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Dione of Nikolaos was a busy socialite. She spent her days (and nights) at parties, with friends or otherwise …indisposed, or at least she had until things in Athenia had started to spiral. Resources had become scarce, parties had shriveled up and died -- at least the good ones -- and Dione found herself sitting at home more often than not. It was terribly boring, especially since she went to great lengths to avoid her mother who seemed to appear at every corner. The last two or three years had been difficult between them. Ianthe wanted nothing but the best for her daughter, and Dione wanted nothing more than to chase a future that seemed so far out of reach that she may as well try to learn how to fly.
She took a long, slow breath, holding in the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could manage before releasing it out into the night air. She didn’t dare smoke inside her rooms, unsure if her mother would be able to sniff such a thing out. The blonde closed her eyes as the feeling tingled through her, knowing that she was going to sleep so well whenever she was done burning the midnight oil.
Dione kept her vices very quiet, and she was pretty sure that no one in her immediate family. Perhaps she was wrong, but none of them had ever asked to join her which was fine. She could do as she pleased, but she would have condoned their use of such a thing. Maybe it was because she saw how powerful addiction could be, although she could not bring herself to regret the use of such a thing. It made her feel good when she felt low, and brought her peace amidst the chaos. She wondered if Adre had the same feeling when he sailed or Rene when she painted or sculpted.
As her thoughts turned to Rene, she found herself curious about her youngest sister’s wellbeing. It was always easy to overlook her youngest sister, as swept up into social politics as she seemed to be. And while Dione cared for all of her siblings, she also had pulled away from them in recent years as she chased potential marriage matches and tried to fight her way through the swath of Athenian women who also competed for the same small pool of men. A sigh passed her lips, and Dione pulled away from her balcony. It was late, but perhaps her sister was not quite asleep. Now that she’d thought of her, she wouldn’t be able to rest until they’d spoken and she could check in on her.
Going back inside, Dione carefully put away her things -- hiding them in a locked drawer of her desk. She exited the room quietly, the house mostly quiet as most had already gone to bed and yet her stride was quite purposeful as she went looking for Rene’s quarters. When she found the set of rooms, her knuckles rapped quietly on the wooden door. ”Rene?” She murmured, not loud enough to disturb the nearest room. ”It’s me...uhm, Dione...are you...are you awake in there?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Dione of Nikolaos was a busy socialite. She spent her days (and nights) at parties, with friends or otherwise …indisposed, or at least she had until things in Athenia had started to spiral. Resources had become scarce, parties had shriveled up and died -- at least the good ones -- and Dione found herself sitting at home more often than not. It was terribly boring, especially since she went to great lengths to avoid her mother who seemed to appear at every corner. The last two or three years had been difficult between them. Ianthe wanted nothing but the best for her daughter, and Dione wanted nothing more than to chase a future that seemed so far out of reach that she may as well try to learn how to fly.
She took a long, slow breath, holding in the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could manage before releasing it out into the night air. She didn’t dare smoke inside her rooms, unsure if her mother would be able to sniff such a thing out. The blonde closed her eyes as the feeling tingled through her, knowing that she was going to sleep so well whenever she was done burning the midnight oil.
Dione kept her vices very quiet, and she was pretty sure that no one in her immediate family. Perhaps she was wrong, but none of them had ever asked to join her which was fine. She could do as she pleased, but she would have condoned their use of such a thing. Maybe it was because she saw how powerful addiction could be, although she could not bring herself to regret the use of such a thing. It made her feel good when she felt low, and brought her peace amidst the chaos. She wondered if Adre had the same feeling when he sailed or Rene when she painted or sculpted.
As her thoughts turned to Rene, she found herself curious about her youngest sister’s wellbeing. It was always easy to overlook her youngest sister, as swept up into social politics as she seemed to be. And while Dione cared for all of her siblings, she also had pulled away from them in recent years as she chased potential marriage matches and tried to fight her way through the swath of Athenian women who also competed for the same small pool of men. A sigh passed her lips, and Dione pulled away from her balcony. It was late, but perhaps her sister was not quite asleep. Now that she’d thought of her, she wouldn’t be able to rest until they’d spoken and she could check in on her.
Going back inside, Dione carefully put away her things -- hiding them in a locked drawer of her desk. She exited the room quietly, the house mostly quiet as most had already gone to bed and yet her stride was quite purposeful as she went looking for Rene’s quarters. When she found the set of rooms, her knuckles rapped quietly on the wooden door. ”Rene?” She murmured, not loud enough to disturb the nearest room. ”It’s me...uhm, Dione...are you...are you awake in there?”
Dione of Nikolaos was a busy socialite. She spent her days (and nights) at parties, with friends or otherwise …indisposed, or at least she had until things in Athenia had started to spiral. Resources had become scarce, parties had shriveled up and died -- at least the good ones -- and Dione found herself sitting at home more often than not. It was terribly boring, especially since she went to great lengths to avoid her mother who seemed to appear at every corner. The last two or three years had been difficult between them. Ianthe wanted nothing but the best for her daughter, and Dione wanted nothing more than to chase a future that seemed so far out of reach that she may as well try to learn how to fly.
She took a long, slow breath, holding in the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could manage before releasing it out into the night air. She didn’t dare smoke inside her rooms, unsure if her mother would be able to sniff such a thing out. The blonde closed her eyes as the feeling tingled through her, knowing that she was going to sleep so well whenever she was done burning the midnight oil.
Dione kept her vices very quiet, and she was pretty sure that no one in her immediate family. Perhaps she was wrong, but none of them had ever asked to join her which was fine. She could do as she pleased, but she would have condoned their use of such a thing. Maybe it was because she saw how powerful addiction could be, although she could not bring herself to regret the use of such a thing. It made her feel good when she felt low, and brought her peace amidst the chaos. She wondered if Adre had the same feeling when he sailed or Rene when she painted or sculpted.
As her thoughts turned to Rene, she found herself curious about her youngest sister’s wellbeing. It was always easy to overlook her youngest sister, as swept up into social politics as she seemed to be. And while Dione cared for all of her siblings, she also had pulled away from them in recent years as she chased potential marriage matches and tried to fight her way through the swath of Athenian women who also competed for the same small pool of men. A sigh passed her lips, and Dione pulled away from her balcony. It was late, but perhaps her sister was not quite asleep. Now that she’d thought of her, she wouldn’t be able to rest until they’d spoken and she could check in on her.
Going back inside, Dione carefully put away her things -- hiding them in a locked drawer of her desk. She exited the room quietly, the house mostly quiet as most had already gone to bed and yet her stride was quite purposeful as she went looking for Rene’s quarters. When she found the set of rooms, her knuckles rapped quietly on the wooden door. ”Rene?” She murmured, not loud enough to disturb the nearest room. ”It’s me...uhm, Dione...are you...are you awake in there?”
Behind the closed doors of her chambers, Rene should have been asleep, but was not. Instead, she was burning the midnight oil, completely engrossed in her work. Having converted a large table into a makeshift art station, a few vases were set about on it, covered with thick canvas drapes to keep them protected while they awaited painting. Several small pieces of wooden board were splayed out before her across the table, and on each one, she had sketched out a few scenes, and started experimenting with paint application. Recently, she had begun coloring in negative spaces instead of positive ones, and through quick test pieces, she was diligently perfecting the new technique. She had not yet achieved the point where she felt satisfied with the outcome, but there was still lots of opportunity to eak out different methods, producing pieces that were new and different.
Rather oddly, she heard a knock at the door, pausing mid brush stroke to focus on her hearing, should she have been imagining it. No one came looking for her. Ever. Especially at this hour. And then she heard the voice of her older sister. That was unusual. Setting the brush down, Rene blotted at her hands with a cloth before sliding down from the stool on which she was perched. Moving to the large ornately carved doors, she pulled one of them open, noting Dione. Confused by the initiative, Rene was still happy to see her siblings when the opportunity was afforded, and even more elated to revisit their company, something they had not done much of since they were children. “Yes..I am awake. Come in,” Rene opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to bid her older sister passage. “Is something wrong?”
Rene’s room was charmingly decorated, utilizing her painting skills to further decorate with ornamental patterns around the windows and crown molding, maybe even a few flowers as well. Several lamps burned to splash light here and there in soft illumination. It was most certainly the room of an adolescent female, with trinkets and sculptures about, cabinets of jewelry and closets of fine garments. One of her earliest vases, laden with all its glorious imperfections, sat on a bedside table, holding a small bouquet of paper flowers that Rene had twisted and fashioned out of parchment.
Rene stood quietly, waiting for Dione to deliver whatever it was she required, as that was likely the only explanation for her being here at such an hour. “I have a kettle of water for tea, if you would care for some?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Behind the closed doors of her chambers, Rene should have been asleep, but was not. Instead, she was burning the midnight oil, completely engrossed in her work. Having converted a large table into a makeshift art station, a few vases were set about on it, covered with thick canvas drapes to keep them protected while they awaited painting. Several small pieces of wooden board were splayed out before her across the table, and on each one, she had sketched out a few scenes, and started experimenting with paint application. Recently, she had begun coloring in negative spaces instead of positive ones, and through quick test pieces, she was diligently perfecting the new technique. She had not yet achieved the point where she felt satisfied with the outcome, but there was still lots of opportunity to eak out different methods, producing pieces that were new and different.
Rather oddly, she heard a knock at the door, pausing mid brush stroke to focus on her hearing, should she have been imagining it. No one came looking for her. Ever. Especially at this hour. And then she heard the voice of her older sister. That was unusual. Setting the brush down, Rene blotted at her hands with a cloth before sliding down from the stool on which she was perched. Moving to the large ornately carved doors, she pulled one of them open, noting Dione. Confused by the initiative, Rene was still happy to see her siblings when the opportunity was afforded, and even more elated to revisit their company, something they had not done much of since they were children. “Yes..I am awake. Come in,” Rene opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to bid her older sister passage. “Is something wrong?”
Rene’s room was charmingly decorated, utilizing her painting skills to further decorate with ornamental patterns around the windows and crown molding, maybe even a few flowers as well. Several lamps burned to splash light here and there in soft illumination. It was most certainly the room of an adolescent female, with trinkets and sculptures about, cabinets of jewelry and closets of fine garments. One of her earliest vases, laden with all its glorious imperfections, sat on a bedside table, holding a small bouquet of paper flowers that Rene had twisted and fashioned out of parchment.
Rene stood quietly, waiting for Dione to deliver whatever it was she required, as that was likely the only explanation for her being here at such an hour. “I have a kettle of water for tea, if you would care for some?”
Behind the closed doors of her chambers, Rene should have been asleep, but was not. Instead, she was burning the midnight oil, completely engrossed in her work. Having converted a large table into a makeshift art station, a few vases were set about on it, covered with thick canvas drapes to keep them protected while they awaited painting. Several small pieces of wooden board were splayed out before her across the table, and on each one, she had sketched out a few scenes, and started experimenting with paint application. Recently, she had begun coloring in negative spaces instead of positive ones, and through quick test pieces, she was diligently perfecting the new technique. She had not yet achieved the point where she felt satisfied with the outcome, but there was still lots of opportunity to eak out different methods, producing pieces that were new and different.
Rather oddly, she heard a knock at the door, pausing mid brush stroke to focus on her hearing, should she have been imagining it. No one came looking for her. Ever. Especially at this hour. And then she heard the voice of her older sister. That was unusual. Setting the brush down, Rene blotted at her hands with a cloth before sliding down from the stool on which she was perched. Moving to the large ornately carved doors, she pulled one of them open, noting Dione. Confused by the initiative, Rene was still happy to see her siblings when the opportunity was afforded, and even more elated to revisit their company, something they had not done much of since they were children. “Yes..I am awake. Come in,” Rene opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to bid her older sister passage. “Is something wrong?”
Rene’s room was charmingly decorated, utilizing her painting skills to further decorate with ornamental patterns around the windows and crown molding, maybe even a few flowers as well. Several lamps burned to splash light here and there in soft illumination. It was most certainly the room of an adolescent female, with trinkets and sculptures about, cabinets of jewelry and closets of fine garments. One of her earliest vases, laden with all its glorious imperfections, sat on a bedside table, holding a small bouquet of paper flowers that Rene had twisted and fashioned out of parchment.
Rene stood quietly, waiting for Dione to deliver whatever it was she required, as that was likely the only explanation for her being here at such an hour. “I have a kettle of water for tea, if you would care for some?”
She could not help but be a tiny bit relieved when her sister appeared at the door, looking perhaps a little confused by her appearance but welcoming her nonetheless. She supposed it was fair. Dione had been eight when Rene had been born, and for the first couple of years of life the elder had treated her baby sister like her own personal baby toy. Lots of coddling, carrying her around, being as close as sisters could be. But as life had gone on, Dione had slowly grown out of such things. She became interested in boys and the workings of court, and before long she’d found herself chasing a glittering lifestyle and paying less mind to her younger siblings.
She became a woman tasked with securing an excellent marriage match in order to solidify the place of her family, running the household in her brother’s absence. For a time, she’d thought Adrestus would never return and now with him home again -- she felt responsible for shepherding him into the role she’d been training herself for for years. It hurt, stung more than she cared to admit, to turn the reins over to him. But that was what their father wanted, and he would not have a woman running the nobility when his precious son had finally returned home like the prodigal.
A smile tipped her lips as she slipped inside the door. ”No, nothing’s wrong at all.” She said, her gaze passing over the room in appraisal. It was charming, and even if she had no idea of the assigned rooms in the house -- there was no denying Rene’s room thanks to her artistic talents. ”Can’t a woman visit her sister? She ushered herself into the room, brushing past Rene to step further inside and taking in the room as whole. ”I know it’s rather late but, I was hoping you’d be awake. Isn’t it something of an artist’s...habit to be awake at all hours of the night?”
She was habitually nosy, and it led her to inspect the works that seemed to be in progress. ”Oh don’t bother.” She said with a dismissive wave. ”I don’t know that I’ll be staying long enough for that to be necessary.” The opium in her system was starting to hit, and she felt a blissful peace settling on her shoulders. ”It looks like you’ve been busy.” She commented, tucking her hands behind her back to keep them to herself.
”Are these all commissions or...simply for fun?” She wondered, turning back to look at Rene. Her blonde hair slipped over her shoulder, as she straightened her posture. ”You’ve improved so much, I wouldn’t be surprised at all that you sell your work.” Dione said, another small smile touching her lips. Admittedly, she was jealous of the artistic abilities of her siblings. Most of them possessed some manner of talent, but not Dione. She could not carry a tune, draw a straight line, mold a vase, embroider a pattern. She was horribly useless at such things. The only thing she seemed to have going for her were her looks, which...Hera willing would not fade with age.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She could not help but be a tiny bit relieved when her sister appeared at the door, looking perhaps a little confused by her appearance but welcoming her nonetheless. She supposed it was fair. Dione had been eight when Rene had been born, and for the first couple of years of life the elder had treated her baby sister like her own personal baby toy. Lots of coddling, carrying her around, being as close as sisters could be. But as life had gone on, Dione had slowly grown out of such things. She became interested in boys and the workings of court, and before long she’d found herself chasing a glittering lifestyle and paying less mind to her younger siblings.
She became a woman tasked with securing an excellent marriage match in order to solidify the place of her family, running the household in her brother’s absence. For a time, she’d thought Adrestus would never return and now with him home again -- she felt responsible for shepherding him into the role she’d been training herself for for years. It hurt, stung more than she cared to admit, to turn the reins over to him. But that was what their father wanted, and he would not have a woman running the nobility when his precious son had finally returned home like the prodigal.
A smile tipped her lips as she slipped inside the door. ”No, nothing’s wrong at all.” She said, her gaze passing over the room in appraisal. It was charming, and even if she had no idea of the assigned rooms in the house -- there was no denying Rene’s room thanks to her artistic talents. ”Can’t a woman visit her sister? She ushered herself into the room, brushing past Rene to step further inside and taking in the room as whole. ”I know it’s rather late but, I was hoping you’d be awake. Isn’t it something of an artist’s...habit to be awake at all hours of the night?”
She was habitually nosy, and it led her to inspect the works that seemed to be in progress. ”Oh don’t bother.” She said with a dismissive wave. ”I don’t know that I’ll be staying long enough for that to be necessary.” The opium in her system was starting to hit, and she felt a blissful peace settling on her shoulders. ”It looks like you’ve been busy.” She commented, tucking her hands behind her back to keep them to herself.
”Are these all commissions or...simply for fun?” She wondered, turning back to look at Rene. Her blonde hair slipped over her shoulder, as she straightened her posture. ”You’ve improved so much, I wouldn’t be surprised at all that you sell your work.” Dione said, another small smile touching her lips. Admittedly, she was jealous of the artistic abilities of her siblings. Most of them possessed some manner of talent, but not Dione. She could not carry a tune, draw a straight line, mold a vase, embroider a pattern. She was horribly useless at such things. The only thing she seemed to have going for her were her looks, which...Hera willing would not fade with age.
She could not help but be a tiny bit relieved when her sister appeared at the door, looking perhaps a little confused by her appearance but welcoming her nonetheless. She supposed it was fair. Dione had been eight when Rene had been born, and for the first couple of years of life the elder had treated her baby sister like her own personal baby toy. Lots of coddling, carrying her around, being as close as sisters could be. But as life had gone on, Dione had slowly grown out of such things. She became interested in boys and the workings of court, and before long she’d found herself chasing a glittering lifestyle and paying less mind to her younger siblings.
She became a woman tasked with securing an excellent marriage match in order to solidify the place of her family, running the household in her brother’s absence. For a time, she’d thought Adrestus would never return and now with him home again -- she felt responsible for shepherding him into the role she’d been training herself for for years. It hurt, stung more than she cared to admit, to turn the reins over to him. But that was what their father wanted, and he would not have a woman running the nobility when his precious son had finally returned home like the prodigal.
A smile tipped her lips as she slipped inside the door. ”No, nothing’s wrong at all.” She said, her gaze passing over the room in appraisal. It was charming, and even if she had no idea of the assigned rooms in the house -- there was no denying Rene’s room thanks to her artistic talents. ”Can’t a woman visit her sister? She ushered herself into the room, brushing past Rene to step further inside and taking in the room as whole. ”I know it’s rather late but, I was hoping you’d be awake. Isn’t it something of an artist’s...habit to be awake at all hours of the night?”
She was habitually nosy, and it led her to inspect the works that seemed to be in progress. ”Oh don’t bother.” She said with a dismissive wave. ”I don’t know that I’ll be staying long enough for that to be necessary.” The opium in her system was starting to hit, and she felt a blissful peace settling on her shoulders. ”It looks like you’ve been busy.” She commented, tucking her hands behind her back to keep them to herself.
”Are these all commissions or...simply for fun?” She wondered, turning back to look at Rene. Her blonde hair slipped over her shoulder, as she straightened her posture. ”You’ve improved so much, I wouldn’t be surprised at all that you sell your work.” Dione said, another small smile touching her lips. Admittedly, she was jealous of the artistic abilities of her siblings. Most of them possessed some manner of talent, but not Dione. She could not carry a tune, draw a straight line, mold a vase, embroider a pattern. She was horribly useless at such things. The only thing she seemed to have going for her were her looks, which...Hera willing would not fade with age.
Rene nudged the ornately carved wooden door closed as Dione moved beyond the threshold. Enchanting blue eyes trailed her older sister as she moved, strolling about here and there, pausing, taking inventory of the decor, and seemingly struggling for words, like one trapped in forced conversation. Even with her bearings in disarray, Dione was still a striking woman, a beautiful blonde who very much looked like their mother, the beautiful Ianthe.
Despite the years that had grown long between them, and distance to match, literally and figuratively, Rene felt she still knew Dione well enough to read a plethora of preoccupations flying about behind the windows of her eyes, like a whirlwind in her mind. Rene’s own sweet lips lifted into a warm smile. “Of course a woman can visit her sister, and her sister is elated that she do so,” she answered, moving over to her work station and pouring a cup of tea for her older sibling. Disregarding any declination, Rene still offered Dione a cup of tea. “Here. It is my own blend. Toasted rice.” The youngest Nickolaosi cut a sideways glance towards the myriad of projects about her room, in various states of completion. Paintings here, vases there, woven tapestry just beyond. It was a veritable artist’s studio in the girl’s room. “I apologize if the light of my lamps has kept you awake. I was testing out a few new techniques, and was too enraptured with the excitement of a few successes to go to sleep. I did not mean to infringe upon your rest,” she responded quietly.
As Dione seemed to dismiss her own efforts to reconnect, adopting an almost aloof position around her sister, Rene’s weighted gaze rested squarely on the older blonde. “You do not have to leave. I shall never decline the chance to visit with my siblings. I feel the price of adulthood is the conclusion of such opportunities, the change in interests, the prioritization of things beyond the simple joys we once clung to.” Rene’s smile was serene but kind. “A shame, is it not.”
As if ready to give a presentation, Rene sidled up to the stool at her workbench and took a seat facing her sister, heels perched on a rung, hands coming to rest gingerly on her knees. She beamed proudly, the only facet of her life she held any confidence in being her art. “Well, they are neither…..and both…..” she almost chuckled with an airy shrug. “Some are simply experiments, practice pieces, to perfect technique. Some are cherished pieces, finely detailed, painted, metal or stone inlay. Those are the pieces I offer to the gods. Some I hope to sell. When I am accepted in the field among my peers. You know as well as I, a woman must do things twice as well as a man, to be thought half as good. I wish to challenge the exclusivity of art in terms of gender bias. It will not be easy. I may fail.”
At the compliments bestowed upon her, her cheeks rosed over just so. “Thank you.” While she may not have vocalized it, Dione’s praise meant the world to her younger sister, who had always stood by in the shadows of her siblings, celebrating their lives vicariously, never feeling the tinge of bitterness or anger. She would be lying to herself though if she did not confess some bit of envy, some idolatry for their higher standing in the household. And yet, in some way, she was grateful for having the line of siblings before her, a shield for the ills of the world, five people whose mistakes she herself could learn from without the first hand risk of such err.
“Dione, are you happy?” It was a question from far out beyond the Aegean Sea.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rene nudged the ornately carved wooden door closed as Dione moved beyond the threshold. Enchanting blue eyes trailed her older sister as she moved, strolling about here and there, pausing, taking inventory of the decor, and seemingly struggling for words, like one trapped in forced conversation. Even with her bearings in disarray, Dione was still a striking woman, a beautiful blonde who very much looked like their mother, the beautiful Ianthe.
Despite the years that had grown long between them, and distance to match, literally and figuratively, Rene felt she still knew Dione well enough to read a plethora of preoccupations flying about behind the windows of her eyes, like a whirlwind in her mind. Rene’s own sweet lips lifted into a warm smile. “Of course a woman can visit her sister, and her sister is elated that she do so,” she answered, moving over to her work station and pouring a cup of tea for her older sibling. Disregarding any declination, Rene still offered Dione a cup of tea. “Here. It is my own blend. Toasted rice.” The youngest Nickolaosi cut a sideways glance towards the myriad of projects about her room, in various states of completion. Paintings here, vases there, woven tapestry just beyond. It was a veritable artist’s studio in the girl’s room. “I apologize if the light of my lamps has kept you awake. I was testing out a few new techniques, and was too enraptured with the excitement of a few successes to go to sleep. I did not mean to infringe upon your rest,” she responded quietly.
As Dione seemed to dismiss her own efforts to reconnect, adopting an almost aloof position around her sister, Rene’s weighted gaze rested squarely on the older blonde. “You do not have to leave. I shall never decline the chance to visit with my siblings. I feel the price of adulthood is the conclusion of such opportunities, the change in interests, the prioritization of things beyond the simple joys we once clung to.” Rene’s smile was serene but kind. “A shame, is it not.”
As if ready to give a presentation, Rene sidled up to the stool at her workbench and took a seat facing her sister, heels perched on a rung, hands coming to rest gingerly on her knees. She beamed proudly, the only facet of her life she held any confidence in being her art. “Well, they are neither…..and both…..” she almost chuckled with an airy shrug. “Some are simply experiments, practice pieces, to perfect technique. Some are cherished pieces, finely detailed, painted, metal or stone inlay. Those are the pieces I offer to the gods. Some I hope to sell. When I am accepted in the field among my peers. You know as well as I, a woman must do things twice as well as a man, to be thought half as good. I wish to challenge the exclusivity of art in terms of gender bias. It will not be easy. I may fail.”
At the compliments bestowed upon her, her cheeks rosed over just so. “Thank you.” While she may not have vocalized it, Dione’s praise meant the world to her younger sister, who had always stood by in the shadows of her siblings, celebrating their lives vicariously, never feeling the tinge of bitterness or anger. She would be lying to herself though if she did not confess some bit of envy, some idolatry for their higher standing in the household. And yet, in some way, she was grateful for having the line of siblings before her, a shield for the ills of the world, five people whose mistakes she herself could learn from without the first hand risk of such err.
“Dione, are you happy?” It was a question from far out beyond the Aegean Sea.
Rene nudged the ornately carved wooden door closed as Dione moved beyond the threshold. Enchanting blue eyes trailed her older sister as she moved, strolling about here and there, pausing, taking inventory of the decor, and seemingly struggling for words, like one trapped in forced conversation. Even with her bearings in disarray, Dione was still a striking woman, a beautiful blonde who very much looked like their mother, the beautiful Ianthe.
Despite the years that had grown long between them, and distance to match, literally and figuratively, Rene felt she still knew Dione well enough to read a plethora of preoccupations flying about behind the windows of her eyes, like a whirlwind in her mind. Rene’s own sweet lips lifted into a warm smile. “Of course a woman can visit her sister, and her sister is elated that she do so,” she answered, moving over to her work station and pouring a cup of tea for her older sibling. Disregarding any declination, Rene still offered Dione a cup of tea. “Here. It is my own blend. Toasted rice.” The youngest Nickolaosi cut a sideways glance towards the myriad of projects about her room, in various states of completion. Paintings here, vases there, woven tapestry just beyond. It was a veritable artist’s studio in the girl’s room. “I apologize if the light of my lamps has kept you awake. I was testing out a few new techniques, and was too enraptured with the excitement of a few successes to go to sleep. I did not mean to infringe upon your rest,” she responded quietly.
As Dione seemed to dismiss her own efforts to reconnect, adopting an almost aloof position around her sister, Rene’s weighted gaze rested squarely on the older blonde. “You do not have to leave. I shall never decline the chance to visit with my siblings. I feel the price of adulthood is the conclusion of such opportunities, the change in interests, the prioritization of things beyond the simple joys we once clung to.” Rene’s smile was serene but kind. “A shame, is it not.”
As if ready to give a presentation, Rene sidled up to the stool at her workbench and took a seat facing her sister, heels perched on a rung, hands coming to rest gingerly on her knees. She beamed proudly, the only facet of her life she held any confidence in being her art. “Well, they are neither…..and both…..” she almost chuckled with an airy shrug. “Some are simply experiments, practice pieces, to perfect technique. Some are cherished pieces, finely detailed, painted, metal or stone inlay. Those are the pieces I offer to the gods. Some I hope to sell. When I am accepted in the field among my peers. You know as well as I, a woman must do things twice as well as a man, to be thought half as good. I wish to challenge the exclusivity of art in terms of gender bias. It will not be easy. I may fail.”
At the compliments bestowed upon her, her cheeks rosed over just so. “Thank you.” While she may not have vocalized it, Dione’s praise meant the world to her younger sister, who had always stood by in the shadows of her siblings, celebrating their lives vicariously, never feeling the tinge of bitterness or anger. She would be lying to herself though if she did not confess some bit of envy, some idolatry for their higher standing in the household. And yet, in some way, she was grateful for having the line of siblings before her, a shield for the ills of the world, five people whose mistakes she herself could learn from without the first hand risk of such err.
“Dione, are you happy?” It was a question from far out beyond the Aegean Sea.
...and her sister is elated that she do so.
”Excellent.” She said with a grin. ”I was hoping that you would say that.” The blonde continued her casual inspection of the room. Every corner seemed to hold a new delight, personalized in some way with Rene’s personal touch. She had half a mind to ask her younger sister to do the same to her own rooms, lacking as they were in sentimental value. She supposed that was because she’d released the things of her youth years ago, purging her room of most of her personal things because she had been trying to appear grown. She had packed away the things of her youth, and her room had become a beautiful but blank canvas. If she were to leave it, no one would be able to tell it had ever been hers.
Dione accepted the cup of tea that was offered her despite her initial refusal, but did not bring it to her lips. She smiled, feeling slightly more in place now that she had something to do with her hands. ”Your work is lovely as always.” She said politely as she took in the various mediums. ”You must stay very busy.” Her gaze wandered from piece to piece, noting the subtle style and artistic expression. She could certainly appreciate fine art, even if she could not create it herself. She was not sure why @apollo had failed to give her such exquisite talents.
Carefully and discreetly setting aside her cup, Dione crossed her arms -- content to listen to her sister chatter away. She spent so much time at court and in social circles that it had been a long time since she had thought to visit Rene, and she was surprised to find that she was eager to hear just what her dear little sister had been up to.
Dione, are you happy? The question seemed to come out of nowhere, startling the blonde as she blinked at Rene. Her brows furrowed slightly, but there was no hesitation at all as she responded. ”Well...yes?” She said. ”I suppose I could be happier if I was married, but…” She trailed off, considering. ”We are all safe, protected...not going hungry unlike half the country.” She tilted her head. ”Why? Are you...not happy?”
The idea was much more concerning than her own happiness. She started forward, reaching out once she was close enough to wrap an arm around Rene’s shoulder in a sisterly manner.
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...and her sister is elated that she do so.
”Excellent.” She said with a grin. ”I was hoping that you would say that.” The blonde continued her casual inspection of the room. Every corner seemed to hold a new delight, personalized in some way with Rene’s personal touch. She had half a mind to ask her younger sister to do the same to her own rooms, lacking as they were in sentimental value. She supposed that was because she’d released the things of her youth years ago, purging her room of most of her personal things because she had been trying to appear grown. She had packed away the things of her youth, and her room had become a beautiful but blank canvas. If she were to leave it, no one would be able to tell it had ever been hers.
Dione accepted the cup of tea that was offered her despite her initial refusal, but did not bring it to her lips. She smiled, feeling slightly more in place now that she had something to do with her hands. ”Your work is lovely as always.” She said politely as she took in the various mediums. ”You must stay very busy.” Her gaze wandered from piece to piece, noting the subtle style and artistic expression. She could certainly appreciate fine art, even if she could not create it herself. She was not sure why @apollo had failed to give her such exquisite talents.
Carefully and discreetly setting aside her cup, Dione crossed her arms -- content to listen to her sister chatter away. She spent so much time at court and in social circles that it had been a long time since she had thought to visit Rene, and she was surprised to find that she was eager to hear just what her dear little sister had been up to.
Dione, are you happy? The question seemed to come out of nowhere, startling the blonde as she blinked at Rene. Her brows furrowed slightly, but there was no hesitation at all as she responded. ”Well...yes?” She said. ”I suppose I could be happier if I was married, but…” She trailed off, considering. ”We are all safe, protected...not going hungry unlike half the country.” She tilted her head. ”Why? Are you...not happy?”
The idea was much more concerning than her own happiness. She started forward, reaching out once she was close enough to wrap an arm around Rene’s shoulder in a sisterly manner.
...and her sister is elated that she do so.
”Excellent.” She said with a grin. ”I was hoping that you would say that.” The blonde continued her casual inspection of the room. Every corner seemed to hold a new delight, personalized in some way with Rene’s personal touch. She had half a mind to ask her younger sister to do the same to her own rooms, lacking as they were in sentimental value. She supposed that was because she’d released the things of her youth years ago, purging her room of most of her personal things because she had been trying to appear grown. She had packed away the things of her youth, and her room had become a beautiful but blank canvas. If she were to leave it, no one would be able to tell it had ever been hers.
Dione accepted the cup of tea that was offered her despite her initial refusal, but did not bring it to her lips. She smiled, feeling slightly more in place now that she had something to do with her hands. ”Your work is lovely as always.” She said politely as she took in the various mediums. ”You must stay very busy.” Her gaze wandered from piece to piece, noting the subtle style and artistic expression. She could certainly appreciate fine art, even if she could not create it herself. She was not sure why @apollo had failed to give her such exquisite talents.
Carefully and discreetly setting aside her cup, Dione crossed her arms -- content to listen to her sister chatter away. She spent so much time at court and in social circles that it had been a long time since she had thought to visit Rene, and she was surprised to find that she was eager to hear just what her dear little sister had been up to.
Dione, are you happy? The question seemed to come out of nowhere, startling the blonde as she blinked at Rene. Her brows furrowed slightly, but there was no hesitation at all as she responded. ”Well...yes?” She said. ”I suppose I could be happier if I was married, but…” She trailed off, considering. ”We are all safe, protected...not going hungry unlike half the country.” She tilted her head. ”Why? Are you...not happy?”
The idea was much more concerning than her own happiness. She started forward, reaching out once she was close enough to wrap an arm around Rene’s shoulder in a sisterly manner.
Rene was rarely without a smile, and it was conceivable that people simply assumed that because of such, she was an intellectual simpleton, a mere child without complex needs or emotions, empty-headed and easily distracted. But she was not a simpleton, not a child, and not incognizant. In fact, her persistent smile made for a clever cover for her observation skills and insight. Her gaze trailed after her older sister, a blonde bombshell who could have any man she wanted, and was commissioned by her seniority to build bridges for the Nikolaos. Dione drifted about the room, seeming to appreciate Rene’s decorative efforts, but seemed almost uneasy, as if the entire encounter was forced. The youngest sister summarily wondered if Dione had become so engrossed and natural at the sports of the royal court including subterfuge and charm, artificial or otherwise, that any real opportunities for sentiment and affection had all been paved over on her road to glory.
Even if Dione was merely paying a visit out of familial obligation, Rene was not one to dispense bitterness at the indirect suggestion of being thought so little of. Instead, she embraced what attentions her sister did slide in her direction. With her compliments, Rene’s smile brightened, ever brilliant and warm like the sun. “Thank you. Your praise means a lot,” she answered honestly, taking a sweeping inventory of the array of projects about her room. “I try to. I am hoping to build my commissions though. Each piece is yet another addition to my portfolio.” She paused ruefully, shoulders crunching in a teensy display of excitement. “Should you know anyone seeking commissions, please do pass them my name. I am not good at many things that are desirable for the family, but I am good at art.”
Rene moved about her work table and lifted a few fabric drapes that protected pieces both in-process and completed, until she found what she was looking for. Carrying the piece with both hands, she brought it to Dione and presented it. It was a small marble statue, nearly 16 centimeters tall, depicting Aphrodite, long hair draped about her shapely hips, garters of flowers around her feet, head and shoulders. “For you,” she said, her voice quieting in sincerity. “I have been working more in marble as a means of perfecting my skills with the medium. This is one of my best so far. I realize ‘love’ is not a parameter for any union you forge for the good of the House, but that does not mean the goddess may not make it so. I pray for her to shower a thousand blessings upon you that you are valued not only for your brilliance, but your heart as well.”
As to Dione’s question about being happy, Rene had to agree with the self assessment of desiring improvement. “I am happy, but like yourself, I aspire for more, for better, that I, too, may forge my own path as a professional artist, maybe find someone also.” She did not stipulate that it had to be a beneficial marriage, as such wasn’t likely in Rene’s role in the family. Unlike her siblings, she harbored no expectation of a strategic union, possibly devoid of affection. Her admiration for Dione’s willingness to shoulder that yoke as her responsibility to the noble House made her all the more awe-inspiring in Rene’s lovely blue eyes.
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Rene was rarely without a smile, and it was conceivable that people simply assumed that because of such, she was an intellectual simpleton, a mere child without complex needs or emotions, empty-headed and easily distracted. But she was not a simpleton, not a child, and not incognizant. In fact, her persistent smile made for a clever cover for her observation skills and insight. Her gaze trailed after her older sister, a blonde bombshell who could have any man she wanted, and was commissioned by her seniority to build bridges for the Nikolaos. Dione drifted about the room, seeming to appreciate Rene’s decorative efforts, but seemed almost uneasy, as if the entire encounter was forced. The youngest sister summarily wondered if Dione had become so engrossed and natural at the sports of the royal court including subterfuge and charm, artificial or otherwise, that any real opportunities for sentiment and affection had all been paved over on her road to glory.
Even if Dione was merely paying a visit out of familial obligation, Rene was not one to dispense bitterness at the indirect suggestion of being thought so little of. Instead, she embraced what attentions her sister did slide in her direction. With her compliments, Rene’s smile brightened, ever brilliant and warm like the sun. “Thank you. Your praise means a lot,” she answered honestly, taking a sweeping inventory of the array of projects about her room. “I try to. I am hoping to build my commissions though. Each piece is yet another addition to my portfolio.” She paused ruefully, shoulders crunching in a teensy display of excitement. “Should you know anyone seeking commissions, please do pass them my name. I am not good at many things that are desirable for the family, but I am good at art.”
Rene moved about her work table and lifted a few fabric drapes that protected pieces both in-process and completed, until she found what she was looking for. Carrying the piece with both hands, she brought it to Dione and presented it. It was a small marble statue, nearly 16 centimeters tall, depicting Aphrodite, long hair draped about her shapely hips, garters of flowers around her feet, head and shoulders. “For you,” she said, her voice quieting in sincerity. “I have been working more in marble as a means of perfecting my skills with the medium. This is one of my best so far. I realize ‘love’ is not a parameter for any union you forge for the good of the House, but that does not mean the goddess may not make it so. I pray for her to shower a thousand blessings upon you that you are valued not only for your brilliance, but your heart as well.”
As to Dione’s question about being happy, Rene had to agree with the self assessment of desiring improvement. “I am happy, but like yourself, I aspire for more, for better, that I, too, may forge my own path as a professional artist, maybe find someone also.” She did not stipulate that it had to be a beneficial marriage, as such wasn’t likely in Rene’s role in the family. Unlike her siblings, she harbored no expectation of a strategic union, possibly devoid of affection. Her admiration for Dione’s willingness to shoulder that yoke as her responsibility to the noble House made her all the more awe-inspiring in Rene’s lovely blue eyes.
Rene was rarely without a smile, and it was conceivable that people simply assumed that because of such, she was an intellectual simpleton, a mere child without complex needs or emotions, empty-headed and easily distracted. But she was not a simpleton, not a child, and not incognizant. In fact, her persistent smile made for a clever cover for her observation skills and insight. Her gaze trailed after her older sister, a blonde bombshell who could have any man she wanted, and was commissioned by her seniority to build bridges for the Nikolaos. Dione drifted about the room, seeming to appreciate Rene’s decorative efforts, but seemed almost uneasy, as if the entire encounter was forced. The youngest sister summarily wondered if Dione had become so engrossed and natural at the sports of the royal court including subterfuge and charm, artificial or otherwise, that any real opportunities for sentiment and affection had all been paved over on her road to glory.
Even if Dione was merely paying a visit out of familial obligation, Rene was not one to dispense bitterness at the indirect suggestion of being thought so little of. Instead, she embraced what attentions her sister did slide in her direction. With her compliments, Rene’s smile brightened, ever brilliant and warm like the sun. “Thank you. Your praise means a lot,” she answered honestly, taking a sweeping inventory of the array of projects about her room. “I try to. I am hoping to build my commissions though. Each piece is yet another addition to my portfolio.” She paused ruefully, shoulders crunching in a teensy display of excitement. “Should you know anyone seeking commissions, please do pass them my name. I am not good at many things that are desirable for the family, but I am good at art.”
Rene moved about her work table and lifted a few fabric drapes that protected pieces both in-process and completed, until she found what she was looking for. Carrying the piece with both hands, she brought it to Dione and presented it. It was a small marble statue, nearly 16 centimeters tall, depicting Aphrodite, long hair draped about her shapely hips, garters of flowers around her feet, head and shoulders. “For you,” she said, her voice quieting in sincerity. “I have been working more in marble as a means of perfecting my skills with the medium. This is one of my best so far. I realize ‘love’ is not a parameter for any union you forge for the good of the House, but that does not mean the goddess may not make it so. I pray for her to shower a thousand blessings upon you that you are valued not only for your brilliance, but your heart as well.”
As to Dione’s question about being happy, Rene had to agree with the self assessment of desiring improvement. “I am happy, but like yourself, I aspire for more, for better, that I, too, may forge my own path as a professional artist, maybe find someone also.” She did not stipulate that it had to be a beneficial marriage, as such wasn’t likely in Rene’s role in the family. Unlike her siblings, she harbored no expectation of a strategic union, possibly devoid of affection. Her admiration for Dione’s willingness to shoulder that yoke as her responsibility to the noble House made her all the more awe-inspiring in Rene’s lovely blue eyes.
