoted him to Commander, despite having won the support of both the rank & file, as well as most of the officers. In fact, it was not the first time he had visited Argothia for that matter. In his previous vacation he had stayed a couple nights in that province, enjoying the gambling halls, the stadium Cronion and the famous hetairas that the Kassotis were so fond of doling out to those that dared to venture into the dangers of that salacious barony. He was careful however, for he did not wish to invite the ire of the famed shadow lord of the province, and thus, even if he won back a very considerable amount of coin, he still loss a few rounds of cards that he could have easily secured, if only to avoid the mistakes of the past and make it too obvious that he was winning at a pace that was not accepted. Part of gambling was not just winning, but also knowing when to win and when to lose. After all, the saying still rung true, for, no matter how much coin one could possible amass, the House Always Won.
In typical fashion however, Damocles was surrounded by people, most of whom laughed and cheered along with him as losses were turned to victories, and victories were turned to triumphs. With his infectious charisma, and forceful presence, the Captain of Magnemea drew people around him like moths to a flame. Perhaps he was like a fire. No, He was like a sun, shining brightly as the gold and black on him glimmered with a masculine energy that betrayed his almost aggressively handsome good looks. Oddly enough, even though Colchis had been his land of birth, Damocles felt more more at home in Taengea, where his magnetic presence could charm most around him with almost little to no effort. He oozed confidence, exuberance and a certain air of authority that allowed him to exert his dominance without appearing crass or crude. Of course, that could be attributed to his commanding presence, one that made him stand a good heads and shoulders over nearly everyone in the room. And yet, rather than intimidate those that he drew close to him, he lured them in, appealing to the men with jokes that made them guffaw, and quick-witted comments that made the women look at him thrice with clear desire in their eyes.
And yet...
It was just as he finished winning his most recent round that his signature silver eyes wondered around, noticing the golden locks that framed the face of a woman that could only be descrived as unfairly beautiful. A goblet of wine was on her hand, a smile soon formed on her pleasing lips, and a bright, pink blush quickly adorned her cheeks, causing Damocles to grin in the same flirtatious tone that she was sending him, before he winked at the presumably highborn woman, nonverbally inviting her to come by his side, if she dared. Once his signal was received, he noticed how the gorgeous woman’s blush darkened in color, letting the Captain know that his summon was well-received. He could not keep his away from her for long, and, even after he returned to tend to the games, his stare raised once more momentarily, meeting those warm brown orbs that looked back at his grey gaze. Words did not come forward at the lady across him, but, as he revealed his winning hand to reclaim a prize once more, his eyes raised yet again, causing the Colchian’s smirk to widen into a sexy smile as amusement evolved into amusement. Perhaps he could come off Argothia with more than money…
After all…what happens in Argothia stays in Argothia…
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There weren’t a lot of reasons for Damocles to have received an invitation from Argothia, save for the fact that he was amongst the more senior military leaders of Colchis, an honor he had gained not by birthright or the circumstances of his lineage, for he had not even one drop of noble, let alone royal, blood, but rather because of his cunning, his talents and his skills as both a commander and administrator. Besides, it was common knowledge that, even amongst the lords of Taengea, the Kassotis family knew just how to throw a party, one that promised to be every bit as grand as the ones that had been sent out every time a new year was had in Greece.
Now, Damocles may not have been an aristocrat, but, because of his experience with court, and his own obstinate refusal to spend his own private purse frivolously, he knew how to not only look line one, but also look like a particularly wealthy noble given his precisely counted budget. It was common knowledge that a night in Argothia meant lavishness, but extravaganzas like the ones that the famed Lord Diogenes hosted meant that he had to be at his best. Dressed in a regal chiton of midnight black with gold trimmings, and adorned with carefully selected jewelry that ranged from the belt that hugged his waist, the armbands around his powerful arms, the rings on his long, but calloused fingers, and his very own personal fibulae, Damocles looked far removed from his actual rank and could easily have been mistaken by a man of higher station. Yet, it wasn’t just his clothes that gave way for his image, for his beard was carefully trimmed and groomed, his hair was neatly spruced and organized, and his steps were confident, denoting a certain pride that could easily border on arrogance, had he not learned to temper his worst impulses before in the courtly sessions of Midas. It was true, he was a militant by profession, but, even his worst detractors had to admit that Damocles always clean up nicely, and today was no excuse, even if it had cost him far more than he wished to ever confess.
Yet, even if it had been an expensive appearance, Damocles knew that, for his own personal ambitions, grand in scope and far in their vastness, he had to not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk, and look every bit as impressive as his military resume suggested at face value. Thus, even if he had spent more on this one evening than he usually allowed himself over a month, the Captain of the Damned knew that every coin spent was going to be worth it. Perception was everything after all, and when it came to events as significant as these, image spoke louder than ones words. The money he had used was therefore not an expense in his eyes, but rather an investment, one that had to be tendered to carefully if he wanted to reap a reward of sorts tonight. Fortunately for him, the return on his investment would yield a lot quicker than he anticipated, namely in the form of the gambling halls of the lavish Taengean province.
Now, gossip and courtly functions might not have been an event he personally loved to indulge in too much, but when it came to gaming, it was another matter altogether. Card and dice games had been a source of much respite in Colchis, and a source of continuous revenue for Damocles in the capital city of Midas whenever he visited that place whence the day called for the political side of his career. He might not have indulged much in drugs, but, wine, gambling and, yes, prostitution, were vices that he did very much sate when possible. It was no surprise that he hence made bold for one of the gaming tables and placed his bet, grinning widely as his fingers found their purchase on a goblet of wine that soon met his lips. Excitement was evident on his face, and even if he knew he had to behave a bit for the night, once the results of his first round were announced by the game runner that dealt his cards, his mirthful laugh rung and blended with the others manifested by similar winners of that night.
It was not the first time Damocles had visited Taengea, for he had visited this kingdom before in the past for an extended period of time after returning from a war in the North that he rather not talk about, given the insult that had been dealt whence Vangelis refused to promoted him to Commander, despite having won the support of both the rank & file, as well as most of the officers. In fact, it was not the first time he had visited Argothia for that matter. In his previous vacation he had stayed a couple nights in that province, enjoying the gambling halls, the stadium Cronion and the famous hetairas that the Kassotis were so fond of doling out to those that dared to venture into the dangers of that salacious barony. He was careful however, for he did not wish to invite the ire of the famed shadow lord of the province, and thus, even if he won back a very considerable amount of coin, he still loss a few rounds of cards that he could have easily secured, if only to avoid the mistakes of the past and make it too obvious that he was winning at a pace that was not accepted. Part of gambling was not just winning, but also knowing when to win and when to lose. After all, the saying still rung true, for, no matter how much coin one could possible amass, the House Always Won.
In typical fashion however, Damocles was surrounded by people, most of whom laughed and cheered along with him as losses were turned to victories, and victories were turned to triumphs. With his infectious charisma, and forceful presence, the Captain of Magnemea drew people around him like moths to a flame. Perhaps he was like a fire. No, He was like a sun, shining brightly as the gold and black on him glimmered with a masculine energy that betrayed his almost aggressively handsome good looks. Oddly enough, even though Colchis had been his land of birth, Damocles felt more more at home in Taengea, where his magnetic presence could charm most around him with almost little to no effort. He oozed confidence, exuberance and a certain air of authority that allowed him to exert his dominance without appearing crass or crude. Of course, that could be attributed to his commanding presence, one that made him stand a good heads and shoulders over nearly everyone in the room. And yet, rather than intimidate those that he drew close to him, he lured them in, appealing to the men with jokes that made them guffaw, and quick-witted comments that made the women look at him thrice with clear desire in their eyes.
And yet...
It was just as he finished winning his most recent round that his signature silver eyes wondered around, noticing the golden locks that framed the face of a woman that could only be descrived as unfairly beautiful. A goblet of wine was on her hand, a smile soon formed on her pleasing lips, and a bright, pink blush quickly adorned her cheeks, causing Damocles to grin in the same flirtatious tone that she was sending him, before he winked at the presumably highborn woman, nonverbally inviting her to come by his side, if she dared. Once his signal was received, he noticed how the gorgeous woman’s blush darkened in color, letting the Captain know that his summon was well-received. He could not keep his away from her for long, and, even after he returned to tend to the games, his stare raised once more momentarily, meeting those warm brown orbs that looked back at his grey gaze. Words did not come forward at the lady across him, but, as he revealed his winning hand to reclaim a prize once more, his eyes raised yet again, causing the Colchian’s smirk to widen into a sexy smile as amusement evolved into amusement. Perhaps he could come off Argothia with more than money…
After all…what happens in Argothia stays in Argothia…
There weren’t a lot of reasons for Damocles to have received an invitation from Argothia, save for the fact that he was amongst the more senior military leaders of Colchis, an honor he had gained not by birthright or the circumstances of his lineage, for he had not even one drop of noble, let alone royal, blood, but rather because of his cunning, his talents and his skills as both a commander and administrator. Besides, it was common knowledge that, even amongst the lords of Taengea, the Kassotis family knew just how to throw a party, one that promised to be every bit as grand as the ones that had been sent out every time a new year was had in Greece.
Now, Damocles may not have been an aristocrat, but, because of his experience with court, and his own obstinate refusal to spend his own private purse frivolously, he knew how to not only look line one, but also look like a particularly wealthy noble given his precisely counted budget. It was common knowledge that a night in Argothia meant lavishness, but extravaganzas like the ones that the famed Lord Diogenes hosted meant that he had to be at his best. Dressed in a regal chiton of midnight black with gold trimmings, and adorned with carefully selected jewelry that ranged from the belt that hugged his waist, the armbands around his powerful arms, the rings on his long, but calloused fingers, and his very own personal fibulae, Damocles looked far removed from his actual rank and could easily have been mistaken by a man of higher station. Yet, it wasn’t just his clothes that gave way for his image, for his beard was carefully trimmed and groomed, his hair was neatly spruced and organized, and his steps were confident, denoting a certain pride that could easily border on arrogance, had he not learned to temper his worst impulses before in the courtly sessions of Midas. It was true, he was a militant by profession, but, even his worst detractors had to admit that Damocles always clean up nicely, and today was no excuse, even if it had cost him far more than he wished to ever confess.
Yet, even if it had been an expensive appearance, Damocles knew that, for his own personal ambitions, grand in scope and far in their vastness, he had to not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk, and look every bit as impressive as his military resume suggested at face value. Thus, even if he had spent more on this one evening than he usually allowed himself over a month, the Captain of the Damned knew that every coin spent was going to be worth it. Perception was everything after all, and when it came to events as significant as these, image spoke louder than ones words. The money he had used was therefore not an expense in his eyes, but rather an investment, one that had to be tendered to carefully if he wanted to reap a reward of sorts tonight. Fortunately for him, the return on his investment would yield a lot quicker than he anticipated, namely in the form of the gambling halls of the lavish Taengean province.
Now, gossip and courtly functions might not have been an event he personally loved to indulge in too much, but when it came to gaming, it was another matter altogether. Card and dice games had been a source of much respite in Colchis, and a source of continuous revenue for Damocles in the capital city of Midas whenever he visited that place whence the day called for the political side of his career. He might not have indulged much in drugs, but, wine, gambling and, yes, prostitution, were vices that he did very much sate when possible. It was no surprise that he hence made bold for one of the gaming tables and placed his bet, grinning widely as his fingers found their purchase on a goblet of wine that soon met his lips. Excitement was evident on his face, and even if he knew he had to behave a bit for the night, once the results of his first round were announced by the game runner that dealt his cards, his mirthful laugh rung and blended with the others manifested by similar winners of that night.
It was not the first time Damocles had visited Taengea, for he had visited this kingdom before in the past for an extended period of time after returning from a war in the North that he rather not talk about, given the insult that had been dealt whence Vangelis refused to promoted him to Commander, despite having won the support of both the rank & file, as well as most of the officers. In fact, it was not the first time he had visited Argothia for that matter. In his previous vacation he had stayed a couple nights in that province, enjoying the gambling halls, the stadium Cronion and the famous hetairas that the Kassotis were so fond of doling out to those that dared to venture into the dangers of that salacious barony. He was careful however, for he did not wish to invite the ire of the famed shadow lord of the province, and thus, even if he won back a very considerable amount of coin, he still loss a few rounds of cards that he could have easily secured, if only to avoid the mistakes of the past and make it too obvious that he was winning at a pace that was not accepted. Part of gambling was not just winning, but also knowing when to win and when to lose. After all, the saying still rung true, for, no matter how much coin one could possible amass, the House Always Won.
In typical fashion however, Damocles was surrounded by people, most of whom laughed and cheered along with him as losses were turned to victories, and victories were turned to triumphs. With his infectious charisma, and forceful presence, the Captain of Magnemea drew people around him like moths to a flame. Perhaps he was like a fire. No, He was like a sun, shining brightly as the gold and black on him glimmered with a masculine energy that betrayed his almost aggressively handsome good looks. Oddly enough, even though Colchis had been his land of birth, Damocles felt more more at home in Taengea, where his magnetic presence could charm most around him with almost little to no effort. He oozed confidence, exuberance and a certain air of authority that allowed him to exert his dominance without appearing crass or crude. Of course, that could be attributed to his commanding presence, one that made him stand a good heads and shoulders over nearly everyone in the room. And yet, rather than intimidate those that he drew close to him, he lured them in, appealing to the men with jokes that made them guffaw, and quick-witted comments that made the women look at him thrice with clear desire in their eyes.
And yet...
It was just as he finished winning his most recent round that his signature silver eyes wondered around, noticing the golden locks that framed the face of a woman that could only be descrived as unfairly beautiful. A goblet of wine was on her hand, a smile soon formed on her pleasing lips, and a bright, pink blush quickly adorned her cheeks, causing Damocles to grin in the same flirtatious tone that she was sending him, before he winked at the presumably highborn woman, nonverbally inviting her to come by his side, if she dared. Once his signal was received, he noticed how the gorgeous woman’s blush darkened in color, letting the Captain know that his summon was well-received. He could not keep his away from her for long, and, even after he returned to tend to the games, his stare raised once more momentarily, meeting those warm brown orbs that looked back at his grey gaze. Words did not come forward at the lady across him, but, as he revealed his winning hand to reclaim a prize once more, his eyes raised yet again, causing the Colchian’s smirk to widen into a sexy smile as amusement evolved into amusement. Perhaps he could come off Argothia with more than money…
After all…what happens in Argothia stays in Argothia…
This was the sort of event that in any other instance Iason would have painstakingly avoided. He'd gone his whole life without the excess and debauchery that Argothia was known for, and while he didn't begrudge anyone here their fun, it was not his sort of party. The only reason he'd agreed to accept the invitation was because of the letter that had been dispatched to Athenia recently, a prospect that terrified him just slightly more than attending one of these parties.
An official offer had been made to the Xanthos family. though it was secret to all save his father and himself at the moment. The idea of marrying a princess was so far beyond anything Iason could have expected or hoped for himself, and it was during one of those pondering moments beneath a tree when he realized that if he was to marry a princess, he would have to interact with people and attend more parties than he'd ever been to in his life. He would have to be charming and kind and talk to nobles from all over Greece, not just his circle of friends and family here in Taengea. And hardest of all, he would have to leave his beloved country behind. At least for a little while.
It was because of this possibility Iason had forced himself to dress in what was considered his finest, an attempt to blend in with the rest of the party while showing he was still from an old royal house. The fact that his fourteen year old sister had been advising him on what was best to wear because she was the person in his life who knew and cared the most about fashion was neither here nor there.
Alexa had insisted on a rich green chiton, a color brighter than anything he normally wore, and allowed him a charcoal himation that clasped with the golden stags head brooch. There was little ornamentation on the garments themselves, just faint golden borders on each. Compared to the finery of some of the others he could easily have been mistaken for a servant were it not for his noble bearing and golden signet ring. Though as he took a deep breath before entering the party, he supposed being ignored and mistaken for a servant might not be the worst thing to happen to him tonight.
A glass of wine was pressed into his hand almost as soon as he entered, the place already bustling with people. Faces that were familiar and vaguely recognizable seemed to swirl before him as he took another deep breath to steady himself. His cousins were here in the crowd, and if he found Achilleas at least there was someone else who would behave in a mostly reasonable fashion. As if the gods could hear his prayer he spotted his cousin within a few moments, weaving his way through the crowd until he was almost at the man's side.
Iason paused for a moment at the sight of the blonde woman who was speaking to him, someone unfamiliar who normally would have made him turn around on his heel and find somewhere else to hide. This whole event though was about being brave, and so he took the few steps forward to set himself by Achilleas with a nod of greeting.
"Cousin, my lady. A fine evening." There, those were words that didn't sound too stilted and awkward.
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This was the sort of event that in any other instance Iason would have painstakingly avoided. He'd gone his whole life without the excess and debauchery that Argothia was known for, and while he didn't begrudge anyone here their fun, it was not his sort of party. The only reason he'd agreed to accept the invitation was because of the letter that had been dispatched to Athenia recently, a prospect that terrified him just slightly more than attending one of these parties.
An official offer had been made to the Xanthos family. though it was secret to all save his father and himself at the moment. The idea of marrying a princess was so far beyond anything Iason could have expected or hoped for himself, and it was during one of those pondering moments beneath a tree when he realized that if he was to marry a princess, he would have to interact with people and attend more parties than he'd ever been to in his life. He would have to be charming and kind and talk to nobles from all over Greece, not just his circle of friends and family here in Taengea. And hardest of all, he would have to leave his beloved country behind. At least for a little while.
It was because of this possibility Iason had forced himself to dress in what was considered his finest, an attempt to blend in with the rest of the party while showing he was still from an old royal house. The fact that his fourteen year old sister had been advising him on what was best to wear because she was the person in his life who knew and cared the most about fashion was neither here nor there.
Alexa had insisted on a rich green chiton, a color brighter than anything he normally wore, and allowed him a charcoal himation that clasped with the golden stags head brooch. There was little ornamentation on the garments themselves, just faint golden borders on each. Compared to the finery of some of the others he could easily have been mistaken for a servant were it not for his noble bearing and golden signet ring. Though as he took a deep breath before entering the party, he supposed being ignored and mistaken for a servant might not be the worst thing to happen to him tonight.
A glass of wine was pressed into his hand almost as soon as he entered, the place already bustling with people. Faces that were familiar and vaguely recognizable seemed to swirl before him as he took another deep breath to steady himself. His cousins were here in the crowd, and if he found Achilleas at least there was someone else who would behave in a mostly reasonable fashion. As if the gods could hear his prayer he spotted his cousin within a few moments, weaving his way through the crowd until he was almost at the man's side.
Iason paused for a moment at the sight of the blonde woman who was speaking to him, someone unfamiliar who normally would have made him turn around on his heel and find somewhere else to hide. This whole event though was about being brave, and so he took the few steps forward to set himself by Achilleas with a nod of greeting.
"Cousin, my lady. A fine evening." There, those were words that didn't sound too stilted and awkward.
This was the sort of event that in any other instance Iason would have painstakingly avoided. He'd gone his whole life without the excess and debauchery that Argothia was known for, and while he didn't begrudge anyone here their fun, it was not his sort of party. The only reason he'd agreed to accept the invitation was because of the letter that had been dispatched to Athenia recently, a prospect that terrified him just slightly more than attending one of these parties.
An official offer had been made to the Xanthos family. though it was secret to all save his father and himself at the moment. The idea of marrying a princess was so far beyond anything Iason could have expected or hoped for himself, and it was during one of those pondering moments beneath a tree when he realized that if he was to marry a princess, he would have to interact with people and attend more parties than he'd ever been to in his life. He would have to be charming and kind and talk to nobles from all over Greece, not just his circle of friends and family here in Taengea. And hardest of all, he would have to leave his beloved country behind. At least for a little while.
It was because of this possibility Iason had forced himself to dress in what was considered his finest, an attempt to blend in with the rest of the party while showing he was still from an old royal house. The fact that his fourteen year old sister had been advising him on what was best to wear because she was the person in his life who knew and cared the most about fashion was neither here nor there.
Alexa had insisted on a rich green chiton, a color brighter than anything he normally wore, and allowed him a charcoal himation that clasped with the golden stags head brooch. There was little ornamentation on the garments themselves, just faint golden borders on each. Compared to the finery of some of the others he could easily have been mistaken for a servant were it not for his noble bearing and golden signet ring. Though as he took a deep breath before entering the party, he supposed being ignored and mistaken for a servant might not be the worst thing to happen to him tonight.
A glass of wine was pressed into his hand almost as soon as he entered, the place already bustling with people. Faces that were familiar and vaguely recognizable seemed to swirl before him as he took another deep breath to steady himself. His cousins were here in the crowd, and if he found Achilleas at least there was someone else who would behave in a mostly reasonable fashion. As if the gods could hear his prayer he spotted his cousin within a few moments, weaving his way through the crowd until he was almost at the man's side.
Iason paused for a moment at the sight of the blonde woman who was speaking to him, someone unfamiliar who normally would have made him turn around on his heel and find somewhere else to hide. This whole event though was about being brave, and so he took the few steps forward to set himself by Achilleas with a nod of greeting.
"Cousin, my lady. A fine evening." There, those were words that didn't sound too stilted and awkward.
Her gaze fell from the stars above down to the commotion down below, her brows furrowing for a moment as she tried to decide just what was going on. They were drunk if she had to guess, not that she blamed them. She planned on being quite drunk herself, gods willing. A startled burst of laughter bubbled up as she watched, before turning her attention back to Achilleas.
”Maybe, just a little.” She teased, lifting her glass to her lips. She was glad to see that he had something to drink, it would make conversation far less awkward. There was a reason that alcohol was called ‘liquid courage’. Her tongue swept the remnants of her drink from her lips before she continued.
It seemed bringing up the younger sister was a mistake, even if it was their common thread. No matter. ”I think I recall seeing her inside. Quite ostentatious, that one.” She murmured, though it certainly did not sound like a compliment. Meena had been practically glued to Irakles’ side, a pretty little pet for his arm. It was rather distasteful in Dione’s opinion, given that Meena had come from practically nothing. Perhaps she could have had a little more respect for the mistress if she’d been born respectable, but Meena...well… She waved a hand in front of her face as if brushing away smoke.
”I don’t see how you’re having any fun with your father in the other room.” She said with a wry smile. ”I was very glad when my parents declined their respective invitations. I might have died a little if I had to play my part tonight.”
He asked her then what had brought her here and she raised her glass. ”Athenia is so stuffy...I saw my chance to escape and took it. Taengea seems to know how to have a little fun at least. But what about you? Somehow I imagined this sort of thing beneath you, if you’ll forgive my impertinence.” She slid a little closer, propping a hip against the balcony railing. She’d barely known him at all during his brief time in Athenia, but he seemed more suited to being stuck behind a desk than taking a cup of wine at a party. Well...this sort of party. Her attention diverted for just a moment at the sound of raucous laughter below before turning back to Achilleas. ”Please, just call me Dio. My mother is Lady Nikolaos.”
It was at that moment that another young man had approached them, dressed in a fine emerald colored himaton. Her gaze lingered on the golden stags holding the garment together and she wondered if for a moment that he was one of those….the name escaped her. There was a family that was represented by the stag, wasn’t there? Dione angled her shoulders to welcome him into their conversation, but she did not step back from the closeness that she had gained.
She smiled prettily at him, taking in his words despite the few in number. ”My lord.” She said, dipping her head in a more casual greeting. She lifted her glass again. ”I don’t believe that you and I have had the pleasure. I’m Dione.” She hesitated, really quite tired of throwing her formal name out there already. ”Dione of Nikolaos. Your cousin was kindly keeping me entertained.”
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Her gaze fell from the stars above down to the commotion down below, her brows furrowing for a moment as she tried to decide just what was going on. They were drunk if she had to guess, not that she blamed them. She planned on being quite drunk herself, gods willing. A startled burst of laughter bubbled up as she watched, before turning her attention back to Achilleas.
”Maybe, just a little.” She teased, lifting her glass to her lips. She was glad to see that he had something to drink, it would make conversation far less awkward. There was a reason that alcohol was called ‘liquid courage’. Her tongue swept the remnants of her drink from her lips before she continued.
It seemed bringing up the younger sister was a mistake, even if it was their common thread. No matter. ”I think I recall seeing her inside. Quite ostentatious, that one.” She murmured, though it certainly did not sound like a compliment. Meena had been practically glued to Irakles’ side, a pretty little pet for his arm. It was rather distasteful in Dione’s opinion, given that Meena had come from practically nothing. Perhaps she could have had a little more respect for the mistress if she’d been born respectable, but Meena...well… She waved a hand in front of her face as if brushing away smoke.
”I don’t see how you’re having any fun with your father in the other room.” She said with a wry smile. ”I was very glad when my parents declined their respective invitations. I might have died a little if I had to play my part tonight.”
He asked her then what had brought her here and she raised her glass. ”Athenia is so stuffy...I saw my chance to escape and took it. Taengea seems to know how to have a little fun at least. But what about you? Somehow I imagined this sort of thing beneath you, if you’ll forgive my impertinence.” She slid a little closer, propping a hip against the balcony railing. She’d barely known him at all during his brief time in Athenia, but he seemed more suited to being stuck behind a desk than taking a cup of wine at a party. Well...this sort of party. Her attention diverted for just a moment at the sound of raucous laughter below before turning back to Achilleas. ”Please, just call me Dio. My mother is Lady Nikolaos.”
It was at that moment that another young man had approached them, dressed in a fine emerald colored himaton. Her gaze lingered on the golden stags holding the garment together and she wondered if for a moment that he was one of those….the name escaped her. There was a family that was represented by the stag, wasn’t there? Dione angled her shoulders to welcome him into their conversation, but she did not step back from the closeness that she had gained.
She smiled prettily at him, taking in his words despite the few in number. ”My lord.” She said, dipping her head in a more casual greeting. She lifted her glass again. ”I don’t believe that you and I have had the pleasure. I’m Dione.” She hesitated, really quite tired of throwing her formal name out there already. ”Dione of Nikolaos. Your cousin was kindly keeping me entertained.”
Her gaze fell from the stars above down to the commotion down below, her brows furrowing for a moment as she tried to decide just what was going on. They were drunk if she had to guess, not that she blamed them. She planned on being quite drunk herself, gods willing. A startled burst of laughter bubbled up as she watched, before turning her attention back to Achilleas.
”Maybe, just a little.” She teased, lifting her glass to her lips. She was glad to see that he had something to drink, it would make conversation far less awkward. There was a reason that alcohol was called ‘liquid courage’. Her tongue swept the remnants of her drink from her lips before she continued.
It seemed bringing up the younger sister was a mistake, even if it was their common thread. No matter. ”I think I recall seeing her inside. Quite ostentatious, that one.” She murmured, though it certainly did not sound like a compliment. Meena had been practically glued to Irakles’ side, a pretty little pet for his arm. It was rather distasteful in Dione’s opinion, given that Meena had come from practically nothing. Perhaps she could have had a little more respect for the mistress if she’d been born respectable, but Meena...well… She waved a hand in front of her face as if brushing away smoke.
”I don’t see how you’re having any fun with your father in the other room.” She said with a wry smile. ”I was very glad when my parents declined their respective invitations. I might have died a little if I had to play my part tonight.”
He asked her then what had brought her here and she raised her glass. ”Athenia is so stuffy...I saw my chance to escape and took it. Taengea seems to know how to have a little fun at least. But what about you? Somehow I imagined this sort of thing beneath you, if you’ll forgive my impertinence.” She slid a little closer, propping a hip against the balcony railing. She’d barely known him at all during his brief time in Athenia, but he seemed more suited to being stuck behind a desk than taking a cup of wine at a party. Well...this sort of party. Her attention diverted for just a moment at the sound of raucous laughter below before turning back to Achilleas. ”Please, just call me Dio. My mother is Lady Nikolaos.”
It was at that moment that another young man had approached them, dressed in a fine emerald colored himaton. Her gaze lingered on the golden stags holding the garment together and she wondered if for a moment that he was one of those….the name escaped her. There was a family that was represented by the stag, wasn’t there? Dione angled her shoulders to welcome him into their conversation, but she did not step back from the closeness that she had gained.
She smiled prettily at him, taking in his words despite the few in number. ”My lord.” She said, dipping her head in a more casual greeting. She lifted her glass again. ”I don’t believe that you and I have had the pleasure. I’m Dione.” She hesitated, really quite tired of throwing her formal name out there already. ”Dione of Nikolaos. Your cousin was kindly keeping me entertained.”
The party was one Rafail had selected to attend partially because the Marikas family had received an invitation and partially because he liked to inject himself into Greece's social events. As far as he was concerned, there was no better way to express the present and future might of his family than to be publicly present at all appropriate occasions. The only shame was that the rest of his family had seemed eager to attend as well, and they were prone to cramping his style immensely. If Papa or Pavlos showed up while Rafail was successfully chatting up some lady or another, then he had no idea how matters might progress.
Dressed in a handsome apricot chiton — the colour had been a difficult choice, and eventually chosen because the pale orange-pink looked fine when paired with the golden owl-shaped fibulae holding it together and the similarly-metallic belt — he made his way into the party with the kind of arrogance that anybody who knew Rafail must have come to expect from him by then, feeling highly superior to everybody else. It was not his fault that he knew he was a greater man than everybody else at any event.
Although he had nestled a circlet in his hair as he was wont to do, it was simpler than his usual choices, and the main expression of fashion for which he had opted was the curl of those golden locks, combed back save for a few ringlets which dipped slightly below his left eye, in a way which made him look almost more innocent than he was. Rafail could not help but keep his gaze half-fixed on any reflective surface he passed, so sure in himself as he strode through the partygoers to select a goblet of wine from one of the many women present. It was as though the event had been set up to suit his very tastes, for the number of beautiful ladies was impressive.
But the Marikas was not here to flirt with random serving girls when there were so many better choices, and instead drifted across to one of the many gambling tables, finding one where they were playing a dice game he had enjoyed a few times before with Elias or his other friends. Before the event, he had bothered Papa until the man had given him a notable pile of drachmae (he had been insistent about requiring at least fifty), and he now tossed a heap of them unto the table, placing a solid bet to enter the game himself. It was all Papa's money, after all, and there was no fun in a party without any risk.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The party was one Rafail had selected to attend partially because the Marikas family had received an invitation and partially because he liked to inject himself into Greece's social events. As far as he was concerned, there was no better way to express the present and future might of his family than to be publicly present at all appropriate occasions. The only shame was that the rest of his family had seemed eager to attend as well, and they were prone to cramping his style immensely. If Papa or Pavlos showed up while Rafail was successfully chatting up some lady or another, then he had no idea how matters might progress.
Dressed in a handsome apricot chiton — the colour had been a difficult choice, and eventually chosen because the pale orange-pink looked fine when paired with the golden owl-shaped fibulae holding it together and the similarly-metallic belt — he made his way into the party with the kind of arrogance that anybody who knew Rafail must have come to expect from him by then, feeling highly superior to everybody else. It was not his fault that he knew he was a greater man than everybody else at any event.
Although he had nestled a circlet in his hair as he was wont to do, it was simpler than his usual choices, and the main expression of fashion for which he had opted was the curl of those golden locks, combed back save for a few ringlets which dipped slightly below his left eye, in a way which made him look almost more innocent than he was. Rafail could not help but keep his gaze half-fixed on any reflective surface he passed, so sure in himself as he strode through the partygoers to select a goblet of wine from one of the many women present. It was as though the event had been set up to suit his very tastes, for the number of beautiful ladies was impressive.
But the Marikas was not here to flirt with random serving girls when there were so many better choices, and instead drifted across to one of the many gambling tables, finding one where they were playing a dice game he had enjoyed a few times before with Elias or his other friends. Before the event, he had bothered Papa until the man had given him a notable pile of drachmae (he had been insistent about requiring at least fifty), and he now tossed a heap of them unto the table, placing a solid bet to enter the game himself. It was all Papa's money, after all, and there was no fun in a party without any risk.
The party was one Rafail had selected to attend partially because the Marikas family had received an invitation and partially because he liked to inject himself into Greece's social events. As far as he was concerned, there was no better way to express the present and future might of his family than to be publicly present at all appropriate occasions. The only shame was that the rest of his family had seemed eager to attend as well, and they were prone to cramping his style immensely. If Papa or Pavlos showed up while Rafail was successfully chatting up some lady or another, then he had no idea how matters might progress.
Dressed in a handsome apricot chiton — the colour had been a difficult choice, and eventually chosen because the pale orange-pink looked fine when paired with the golden owl-shaped fibulae holding it together and the similarly-metallic belt — he made his way into the party with the kind of arrogance that anybody who knew Rafail must have come to expect from him by then, feeling highly superior to everybody else. It was not his fault that he knew he was a greater man than everybody else at any event.
Although he had nestled a circlet in his hair as he was wont to do, it was simpler than his usual choices, and the main expression of fashion for which he had opted was the curl of those golden locks, combed back save for a few ringlets which dipped slightly below his left eye, in a way which made him look almost more innocent than he was. Rafail could not help but keep his gaze half-fixed on any reflective surface he passed, so sure in himself as he strode through the partygoers to select a goblet of wine from one of the many women present. It was as though the event had been set up to suit his very tastes, for the number of beautiful ladies was impressive.
But the Marikas was not here to flirt with random serving girls when there were so many better choices, and instead drifted across to one of the many gambling tables, finding one where they were playing a dice game he had enjoyed a few times before with Elias or his other friends. Before the event, he had bothered Papa until the man had given him a notable pile of drachmae (he had been insistent about requiring at least fifty), and he now tossed a heap of them unto the table, placing a solid bet to enter the game himself. It was all Papa's money, after all, and there was no fun in a party without any risk.
Any excuse that Anastasia had to use the stolen finery she'd filched from one place or another was one she'd take without a second thought. While careful enough as to not take perfectly unique mementos, the Siren Given Legs draped herself in silver. From the chains that bound her hair in a single, long braid that wrapped over her shoulder to the second chain that wove through the hole in her late mother's silver pendant... clearly she held a preference and made it known to the world. A fine, silken peplos covered her body, bound tightly around her waist with a silvery sash and cut from one of her shoulders, bound beneath the arm.
A sense of eagerness resounded within the bard, her steps carefully measured as her gaze drifted along the crowds. Her gaze caught upon familiar hallmarks, from the gold that hung from earlobes or settled against collarbones to similarly fine linens. Certainly, she'd found the right place to be, her breath taken in by the multitude of eager faces seeking to enjoy the splendor of a Kassotis party. She'd been to Argothia several times before, but never were the people so luminous as they were now, in a celebration of the new year.
The festivities, while a gorgeous distraction from the often humdrum life of a traveling bard, also served as a double-edged sword. She felt it coil about her senses, the indelible urge to take. It manifested as a nagging voice, curling about the periphery of her awareness. Her gaze flickered from throat to throat, from wrist to wrist, deliberating, an overload for the senses until she took a breath and the voice became clearer. It felt like a breath coaxed along the length of her spine, wedging an unrelenting urge. Her breathing hastened up until the moment came that...
The calm before the storm arrived. Anastasia relaxed, the breath pulled from her lungs ina steady rhythm as her eyes fell shut. While pushed by moving bodies in a moment of stillness, she heard a familiar voice break out from the aether of bodies.
"Do I make it so terribly obvious?"
Is that Lord Achilleas? Fancy seeing that awkward man in the midst of a hundred hydras.
So eligible... so handsome, but also so... dull. Not quite interested in whom he was speaking to, the siren thought better than to involve herself, preferring to show herself around the festivities and find a way to scratch the itch for excitement without going so far as to ruin her night by being caught. She thought on it and heard through the multitude of voices another few snippets of conversation. But, none of these people, tied into their own doings, held her interest for very long. No, it wasn't until she saw a particularly tall man with an incredibly familiar face that she saw any reason to truly come alive.
The services of a bard, after all, were not required in this place. She had her own fun to chase, and she seemed to have found just the right person to do it with. As Rafail of Marikas looked over the dice tables, Anastasia looked over him. It'd been nearly a decade since they saw each other last and yet... he seemed not to have aged at all. A chuckle escaped her lips as she drew closer, a smooth sway of the hips accompanying each step until her arms wrapped around the waist of her intended target.
Rafail, unlike the only other echo from the past she'd met in her travels... did not need to be fooled into believing her to be someone else. Figuring that the man would've forgotten her name, but not her face, she breathed his name into his ear, curious if he'd remember her voice as it rang through the decade to find him again.
"Oh, my lord. Fancy seeing you so far from home. And all alone, too. How incredibly rare a privilege. It would be my honour, nay, pleasure, to linger on your arm if you would have me."
Her lips formed a smile, hazel eyes catching his own as she sought an answer from him. If he refused... she'd stir up trouble elsewhere, but... nevertheless, she wanted dearly to have another shot with one of the most eligible bachelors of Athenia. If only for the night.
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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Any excuse that Anastasia had to use the stolen finery she'd filched from one place or another was one she'd take without a second thought. While careful enough as to not take perfectly unique mementos, the Siren Given Legs draped herself in silver. From the chains that bound her hair in a single, long braid that wrapped over her shoulder to the second chain that wove through the hole in her late mother's silver pendant... clearly she held a preference and made it known to the world. A fine, silken peplos covered her body, bound tightly around her waist with a silvery sash and cut from one of her shoulders, bound beneath the arm.
A sense of eagerness resounded within the bard, her steps carefully measured as her gaze drifted along the crowds. Her gaze caught upon familiar hallmarks, from the gold that hung from earlobes or settled against collarbones to similarly fine linens. Certainly, she'd found the right place to be, her breath taken in by the multitude of eager faces seeking to enjoy the splendor of a Kassotis party. She'd been to Argothia several times before, but never were the people so luminous as they were now, in a celebration of the new year.
The festivities, while a gorgeous distraction from the often humdrum life of a traveling bard, also served as a double-edged sword. She felt it coil about her senses, the indelible urge to take. It manifested as a nagging voice, curling about the periphery of her awareness. Her gaze flickered from throat to throat, from wrist to wrist, deliberating, an overload for the senses until she took a breath and the voice became clearer. It felt like a breath coaxed along the length of her spine, wedging an unrelenting urge. Her breathing hastened up until the moment came that...
The calm before the storm arrived. Anastasia relaxed, the breath pulled from her lungs ina steady rhythm as her eyes fell shut. While pushed by moving bodies in a moment of stillness, she heard a familiar voice break out from the aether of bodies.
"Do I make it so terribly obvious?"
Is that Lord Achilleas? Fancy seeing that awkward man in the midst of a hundred hydras.
So eligible... so handsome, but also so... dull. Not quite interested in whom he was speaking to, the siren thought better than to involve herself, preferring to show herself around the festivities and find a way to scratch the itch for excitement without going so far as to ruin her night by being caught. She thought on it and heard through the multitude of voices another few snippets of conversation. But, none of these people, tied into their own doings, held her interest for very long. No, it wasn't until she saw a particularly tall man with an incredibly familiar face that she saw any reason to truly come alive.
The services of a bard, after all, were not required in this place. She had her own fun to chase, and she seemed to have found just the right person to do it with. As Rafail of Marikas looked over the dice tables, Anastasia looked over him. It'd been nearly a decade since they saw each other last and yet... he seemed not to have aged at all. A chuckle escaped her lips as she drew closer, a smooth sway of the hips accompanying each step until her arms wrapped around the waist of her intended target.
Rafail, unlike the only other echo from the past she'd met in her travels... did not need to be fooled into believing her to be someone else. Figuring that the man would've forgotten her name, but not her face, she breathed his name into his ear, curious if he'd remember her voice as it rang through the decade to find him again.
"Oh, my lord. Fancy seeing you so far from home. And all alone, too. How incredibly rare a privilege. It would be my honour, nay, pleasure, to linger on your arm if you would have me."
Her lips formed a smile, hazel eyes catching his own as she sought an answer from him. If he refused... she'd stir up trouble elsewhere, but... nevertheless, she wanted dearly to have another shot with one of the most eligible bachelors of Athenia. If only for the night.
Any excuse that Anastasia had to use the stolen finery she'd filched from one place or another was one she'd take without a second thought. While careful enough as to not take perfectly unique mementos, the Siren Given Legs draped herself in silver. From the chains that bound her hair in a single, long braid that wrapped over her shoulder to the second chain that wove through the hole in her late mother's silver pendant... clearly she held a preference and made it known to the world. A fine, silken peplos covered her body, bound tightly around her waist with a silvery sash and cut from one of her shoulders, bound beneath the arm.
A sense of eagerness resounded within the bard, her steps carefully measured as her gaze drifted along the crowds. Her gaze caught upon familiar hallmarks, from the gold that hung from earlobes or settled against collarbones to similarly fine linens. Certainly, she'd found the right place to be, her breath taken in by the multitude of eager faces seeking to enjoy the splendor of a Kassotis party. She'd been to Argothia several times before, but never were the people so luminous as they were now, in a celebration of the new year.
The festivities, while a gorgeous distraction from the often humdrum life of a traveling bard, also served as a double-edged sword. She felt it coil about her senses, the indelible urge to take. It manifested as a nagging voice, curling about the periphery of her awareness. Her gaze flickered from throat to throat, from wrist to wrist, deliberating, an overload for the senses until she took a breath and the voice became clearer. It felt like a breath coaxed along the length of her spine, wedging an unrelenting urge. Her breathing hastened up until the moment came that...
The calm before the storm arrived. Anastasia relaxed, the breath pulled from her lungs ina steady rhythm as her eyes fell shut. While pushed by moving bodies in a moment of stillness, she heard a familiar voice break out from the aether of bodies.
"Do I make it so terribly obvious?"
Is that Lord Achilleas? Fancy seeing that awkward man in the midst of a hundred hydras.
So eligible... so handsome, but also so... dull. Not quite interested in whom he was speaking to, the siren thought better than to involve herself, preferring to show herself around the festivities and find a way to scratch the itch for excitement without going so far as to ruin her night by being caught. She thought on it and heard through the multitude of voices another few snippets of conversation. But, none of these people, tied into their own doings, held her interest for very long. No, it wasn't until she saw a particularly tall man with an incredibly familiar face that she saw any reason to truly come alive.
The services of a bard, after all, were not required in this place. She had her own fun to chase, and she seemed to have found just the right person to do it with. As Rafail of Marikas looked over the dice tables, Anastasia looked over him. It'd been nearly a decade since they saw each other last and yet... he seemed not to have aged at all. A chuckle escaped her lips as she drew closer, a smooth sway of the hips accompanying each step until her arms wrapped around the waist of her intended target.
Rafail, unlike the only other echo from the past she'd met in her travels... did not need to be fooled into believing her to be someone else. Figuring that the man would've forgotten her name, but not her face, she breathed his name into his ear, curious if he'd remember her voice as it rang through the decade to find him again.
"Oh, my lord. Fancy seeing you so far from home. And all alone, too. How incredibly rare a privilege. It would be my honour, nay, pleasure, to linger on your arm if you would have me."
Her lips formed a smile, hazel eyes catching his own as she sought an answer from him. If he refused... she'd stir up trouble elsewhere, but... nevertheless, she wanted dearly to have another shot with one of the most eligible bachelors of Athenia. If only for the night.
