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It was generous of Ophelia to promote Rene as she did, a trait the Athenian found ever endearing. Whether or not Alexhandros’ interest in conversation was genuine was a different story, though he feigned it well.
“I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
As the small group moved in measured steps towards the temporary constructs of vendor rows for the festival, Rene’s expressive azure eyes were already drinking in the assortment of creative wares with discernible fascination. “I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator,” she responded. Behind the group, the entourage of handmaids and guards followed, allowing some distance. Melba remained several paces behind Rene, along with the towering form of Captain Aegeus, in his full uniform. He kept watch over his tiny ward with unrelenting astuteness, including the newcomer, who presented himself as a military man as well.
“Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough.”
Rene indulged his questions openly, always enthused to speak of the great vehicle of creation. His arrogance marred the otherwise engaging conversation. “Sculpture and ceramics are my favorite, though I am working to perfect the use of marble as well. It is far less forgiving of a medium than its contemporaries, and proves to be quite the challenge,” she answered, a little bubble of excitement in her tone. At his gumption, she canted her head at such a statement, even as Ophelia weighed in on how heroic the man would be as a model. The mirth drained nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Many men were the epitome of arrogance, commanding their worlds and the attentions of those around them as if they fancied themselves immortals. Asked nicely enough? It was in jest most likely, but the air of superiority seemed to linger, that she should have to beg for his services. “Hubris can anger the gods,” she answered, addressing his conceitedness. “The gods giveth, and the gods taketh away just as easily. We are wise to remember this,” she added quietly. While she found the man to be slightly off-putting, she was interested to hear his story, the origin of his battle wounds it seemed.
“I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe.”
“Nearly an hour? That sounds quite dreadful. Your services to the kingdoms are well appreciated,” Rene spoke, unsure what else to say. She had not engaged in conversation with soldiers prior, living the very sheltered life she had, her experiences with them were that they were often following her around in public, in absolute silence unless called upon in need. “I confess I have not prior had the opportunity to speak frankly with soldiers. Your ordeal has been very enlightening.”
“I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor. A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me.”
Rene’s fingers involuntarily reached up to touch the golden olive wreath around her head as if to adjust or steady it, though it had moved nary an inch. “You flatter a modest artist. I can assure you there are ladies here finer than I, Ophelia most certainly among them.” Certainly incapable of brandishing haughtiness, Rene made no effort to do so, accepting of her place and determined to rise above that through her own accumulated self worth, made possible with accomplishment. She could no more easily fake conceit than she could behaviors that were out of character. Her inner monologue was interrupted when she heard Ophelia’s voice once more.
“I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us. Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps? Rene? I think I need your assistance. Which of these would you say is the best?”
The petite blonde artist joined her friend at the display table where she sifted over several options of paint. Rene likewise selected each jar in kind, swirling the pigments within a few times, and even venturing to dip the tip of a finger in each to test consistency first hand. “I would choose this one, My Lady,” she offered the designated vessel to the Tangean. “This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,” Rene continued with a light smile. Such expertise was absolutely something she could lend. Though as Ophelia light-heartedly exalted Rene, she had to blush, like the first blooms after a long winter.
“I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart.” “You are very kind, my Tangean gem, though I do not find insolence to be a winsome trait, nor do the gods. You know me too well that I prefer to let my actions and my creations speak. Though they are silent, theirs are the loudest voices when it comes to my merit. I am grateful for your supreme confidence in my endeavors,” she replied in kind to Ophelia. “I may spend the long days of summer waxing pompous about myself, but none could be convinced. If we are as accomplished and worthy of honor as such claims, then let others deduce those virtues on their own. They are far more powerful than our own determinations. I am indeed a humble vector through which the gods have given the grace to explore the human condition, and offer it up in unspoken consideration.”
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It was generous of Ophelia to promote Rene as she did, a trait the Athenian found ever endearing. Whether or not Alexhandros’ interest in conversation was genuine was a different story, though he feigned it well.
“I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
As the small group moved in measured steps towards the temporary constructs of vendor rows for the festival, Rene’s expressive azure eyes were already drinking in the assortment of creative wares with discernible fascination. “I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator,” she responded. Behind the group, the entourage of handmaids and guards followed, allowing some distance. Melba remained several paces behind Rene, along with the towering form of Captain Aegeus, in his full uniform. He kept watch over his tiny ward with unrelenting astuteness, including the newcomer, who presented himself as a military man as well.
“Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough.”
Rene indulged his questions openly, always enthused to speak of the great vehicle of creation. His arrogance marred the otherwise engaging conversation. “Sculpture and ceramics are my favorite, though I am working to perfect the use of marble as well. It is far less forgiving of a medium than its contemporaries, and proves to be quite the challenge,” she answered, a little bubble of excitement in her tone. At his gumption, she canted her head at such a statement, even as Ophelia weighed in on how heroic the man would be as a model. The mirth drained nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Many men were the epitome of arrogance, commanding their worlds and the attentions of those around them as if they fancied themselves immortals. Asked nicely enough? It was in jest most likely, but the air of superiority seemed to linger, that she should have to beg for his services. “Hubris can anger the gods,” she answered, addressing his conceitedness. “The gods giveth, and the gods taketh away just as easily. We are wise to remember this,” she added quietly. While she found the man to be slightly off-putting, she was interested to hear his story, the origin of his battle wounds it seemed.
“I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe.”
“Nearly an hour? That sounds quite dreadful. Your services to the kingdoms are well appreciated,” Rene spoke, unsure what else to say. She had not engaged in conversation with soldiers prior, living the very sheltered life she had, her experiences with them were that they were often following her around in public, in absolute silence unless called upon in need. “I confess I have not prior had the opportunity to speak frankly with soldiers. Your ordeal has been very enlightening.”
“I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor. A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me.”
Rene’s fingers involuntarily reached up to touch the golden olive wreath around her head as if to adjust or steady it, though it had moved nary an inch. “You flatter a modest artist. I can assure you there are ladies here finer than I, Ophelia most certainly among them.” Certainly incapable of brandishing haughtiness, Rene made no effort to do so, accepting of her place and determined to rise above that through her own accumulated self worth, made possible with accomplishment. She could no more easily fake conceit than she could behaviors that were out of character. Her inner monologue was interrupted when she heard Ophelia’s voice once more.
“I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us. Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps? Rene? I think I need your assistance. Which of these would you say is the best?”
The petite blonde artist joined her friend at the display table where she sifted over several options of paint. Rene likewise selected each jar in kind, swirling the pigments within a few times, and even venturing to dip the tip of a finger in each to test consistency first hand. “I would choose this one, My Lady,” she offered the designated vessel to the Tangean. “This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,” Rene continued with a light smile. Such expertise was absolutely something she could lend. Though as Ophelia light-heartedly exalted Rene, she had to blush, like the first blooms after a long winter.
“I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart.” “You are very kind, my Tangean gem, though I do not find insolence to be a winsome trait, nor do the gods. You know me too well that I prefer to let my actions and my creations speak. Though they are silent, theirs are the loudest voices when it comes to my merit. I am grateful for your supreme confidence in my endeavors,” she replied in kind to Ophelia. “I may spend the long days of summer waxing pompous about myself, but none could be convinced. If we are as accomplished and worthy of honor as such claims, then let others deduce those virtues on their own. They are far more powerful than our own determinations. I am indeed a humble vector through which the gods have given the grace to explore the human condition, and offer it up in unspoken consideration.”
It was generous of Ophelia to promote Rene as she did, a trait the Athenian found ever endearing. Whether or not Alexhandros’ interest in conversation was genuine was a different story, though he feigned it well.
“I certainly have no objection. I actually need some new blue paint...I wonder if we can find some. I used the last yesterday painting the sky in a tribute to Athena; I think you would like it, though it is not nearly so good as anything you could create, my dear one.”
As the small group moved in measured steps towards the temporary constructs of vendor rows for the festival, Rene’s expressive azure eyes were already drinking in the assortment of creative wares with discernible fascination. “I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator,” she responded. Behind the group, the entourage of handmaids and guards followed, allowing some distance. Melba remained several paces behind Rene, along with the towering form of Captain Aegeus, in his full uniform. He kept watch over his tiny ward with unrelenting astuteness, including the newcomer, who presented himself as a military man as well.
“Ah! A commissioned artist and so young, I am truly impressed. Tell me, what sort of art do you favor? I think perhaps my services could be offered to model some great hero if you asked nicely enough.”
Rene indulged his questions openly, always enthused to speak of the great vehicle of creation. His arrogance marred the otherwise engaging conversation. “Sculpture and ceramics are my favorite, though I am working to perfect the use of marble as well. It is far less forgiving of a medium than its contemporaries, and proves to be quite the challenge,” she answered, a little bubble of excitement in her tone. At his gumption, she canted her head at such a statement, even as Ophelia weighed in on how heroic the man would be as a model. The mirth drained nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Many men were the epitome of arrogance, commanding their worlds and the attentions of those around them as if they fancied themselves immortals. Asked nicely enough? It was in jest most likely, but the air of superiority seemed to linger, that she should have to beg for his services. “Hubris can anger the gods,” she answered, addressing his conceitedness. “The gods giveth, and the gods taketh away just as easily. We are wise to remember this,” she added quietly. While she found the man to be slightly off-putting, she was interested to hear his story, the origin of his battle wounds it seemed.
“I warn you, it is perhaps not for the faint of heart, I shall remove the worst of it, for your benefit. Several months ago, our company was set upon by barbarians during an expedition to the North. Our Captain was killed in the initial charge, but the men held together. I began issuing commands, but could sense that the moral was breaking down. The barbarians were led by a giant of a man who had to have been at least half a foot taller than myself. I called out to him and issued a challenge of honor to fight one on one. He accepted and we stepped out from the shield walls. The fight was long and difficult, I earned several new scars for the effort, but, after nearly an hour, I landed a decisive blow and killed the giant. The company roared with triumph and set the barbarians to flight, we chased them until dusk, and I believe destroyed the fighting force of that tribe.”
“Nearly an hour? That sounds quite dreadful. Your services to the kingdoms are well appreciated,” Rene spoke, unsure what else to say. She had not engaged in conversation with soldiers prior, living the very sheltered life she had, her experiences with them were that they were often following her around in public, in absolute silence unless called upon in need. “I confess I have not prior had the opportunity to speak frankly with soldiers. Your ordeal has been very enlightening.”
“I must say that I appreciate the kind words, it is true that the life of a soldier is fraught with hardships and danger, but I do try my best to be a man of integrity and honor. A humble lady? Merely an artist? I feel as though you sell yourself short. You are a beautiful woman, with talents that few share. You are certainly not the least of any, perhaps you may be the finest lady here, baring the Lady Ophelia, who I am certain will agree with me.”
Rene’s fingers involuntarily reached up to touch the golden olive wreath around her head as if to adjust or steady it, though it had moved nary an inch. “You flatter a modest artist. I can assure you there are ladies here finer than I, Ophelia most certainly among them.” Certainly incapable of brandishing haughtiness, Rene made no effort to do so, accepting of her place and determined to rise above that through her own accumulated self worth, made possible with accomplishment. She could no more easily fake conceit than she could behaviors that were out of character. Her inner monologue was interrupted when she heard Ophelia’s voice once more.
“I am truly sorry to hear about your family, but it gladdens my heart to hear that you hold such sentiments towards us. Hmmm...is this too watery perhaps? Rene? I think I need your assistance. Which of these would you say is the best?”
The petite blonde artist joined her friend at the display table where she sifted over several options of paint. Rene likewise selected each jar in kind, swirling the pigments within a few times, and even venturing to dip the tip of a finger in each to test consistency first hand. “I would choose this one, My Lady,” she offered the designated vessel to the Tangean. “This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,” Rene continued with a light smile. Such expertise was absolutely something she could lend. Though as Ophelia light-heartedly exalted Rene, she had to blush, like the first blooms after a long winter.
“I speak always of her talent, her beauty, her intellect, and tell her always that to be the youngest does not resign her to being the least. However, she is determined to think herself a bronze medallist in a room filled with golden champions. So will you please kindly tell her that I deceive her not when I say that she is the purest, sweetest creature ever to walk the earth? For I truly mean it with all of my heart.” “You are very kind, my Tangean gem, though I do not find insolence to be a winsome trait, nor do the gods. You know me too well that I prefer to let my actions and my creations speak. Though they are silent, theirs are the loudest voices when it comes to my merit. I am grateful for your supreme confidence in my endeavors,” she replied in kind to Ophelia. “I may spend the long days of summer waxing pompous about myself, but none could be convinced. If we are as accomplished and worthy of honor as such claims, then let others deduce those virtues on their own. They are far more powerful than our own determinations. I am indeed a humble vector through which the gods have given the grace to explore the human condition, and offer it up in unspoken consideration.”
'I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator.'
Rene was complimentary as always, but Ophelia was very humble when it came to the visual arts. She had thought herself skilled before having the great honour of making the acquaintance of this genius, and now she knew what true skill was. She still thought herself proficient, but not nearly as gifted as Lady Rene. This was perfectly acceptable to her, for her more noticeable talents lay elsewhere -- in song, the art of conversation, and the archer's bow. Hunting was the one exhilarating activity permitted to women, noble and low-born alike, in homage to the Goddess of the hunt. Ophelia happened to be one of the most skilled huntresses in Taengea, perhaps in Greece. She knew she could be bested, particularly by the legendary archer Mihail of Thanassi, but that was of no consequence to her. When she held a bow and arrow, she felt powerful, and she rarely missed her mark.
"I shall show you the painting before I offer it up to Athena, if you like," she offered, smiling brightly at Rene. "I am making plans to have my own personal shrine to Athena expanded, so that it might include more of my own dedications to the Goddess: artwork, poetry and such. You must come to Taengea someday and see it, perhaps you could offer me some advice on what else to add to it."
She had planned to make an offering to Artemis while she was here as well. The Temple was not so very far, but she had not planned to buy her offering. She had come prepared with a wicker basket of things the huntress might find acceptable, which she had left in the carriage. When she visited the Temple, she would leave the offering there. She had no intention of troubling Rene or Alexandros with her religious devotions however; she would visit the Temple after the man had taken his leave. She would meet up with Rene again afterwards, if the girl so wished. Unless, of course, the beautiful blonde was intending to make her own offering to the Goddess of the Hunt.
She could tell that Alexandros's question had made Rene happy. Any art related question made Rene happy. She gushed with joy as she gave her response, speaking of the mediums she favoured and those she wished to improve upon. However, Ophelia noted that her buoyancy soon faded to sobriety. She was rather surprised when the sweet, shy artisan addressed the man in a sombre tone that was almost reproachful. Still, she was not wrong. What the Gods gave, the Gods could take away without a moment's hesitation, and often did so with little provocation. Perhaps he ought to be more careful how he spoke.
She did, however, seem interested in his tale. Ophelia had conversed with militants before, and was thus ready with a reply when the story concluded, but Rene -- by her own admission -- had come into little contact with them before. Thus, she struggled to envision the man's plight. As it happened, Ophelia had tended the wounds of many ex-servicemen, and many of the women to whom she gave her aid had husbands or sons in the services. The women who were not literate would often ask her to read their letters aloud and draft their responses, a service she gladly provided. In this way, she had learned quite a bit about the military.
And once again, the dear girl was praising her. Refusing to accept the praise they gave her, she instead turned it back on Ophelia, proclaiming her to be one of the greatest ladies at the event. The Taengean smiled demurely, unsure if she she held her tongue on the matter because she wished Rene to be right or because she did not want to contradict her friend before a stranger. "I believe that all the ladies at this event are in possession of fine qualities deserving of recognition," she said instead, so that there could no arguments from Rene that she was the least among them. Ophelia had now made all the ladies of this event equal in her eyes. Hopefully, it would now be the same for Rene, and she would count herself just as worthy of admiration as any one of them. "And as such, I deem you worthy of admiration for your breathtaking art and beautiful soul."
Having spoken these words, she began to move among the stalls, examining the various paints that were on offer. Some seemed too runny, some too thick, so she gently bid Rene assist her with her selection. The artist bounded over, all smiles and exuberance, eager to share her knowledge. Ophelia watched in interest as the young Nikolaos swirled several pigments and delicately dipped her finger into several different shades, before finally retrieving the third bottle and offering it to Ophelia.
'This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,' she explained. Ophelia gratefully accepted the bottle, leaning down to place a quick kiss upon both of the little dove's cheeks as a symbol of her gratitude.
"Thank you, my dear," she murmured softly. "Your knowledge is invaluable as always. But please, we have known each other for three years now, do you not think it time we dispense with the formalities?" she enquired softly, not wanting to pressure Rene into acquiescing if the girl preferred they remain on formal terms. "You know I would not mind if you simply called me Ophelia, I hope. You may even shorten it, if you wish. Other friends of mine occasionally call me Lia, or Elia, or Phia. Of course, if you wish to remain on a titled basis, that is perfectly fine with me also. My first care is always the comfort of my dearest companions."
Only after addressing Rene did she lay the paint, three new brushes, a box of feathers plucked from various exotic birds and some charcoal before the vendor to be told the price. He named a dearer sum than the material was worth, and she suspected this was due to her station, but she made no complaints and handed over the money with good grace and a charming smile.
The vendor forgotten, she turned immediately back to her companions. Alexandros was attempting once more to convince Lady Rene that she was all that Ophelia believed her to be. Rene was, as always, remaining stalwartly humble. Deciding to make another attempt, Ophelia wrapped the girl in a cocoon of silvery words, but Rene determinedly sliced through them with what was either disturbingly well ingrained self-doubt or a stubborn determination to be as humble as a saint. Still, she had to admit that Rene's words were simplistically charming and there was something to be admired about her modesty, and so she surrendered.
"Very well, my dear. You are right in saying that your art speaks for you. You need hardly say a word, for your personality shines through in your creations, but you should also know that it is alright to love yourself and take pride in the work that you do."
Turning towards Alexandros, she beamed brightly in hopes of dissolving any tension Rene's comment about his hubris might have created. "Right then, who wants duck? And bubbles? Or are you more of a dry wine sort of man?"
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'I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator.'
Rene was complimentary as always, but Ophelia was very humble when it came to the visual arts. She had thought herself skilled before having the great honour of making the acquaintance of this genius, and now she knew what true skill was. She still thought herself proficient, but not nearly as gifted as Lady Rene. This was perfectly acceptable to her, for her more noticeable talents lay elsewhere -- in song, the art of conversation, and the archer's bow. Hunting was the one exhilarating activity permitted to women, noble and low-born alike, in homage to the Goddess of the hunt. Ophelia happened to be one of the most skilled huntresses in Taengea, perhaps in Greece. She knew she could be bested, particularly by the legendary archer Mihail of Thanassi, but that was of no consequence to her. When she held a bow and arrow, she felt powerful, and she rarely missed her mark.
"I shall show you the painting before I offer it up to Athena, if you like," she offered, smiling brightly at Rene. "I am making plans to have my own personal shrine to Athena expanded, so that it might include more of my own dedications to the Goddess: artwork, poetry and such. You must come to Taengea someday and see it, perhaps you could offer me some advice on what else to add to it."
She had planned to make an offering to Artemis while she was here as well. The Temple was not so very far, but she had not planned to buy her offering. She had come prepared with a wicker basket of things the huntress might find acceptable, which she had left in the carriage. When she visited the Temple, she would leave the offering there. She had no intention of troubling Rene or Alexandros with her religious devotions however; she would visit the Temple after the man had taken his leave. She would meet up with Rene again afterwards, if the girl so wished. Unless, of course, the beautiful blonde was intending to make her own offering to the Goddess of the Hunt.
She could tell that Alexandros's question had made Rene happy. Any art related question made Rene happy. She gushed with joy as she gave her response, speaking of the mediums she favoured and those she wished to improve upon. However, Ophelia noted that her buoyancy soon faded to sobriety. She was rather surprised when the sweet, shy artisan addressed the man in a sombre tone that was almost reproachful. Still, she was not wrong. What the Gods gave, the Gods could take away without a moment's hesitation, and often did so with little provocation. Perhaps he ought to be more careful how he spoke.
She did, however, seem interested in his tale. Ophelia had conversed with militants before, and was thus ready with a reply when the story concluded, but Rene -- by her own admission -- had come into little contact with them before. Thus, she struggled to envision the man's plight. As it happened, Ophelia had tended the wounds of many ex-servicemen, and many of the women to whom she gave her aid had husbands or sons in the services. The women who were not literate would often ask her to read their letters aloud and draft their responses, a service she gladly provided. In this way, she had learned quite a bit about the military.
And once again, the dear girl was praising her. Refusing to accept the praise they gave her, she instead turned it back on Ophelia, proclaiming her to be one of the greatest ladies at the event. The Taengean smiled demurely, unsure if she she held her tongue on the matter because she wished Rene to be right or because she did not want to contradict her friend before a stranger. "I believe that all the ladies at this event are in possession of fine qualities deserving of recognition," she said instead, so that there could no arguments from Rene that she was the least among them. Ophelia had now made all the ladies of this event equal in her eyes. Hopefully, it would now be the same for Rene, and she would count herself just as worthy of admiration as any one of them. "And as such, I deem you worthy of admiration for your breathtaking art and beautiful soul."
Having spoken these words, she began to move among the stalls, examining the various paints that were on offer. Some seemed too runny, some too thick, so she gently bid Rene assist her with her selection. The artist bounded over, all smiles and exuberance, eager to share her knowledge. Ophelia watched in interest as the young Nikolaos swirled several pigments and delicately dipped her finger into several different shades, before finally retrieving the third bottle and offering it to Ophelia.
'This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,' she explained. Ophelia gratefully accepted the bottle, leaning down to place a quick kiss upon both of the little dove's cheeks as a symbol of her gratitude.
"Thank you, my dear," she murmured softly. "Your knowledge is invaluable as always. But please, we have known each other for three years now, do you not think it time we dispense with the formalities?" she enquired softly, not wanting to pressure Rene into acquiescing if the girl preferred they remain on formal terms. "You know I would not mind if you simply called me Ophelia, I hope. You may even shorten it, if you wish. Other friends of mine occasionally call me Lia, or Elia, or Phia. Of course, if you wish to remain on a titled basis, that is perfectly fine with me also. My first care is always the comfort of my dearest companions."
Only after addressing Rene did she lay the paint, three new brushes, a box of feathers plucked from various exotic birds and some charcoal before the vendor to be told the price. He named a dearer sum than the material was worth, and she suspected this was due to her station, but she made no complaints and handed over the money with good grace and a charming smile.
The vendor forgotten, she turned immediately back to her companions. Alexandros was attempting once more to convince Lady Rene that she was all that Ophelia believed her to be. Rene was, as always, remaining stalwartly humble. Deciding to make another attempt, Ophelia wrapped the girl in a cocoon of silvery words, but Rene determinedly sliced through them with what was either disturbingly well ingrained self-doubt or a stubborn determination to be as humble as a saint. Still, she had to admit that Rene's words were simplistically charming and there was something to be admired about her modesty, and so she surrendered.
"Very well, my dear. You are right in saying that your art speaks for you. You need hardly say a word, for your personality shines through in your creations, but you should also know that it is alright to love yourself and take pride in the work that you do."
Turning towards Alexandros, she beamed brightly in hopes of dissolving any tension Rene's comment about his hubris might have created. "Right then, who wants duck? And bubbles? Or are you more of a dry wine sort of man?"
'I should love to see your work, my sweet friend. You discredit yourself. You are a wondrous creator.'
Rene was complimentary as always, but Ophelia was very humble when it came to the visual arts. She had thought herself skilled before having the great honour of making the acquaintance of this genius, and now she knew what true skill was. She still thought herself proficient, but not nearly as gifted as Lady Rene. This was perfectly acceptable to her, for her more noticeable talents lay elsewhere -- in song, the art of conversation, and the archer's bow. Hunting was the one exhilarating activity permitted to women, noble and low-born alike, in homage to the Goddess of the hunt. Ophelia happened to be one of the most skilled huntresses in Taengea, perhaps in Greece. She knew she could be bested, particularly by the legendary archer Mihail of Thanassi, but that was of no consequence to her. When she held a bow and arrow, she felt powerful, and she rarely missed her mark.
"I shall show you the painting before I offer it up to Athena, if you like," she offered, smiling brightly at Rene. "I am making plans to have my own personal shrine to Athena expanded, so that it might include more of my own dedications to the Goddess: artwork, poetry and such. You must come to Taengea someday and see it, perhaps you could offer me some advice on what else to add to it."
She had planned to make an offering to Artemis while she was here as well. The Temple was not so very far, but she had not planned to buy her offering. She had come prepared with a wicker basket of things the huntress might find acceptable, which she had left in the carriage. When she visited the Temple, she would leave the offering there. She had no intention of troubling Rene or Alexandros with her religious devotions however; she would visit the Temple after the man had taken his leave. She would meet up with Rene again afterwards, if the girl so wished. Unless, of course, the beautiful blonde was intending to make her own offering to the Goddess of the Hunt.
She could tell that Alexandros's question had made Rene happy. Any art related question made Rene happy. She gushed with joy as she gave her response, speaking of the mediums she favoured and those she wished to improve upon. However, Ophelia noted that her buoyancy soon faded to sobriety. She was rather surprised when the sweet, shy artisan addressed the man in a sombre tone that was almost reproachful. Still, she was not wrong. What the Gods gave, the Gods could take away without a moment's hesitation, and often did so with little provocation. Perhaps he ought to be more careful how he spoke.
She did, however, seem interested in his tale. Ophelia had conversed with militants before, and was thus ready with a reply when the story concluded, but Rene -- by her own admission -- had come into little contact with them before. Thus, she struggled to envision the man's plight. As it happened, Ophelia had tended the wounds of many ex-servicemen, and many of the women to whom she gave her aid had husbands or sons in the services. The women who were not literate would often ask her to read their letters aloud and draft their responses, a service she gladly provided. In this way, she had learned quite a bit about the military.
And once again, the dear girl was praising her. Refusing to accept the praise they gave her, she instead turned it back on Ophelia, proclaiming her to be one of the greatest ladies at the event. The Taengean smiled demurely, unsure if she she held her tongue on the matter because she wished Rene to be right or because she did not want to contradict her friend before a stranger. "I believe that all the ladies at this event are in possession of fine qualities deserving of recognition," she said instead, so that there could no arguments from Rene that she was the least among them. Ophelia had now made all the ladies of this event equal in her eyes. Hopefully, it would now be the same for Rene, and she would count herself just as worthy of admiration as any one of them. "And as such, I deem you worthy of admiration for your breathtaking art and beautiful soul."
Having spoken these words, she began to move among the stalls, examining the various paints that were on offer. Some seemed too runny, some too thick, so she gently bid Rene assist her with her selection. The artist bounded over, all smiles and exuberance, eager to share her knowledge. Ophelia watched in interest as the young Nikolaos swirled several pigments and delicately dipped her finger into several different shades, before finally retrieving the third bottle and offering it to Ophelia.
'This one is a good consistency, the mix of egg appears to be fresh, with adequate pigmentation from azurite, the source of the blue coloring. It is cohesive and adhesive enough that the application of the color will be uniform to your selected subject. It is likely an animal glue derivative,' she explained. Ophelia gratefully accepted the bottle, leaning down to place a quick kiss upon both of the little dove's cheeks as a symbol of her gratitude.
"Thank you, my dear," she murmured softly. "Your knowledge is invaluable as always. But please, we have known each other for three years now, do you not think it time we dispense with the formalities?" she enquired softly, not wanting to pressure Rene into acquiescing if the girl preferred they remain on formal terms. "You know I would not mind if you simply called me Ophelia, I hope. You may even shorten it, if you wish. Other friends of mine occasionally call me Lia, or Elia, or Phia. Of course, if you wish to remain on a titled basis, that is perfectly fine with me also. My first care is always the comfort of my dearest companions."
Only after addressing Rene did she lay the paint, three new brushes, a box of feathers plucked from various exotic birds and some charcoal before the vendor to be told the price. He named a dearer sum than the material was worth, and she suspected this was due to her station, but she made no complaints and handed over the money with good grace and a charming smile.
The vendor forgotten, she turned immediately back to her companions. Alexandros was attempting once more to convince Lady Rene that she was all that Ophelia believed her to be. Rene was, as always, remaining stalwartly humble. Deciding to make another attempt, Ophelia wrapped the girl in a cocoon of silvery words, but Rene determinedly sliced through them with what was either disturbingly well ingrained self-doubt or a stubborn determination to be as humble as a saint. Still, she had to admit that Rene's words were simplistically charming and there was something to be admired about her modesty, and so she surrendered.
"Very well, my dear. You are right in saying that your art speaks for you. You need hardly say a word, for your personality shines through in your creations, but you should also know that it is alright to love yourself and take pride in the work that you do."
Turning towards Alexandros, she beamed brightly in hopes of dissolving any tension Rene's comment about his hubris might have created. "Right then, who wants duck? And bubbles? Or are you more of a dry wine sort of man?"
Had Vangelis been on the other side of the market, he would have noticed the arrival of his brother Yiannis. Had be done so, nothing would have stopped him from leaving the small group he currently called his social home and partaking in the welcomes. It was usual for the Kotas boys to be away at war and usual for them to return scathed but at least alive. Yet, each man of Kotas blood knew how easily the fates could turn and the Gods could take pleasure in seeing them fall. They knew the chances of taking a stray arrow to the heart or a sword to the gut during a barrage of attack. The Kotas were well trained; not invincible. Which meant that every return was a celebration. Every return to the Colchian shores was a moment of gratitude and homecoming.
Instead of spotting the younger prince's arrival, however, Yiannis' first welcome home would be the responsibility of Asia and Silas. Vangelis' focus was being directed by his father to the King of Taengea, whom he welcomed in formal fashion, now that he had a true chance for introductions. The man was old but the years had not seemed to dim his pleasant favour. He smiled, greeted Vangelis as if they were old friends and discussed how his personal province was tending over the summer. It took a man dedicated to acquainting himself with others to remember Vangelis' duties as a baron beneath his more prestigious titles. A tactful one to avoid discussion of war efforts at such a ceremony.
When the High Priestess guided the leaders of Greece to one side, ready to prepare the announcement, Vangelis parted ways with Zenon, only to be surprised at a small presence that had appeared at his elbow.
The Princess Emilia was a beautiful young creature of wide, doe eyes and a disposition that matched the sweetness of the outside. Appearing younger than she perhaps was, to the eyes of a six foot giant of a man, Vangelis instantly felt the discomfort he experienced whenever he was forced to encounter babes or the very young. His arms lifted a little, his torso leaned back, his entire focus became avoiding the act of looming or frightening the nymph-like young lady. In that regard, his association with Athanasia and Dion had been difficult in the beginning. Now, his sister was old enough to fight her own battles and Dion was male, which made things easier. Less delicate. Less breakable.
The delicate princess who looked as if she might disintegrate with too harsh a breeze, let alone a misstep of his own towering mass, put him entirely on edge. His expression turned from granite to frozen rock as he attempted not to show such discomfort or offend the little princess.
'A drachmae for your thoughts, Your Highness.'
Her voice was as gentle as her appearance and Vangelis felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attend. Like an ogre sensing a nearby lamb. He swallowed and offered a polite bow of his head. Despite their difference in scale, they were near enough of equal rank.
"I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess." He told her. "Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many." He glanced over at the crowd, subconsciously wondering at the colour purple. There was singers, dancers, patrons and merchants... Families stood together, friends gossiped over cups of wine. The entire meadow afront the White Temple was strewn with happy faces and fun exchanges. "This treaty has obviously had effect on the military but I fear soldiers fall pray to forgetting the stress placed upon those left behind. It is good to see such tension absent for so long." At least when it came to Grecian in-fighting. The Colchians were never truly at peace with the barbarians across the Northern Lands. But, at least they were no longer fighting their brothers and cousins.
Suddenly realising that this was perhaps too violent a topic to discuss with a young and impressionable princess, Vangelis felt his uncertainty grow.
Thankfully, he was saved the need to search for the right topic of conversation when a second princess of Athenia arrived and delicately began to look left and right. Like her sisters, Persephone was an elegant creature of soft olive skin and dark hair. Vangelis blinked as he took in her appearance from head to foot. It had been several years since he had last been in Athenia and met the woman's acquaintance but he was familiar with the rumours that spoke of her being blessed by the goddess of all things beautiful. He could understand why such talk had manifested.
"I believe your sister has arrived, Princess." He said, grabbing hold of the less war-focused subject. "I think she is looking for you."
With the younger of the sisters being so small and their father immersed in a close gathering of chatter between the three kings, he was not surprised that Persephone had been unable to locate her relatives. As he watched her, her vision swung his way and he caught her eye before pointing down beside him. Perhaps when someone moved, she would note the streak of bright colour that was Emilia's gown and realised what he was attempting to communicate across the tops of people's heads. The fact that, if Persephone followed his direction, he would be forced to entertain two young princesses, had yet to dawn upon him.
Then again, such events had always been a test of his resolve.
JD
Vangelis
JD
Vangelis
Awards
First Impressions:Towering; Resting stoic bitch face; monstrous height; the terrifying "Blood General".
Address: Your Royal Highness
Had Vangelis been on the other side of the market, he would have noticed the arrival of his brother Yiannis. Had be done so, nothing would have stopped him from leaving the small group he currently called his social home and partaking in the welcomes. It was usual for the Kotas boys to be away at war and usual for them to return scathed but at least alive. Yet, each man of Kotas blood knew how easily the fates could turn and the Gods could take pleasure in seeing them fall. They knew the chances of taking a stray arrow to the heart or a sword to the gut during a barrage of attack. The Kotas were well trained; not invincible. Which meant that every return was a celebration. Every return to the Colchian shores was a moment of gratitude and homecoming.
Instead of spotting the younger prince's arrival, however, Yiannis' first welcome home would be the responsibility of Asia and Silas. Vangelis' focus was being directed by his father to the King of Taengea, whom he welcomed in formal fashion, now that he had a true chance for introductions. The man was old but the years had not seemed to dim his pleasant favour. He smiled, greeted Vangelis as if they were old friends and discussed how his personal province was tending over the summer. It took a man dedicated to acquainting himself with others to remember Vangelis' duties as a baron beneath his more prestigious titles. A tactful one to avoid discussion of war efforts at such a ceremony.
When the High Priestess guided the leaders of Greece to one side, ready to prepare the announcement, Vangelis parted ways with Zenon, only to be surprised at a small presence that had appeared at his elbow.
The Princess Emilia was a beautiful young creature of wide, doe eyes and a disposition that matched the sweetness of the outside. Appearing younger than she perhaps was, to the eyes of a six foot giant of a man, Vangelis instantly felt the discomfort he experienced whenever he was forced to encounter babes or the very young. His arms lifted a little, his torso leaned back, his entire focus became avoiding the act of looming or frightening the nymph-like young lady. In that regard, his association with Athanasia and Dion had been difficult in the beginning. Now, his sister was old enough to fight her own battles and Dion was male, which made things easier. Less delicate. Less breakable.
The delicate princess who looked as if she might disintegrate with too harsh a breeze, let alone a misstep of his own towering mass, put him entirely on edge. His expression turned from granite to frozen rock as he attempted not to show such discomfort or offend the little princess.
'A drachmae for your thoughts, Your Highness.'
Her voice was as gentle as her appearance and Vangelis felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attend. Like an ogre sensing a nearby lamb. He swallowed and offered a polite bow of his head. Despite their difference in scale, they were near enough of equal rank.
"I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess." He told her. "Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many." He glanced over at the crowd, subconsciously wondering at the colour purple. There was singers, dancers, patrons and merchants... Families stood together, friends gossiped over cups of wine. The entire meadow afront the White Temple was strewn with happy faces and fun exchanges. "This treaty has obviously had effect on the military but I fear soldiers fall pray to forgetting the stress placed upon those left behind. It is good to see such tension absent for so long." At least when it came to Grecian in-fighting. The Colchians were never truly at peace with the barbarians across the Northern Lands. But, at least they were no longer fighting their brothers and cousins.
Suddenly realising that this was perhaps too violent a topic to discuss with a young and impressionable princess, Vangelis felt his uncertainty grow.
Thankfully, he was saved the need to search for the right topic of conversation when a second princess of Athenia arrived and delicately began to look left and right. Like her sisters, Persephone was an elegant creature of soft olive skin and dark hair. Vangelis blinked as he took in her appearance from head to foot. It had been several years since he had last been in Athenia and met the woman's acquaintance but he was familiar with the rumours that spoke of her being blessed by the goddess of all things beautiful. He could understand why such talk had manifested.
"I believe your sister has arrived, Princess." He said, grabbing hold of the less war-focused subject. "I think she is looking for you."
With the younger of the sisters being so small and their father immersed in a close gathering of chatter between the three kings, he was not surprised that Persephone had been unable to locate her relatives. As he watched her, her vision swung his way and he caught her eye before pointing down beside him. Perhaps when someone moved, she would note the streak of bright colour that was Emilia's gown and realised what he was attempting to communicate across the tops of people's heads. The fact that, if Persephone followed his direction, he would be forced to entertain two young princesses, had yet to dawn upon him.
Then again, such events had always been a test of his resolve.
Had Vangelis been on the other side of the market, he would have noticed the arrival of his brother Yiannis. Had be done so, nothing would have stopped him from leaving the small group he currently called his social home and partaking in the welcomes. It was usual for the Kotas boys to be away at war and usual for them to return scathed but at least alive. Yet, each man of Kotas blood knew how easily the fates could turn and the Gods could take pleasure in seeing them fall. They knew the chances of taking a stray arrow to the heart or a sword to the gut during a barrage of attack. The Kotas were well trained; not invincible. Which meant that every return was a celebration. Every return to the Colchian shores was a moment of gratitude and homecoming.
Instead of spotting the younger prince's arrival, however, Yiannis' first welcome home would be the responsibility of Asia and Silas. Vangelis' focus was being directed by his father to the King of Taengea, whom he welcomed in formal fashion, now that he had a true chance for introductions. The man was old but the years had not seemed to dim his pleasant favour. He smiled, greeted Vangelis as if they were old friends and discussed how his personal province was tending over the summer. It took a man dedicated to acquainting himself with others to remember Vangelis' duties as a baron beneath his more prestigious titles. A tactful one to avoid discussion of war efforts at such a ceremony.
When the High Priestess guided the leaders of Greece to one side, ready to prepare the announcement, Vangelis parted ways with Zenon, only to be surprised at a small presence that had appeared at his elbow.
The Princess Emilia was a beautiful young creature of wide, doe eyes and a disposition that matched the sweetness of the outside. Appearing younger than she perhaps was, to the eyes of a six foot giant of a man, Vangelis instantly felt the discomfort he experienced whenever he was forced to encounter babes or the very young. His arms lifted a little, his torso leaned back, his entire focus became avoiding the act of looming or frightening the nymph-like young lady. In that regard, his association with Athanasia and Dion had been difficult in the beginning. Now, his sister was old enough to fight her own battles and Dion was male, which made things easier. Less delicate. Less breakable.
The delicate princess who looked as if she might disintegrate with too harsh a breeze, let alone a misstep of his own towering mass, put him entirely on edge. His expression turned from granite to frozen rock as he attempted not to show such discomfort or offend the little princess.
'A drachmae for your thoughts, Your Highness.'
Her voice was as gentle as her appearance and Vangelis felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attend. Like an ogre sensing a nearby lamb. He swallowed and offered a polite bow of his head. Despite their difference in scale, they were near enough of equal rank.
"I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess." He told her. "Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many." He glanced over at the crowd, subconsciously wondering at the colour purple. There was singers, dancers, patrons and merchants... Families stood together, friends gossiped over cups of wine. The entire meadow afront the White Temple was strewn with happy faces and fun exchanges. "This treaty has obviously had effect on the military but I fear soldiers fall pray to forgetting the stress placed upon those left behind. It is good to see such tension absent for so long." At least when it came to Grecian in-fighting. The Colchians were never truly at peace with the barbarians across the Northern Lands. But, at least they were no longer fighting their brothers and cousins.
Suddenly realising that this was perhaps too violent a topic to discuss with a young and impressionable princess, Vangelis felt his uncertainty grow.
Thankfully, he was saved the need to search for the right topic of conversation when a second princess of Athenia arrived and delicately began to look left and right. Like her sisters, Persephone was an elegant creature of soft olive skin and dark hair. Vangelis blinked as he took in her appearance from head to foot. It had been several years since he had last been in Athenia and met the woman's acquaintance but he was familiar with the rumours that spoke of her being blessed by the goddess of all things beautiful. He could understand why such talk had manifested.
"I believe your sister has arrived, Princess." He said, grabbing hold of the less war-focused subject. "I think she is looking for you."
With the younger of the sisters being so small and their father immersed in a close gathering of chatter between the three kings, he was not surprised that Persephone had been unable to locate her relatives. As he watched her, her vision swung his way and he caught her eye before pointing down beside him. Perhaps when someone moved, she would note the streak of bright colour that was Emilia's gown and realised what he was attempting to communicate across the tops of people's heads. The fact that, if Persephone followed his direction, he would be forced to entertain two young princesses, had yet to dawn upon him.
Then again, such events had always been a test of his resolve.
Curveball A Decade of Peace
As discussions between the kings and the High Priestess come to a close, there is a subtle nod given to a band of soldiers marking the front lawn of the Temple. Each possesses a horn fastened at their hip. With a single nod from their sovereign King Tython, each is lifted to their lips and sounded.
The tone is soft but deep of belly and heart. It through the air, like a heartbeat brought slowly to the height of adrenaline. Or a soul bolstered with courage. The single note rises louder, bringing conversations to a sudden end and drawing focus. Sentences are hurried to a close and faces turn towards the front steps of the Temple. The three Kings of Greece stand beside one another, enough space between them to honour each of their own status. Zenon stands at the centre, Minas to his right and the colchian king upon the left. To one side, the High Priestess Kallista and her ladies are a demure audience ready to play aides to the monarchs if necessary.
As the crowd quietens, King Tython of Kotas raises his hands, intention greeting both his own people and those who have travelled to honour the peace. He remains there, awaiting the focus of all before he speaks...
[[Pausing here to allow for reactions and for characters to either obey or not. Tython's speech will come afterwards...]]
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
As discussions between the kings and the High Priestess come to a close, there is a subtle nod given to a band of soldiers marking the front lawn of the Temple. Each possesses a horn fastened at their hip. With a single nod from their sovereign King Tython, each is lifted to their lips and sounded.
The tone is soft but deep of belly and heart. It through the air, like a heartbeat brought slowly to the height of adrenaline. Or a soul bolstered with courage. The single note rises louder, bringing conversations to a sudden end and drawing focus. Sentences are hurried to a close and faces turn towards the front steps of the Temple. The three Kings of Greece stand beside one another, enough space between them to honour each of their own status. Zenon stands at the centre, Minas to his right and the colchian king upon the left. To one side, the High Priestess Kallista and her ladies are a demure audience ready to play aides to the monarchs if necessary.
As the crowd quietens, King Tython of Kotas raises his hands, intention greeting both his own people and those who have travelled to honour the peace. He remains there, awaiting the focus of all before he speaks...
[[Pausing here to allow for reactions and for characters to either obey or not. Tython's speech will come afterwards...]]
Curveball A Decade of Peace
As discussions between the kings and the High Priestess come to a close, there is a subtle nod given to a band of soldiers marking the front lawn of the Temple. Each possesses a horn fastened at their hip. With a single nod from their sovereign King Tython, each is lifted to their lips and sounded.
The tone is soft but deep of belly and heart. It through the air, like a heartbeat brought slowly to the height of adrenaline. Or a soul bolstered with courage. The single note rises louder, bringing conversations to a sudden end and drawing focus. Sentences are hurried to a close and faces turn towards the front steps of the Temple. The three Kings of Greece stand beside one another, enough space between them to honour each of their own status. Zenon stands at the centre, Minas to his right and the colchian king upon the left. To one side, the High Priestess Kallista and her ladies are a demure audience ready to play aides to the monarchs if necessary.
As the crowd quietens, King Tython of Kotas raises his hands, intention greeting both his own people and those who have travelled to honour the peace. He remains there, awaiting the focus of all before he speaks...
[[Pausing here to allow for reactions and for characters to either obey or not. Tython's speech will come afterwards...]]
Fotios was not a man who enjoyed the meandering pleasantries of high society. He had no interest in celebrating when his peers made achievements in their lives, nor did he enjoy the grieving effort it took to pander sympathy when their trades were suffering. From acquaintances to strangers, Fotios had no passion for the lives of others. His own life, his own House - only those were of any importance to him. Intelligent enough to know that all humans saw themselves as the central axis of their worlds, Fotios felt no shame in placing his own ahead of all others. Let them take care of their own lives whilst he tended to his.
It was their own fault if he outdid them.
Yet, formal functions were often a point of mandatory attendance for Fotios. Despite his distaste for other human beings and the obstacles their little universes created for his own ambitions, Fotios was not known for cutting his nose to spite his face. If he wished to succeed in a world that was as political as it was greedy, information was the currency he required. Whether it was to outbid a noble peer for a trading deal or blackmail an official to edit papers to the Leventi's benefit, it was information that greased the wheels of commerce. The most precious of which never landed in the lap unsolicited.
Rumour... gossip... Whispers that were known enough to reach the maids and servants of other Houses were common dime. The secrets that held their true weight in gold were those read in the eyes and behaviour of those that held them private. And, for that, Fotios needed to attend events. He needed to speak with those of power. To whisper in their ear. To lure them into a state where their tongues loosened and their liquid gold poured forth...
So here he was. Riding towards the festival of peace in Illytia. For the sake of liquid gold.
Beside him sat his wife, Eirini. Beautiful on the average day, such festivities had seen her decked in all her glory; a goddess in mortal skin. Across from him was his eldest niece, the supposedly blessed young woman that had still, inexplicitly, failed to secure an engagement. Fotios kept his thoughts from transferring to his face through decades of practice but he felt the dull itch of irritation in the back of his mind. Just how was a woman of Selene's appearance and good countenance - not to mention inheritance, dowery and birthright - still unmarried? Just what was she doing with these males that saw them run in the other direction?
Considering the event would also be attended by Prince Vangelis of Kotas, Fotios considered the following celebration to be a potential source of investigation. Perhaps he would be able to see for himself just how she had offended the crown prince of Colchis, despite being only ten when she had last seen him.
An innate skill apparently.
When the carriage pulled to a stop and they were all guided to the ground, Fotios paid little attention to straightening his fine grey chiton. The bronze clasp upon his shoulder was ornate and worked down upon his chest. His feet were donned in simple sandals of a similar colour. Nothing he wore was excessive or displayed the true wealth he possessed. Only those with a close eye would be able to see that the garments were all of the finest fabric. Fotios was content with his diminished attire. He preferred the powerful position in the shadows, beside the limelight. Not the target beneath the light.
Offering his arm to his wife, Fotios allowed Selene to part from their company with a simple warning not to go too far. His focus was then caught by the sounding of horns.
"Come, my love." He murmured low enough for only Eirini's ears. "Let us see what we can make of the upper Colchian classes. I have yet to meet all of King Tython's sons. Perhaps one will be of interest to us..."
JD
Fotios
JD
Fotios
Awards
First Impressions:Wiry; Sharp gaze, austere and regal features, prominent tendons in his hands.
Address: Your His Lordship
Fotios was not a man who enjoyed the meandering pleasantries of high society. He had no interest in celebrating when his peers made achievements in their lives, nor did he enjoy the grieving effort it took to pander sympathy when their trades were suffering. From acquaintances to strangers, Fotios had no passion for the lives of others. His own life, his own House - only those were of any importance to him. Intelligent enough to know that all humans saw themselves as the central axis of their worlds, Fotios felt no shame in placing his own ahead of all others. Let them take care of their own lives whilst he tended to his.
It was their own fault if he outdid them.
Yet, formal functions were often a point of mandatory attendance for Fotios. Despite his distaste for other human beings and the obstacles their little universes created for his own ambitions, Fotios was not known for cutting his nose to spite his face. If he wished to succeed in a world that was as political as it was greedy, information was the currency he required. Whether it was to outbid a noble peer for a trading deal or blackmail an official to edit papers to the Leventi's benefit, it was information that greased the wheels of commerce. The most precious of which never landed in the lap unsolicited.
Rumour... gossip... Whispers that were known enough to reach the maids and servants of other Houses were common dime. The secrets that held their true weight in gold were those read in the eyes and behaviour of those that held them private. And, for that, Fotios needed to attend events. He needed to speak with those of power. To whisper in their ear. To lure them into a state where their tongues loosened and their liquid gold poured forth...
So here he was. Riding towards the festival of peace in Illytia. For the sake of liquid gold.
Beside him sat his wife, Eirini. Beautiful on the average day, such festivities had seen her decked in all her glory; a goddess in mortal skin. Across from him was his eldest niece, the supposedly blessed young woman that had still, inexplicitly, failed to secure an engagement. Fotios kept his thoughts from transferring to his face through decades of practice but he felt the dull itch of irritation in the back of his mind. Just how was a woman of Selene's appearance and good countenance - not to mention inheritance, dowery and birthright - still unmarried? Just what was she doing with these males that saw them run in the other direction?
Considering the event would also be attended by Prince Vangelis of Kotas, Fotios considered the following celebration to be a potential source of investigation. Perhaps he would be able to see for himself just how she had offended the crown prince of Colchis, despite being only ten when she had last seen him.
An innate skill apparently.
When the carriage pulled to a stop and they were all guided to the ground, Fotios paid little attention to straightening his fine grey chiton. The bronze clasp upon his shoulder was ornate and worked down upon his chest. His feet were donned in simple sandals of a similar colour. Nothing he wore was excessive or displayed the true wealth he possessed. Only those with a close eye would be able to see that the garments were all of the finest fabric. Fotios was content with his diminished attire. He preferred the powerful position in the shadows, beside the limelight. Not the target beneath the light.
Offering his arm to his wife, Fotios allowed Selene to part from their company with a simple warning not to go too far. His focus was then caught by the sounding of horns.
"Come, my love." He murmured low enough for only Eirini's ears. "Let us see what we can make of the upper Colchian classes. I have yet to meet all of King Tython's sons. Perhaps one will be of interest to us..."
Fotios was not a man who enjoyed the meandering pleasantries of high society. He had no interest in celebrating when his peers made achievements in their lives, nor did he enjoy the grieving effort it took to pander sympathy when their trades were suffering. From acquaintances to strangers, Fotios had no passion for the lives of others. His own life, his own House - only those were of any importance to him. Intelligent enough to know that all humans saw themselves as the central axis of their worlds, Fotios felt no shame in placing his own ahead of all others. Let them take care of their own lives whilst he tended to his.
It was their own fault if he outdid them.
Yet, formal functions were often a point of mandatory attendance for Fotios. Despite his distaste for other human beings and the obstacles their little universes created for his own ambitions, Fotios was not known for cutting his nose to spite his face. If he wished to succeed in a world that was as political as it was greedy, information was the currency he required. Whether it was to outbid a noble peer for a trading deal or blackmail an official to edit papers to the Leventi's benefit, it was information that greased the wheels of commerce. The most precious of which never landed in the lap unsolicited.
Rumour... gossip... Whispers that were known enough to reach the maids and servants of other Houses were common dime. The secrets that held their true weight in gold were those read in the eyes and behaviour of those that held them private. And, for that, Fotios needed to attend events. He needed to speak with those of power. To whisper in their ear. To lure them into a state where their tongues loosened and their liquid gold poured forth...
So here he was. Riding towards the festival of peace in Illytia. For the sake of liquid gold.
Beside him sat his wife, Eirini. Beautiful on the average day, such festivities had seen her decked in all her glory; a goddess in mortal skin. Across from him was his eldest niece, the supposedly blessed young woman that had still, inexplicitly, failed to secure an engagement. Fotios kept his thoughts from transferring to his face through decades of practice but he felt the dull itch of irritation in the back of his mind. Just how was a woman of Selene's appearance and good countenance - not to mention inheritance, dowery and birthright - still unmarried? Just what was she doing with these males that saw them run in the other direction?
Considering the event would also be attended by Prince Vangelis of Kotas, Fotios considered the following celebration to be a potential source of investigation. Perhaps he would be able to see for himself just how she had offended the crown prince of Colchis, despite being only ten when she had last seen him.
An innate skill apparently.
When the carriage pulled to a stop and they were all guided to the ground, Fotios paid little attention to straightening his fine grey chiton. The bronze clasp upon his shoulder was ornate and worked down upon his chest. His feet were donned in simple sandals of a similar colour. Nothing he wore was excessive or displayed the true wealth he possessed. Only those with a close eye would be able to see that the garments were all of the finest fabric. Fotios was content with his diminished attire. He preferred the powerful position in the shadows, beside the limelight. Not the target beneath the light.
Offering his arm to his wife, Fotios allowed Selene to part from their company with a simple warning not to go too far. His focus was then caught by the sounding of horns.
"Come, my love." He murmured low enough for only Eirini's ears. "Let us see what we can make of the upper Colchian classes. I have yet to meet all of King Tython's sons. Perhaps one will be of interest to us..."
-coming in from other thread-
Hearing the horns, a deep and resounding tone that seemed to go right through her very core, making her pause in her talk with Elias. "We have to go.. or at least I do." This had to be what her pater meant when he told her to 'Witness the populace.' Picking little Achilles up and tucking the pup in her arm, Asia grabbed Elias' hand with her free one and pulled him up. "Come on, we can not miss this." Pulling Elias along, Athanasia started to take short cuts through small ally ways as she avoided the hoards of people as they made their way to the center where the horns sounded. Looking back at Elias, she wondered what he was thinking as they moved through the alleys, cutting between buildings and stalls that helped them pass through at a fairly quick pace compared to the crowd that moved not far from them. "We are almost there. They should all be at the Temple." Asia could see the Temple as they rushed through the shortcuts, occasionally disappearing from sight and coming back. This whole time, she never let go of Elias' hand, even as the puppy seemed to try and wiggle free at times.
They were free of the buildings and now needed to wiggle through the crowd to get to the front, thankfully it seemed like a few recognized her and moved out of her way, making a clearer path for her to the front. Athanasia moved quickly, watching as her pater raised his hands high to greet everyone, and when they reached the steps she finally let go of Elias' hand as she made her way to stand beside her family. Looking over at Vangelis and her brothers, she gave them a smile as she held up her little pup, trying not to laugh when it gave a loud yip as if in greeting in the growing silence. It was only then that she turned and looked over at Elias, wondering what he thought of all this.
Athene
Athanasia
Athene
Athanasia
Awards
First Impressions:Leggy; Warm, bronze-colored eyes; thick wavy hair & an easy smile.
Address: Your Royal Highness
Hearing the horns, a deep and resounding tone that seemed to go right through her very core, making her pause in her talk with Elias. "We have to go.. or at least I do." This had to be what her pater meant when he told her to 'Witness the populace.' Picking little Achilles up and tucking the pup in her arm, Asia grabbed Elias' hand with her free one and pulled him up. "Come on, we can not miss this." Pulling Elias along, Athanasia started to take short cuts through small ally ways as she avoided the hoards of people as they made their way to the center where the horns sounded. Looking back at Elias, she wondered what he was thinking as they moved through the alleys, cutting between buildings and stalls that helped them pass through at a fairly quick pace compared to the crowd that moved not far from them. "We are almost there. They should all be at the Temple." Asia could see the Temple as they rushed through the shortcuts, occasionally disappearing from sight and coming back. This whole time, she never let go of Elias' hand, even as the puppy seemed to try and wiggle free at times.
They were free of the buildings and now needed to wiggle through the crowd to get to the front, thankfully it seemed like a few recognized her and moved out of her way, making a clearer path for her to the front. Athanasia moved quickly, watching as her pater raised his hands high to greet everyone, and when they reached the steps she finally let go of Elias' hand as she made her way to stand beside her family. Looking over at Vangelis and her brothers, she gave them a smile as she held up her little pup, trying not to laugh when it gave a loud yip as if in greeting in the growing silence. It was only then that she turned and looked over at Elias, wondering what he thought of all this.
-coming in from other thread-
Hearing the horns, a deep and resounding tone that seemed to go right through her very core, making her pause in her talk with Elias. "We have to go.. or at least I do." This had to be what her pater meant when he told her to 'Witness the populace.' Picking little Achilles up and tucking the pup in her arm, Asia grabbed Elias' hand with her free one and pulled him up. "Come on, we can not miss this." Pulling Elias along, Athanasia started to take short cuts through small ally ways as she avoided the hoards of people as they made their way to the center where the horns sounded. Looking back at Elias, she wondered what he was thinking as they moved through the alleys, cutting between buildings and stalls that helped them pass through at a fairly quick pace compared to the crowd that moved not far from them. "We are almost there. They should all be at the Temple." Asia could see the Temple as they rushed through the shortcuts, occasionally disappearing from sight and coming back. This whole time, she never let go of Elias' hand, even as the puppy seemed to try and wiggle free at times.
They were free of the buildings and now needed to wiggle through the crowd to get to the front, thankfully it seemed like a few recognized her and moved out of her way, making a clearer path for her to the front. Athanasia moved quickly, watching as her pater raised his hands high to greet everyone, and when they reached the steps she finally let go of Elias' hand as she made her way to stand beside her family. Looking over at Vangelis and her brothers, she gave them a smile as she held up her little pup, trying not to laugh when it gave a loud yip as if in greeting in the growing silence. It was only then that she turned and looked over at Elias, wondering what he thought of all this.
(re-entering from The Princess, The Soldier and The Artist)
The sound of the horns brought their conversation to a sudden halt. And now there was no talk of trees or pitchers or honeyed duck, for a reverential hush was descending over the crowd. Ophelia cast her gaze in the direction of the horns, noticing that a grand assemblage had gathered there.
On the steps of the Temple, a golden trinity stood: the three monarchs of Greece, side by side, flanked by an entourage of soldiers and guards. In the centre, the ruler of her own beloved Teangea; to his right, King Minas of Athenia, a stately man if ever there was one, and to the left, the sovereign ruler of their hosting shore. Nearby stood the High Priestess of the Temple of Artemis, her feminine flock following in her demure example.
Ophelia flicked her gaze briefly to her two companions, reaching for the hand of the artisan beside her and lacing their fingers together. She had a sudden wish that Eva could have been beside her also, but refrained from calling her over. Evanthe was standing with Aoide, Thisbe, Theron and Caius, her own eyes fixed on the trio.
Ophelia watched as the Colchan ruler raised his sturdy hands. There was intent in every move he made, easily holding the attention of the masses. There were a few lingering murmurs here and there, but they soon died away to nothingness. For her part, she dared not utter a word. Was it out of fear, or fascination? She knew not. She knew what she hoped he would say. 'All is settled, the treaty continues.' But what if those were not the words that left the monarch's lips? What if they had failed to reach a lasting agreement? What if a decade of peace was merely that, a decade, meant to last ten years before dissolving into the chaos of war once more? How ironic, then, that she should be now in the company of a soldier.
Would Alexandros soon be sent to fight again? Would the three great Kingdoms soon be warring once again? Surely not. Minas seemed a reasonable man, as did Zennon. She knew little of Tython. She had heard that the Colchans could be ruthless, but surely he would not be so foolish as to revive a quarrel that had all parties had agreed was to no-one's benefit.
No. They would announce the continuation of the treaty, she was sure of it. And, content in this belief, she smiled up at the steps, admiring the sight of the three Grecian Kings stood together in harmony.
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Check out their information page here.
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(re-entering from The Princess, The Soldier and The Artist)
The sound of the horns brought their conversation to a sudden halt. And now there was no talk of trees or pitchers or honeyed duck, for a reverential hush was descending over the crowd. Ophelia cast her gaze in the direction of the horns, noticing that a grand assemblage had gathered there.
On the steps of the Temple, a golden trinity stood: the three monarchs of Greece, side by side, flanked by an entourage of soldiers and guards. In the centre, the ruler of her own beloved Teangea; to his right, King Minas of Athenia, a stately man if ever there was one, and to the left, the sovereign ruler of their hosting shore. Nearby stood the High Priestess of the Temple of Artemis, her feminine flock following in her demure example.
Ophelia flicked her gaze briefly to her two companions, reaching for the hand of the artisan beside her and lacing their fingers together. She had a sudden wish that Eva could have been beside her also, but refrained from calling her over. Evanthe was standing with Aoide, Thisbe, Theron and Caius, her own eyes fixed on the trio.
Ophelia watched as the Colchan ruler raised his sturdy hands. There was intent in every move he made, easily holding the attention of the masses. There were a few lingering murmurs here and there, but they soon died away to nothingness. For her part, she dared not utter a word. Was it out of fear, or fascination? She knew not. She knew what she hoped he would say. 'All is settled, the treaty continues.' But what if those were not the words that left the monarch's lips? What if they had failed to reach a lasting agreement? What if a decade of peace was merely that, a decade, meant to last ten years before dissolving into the chaos of war once more? How ironic, then, that she should be now in the company of a soldier.
Would Alexandros soon be sent to fight again? Would the three great Kingdoms soon be warring once again? Surely not. Minas seemed a reasonable man, as did Zennon. She knew little of Tython. She had heard that the Colchans could be ruthless, but surely he would not be so foolish as to revive a quarrel that had all parties had agreed was to no-one's benefit.
No. They would announce the continuation of the treaty, she was sure of it. And, content in this belief, she smiled up at the steps, admiring the sight of the three Grecian Kings stood together in harmony.
(re-entering from The Princess, The Soldier and The Artist)
The sound of the horns brought their conversation to a sudden halt. And now there was no talk of trees or pitchers or honeyed duck, for a reverential hush was descending over the crowd. Ophelia cast her gaze in the direction of the horns, noticing that a grand assemblage had gathered there.
On the steps of the Temple, a golden trinity stood: the three monarchs of Greece, side by side, flanked by an entourage of soldiers and guards. In the centre, the ruler of her own beloved Teangea; to his right, King Minas of Athenia, a stately man if ever there was one, and to the left, the sovereign ruler of their hosting shore. Nearby stood the High Priestess of the Temple of Artemis, her feminine flock following in her demure example.
Ophelia flicked her gaze briefly to her two companions, reaching for the hand of the artisan beside her and lacing their fingers together. She had a sudden wish that Eva could have been beside her also, but refrained from calling her over. Evanthe was standing with Aoide, Thisbe, Theron and Caius, her own eyes fixed on the trio.
Ophelia watched as the Colchan ruler raised his sturdy hands. There was intent in every move he made, easily holding the attention of the masses. There were a few lingering murmurs here and there, but they soon died away to nothingness. For her part, she dared not utter a word. Was it out of fear, or fascination? She knew not. She knew what she hoped he would say. 'All is settled, the treaty continues.' But what if those were not the words that left the monarch's lips? What if they had failed to reach a lasting agreement? What if a decade of peace was merely that, a decade, meant to last ten years before dissolving into the chaos of war once more? How ironic, then, that she should be now in the company of a soldier.
Would Alexandros soon be sent to fight again? Would the three great Kingdoms soon be warring once again? Surely not. Minas seemed a reasonable man, as did Zennon. She knew little of Tython. She had heard that the Colchans could be ruthless, but surely he would not be so foolish as to revive a quarrel that had all parties had agreed was to no-one's benefit.
No. They would announce the continuation of the treaty, she was sure of it. And, content in this belief, she smiled up at the steps, admiring the sight of the three Grecian Kings stood together in harmony.
(re-enter from The Princess, The Artist and The Soldier)
As the conversation was rolling in a rather enriching direction, one in which all parties were baring bits of their souls little by little, the blare of horns ceasing all conversation. Like a wave, silence fell over the entirety of the event, the crowds swept into a hush as thousands of pairs of eyes redirected towards the source. Rene was merely about to concede with Ophelia that finding a sword and brandishing it in public was not exactly what she had in mind, when the impending notification came to fruition. She felt Ophelia reach for her hand, almost anxiously, her facade rather stoic.
The petite and delicate blonde had taken the announcement and gone with it in a far more optimistic direction, as some great piece of news would be coming to the kingdoms. Not once did the thought cross her mind that there should be controversy or strife. Not after ten years of diligent commitment to accord.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexhandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?” Ever the optimist, she flashed an encouraging smile, working to nudge her more guarded friend back towards serenity.
It would take some careful navigation, to work back through the crowd, and behind them, Melba and Captain Aegeus pressed closer, likewise more cautious as if the suspense in the air could likewise yield elation or shock, and they were ready for both.
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Check out their information page here.
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(re-enter from The Princess, The Artist and The Soldier)
As the conversation was rolling in a rather enriching direction, one in which all parties were baring bits of their souls little by little, the blare of horns ceasing all conversation. Like a wave, silence fell over the entirety of the event, the crowds swept into a hush as thousands of pairs of eyes redirected towards the source. Rene was merely about to concede with Ophelia that finding a sword and brandishing it in public was not exactly what she had in mind, when the impending notification came to fruition. She felt Ophelia reach for her hand, almost anxiously, her facade rather stoic.
The petite and delicate blonde had taken the announcement and gone with it in a far more optimistic direction, as some great piece of news would be coming to the kingdoms. Not once did the thought cross her mind that there should be controversy or strife. Not after ten years of diligent commitment to accord.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexhandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?” Ever the optimist, she flashed an encouraging smile, working to nudge her more guarded friend back towards serenity.
It would take some careful navigation, to work back through the crowd, and behind them, Melba and Captain Aegeus pressed closer, likewise more cautious as if the suspense in the air could likewise yield elation or shock, and they were ready for both.
(re-enter from The Princess, The Artist and The Soldier)
As the conversation was rolling in a rather enriching direction, one in which all parties were baring bits of their souls little by little, the blare of horns ceasing all conversation. Like a wave, silence fell over the entirety of the event, the crowds swept into a hush as thousands of pairs of eyes redirected towards the source. Rene was merely about to concede with Ophelia that finding a sword and brandishing it in public was not exactly what she had in mind, when the impending notification came to fruition. She felt Ophelia reach for her hand, almost anxiously, her facade rather stoic.
The petite and delicate blonde had taken the announcement and gone with it in a far more optimistic direction, as some great piece of news would be coming to the kingdoms. Not once did the thought cross her mind that there should be controversy or strife. Not after ten years of diligent commitment to accord.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexhandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?” Ever the optimist, she flashed an encouraging smile, working to nudge her more guarded friend back towards serenity.
It would take some careful navigation, to work back through the crowd, and behind them, Melba and Captain Aegeus pressed closer, likewise more cautious as if the suspense in the air could likewise yield elation or shock, and they were ready for both.
'We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,' suggested the artisan. A nervous flutter rose in Ophelia's chest as she bent her head in agreement. "Come," she called to her attendants, ensuring as she always did that her gaze was fixed upon another when she spoke in such a way, for she could not bear to look at Evanthe when addressing even a group in what might be perceived as an imperious manner.
Still clutching Rene's hand, she moved through the throng of high and low-born alike, glancing to her left every so often to ensure that Alexandros was still beside them. Spotting the two noble ladies and their newly acquired companion, many made the concession of moving aside to accommodate them, and in this manner they were able to pass quite freely through the crowd. Ophelia smiled in gratitude as with relative ease they wove their way towards the front.
"You shall have a good view from here," she whispered to Alexandros. She wondered briefly if he himself was from Colchis, or if he had travelled for the festival. She would have to remember to ask as soon as the announcement was over.
'Surely this must be good news?' Rene put the question to them both. Ophelia felt the stirrings of anxiety within her again, but tamped them down with a vengeance. "It could not be anything other," she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. "It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure."
Sure she was not, but she did not wish to worry Rene. It seemed, however, that Rene was more than confident in the outcome, for her smile was as bright as the sun. Behind her, she felt the presence of Rene's entourage, a high tension crackling in the air between them. Indeed, that same tension gripped them all. The three kings held them in thrall, a captive and spellbound audience.
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'We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,' suggested the artisan. A nervous flutter rose in Ophelia's chest as she bent her head in agreement. "Come," she called to her attendants, ensuring as she always did that her gaze was fixed upon another when she spoke in such a way, for she could not bear to look at Evanthe when addressing even a group in what might be perceived as an imperious manner.
Still clutching Rene's hand, she moved through the throng of high and low-born alike, glancing to her left every so often to ensure that Alexandros was still beside them. Spotting the two noble ladies and their newly acquired companion, many made the concession of moving aside to accommodate them, and in this manner they were able to pass quite freely through the crowd. Ophelia smiled in gratitude as with relative ease they wove their way towards the front.
"You shall have a good view from here," she whispered to Alexandros. She wondered briefly if he himself was from Colchis, or if he had travelled for the festival. She would have to remember to ask as soon as the announcement was over.
'Surely this must be good news?' Rene put the question to them both. Ophelia felt the stirrings of anxiety within her again, but tamped them down with a vengeance. "It could not be anything other," she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. "It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure."
Sure she was not, but she did not wish to worry Rene. It seemed, however, that Rene was more than confident in the outcome, for her smile was as bright as the sun. Behind her, she felt the presence of Rene's entourage, a high tension crackling in the air between them. Indeed, that same tension gripped them all. The three kings held them in thrall, a captive and spellbound audience.
'We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,' suggested the artisan. A nervous flutter rose in Ophelia's chest as she bent her head in agreement. "Come," she called to her attendants, ensuring as she always did that her gaze was fixed upon another when she spoke in such a way, for she could not bear to look at Evanthe when addressing even a group in what might be perceived as an imperious manner.
Still clutching Rene's hand, she moved through the throng of high and low-born alike, glancing to her left every so often to ensure that Alexandros was still beside them. Spotting the two noble ladies and their newly acquired companion, many made the concession of moving aside to accommodate them, and in this manner they were able to pass quite freely through the crowd. Ophelia smiled in gratitude as with relative ease they wove their way towards the front.
"You shall have a good view from here," she whispered to Alexandros. She wondered briefly if he himself was from Colchis, or if he had travelled for the festival. She would have to remember to ask as soon as the announcement was over.
'Surely this must be good news?' Rene put the question to them both. Ophelia felt the stirrings of anxiety within her again, but tamped them down with a vengeance. "It could not be anything other," she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. "It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure."
Sure she was not, but she did not wish to worry Rene. It seemed, however, that Rene was more than confident in the outcome, for her smile was as bright as the sun. Behind her, she felt the presence of Rene's entourage, a high tension crackling in the air between them. Indeed, that same tension gripped them all. The three kings held them in thrall, a captive and spellbound audience.
“You shall have a good view from here,”
The trio of new friends had moved through the venue with more ease than he had anticipated, perhaps owning in part to his size and build. Once they found a suitable place to stand, he noticed how two separate groups of retainers had drawn close, one set for each of the ladies. He felt a bit left out, but nothing could be done about that for now. Ophelia turned and began to speak to him, stirring him from these thoughts. Alexandros smiled, once again surprised by how kind and thoughtful Ophelia was. “Ophelia, I would rather that you had a good view than I. These public political displays tend to bore me.” He said in a whisper as he leaned closer, careful to make sure that only the three of their immediate group would hear.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?”
“It could not be anything other,” she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. “It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure.”
Alexandros spoke last as the other two discussed what would be said, while he had been to the court and listened to all the deliberations that had led up to this event, he had no idea what would be said either. “I would think if someone meant to break the truce they would do so with more tact that this. Probably poison in the food, but seeing as all three kings stand before us, I expect the news will be pleasing. Possibly a more encompassing alliance, or a marriage between royal houses? I am afraid that I know nothing more than either of you, though I am most certainly curious to see what will be said.”
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“You shall have a good view from here,”
The trio of new friends had moved through the venue with more ease than he had anticipated, perhaps owning in part to his size and build. Once they found a suitable place to stand, he noticed how two separate groups of retainers had drawn close, one set for each of the ladies. He felt a bit left out, but nothing could be done about that for now. Ophelia turned and began to speak to him, stirring him from these thoughts. Alexandros smiled, once again surprised by how kind and thoughtful Ophelia was. “Ophelia, I would rather that you had a good view than I. These public political displays tend to bore me.” He said in a whisper as he leaned closer, careful to make sure that only the three of their immediate group would hear.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?”
“It could not be anything other,” she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. “It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure.”
Alexandros spoke last as the other two discussed what would be said, while he had been to the court and listened to all the deliberations that had led up to this event, he had no idea what would be said either. “I would think if someone meant to break the truce they would do so with more tact that this. Probably poison in the food, but seeing as all three kings stand before us, I expect the news will be pleasing. Possibly a more encompassing alliance, or a marriage between royal houses? I am afraid that I know nothing more than either of you, though I am most certainly curious to see what will be said.”
“You shall have a good view from here,”
The trio of new friends had moved through the venue with more ease than he had anticipated, perhaps owning in part to his size and build. Once they found a suitable place to stand, he noticed how two separate groups of retainers had drawn close, one set for each of the ladies. He felt a bit left out, but nothing could be done about that for now. Ophelia turned and began to speak to him, stirring him from these thoughts. Alexandros smiled, once again surprised by how kind and thoughtful Ophelia was. “Ophelia, I would rather that you had a good view than I. These public political displays tend to bore me.” He said in a whisper as he leaned closer, careful to make sure that only the three of their immediate group would hear.
“We should continue this discussion, but for now, perhaps we should move closer, to better hear the monarchs,” Rene suggested, shimmering pools of cerulean moving to Alexandros in kind to gauge what their opinions were. “Surely this must be good news?”
“It could not be anything other,” she replied, offering her friend a hesitant smile. “It would be senseless to restart the war; no good would come of it, no benefit for any kingdoms. We shall receive glad tidings, I am sure.”
Alexandros spoke last as the other two discussed what would be said, while he had been to the court and listened to all the deliberations that had led up to this event, he had no idea what would be said either. “I would think if someone meant to break the truce they would do so with more tact that this. Probably poison in the food, but seeing as all three kings stand before us, I expect the news will be pleasing. Possibly a more encompassing alliance, or a marriage between royal houses? I am afraid that I know nothing more than either of you, though I am most certainly curious to see what will be said.”
It was not uncommon for them to travel in silence. Her husband was not man for idle chatter, especially not for the sake of another's contentment and Eirini herself was thankful for the momentary peace and quiet. Whilst she was the opposite to Fotios in almost every capacity, it was no more so than when it came to the commitments of high society. Eirini was a social creature, she thrived amongst her peers and basked beneath their gazes – she never felt more powerful than she did in such moments. How a girl from the streets of Vasiliádon could rise into the upper echelons of Taengean society was the stuff of fantasies and yet there she was, the embodiment of thriving success.
The Lady of Leventi's origins were seldom discussed and never within earshot of herself or Fotios – lest the person had a death wish – but that did not keep the smirk from her lips as she walked amongst those whom would once have looked down upon her and sneered. It was like an aphrodisiac to Eirini; their adoration, reverence and scorn spurring her forth in equal measures.
It was also exhausting, maintaining dominance in a pit full of vipers and so Eirini relished in the quiet moments to revitalise herself mentally and physically. Venturing into a new court, she needed that strength more than ever. Thus, as their carriage manoeuvred the new Colchian streets, Eirini's only thoughts were of the passing scenery and not who they may encounter at court, nor their nieces marital predicament, that was seemingly consuming her husband's thoughts. Not that Eirini failed to form her own opinions on the matter, but simply there were others things that were less provoking on her mind.
It has already been a tiring morning, she'd been sat for hours as her maids plucked, twisted and prodded, shaping her normal beauty into that of an ethereal one. Her dark curls as black as the starless skies, were pinned back with pearl and ivory combs, a few tendrils framing her fair features that had been enhanced with cosmetics, most notably her full lips that were painted crimson and made all the more tantalising by the bright hue. Whereas the fabric of her husband's chiton was subtle in its high quality, Eirini's was not. The silver fabric shimmered with the iridescent threads woven into the garment and pearls embellishing the single strap that lay upon her left shoulder. It oozed luxury and tentatively teased the alluring figure that lay beneath, perfect for her foray into Colchian society.
Eirini was ultimately brought back to her senses by the sudden jerk of their carriage that brought them to a stop and she descended after her husband, a smile immediately radiating from her lips as soon as her sandalled-foot touched the ground. Reaching for Fotios' offered arm, Eirini smoothed her chiton with her spare hand, glancing back to watch their niece descend from the carriage also. Her gaze once more raking over her appearance to ensure that all was perfect, seldom was it anything but. There was little time to tell her that she would seek her out soon, as the sound of horns captured all of their attentions.
Leaning into Fotios' whispers, Eirini nodded along with his words. "Well, one can only hope that this trip has not been a complete waste of time.." she hummed in response. She had no qualms in voicing her distaste over travelling, weeks at sea were not what she would call fun, even if she had been surprisingly sure-footed during the voyage. "..come, let us go seek amusement. It appears we are just in time for a great oration."
Jan
Eirini
Jan
Eirini
Awards
First Impressions:Voluptuous; Curvaceous Figure, Full Lips, Dark Raven Tresses, Amber Hues.
Address: Your Her Ladyship
It was not uncommon for them to travel in silence. Her husband was not man for idle chatter, especially not for the sake of another's contentment and Eirini herself was thankful for the momentary peace and quiet. Whilst she was the opposite to Fotios in almost every capacity, it was no more so than when it came to the commitments of high society. Eirini was a social creature, she thrived amongst her peers and basked beneath their gazes – she never felt more powerful than she did in such moments. How a girl from the streets of Vasiliádon could rise into the upper echelons of Taengean society was the stuff of fantasies and yet there she was, the embodiment of thriving success.
The Lady of Leventi's origins were seldom discussed and never within earshot of herself or Fotios – lest the person had a death wish – but that did not keep the smirk from her lips as she walked amongst those whom would once have looked down upon her and sneered. It was like an aphrodisiac to Eirini; their adoration, reverence and scorn spurring her forth in equal measures.
It was also exhausting, maintaining dominance in a pit full of vipers and so Eirini relished in the quiet moments to revitalise herself mentally and physically. Venturing into a new court, she needed that strength more than ever. Thus, as their carriage manoeuvred the new Colchian streets, Eirini's only thoughts were of the passing scenery and not who they may encounter at court, nor their nieces marital predicament, that was seemingly consuming her husband's thoughts. Not that Eirini failed to form her own opinions on the matter, but simply there were others things that were less provoking on her mind.
It has already been a tiring morning, she'd been sat for hours as her maids plucked, twisted and prodded, shaping her normal beauty into that of an ethereal one. Her dark curls as black as the starless skies, were pinned back with pearl and ivory combs, a few tendrils framing her fair features that had been enhanced with cosmetics, most notably her full lips that were painted crimson and made all the more tantalising by the bright hue. Whereas the fabric of her husband's chiton was subtle in its high quality, Eirini's was not. The silver fabric shimmered with the iridescent threads woven into the garment and pearls embellishing the single strap that lay upon her left shoulder. It oozed luxury and tentatively teased the alluring figure that lay beneath, perfect for her foray into Colchian society.
Eirini was ultimately brought back to her senses by the sudden jerk of their carriage that brought them to a stop and she descended after her husband, a smile immediately radiating from her lips as soon as her sandalled-foot touched the ground. Reaching for Fotios' offered arm, Eirini smoothed her chiton with her spare hand, glancing back to watch their niece descend from the carriage also. Her gaze once more raking over her appearance to ensure that all was perfect, seldom was it anything but. There was little time to tell her that she would seek her out soon, as the sound of horns captured all of their attentions.
Leaning into Fotios' whispers, Eirini nodded along with his words. "Well, one can only hope that this trip has not been a complete waste of time.." she hummed in response. She had no qualms in voicing her distaste over travelling, weeks at sea were not what she would call fun, even if she had been surprisingly sure-footed during the voyage. "..come, let us go seek amusement. It appears we are just in time for a great oration."
It was not uncommon for them to travel in silence. Her husband was not man for idle chatter, especially not for the sake of another's contentment and Eirini herself was thankful for the momentary peace and quiet. Whilst she was the opposite to Fotios in almost every capacity, it was no more so than when it came to the commitments of high society. Eirini was a social creature, she thrived amongst her peers and basked beneath their gazes – she never felt more powerful than she did in such moments. How a girl from the streets of Vasiliádon could rise into the upper echelons of Taengean society was the stuff of fantasies and yet there she was, the embodiment of thriving success.
The Lady of Leventi's origins were seldom discussed and never within earshot of herself or Fotios – lest the person had a death wish – but that did not keep the smirk from her lips as she walked amongst those whom would once have looked down upon her and sneered. It was like an aphrodisiac to Eirini; their adoration, reverence and scorn spurring her forth in equal measures.
It was also exhausting, maintaining dominance in a pit full of vipers and so Eirini relished in the quiet moments to revitalise herself mentally and physically. Venturing into a new court, she needed that strength more than ever. Thus, as their carriage manoeuvred the new Colchian streets, Eirini's only thoughts were of the passing scenery and not who they may encounter at court, nor their nieces marital predicament, that was seemingly consuming her husband's thoughts. Not that Eirini failed to form her own opinions on the matter, but simply there were others things that were less provoking on her mind.
It has already been a tiring morning, she'd been sat for hours as her maids plucked, twisted and prodded, shaping her normal beauty into that of an ethereal one. Her dark curls as black as the starless skies, were pinned back with pearl and ivory combs, a few tendrils framing her fair features that had been enhanced with cosmetics, most notably her full lips that were painted crimson and made all the more tantalising by the bright hue. Whereas the fabric of her husband's chiton was subtle in its high quality, Eirini's was not. The silver fabric shimmered with the iridescent threads woven into the garment and pearls embellishing the single strap that lay upon her left shoulder. It oozed luxury and tentatively teased the alluring figure that lay beneath, perfect for her foray into Colchian society.
Eirini was ultimately brought back to her senses by the sudden jerk of their carriage that brought them to a stop and she descended after her husband, a smile immediately radiating from her lips as soon as her sandalled-foot touched the ground. Reaching for Fotios' offered arm, Eirini smoothed her chiton with her spare hand, glancing back to watch their niece descend from the carriage also. Her gaze once more raking over her appearance to ensure that all was perfect, seldom was it anything but. There was little time to tell her that she would seek her out soon, as the sound of horns captured all of their attentions.
Leaning into Fotios' whispers, Eirini nodded along with his words. "Well, one can only hope that this trip has not been a complete waste of time.." she hummed in response. She had no qualms in voicing her distaste over travelling, weeks at sea were not what she would call fun, even if she had been surprisingly sure-footed during the voyage. "..come, let us go seek amusement. It appears we are just in time for a great oration."
Carrying her along, he found he rather enjoyed being close with family rather than the center of attention. Somehow, today, it was better to spin tales of his travels to a one blood relative than hold the rapt attention of dozens of strangers. He could tell by the look on her face she was quite taken with his story, fantastic as it was. When she asked if such things truly existed, he nodded with his roguish grin. "I know, had I not seen such things with my own eyes, I would think them all tall tales. But they are as real as the sunrises that came over the rocky cliffs, bathing the tawny hills in an amber light that any artist would die to capture. And the blue of the waters was beyond breathtaking, so inviting to leap from the ship and swim to explore its secrets. "
Giggling as she poked him, he replied "Perhaps you've got a little more work to do with your dexterity, but it's better to develop a keen mind. You seem to have that well in hand," he complimented her before they reached the merchant. He acquiesced to the pair readily, a perk of descending from the royal line. Respect and fear were two sides of the same coin when it came to dealing with people of lesser station for Yiannis, and he learned well how to apply them in equal measure. The fact that her hair and clothes weren't wet at all didn't meet any question. Instead, the vendor went along with it, saying "Oh, did you catch your leg on the side? Dreadfully sorry to hear it."
Yiannis tipped the man well, then looked back to Essa as she said she needed to improve her appearance before her family came upon her. "Then that settles it. I'd seen you being honored with a song and was looking to surprise you with a gift before you skirted off, clever little minx that you are," he said as he tapped her nose. "Let's find you a dress of the finest silks, that you may turn heads with envy and wonder." He loved Essa like he loved his own sister, and would joy in lavishing her with spoil.
Flattered as she spoke highly of his service, he smiled, blushing just slightly, he laughed as she mentioned his responsibility. "Oh, what demands my duties make of me," he said, playfully distressed. Sincerity meeting his features once again, he continued "I've missed him and Father so much. How has your family been?" There seemed to be something bothering her beneath her calm exterior. Perhaps this wasn't the time and place to speak of it, though he felt obligated to suss out if she needed some comfort or protection.
He nodded in agreement at the importance of a unified Greece being ready to stand against foreign powers that would seek to subjugate them, then chuckled as she put them down like a true Colchian. "Perhaps their talents are best placed in our service. After all, it was an Athenian ship we sailed on. I can't say we'd build one as well in Colchis. And..." he struggled to put a finger on how to speak well of Taengea. "Perhaps our fancier brethren could celebrate with an enemy so much, they become an ally in their drunken haze." It was a clumsy and backhanded compliment, but what else could you say about Taengea? Money and wine flowed in twin rivers throughout the kingdom, which Yiannis noted were often not wise to mix.
Now he definitely felt that she had suffered somehow, and wasn't ready to speak of it. Not here, not now. He gave her a sympathetic grin, pulling her close to him in an embrace. "I understand. I'm glad to be home. As much wonder as I've seen out there, nothing could be greater than laying eyes on the land I grew up in. Especially now that its hills and valleys aren't full of armies in a war of attrition." It was then that the horns announced that everyone should direct their attention to the three kings- his own Father standing strong and proud. In his heart, he felt that he wanted to be in that place someday, though he knew it was unlikely. Vangelis was the first born, the successor. The most glory Yiannis could hope for would be in his honor guard, always at his side, and in his shadow. But, that was where he did his work best.
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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Carrying her along, he found he rather enjoyed being close with family rather than the center of attention. Somehow, today, it was better to spin tales of his travels to a one blood relative than hold the rapt attention of dozens of strangers. He could tell by the look on her face she was quite taken with his story, fantastic as it was. When she asked if such things truly existed, he nodded with his roguish grin. "I know, had I not seen such things with my own eyes, I would think them all tall tales. But they are as real as the sunrises that came over the rocky cliffs, bathing the tawny hills in an amber light that any artist would die to capture. And the blue of the waters was beyond breathtaking, so inviting to leap from the ship and swim to explore its secrets. "
Giggling as she poked him, he replied "Perhaps you've got a little more work to do with your dexterity, but it's better to develop a keen mind. You seem to have that well in hand," he complimented her before they reached the merchant. He acquiesced to the pair readily, a perk of descending from the royal line. Respect and fear were two sides of the same coin when it came to dealing with people of lesser station for Yiannis, and he learned well how to apply them in equal measure. The fact that her hair and clothes weren't wet at all didn't meet any question. Instead, the vendor went along with it, saying "Oh, did you catch your leg on the side? Dreadfully sorry to hear it."
Yiannis tipped the man well, then looked back to Essa as she said she needed to improve her appearance before her family came upon her. "Then that settles it. I'd seen you being honored with a song and was looking to surprise you with a gift before you skirted off, clever little minx that you are," he said as he tapped her nose. "Let's find you a dress of the finest silks, that you may turn heads with envy and wonder." He loved Essa like he loved his own sister, and would joy in lavishing her with spoil.
Flattered as she spoke highly of his service, he smiled, blushing just slightly, he laughed as she mentioned his responsibility. "Oh, what demands my duties make of me," he said, playfully distressed. Sincerity meeting his features once again, he continued "I've missed him and Father so much. How has your family been?" There seemed to be something bothering her beneath her calm exterior. Perhaps this wasn't the time and place to speak of it, though he felt obligated to suss out if she needed some comfort or protection.
He nodded in agreement at the importance of a unified Greece being ready to stand against foreign powers that would seek to subjugate them, then chuckled as she put them down like a true Colchian. "Perhaps their talents are best placed in our service. After all, it was an Athenian ship we sailed on. I can't say we'd build one as well in Colchis. And..." he struggled to put a finger on how to speak well of Taengea. "Perhaps our fancier brethren could celebrate with an enemy so much, they become an ally in their drunken haze." It was a clumsy and backhanded compliment, but what else could you say about Taengea? Money and wine flowed in twin rivers throughout the kingdom, which Yiannis noted were often not wise to mix.
Now he definitely felt that she had suffered somehow, and wasn't ready to speak of it. Not here, not now. He gave her a sympathetic grin, pulling her close to him in an embrace. "I understand. I'm glad to be home. As much wonder as I've seen out there, nothing could be greater than laying eyes on the land I grew up in. Especially now that its hills and valleys aren't full of armies in a war of attrition." It was then that the horns announced that everyone should direct their attention to the three kings- his own Father standing strong and proud. In his heart, he felt that he wanted to be in that place someday, though he knew it was unlikely. Vangelis was the first born, the successor. The most glory Yiannis could hope for would be in his honor guard, always at his side, and in his shadow. But, that was where he did his work best.
Carrying her along, he found he rather enjoyed being close with family rather than the center of attention. Somehow, today, it was better to spin tales of his travels to a one blood relative than hold the rapt attention of dozens of strangers. He could tell by the look on her face she was quite taken with his story, fantastic as it was. When she asked if such things truly existed, he nodded with his roguish grin. "I know, had I not seen such things with my own eyes, I would think them all tall tales. But they are as real as the sunrises that came over the rocky cliffs, bathing the tawny hills in an amber light that any artist would die to capture. And the blue of the waters was beyond breathtaking, so inviting to leap from the ship and swim to explore its secrets. "
Giggling as she poked him, he replied "Perhaps you've got a little more work to do with your dexterity, but it's better to develop a keen mind. You seem to have that well in hand," he complimented her before they reached the merchant. He acquiesced to the pair readily, a perk of descending from the royal line. Respect and fear were two sides of the same coin when it came to dealing with people of lesser station for Yiannis, and he learned well how to apply them in equal measure. The fact that her hair and clothes weren't wet at all didn't meet any question. Instead, the vendor went along with it, saying "Oh, did you catch your leg on the side? Dreadfully sorry to hear it."
Yiannis tipped the man well, then looked back to Essa as she said she needed to improve her appearance before her family came upon her. "Then that settles it. I'd seen you being honored with a song and was looking to surprise you with a gift before you skirted off, clever little minx that you are," he said as he tapped her nose. "Let's find you a dress of the finest silks, that you may turn heads with envy and wonder." He loved Essa like he loved his own sister, and would joy in lavishing her with spoil.
Flattered as she spoke highly of his service, he smiled, blushing just slightly, he laughed as she mentioned his responsibility. "Oh, what demands my duties make of me," he said, playfully distressed. Sincerity meeting his features once again, he continued "I've missed him and Father so much. How has your family been?" There seemed to be something bothering her beneath her calm exterior. Perhaps this wasn't the time and place to speak of it, though he felt obligated to suss out if she needed some comfort or protection.
He nodded in agreement at the importance of a unified Greece being ready to stand against foreign powers that would seek to subjugate them, then chuckled as she put them down like a true Colchian. "Perhaps their talents are best placed in our service. After all, it was an Athenian ship we sailed on. I can't say we'd build one as well in Colchis. And..." he struggled to put a finger on how to speak well of Taengea. "Perhaps our fancier brethren could celebrate with an enemy so much, they become an ally in their drunken haze." It was a clumsy and backhanded compliment, but what else could you say about Taengea? Money and wine flowed in twin rivers throughout the kingdom, which Yiannis noted were often not wise to mix.
Now he definitely felt that she had suffered somehow, and wasn't ready to speak of it. Not here, not now. He gave her a sympathetic grin, pulling her close to him in an embrace. "I understand. I'm glad to be home. As much wonder as I've seen out there, nothing could be greater than laying eyes on the land I grew up in. Especially now that its hills and valleys aren't full of armies in a war of attrition." It was then that the horns announced that everyone should direct their attention to the three kings- his own Father standing strong and proud. In his heart, he felt that he wanted to be in that place someday, though he knew it was unlikely. Vangelis was the first born, the successor. The most glory Yiannis could hope for would be in his honor guard, always at his side, and in his shadow. But, that was where he did his work best.
Elias had not figured that she had eaten the peach to try to run him off; he thought she enjoyed them, as she had said she did. “Ah, uncertainty is just as good as certainty, under the right circumstances, you know.” He chuckled softly, more at his own joke than anything else. It was a poor joke, after all.
She jested at him about how the puppy was cute and friendly and he was not. “Mmm, I do not think it would like the long trip we would have to take.” He admitted, reaching to scratch the pup behind the ears. “Though perhaps I should take some hints from the lovely lady at my side, and learn to be… more approachable.” He raised an eyebrow, “But only if the lady in question promises not to throw anymore fruit at people.”
She was hesitant to accept the puppy. The young woman admitted she had never cared for an animal by herself before, and he shrugged, “There is not too much to taking care of a puppy, feed it, bathe it, walk it, cuddle it.” He shrugged. Niobe took care of any animals he deemed fit to care for—usually. Staff cared for those like horses and other large animals.
Eventually, she nodded and accepted the puppy. She named it, and he grinned softly at the name, at the smile. Gods above, she had a lovely smile. “You are welcome, Athanasia. Perhaps I will visit Achilles, next time I’m in this part of Greece,” he offered absently. He would not admit that he would miss the tiny little creature; but he was certain it would be happier here.
Asia declared it would take a lot of work to get into her good graces, and Elias just offered a charming smile. “If it did not take work, I think it would be boring.” So many women were eager to get into bed with him. He never really knew the women he took to bed. She was watching him as she played with the pup. Probably for a reaction. “You send your suitors running for the hills? How mysterious.”
He wanted to learn more about her. She asked a question, and he paused. No one had ever asked him a question like that before. He thought about the provinces in Athenia, what they offered, and answered slowly: “Well, my favorite provinces within Athenia are Aetaea and Arcasis. Aetaea is… this beautiful forest, almost, smack in the center of the kingdom. You would probably like Aetaea. Arcasis, though, is called the city of gold. It’s got fields and fields of grain, that catch the sun and glitter like gold upon the world.”
He shrugged gently. “Arcasis has something for everyone, like a paradise, I think some would say.” Her question, though, he had yet to answer: “I would take you to Aetaea. If I was seeking to charm you, the hunting grounds there would be more than up to your standards. But Arcasis—”
Horns sounded, and she stood, preparing to leave. She tucked the pup into her arm and by the time Elias went to stand; she was pulling him upright and pulling him along with her. She led them through alleys, cutting through buildings and stalls. They were avoiding the crowd entirely. For a moment, Elias could see Colchis as Athanasia saw it—from the alleys and back ways that she seemed keen to occupy.
She assured him that they were almost there, and he shifted to reach for the puppy, ensuring it would not escape her hands and get lost in the crowd they were merging with. He would hate to have to spend the rest of his evening searching for the princesses lost puppy; but he could not justify not helping the search for the dog.
Asia was leading him with her, towards the front of the crowd and… people stepped aside for her; as if they knew her, perhaps worshipped or respected her. Just one more thing to add to the pile of intrigue for Elias Stravos in regard to this princess.
She released him and joined her family, and he raised an eyebrow. The pup greeted the princes, and Elias could not hide the slight smile that twisted its way onto his face. The dog was cute, he’d admit that openly. Niobe joined him and leaned to murmur in his ear.
‘Well, did you enjoy meeting the princess, my Lord?’
He chuckled in her ear, murmuring, “Indeed. She’s a charming young woman.” He fell quiet as the silence continued to grow, focusing on the royals in front of the crowd. Though he allowed dark hues to wander towards Athanasia every-so-often. She had caught his attention in ways women did not usually manage.
He was still thinking over the question she had asked him; about his answer. He had not been able to give an answer before she had dragged him back to the Temple, so at least he had more time to consider his words.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Elias had not figured that she had eaten the peach to try to run him off; he thought she enjoyed them, as she had said she did. “Ah, uncertainty is just as good as certainty, under the right circumstances, you know.” He chuckled softly, more at his own joke than anything else. It was a poor joke, after all.
She jested at him about how the puppy was cute and friendly and he was not. “Mmm, I do not think it would like the long trip we would have to take.” He admitted, reaching to scratch the pup behind the ears. “Though perhaps I should take some hints from the lovely lady at my side, and learn to be… more approachable.” He raised an eyebrow, “But only if the lady in question promises not to throw anymore fruit at people.”
She was hesitant to accept the puppy. The young woman admitted she had never cared for an animal by herself before, and he shrugged, “There is not too much to taking care of a puppy, feed it, bathe it, walk it, cuddle it.” He shrugged. Niobe took care of any animals he deemed fit to care for—usually. Staff cared for those like horses and other large animals.
Eventually, she nodded and accepted the puppy. She named it, and he grinned softly at the name, at the smile. Gods above, she had a lovely smile. “You are welcome, Athanasia. Perhaps I will visit Achilles, next time I’m in this part of Greece,” he offered absently. He would not admit that he would miss the tiny little creature; but he was certain it would be happier here.
Asia declared it would take a lot of work to get into her good graces, and Elias just offered a charming smile. “If it did not take work, I think it would be boring.” So many women were eager to get into bed with him. He never really knew the women he took to bed. She was watching him as she played with the pup. Probably for a reaction. “You send your suitors running for the hills? How mysterious.”
He wanted to learn more about her. She asked a question, and he paused. No one had ever asked him a question like that before. He thought about the provinces in Athenia, what they offered, and answered slowly: “Well, my favorite provinces within Athenia are Aetaea and Arcasis. Aetaea is… this beautiful forest, almost, smack in the center of the kingdom. You would probably like Aetaea. Arcasis, though, is called the city of gold. It’s got fields and fields of grain, that catch the sun and glitter like gold upon the world.”
He shrugged gently. “Arcasis has something for everyone, like a paradise, I think some would say.” Her question, though, he had yet to answer: “I would take you to Aetaea. If I was seeking to charm you, the hunting grounds there would be more than up to your standards. But Arcasis—”
Horns sounded, and she stood, preparing to leave. She tucked the pup into her arm and by the time Elias went to stand; she was pulling him upright and pulling him along with her. She led them through alleys, cutting through buildings and stalls. They were avoiding the crowd entirely. For a moment, Elias could see Colchis as Athanasia saw it—from the alleys and back ways that she seemed keen to occupy.
She assured him that they were almost there, and he shifted to reach for the puppy, ensuring it would not escape her hands and get lost in the crowd they were merging with. He would hate to have to spend the rest of his evening searching for the princesses lost puppy; but he could not justify not helping the search for the dog.
Asia was leading him with her, towards the front of the crowd and… people stepped aside for her; as if they knew her, perhaps worshipped or respected her. Just one more thing to add to the pile of intrigue for Elias Stravos in regard to this princess.
She released him and joined her family, and he raised an eyebrow. The pup greeted the princes, and Elias could not hide the slight smile that twisted its way onto his face. The dog was cute, he’d admit that openly. Niobe joined him and leaned to murmur in his ear.
‘Well, did you enjoy meeting the princess, my Lord?’
He chuckled in her ear, murmuring, “Indeed. She’s a charming young woman.” He fell quiet as the silence continued to grow, focusing on the royals in front of the crowd. Though he allowed dark hues to wander towards Athanasia every-so-often. She had caught his attention in ways women did not usually manage.
He was still thinking over the question she had asked him; about his answer. He had not been able to give an answer before she had dragged him back to the Temple, so at least he had more time to consider his words.
Elias had not figured that she had eaten the peach to try to run him off; he thought she enjoyed them, as she had said she did. “Ah, uncertainty is just as good as certainty, under the right circumstances, you know.” He chuckled softly, more at his own joke than anything else. It was a poor joke, after all.
She jested at him about how the puppy was cute and friendly and he was not. “Mmm, I do not think it would like the long trip we would have to take.” He admitted, reaching to scratch the pup behind the ears. “Though perhaps I should take some hints from the lovely lady at my side, and learn to be… more approachable.” He raised an eyebrow, “But only if the lady in question promises not to throw anymore fruit at people.”
She was hesitant to accept the puppy. The young woman admitted she had never cared for an animal by herself before, and he shrugged, “There is not too much to taking care of a puppy, feed it, bathe it, walk it, cuddle it.” He shrugged. Niobe took care of any animals he deemed fit to care for—usually. Staff cared for those like horses and other large animals.
Eventually, she nodded and accepted the puppy. She named it, and he grinned softly at the name, at the smile. Gods above, she had a lovely smile. “You are welcome, Athanasia. Perhaps I will visit Achilles, next time I’m in this part of Greece,” he offered absently. He would not admit that he would miss the tiny little creature; but he was certain it would be happier here.
Asia declared it would take a lot of work to get into her good graces, and Elias just offered a charming smile. “If it did not take work, I think it would be boring.” So many women were eager to get into bed with him. He never really knew the women he took to bed. She was watching him as she played with the pup. Probably for a reaction. “You send your suitors running for the hills? How mysterious.”
He wanted to learn more about her. She asked a question, and he paused. No one had ever asked him a question like that before. He thought about the provinces in Athenia, what they offered, and answered slowly: “Well, my favorite provinces within Athenia are Aetaea and Arcasis. Aetaea is… this beautiful forest, almost, smack in the center of the kingdom. You would probably like Aetaea. Arcasis, though, is called the city of gold. It’s got fields and fields of grain, that catch the sun and glitter like gold upon the world.”
He shrugged gently. “Arcasis has something for everyone, like a paradise, I think some would say.” Her question, though, he had yet to answer: “I would take you to Aetaea. If I was seeking to charm you, the hunting grounds there would be more than up to your standards. But Arcasis—”
Horns sounded, and she stood, preparing to leave. She tucked the pup into her arm and by the time Elias went to stand; she was pulling him upright and pulling him along with her. She led them through alleys, cutting through buildings and stalls. They were avoiding the crowd entirely. For a moment, Elias could see Colchis as Athanasia saw it—from the alleys and back ways that she seemed keen to occupy.
She assured him that they were almost there, and he shifted to reach for the puppy, ensuring it would not escape her hands and get lost in the crowd they were merging with. He would hate to have to spend the rest of his evening searching for the princesses lost puppy; but he could not justify not helping the search for the dog.
Asia was leading him with her, towards the front of the crowd and… people stepped aside for her; as if they knew her, perhaps worshipped or respected her. Just one more thing to add to the pile of intrigue for Elias Stravos in regard to this princess.
She released him and joined her family, and he raised an eyebrow. The pup greeted the princes, and Elias could not hide the slight smile that twisted its way onto his face. The dog was cute, he’d admit that openly. Niobe joined him and leaned to murmur in his ear.
‘Well, did you enjoy meeting the princess, my Lord?’
He chuckled in her ear, murmuring, “Indeed. She’s a charming young woman.” He fell quiet as the silence continued to grow, focusing on the royals in front of the crowd. Though he allowed dark hues to wander towards Athanasia every-so-often. She had caught his attention in ways women did not usually manage.
He was still thinking over the question she had asked him; about his answer. He had not been able to give an answer before she had dragged him back to the Temple, so at least he had more time to consider his words.
There were probably few young ladies who would have dared to approach the formidable Crown Prince Vangelis. They might admire him from afar and sigh over his good looks and high status, but they wouldn’t walk right up to him and make a teasing comment. Emilia was perhaps a bit foolish when it came to handsome men. Her father had told her many times that she could charm a statue and now she could test that theory for herself.
However, he seemed to retreat further into himself and it was easy to believe that he was made of the finest marble. If she touched him, his skin would be cool and smooth. Not that she wanted to touch him. Well, she wouldn’t mind if he offered her his arm and asked her to stroll with him. But she could see that wasn’t going to happen. In fact, he looked a bit nervous. For some reason, it pleased her that he was a bit anxious in the presence of little Princess Emilia of Xanthos, she who would never be Queen.
Did he fancy her? She liked to think so, but if he was interested in one of the Xanthos sisters, it would probably be Persephone. If he married the eldest princess, he would not only control Colchis but Athenia as well. At least she thought that was how it worked. Politics made her pretty little head spin.
'I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess. Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many.'
Emilia grinned at the exceedingly attractive prince. He was so tall that she had to strain her long slender neck to look up at him. “I think that thought is worth a drachmae. It seems like almost every noble in Greece came for this occasion. Peace it always worth celebrating.” She was only six when the peace treaty had been arranged and she had been sheltered from the unpleasantness of life from the day she had been born. Peace was all the young princess had ever known.
Her hazel gaze followed his as he looked around the meadow. Everyone was mingling together no matter what kingdom they were from. She noticed a few Athenians, including her friend Rene, conversing with finely-dressed strangers who must be from either Colchis or Taengea. Others were shopping or watching the various forms of entertainment. Her eyes widened as she observed a woman bend backwards until her head was between her legs. That looked painful.
But it gave herself something to look at while Prince Vangelis spoke about how difficult war was on the families left behind. All Emilia knew about war was that it was a waste of good men. And that was all she wanted to know. But this man before her had probably seen many battles in his lifetime. Maybe that was why he seemed so reserved and detached. The brunette princess shivered as she imagined the horror he must have been through. Maybe he had even been forced to kill his enemies.
Usually never at a loss for words, she had no idea what to say to him now. Anything that came out of her mouth would probably sound childish and ignorant. It was quite serendipitous that he had noticed Persephone in the crowd, probably searching for her father and sister. Emilia was too short to see above heads and there wasn’t much a view from between shoulders and armpits. She saw Vangelis point down at her and assumed that he had caught her sister’s eye. How could he not? Perhaps he wasn’t a brilliant conversation but his good looks more than made up for it. Who cared what he said? She could stare at him all day. And all of his brothers too.
“Thank you for showing her where I am,” she replied. “We would probably miss each other if I went to find …”
The sudden blare of horns startled her and made her jump. Emilia instinctively grasped Prince Vangelis’ arm. His flesh was not cold as marble at all but warm and supple. Blushing profusely, she dropped her hand as soon as she had regained her balance and offered him a winsome but apologetic smile.
She turned her attention to the three Kings. Beside the more robust monarchs, her father looked thin, fragile, and fatigued. Had she only been imagining that he no longer looked as ill as he had in Athenia, where the weight of his kingdom rested on his shoulders? He glanced at her and smiled, as if trying to reassure his little Emiliana that he was all right.
Most of the guests were moving toward them so that they could hear the speeches. Still standing awkwardly beside Vangelis, she hoped that Persephone would join her soon.
Alysanne
Emilia
Alysanne
Emilia
Awards
First Impressions:Lithe; Hazel eyes that seem to change color with her moods; long curly golden brown hair; high cheekbones; full heart-shaped lips; naturally tanned skin.
Address: Your Her Royal Highness
First Impressions:Lithe; Hazel eyes that seem to change color with her moods; long curly golden brown hair; high cheekbones; full heart-shaped lips; naturally tanned skin.
Address: Your Her Royal Highness
There were probably few young ladies who would have dared to approach the formidable Crown Prince Vangelis. They might admire him from afar and sigh over his good looks and high status, but they wouldn’t walk right up to him and make a teasing comment. Emilia was perhaps a bit foolish when it came to handsome men. Her father had told her many times that she could charm a statue and now she could test that theory for herself.
However, he seemed to retreat further into himself and it was easy to believe that he was made of the finest marble. If she touched him, his skin would be cool and smooth. Not that she wanted to touch him. Well, she wouldn’t mind if he offered her his arm and asked her to stroll with him. But she could see that wasn’t going to happen. In fact, he looked a bit nervous. For some reason, it pleased her that he was a bit anxious in the presence of little Princess Emilia of Xanthos, she who would never be Queen.
Did he fancy her? She liked to think so, but if he was interested in one of the Xanthos sisters, it would probably be Persephone. If he married the eldest princess, he would not only control Colchis but Athenia as well. At least she thought that was how it worked. Politics made her pretty little head spin.
'I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess. Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many.'
Emilia grinned at the exceedingly attractive prince. He was so tall that she had to strain her long slender neck to look up at him. “I think that thought is worth a drachmae. It seems like almost every noble in Greece came for this occasion. Peace it always worth celebrating.” She was only six when the peace treaty had been arranged and she had been sheltered from the unpleasantness of life from the day she had been born. Peace was all the young princess had ever known.
Her hazel gaze followed his as he looked around the meadow. Everyone was mingling together no matter what kingdom they were from. She noticed a few Athenians, including her friend Rene, conversing with finely-dressed strangers who must be from either Colchis or Taengea. Others were shopping or watching the various forms of entertainment. Her eyes widened as she observed a woman bend backwards until her head was between her legs. That looked painful.
But it gave herself something to look at while Prince Vangelis spoke about how difficult war was on the families left behind. All Emilia knew about war was that it was a waste of good men. And that was all she wanted to know. But this man before her had probably seen many battles in his lifetime. Maybe that was why he seemed so reserved and detached. The brunette princess shivered as she imagined the horror he must have been through. Maybe he had even been forced to kill his enemies.
Usually never at a loss for words, she had no idea what to say to him now. Anything that came out of her mouth would probably sound childish and ignorant. It was quite serendipitous that he had noticed Persephone in the crowd, probably searching for her father and sister. Emilia was too short to see above heads and there wasn’t much a view from between shoulders and armpits. She saw Vangelis point down at her and assumed that he had caught her sister’s eye. How could he not? Perhaps he wasn’t a brilliant conversation but his good looks more than made up for it. Who cared what he said? She could stare at him all day. And all of his brothers too.
“Thank you for showing her where I am,” she replied. “We would probably miss each other if I went to find …”
The sudden blare of horns startled her and made her jump. Emilia instinctively grasped Prince Vangelis’ arm. His flesh was not cold as marble at all but warm and supple. Blushing profusely, she dropped her hand as soon as she had regained her balance and offered him a winsome but apologetic smile.
She turned her attention to the three Kings. Beside the more robust monarchs, her father looked thin, fragile, and fatigued. Had she only been imagining that he no longer looked as ill as he had in Athenia, where the weight of his kingdom rested on his shoulders? He glanced at her and smiled, as if trying to reassure his little Emiliana that he was all right.
Most of the guests were moving toward them so that they could hear the speeches. Still standing awkwardly beside Vangelis, she hoped that Persephone would join her soon.
There were probably few young ladies who would have dared to approach the formidable Crown Prince Vangelis. They might admire him from afar and sigh over his good looks and high status, but they wouldn’t walk right up to him and make a teasing comment. Emilia was perhaps a bit foolish when it came to handsome men. Her father had told her many times that she could charm a statue and now she could test that theory for herself.
However, he seemed to retreat further into himself and it was easy to believe that he was made of the finest marble. If she touched him, his skin would be cool and smooth. Not that she wanted to touch him. Well, she wouldn’t mind if he offered her his arm and asked her to stroll with him. But she could see that wasn’t going to happen. In fact, he looked a bit nervous. For some reason, it pleased her that he was a bit anxious in the presence of little Princess Emilia of Xanthos, she who would never be Queen.
Did he fancy her? She liked to think so, but if he was interested in one of the Xanthos sisters, it would probably be Persephone. If he married the eldest princess, he would not only control Colchis but Athenia as well. At least she thought that was how it worked. Politics made her pretty little head spin.
'I can assure you they are not worth such a sum, Princess. Simply that it is good to see this event meaning so much to so many.'
Emilia grinned at the exceedingly attractive prince. He was so tall that she had to strain her long slender neck to look up at him. “I think that thought is worth a drachmae. It seems like almost every noble in Greece came for this occasion. Peace it always worth celebrating.” She was only six when the peace treaty had been arranged and she had been sheltered from the unpleasantness of life from the day she had been born. Peace was all the young princess had ever known.
Her hazel gaze followed his as he looked around the meadow. Everyone was mingling together no matter what kingdom they were from. She noticed a few Athenians, including her friend Rene, conversing with finely-dressed strangers who must be from either Colchis or Taengea. Others were shopping or watching the various forms of entertainment. Her eyes widened as she observed a woman bend backwards until her head was between her legs. That looked painful.
But it gave herself something to look at while Prince Vangelis spoke about how difficult war was on the families left behind. All Emilia knew about war was that it was a waste of good men. And that was all she wanted to know. But this man before her had probably seen many battles in his lifetime. Maybe that was why he seemed so reserved and detached. The brunette princess shivered as she imagined the horror he must have been through. Maybe he had even been forced to kill his enemies.
Usually never at a loss for words, she had no idea what to say to him now. Anything that came out of her mouth would probably sound childish and ignorant. It was quite serendipitous that he had noticed Persephone in the crowd, probably searching for her father and sister. Emilia was too short to see above heads and there wasn’t much a view from between shoulders and armpits. She saw Vangelis point down at her and assumed that he had caught her sister’s eye. How could he not? Perhaps he wasn’t a brilliant conversation but his good looks more than made up for it. Who cared what he said? She could stare at him all day. And all of his brothers too.
“Thank you for showing her where I am,” she replied. “We would probably miss each other if I went to find …”
The sudden blare of horns startled her and made her jump. Emilia instinctively grasped Prince Vangelis’ arm. His flesh was not cold as marble at all but warm and supple. Blushing profusely, she dropped her hand as soon as she had regained her balance and offered him a winsome but apologetic smile.
She turned her attention to the three Kings. Beside the more robust monarchs, her father looked thin, fragile, and fatigued. Had she only been imagining that he no longer looked as ill as he had in Athenia, where the weight of his kingdom rested on his shoulders? He glanced at her and smiled, as if trying to reassure his little Emiliana that he was all right.
Most of the guests were moving toward them so that they could hear the speeches. Still standing awkwardly beside Vangelis, she hoped that Persephone would join her soon.
Walking around in the crowd alone was a little unsettling. Of course, Persephone had her guards around, but she barely noticed them anymore. However, being in a crowd like this, far from the shores of Athenia and not able to locate her sister or her father, made her feel just that little bit more alone. Persephone would've reached for her braid and dishevelled it completely had her handmaid not sent her a look to calm her a bit. Instead, she tucked a bit on the swan-shaped armband to set it a bit higher on her bicep.
After having wandered through the crowd for a few minutes, Persephone suddenly spotted the handsome crown prince of Colchis; Vangelis of Kotas. It had been years since they had last spoken, but she recognised him quickly in the crowd. But while the tall man stood out in a crowded town square like a hero of his own odyssey, Persephone found it a little less obvious what he was trying to get across with his gestures. She had met men who were very direct in their communication and their desire for her presence. Still, somehow she got the impression that it wasn't what the prince was trying to tell her. of course, it didn't help that her memory of him was that of a reasonably close-mouthed man who was hard to read.
When Persephone had first met him, she had been quite intimidated by his towering height and uncommunicative nature. From a distance, he was dreamy, and even Persephone could fall into the trap of daydreaming about him, but up close, it tended to be a different matter; Perhaps perpetuated by the fact that she too was quite reserved.
A slight shift in the crowd finally revealed what Vangelis was trying to explain with his gestures. Persephone recognised the colour of her sister's gown and smiled in recognition of every single signal that she had completely misunderstood. As she approached the Kotas crown prince, Persephone gracefully offered him a polite courtesy and looked up at the tower of a man. Her smile briefly fading as she recalled why she used to feel intimidated by him now that she stood in his shadow.
Then, to avoid being stunned upon arrival, she turned her head to look at her little sister. "There you are," she said and softly caressed Emilia's upper arm. "Father is about to speak". She turned to Vangelis and found a smile forming on her lips as she recognised how small the two sisters had to look to a man like him. "I appreciate your help guiding me here," she said. "It seems that height is not a blessing offered to House Xanthos, so we are grateful that you can be a beacon for us in a crowd such as this".
Out of the corner of her eye, Persephone could see people getting ready to announce the speeches of the kings, so she quickly went through the typical pleasantries. "It has been a while since last we met, Prince Vangelis. How have you been?"
It was about all she had time to say before the horns blared loudly to silence the crowd. Persephone calmly placed herself behind Emilia and placed her hands on her sister's shoulders. Aas King Tython stood ready to speak, Persephone looked at her father by his side and leaned in to whisper in Emilia's ear. "It is good to see father so well."
Makki
Persephone
Makki
Persephone
Awards
First Impressions:Slender; Her deep brown, almond-shaped eyes and her thick long and braided hair.
Address: Your Her Royal Highness
Walking around in the crowd alone was a little unsettling. Of course, Persephone had her guards around, but she barely noticed them anymore. However, being in a crowd like this, far from the shores of Athenia and not able to locate her sister or her father, made her feel just that little bit more alone. Persephone would've reached for her braid and dishevelled it completely had her handmaid not sent her a look to calm her a bit. Instead, she tucked a bit on the swan-shaped armband to set it a bit higher on her bicep.
After having wandered through the crowd for a few minutes, Persephone suddenly spotted the handsome crown prince of Colchis; Vangelis of Kotas. It had been years since they had last spoken, but she recognised him quickly in the crowd. But while the tall man stood out in a crowded town square like a hero of his own odyssey, Persephone found it a little less obvious what he was trying to get across with his gestures. She had met men who were very direct in their communication and their desire for her presence. Still, somehow she got the impression that it wasn't what the prince was trying to tell her. of course, it didn't help that her memory of him was that of a reasonably close-mouthed man who was hard to read.
When Persephone had first met him, she had been quite intimidated by his towering height and uncommunicative nature. From a distance, he was dreamy, and even Persephone could fall into the trap of daydreaming about him, but up close, it tended to be a different matter; Perhaps perpetuated by the fact that she too was quite reserved.
A slight shift in the crowd finally revealed what Vangelis was trying to explain with his gestures. Persephone recognised the colour of her sister's gown and smiled in recognition of every single signal that she had completely misunderstood. As she approached the Kotas crown prince, Persephone gracefully offered him a polite courtesy and looked up at the tower of a man. Her smile briefly fading as she recalled why she used to feel intimidated by him now that she stood in his shadow.
Then, to avoid being stunned upon arrival, she turned her head to look at her little sister. "There you are," she said and softly caressed Emilia's upper arm. "Father is about to speak". She turned to Vangelis and found a smile forming on her lips as she recognised how small the two sisters had to look to a man like him. "I appreciate your help guiding me here," she said. "It seems that height is not a blessing offered to House Xanthos, so we are grateful that you can be a beacon for us in a crowd such as this".
Out of the corner of her eye, Persephone could see people getting ready to announce the speeches of the kings, so she quickly went through the typical pleasantries. "It has been a while since last we met, Prince Vangelis. How have you been?"
It was about all she had time to say before the horns blared loudly to silence the crowd. Persephone calmly placed herself behind Emilia and placed her hands on her sister's shoulders. Aas King Tython stood ready to speak, Persephone looked at her father by his side and leaned in to whisper in Emilia's ear. "It is good to see father so well."
Walking around in the crowd alone was a little unsettling. Of course, Persephone had her guards around, but she barely noticed them anymore. However, being in a crowd like this, far from the shores of Athenia and not able to locate her sister or her father, made her feel just that little bit more alone. Persephone would've reached for her braid and dishevelled it completely had her handmaid not sent her a look to calm her a bit. Instead, she tucked a bit on the swan-shaped armband to set it a bit higher on her bicep.
After having wandered through the crowd for a few minutes, Persephone suddenly spotted the handsome crown prince of Colchis; Vangelis of Kotas. It had been years since they had last spoken, but she recognised him quickly in the crowd. But while the tall man stood out in a crowded town square like a hero of his own odyssey, Persephone found it a little less obvious what he was trying to get across with his gestures. She had met men who were very direct in their communication and their desire for her presence. Still, somehow she got the impression that it wasn't what the prince was trying to tell her. of course, it didn't help that her memory of him was that of a reasonably close-mouthed man who was hard to read.
When Persephone had first met him, she had been quite intimidated by his towering height and uncommunicative nature. From a distance, he was dreamy, and even Persephone could fall into the trap of daydreaming about him, but up close, it tended to be a different matter; Perhaps perpetuated by the fact that she too was quite reserved.
A slight shift in the crowd finally revealed what Vangelis was trying to explain with his gestures. Persephone recognised the colour of her sister's gown and smiled in recognition of every single signal that she had completely misunderstood. As she approached the Kotas crown prince, Persephone gracefully offered him a polite courtesy and looked up at the tower of a man. Her smile briefly fading as she recalled why she used to feel intimidated by him now that she stood in his shadow.
Then, to avoid being stunned upon arrival, she turned her head to look at her little sister. "There you are," she said and softly caressed Emilia's upper arm. "Father is about to speak". She turned to Vangelis and found a smile forming on her lips as she recognised how small the two sisters had to look to a man like him. "I appreciate your help guiding me here," she said. "It seems that height is not a blessing offered to House Xanthos, so we are grateful that you can be a beacon for us in a crowd such as this".
Out of the corner of her eye, Persephone could see people getting ready to announce the speeches of the kings, so she quickly went through the typical pleasantries. "It has been a while since last we met, Prince Vangelis. How have you been?"
It was about all she had time to say before the horns blared loudly to silence the crowd. Persephone calmly placed herself behind Emilia and placed her hands on her sister's shoulders. Aas King Tython stood ready to speak, Persephone looked at her father by his side and leaned in to whisper in Emilia's ear. "It is good to see father so well."
