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Xene, though young and trained to be stoic and proper in public company, could not help but clear her throat to ward off the smirk that started to light her lips. Lady Evangelina was wry and curt in the best way, she Xene could not help but find joy in such a fact. But the smirk was gone nearly as soon as it appeared. She gave only a small nod to the other girl to affirm that she had accepted the lady's thanks for being able to stand with the two princesses rather than her own family members.
Lord Alekos was a sight to behold that Xene was less than confident of. He may have been a teacher of dance, but not all art needed to be sharp lines, tones and movements. The man was far too stiff for Xene's taste, which broke with the fluid movements of such a dance. A thread was not stiff. His instructions were... lackluster at best, especially because he had not taken the proper time to tell the story of the dance they were to perform.
How were all of the ladies to understand the dance and the mood it was supposed to strike if he only gave a small tidbit of the story itself? Many of the other girls were young and likely had little interest, and though Xene had heard the tale already herself, the princess could not stop that one moment of mischief that crept up her spine. When Lord Alekos had given his instructions, Xene pointedly kept her hands at her sides, eyeing the older man who sounded far too Roman for her taste. The accent was irksome, his mannerisms were lacking taste, and the princess found herself displeased with the tutor that had been set out for them.
Giving only a single glance in the direction of Lord Leventi, Xene took her chance. Lifting her chin, Xene rather liked the idea of heckling the tutor. She would not have such chance again once her birthday came closer and she was properly introduced to the court. She needed to wring her girlish, questioning tendencies from herself before she found herself in trouble at court.
"If I may, Lord Alekos," Xene spoke up, not sure if the man was actually a lord of if he was just a fraud. "I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus," the princess said with a sweet smile, "Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?" the princess asked with a confidence not unlike her normal countenance.
It was truly a simple ask. Xene did not like to be rushed. She did not like there to be holes in art, and she was quite sure that her heart would break if this lesson was a disaster because the teacher was too focused on over the top dramas rather than the lesson itself. Their teachers were meant to teach, and this man was no different. The princess simply didn't want him to lack in details if he wished to be effective and hold the attention of the younger ladies.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Xene, though young and trained to be stoic and proper in public company, could not help but clear her throat to ward off the smirk that started to light her lips. Lady Evangelina was wry and curt in the best way, she Xene could not help but find joy in such a fact. But the smirk was gone nearly as soon as it appeared. She gave only a small nod to the other girl to affirm that she had accepted the lady's thanks for being able to stand with the two princesses rather than her own family members.
Lord Alekos was a sight to behold that Xene was less than confident of. He may have been a teacher of dance, but not all art needed to be sharp lines, tones and movements. The man was far too stiff for Xene's taste, which broke with the fluid movements of such a dance. A thread was not stiff. His instructions were... lackluster at best, especially because he had not taken the proper time to tell the story of the dance they were to perform.
How were all of the ladies to understand the dance and the mood it was supposed to strike if he only gave a small tidbit of the story itself? Many of the other girls were young and likely had little interest, and though Xene had heard the tale already herself, the princess could not stop that one moment of mischief that crept up her spine. When Lord Alekos had given his instructions, Xene pointedly kept her hands at her sides, eyeing the older man who sounded far too Roman for her taste. The accent was irksome, his mannerisms were lacking taste, and the princess found herself displeased with the tutor that had been set out for them.
Giving only a single glance in the direction of Lord Leventi, Xene took her chance. Lifting her chin, Xene rather liked the idea of heckling the tutor. She would not have such chance again once her birthday came closer and she was properly introduced to the court. She needed to wring her girlish, questioning tendencies from herself before she found herself in trouble at court.
"If I may, Lord Alekos," Xene spoke up, not sure if the man was actually a lord of if he was just a fraud. "I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus," the princess said with a sweet smile, "Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?" the princess asked with a confidence not unlike her normal countenance.
It was truly a simple ask. Xene did not like to be rushed. She did not like there to be holes in art, and she was quite sure that her heart would break if this lesson was a disaster because the teacher was too focused on over the top dramas rather than the lesson itself. Their teachers were meant to teach, and this man was no different. The princess simply didn't want him to lack in details if he wished to be effective and hold the attention of the younger ladies.
Xene, though young and trained to be stoic and proper in public company, could not help but clear her throat to ward off the smirk that started to light her lips. Lady Evangelina was wry and curt in the best way, she Xene could not help but find joy in such a fact. But the smirk was gone nearly as soon as it appeared. She gave only a small nod to the other girl to affirm that she had accepted the lady's thanks for being able to stand with the two princesses rather than her own family members.
Lord Alekos was a sight to behold that Xene was less than confident of. He may have been a teacher of dance, but not all art needed to be sharp lines, tones and movements. The man was far too stiff for Xene's taste, which broke with the fluid movements of such a dance. A thread was not stiff. His instructions were... lackluster at best, especially because he had not taken the proper time to tell the story of the dance they were to perform.
How were all of the ladies to understand the dance and the mood it was supposed to strike if he only gave a small tidbit of the story itself? Many of the other girls were young and likely had little interest, and though Xene had heard the tale already herself, the princess could not stop that one moment of mischief that crept up her spine. When Lord Alekos had given his instructions, Xene pointedly kept her hands at her sides, eyeing the older man who sounded far too Roman for her taste. The accent was irksome, his mannerisms were lacking taste, and the princess found herself displeased with the tutor that had been set out for them.
Giving only a single glance in the direction of Lord Leventi, Xene took her chance. Lifting her chin, Xene rather liked the idea of heckling the tutor. She would not have such chance again once her birthday came closer and she was properly introduced to the court. She needed to wring her girlish, questioning tendencies from herself before she found herself in trouble at court.
"If I may, Lord Alekos," Xene spoke up, not sure if the man was actually a lord of if he was just a fraud. "I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus," the princess said with a sweet smile, "Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?" the princess asked with a confidence not unlike her normal countenance.
It was truly a simple ask. Xene did not like to be rushed. She did not like there to be holes in art, and she was quite sure that her heart would break if this lesson was a disaster because the teacher was too focused on over the top dramas rather than the lesson itself. Their teachers were meant to teach, and this man was no different. The princess simply didn't want him to lack in details if he wished to be effective and hold the attention of the younger ladies.
Fotios cared little for the dramatics being displayed by the eldest princess of the kingdom. He had spent the morning dealing with the younger women of his House and their own irksome and rebellious mannerisms that had yet to be smoothed out by lessons in decorum and propriety. So, the fact that the princess was now waging some kind of polite anarchy on the dance instructor only felt like a more mature and well-spoken version of the same. He simply stood where he was, arms folded and the blades of his shoulders propped against the wall, one ankle rested over the other. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
The young girls thought themselves powerful in their little rebellions. But they had yet to experience the true world of Court and how carefully chosen moments of revolt could lead to changes far greater than the upset of a simple dance instructor.
The man in question, however, seemed far from upset at the princess' heckling. In fact, Xene's comments seemed only to spark him onwards, making his enthusiasm grow, as Alekos clapped his hands with enjoyment and made an 'Oh-ho!' noise of approval that had Fotios' nose wrinkling in disgust.
'But, of course, my princess! Of course!' The man assured her, mistakenly taking her criticism as an engagement in the lesson itself; a seeking for further information. That was what happened when you were too polite in your critique, Fotios thought.
Looking thoroughly excited to have such eagerness in his class, the Lord Alekos stepped back from where he had been assessing arm positions and encouraged the girls to drop their hands to their sides to save their strength and then, standing before them, with feet braced apart and his stature bent a little forward with drama and excitement, his hands came out to gesticulate with wild abandon as he launched into the familiar story of Theseus and the minotaur...
Despite the Roman accent lilting his words, his language was expert and well educated. Fotios strongly suspected that the man had a background in literature study and bardism, for he began strong, describing the city in which the lair of the minotaur had been created and setting the scene with decadent descriptions that his hands tried to emulate in the air.
It wasn't until he got to the point of the young princess Ariadne and describing her great beauty that Lord Alekos seemed to stop, attracted by a thought or idea, in how his gaze had settled upon something in the corner.
'Why! What am I doing?' He chastised himself. 'We have a bard here with us! Who I'm sure can describe this tale with far more justice than I! Come, come man!' Lord Alekos gestured to the bard they had brought in to prepare the music for the lesson. He offered out his other, palm upwards towards the girls. 'Bestow your craft upon these women and tell them the great story of the minotaur and his vanquisher.'
Lord Alekos clapped his hands and then pointed at the floor where he stood, stepping back out of the limelight and allowing the bard to do what he did best and continue where the dance instructor had left off...
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Fotios cared little for the dramatics being displayed by the eldest princess of the kingdom. He had spent the morning dealing with the younger women of his House and their own irksome and rebellious mannerisms that had yet to be smoothed out by lessons in decorum and propriety. So, the fact that the princess was now waging some kind of polite anarchy on the dance instructor only felt like a more mature and well-spoken version of the same. He simply stood where he was, arms folded and the blades of his shoulders propped against the wall, one ankle rested over the other. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
The young girls thought themselves powerful in their little rebellions. But they had yet to experience the true world of Court and how carefully chosen moments of revolt could lead to changes far greater than the upset of a simple dance instructor.
The man in question, however, seemed far from upset at the princess' heckling. In fact, Xene's comments seemed only to spark him onwards, making his enthusiasm grow, as Alekos clapped his hands with enjoyment and made an 'Oh-ho!' noise of approval that had Fotios' nose wrinkling in disgust.
'But, of course, my princess! Of course!' The man assured her, mistakenly taking her criticism as an engagement in the lesson itself; a seeking for further information. That was what happened when you were too polite in your critique, Fotios thought.
Looking thoroughly excited to have such eagerness in his class, the Lord Alekos stepped back from where he had been assessing arm positions and encouraged the girls to drop their hands to their sides to save their strength and then, standing before them, with feet braced apart and his stature bent a little forward with drama and excitement, his hands came out to gesticulate with wild abandon as he launched into the familiar story of Theseus and the minotaur...
Despite the Roman accent lilting his words, his language was expert and well educated. Fotios strongly suspected that the man had a background in literature study and bardism, for he began strong, describing the city in which the lair of the minotaur had been created and setting the scene with decadent descriptions that his hands tried to emulate in the air.
It wasn't until he got to the point of the young princess Ariadne and describing her great beauty that Lord Alekos seemed to stop, attracted by a thought or idea, in how his gaze had settled upon something in the corner.
'Why! What am I doing?' He chastised himself. 'We have a bard here with us! Who I'm sure can describe this tale with far more justice than I! Come, come man!' Lord Alekos gestured to the bard they had brought in to prepare the music for the lesson. He offered out his other, palm upwards towards the girls. 'Bestow your craft upon these women and tell them the great story of the minotaur and his vanquisher.'
Lord Alekos clapped his hands and then pointed at the floor where he stood, stepping back out of the limelight and allowing the bard to do what he did best and continue where the dance instructor had left off...
Fotios cared little for the dramatics being displayed by the eldest princess of the kingdom. He had spent the morning dealing with the younger women of his House and their own irksome and rebellious mannerisms that had yet to be smoothed out by lessons in decorum and propriety. So, the fact that the princess was now waging some kind of polite anarchy on the dance instructor only felt like a more mature and well-spoken version of the same. He simply stood where he was, arms folded and the blades of his shoulders propped against the wall, one ankle rested over the other. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
The young girls thought themselves powerful in their little rebellions. But they had yet to experience the true world of Court and how carefully chosen moments of revolt could lead to changes far greater than the upset of a simple dance instructor.
The man in question, however, seemed far from upset at the princess' heckling. In fact, Xene's comments seemed only to spark him onwards, making his enthusiasm grow, as Alekos clapped his hands with enjoyment and made an 'Oh-ho!' noise of approval that had Fotios' nose wrinkling in disgust.
'But, of course, my princess! Of course!' The man assured her, mistakenly taking her criticism as an engagement in the lesson itself; a seeking for further information. That was what happened when you were too polite in your critique, Fotios thought.
Looking thoroughly excited to have such eagerness in his class, the Lord Alekos stepped back from where he had been assessing arm positions and encouraged the girls to drop their hands to their sides to save their strength and then, standing before them, with feet braced apart and his stature bent a little forward with drama and excitement, his hands came out to gesticulate with wild abandon as he launched into the familiar story of Theseus and the minotaur...
Despite the Roman accent lilting his words, his language was expert and well educated. Fotios strongly suspected that the man had a background in literature study and bardism, for he began strong, describing the city in which the lair of the minotaur had been created and setting the scene with decadent descriptions that his hands tried to emulate in the air.
It wasn't until he got to the point of the young princess Ariadne and describing her great beauty that Lord Alekos seemed to stop, attracted by a thought or idea, in how his gaze had settled upon something in the corner.
'Why! What am I doing?' He chastised himself. 'We have a bard here with us! Who I'm sure can describe this tale with far more justice than I! Come, come man!' Lord Alekos gestured to the bard they had brought in to prepare the music for the lesson. He offered out his other, palm upwards towards the girls. 'Bestow your craft upon these women and tell them the great story of the minotaur and his vanquisher.'
Lord Alekos clapped his hands and then pointed at the floor where he stood, stepping back out of the limelight and allowing the bard to do what he did best and continue where the dance instructor had left off...
Hesiodos hasn’t been doing much during the lesson – just what he was instructed to do. Play music (he managed to get, on his opinion, the perfect light but sprightly sort of beat he was requested), look pretty, and to not to talk while the instructor did his lesson… and honestly, he was dying a bit on the inside for each moment that passed.
The Bard of Phossis has seen better dancers in brothels and better storytellers in bars at night where drink flowed like a river. If he had found him on any other circumstance, he would have undoubtedly called him a hack. Hesiodos concluded that whatever they were paying Lord Alekos, it was too much, and whatever they were paying him, it was too little. But he continued playing to the explanation… up until the lord asked him to come forward and tell the story himself.
Hesiodos tried to contain his smile, and failed. He was never to pass over a moment to shine, so without hesitation, he placed his lyre carefully where on his case and stepped where he was told. The eyes were upon him… that was the moment where he truly felt alive. He wetted his lips, deciding his course of action… what to tell, how to move, how to do the proper theatrics…
Then it came to him a poem he recalled.
He clapped his hands and smirked, “My ladies and princesses… I shall tell you the tale of Theseus and the minotaur….”, he said with a mysterious tone, the one that evoked wonder, the one you used when telling your child a bedtime story.
He began to dance the crane dance, with a looseness and precise movements, which suggested that dancing was, for him, just as easy as walking. He closed his eyes as his arms formed the chain with the invisible people at his sides, listening to music only him could hear, and suddenly, he began to recite:
“Poised for a leap, and passed within the bland Sanctuary of the flood.
The son of Zeus was merry in his mind; The tight ship to the breeze he bade them lay; Fast flew the keel, the strong North drove behind: But Fate ruled not the way.
All the Athenians trembled when the first Knight of their number seaward sprang, the tear Ran down smooth faces, waiting for the worst In heavy hopeless fear.
But quick the dolphin-people of the deep Down to his father's vasty dwelling steered; He saw the state the Gods of Ocean keep, And at the sight he feared:
The daughters of the blessed Nereus there Beamed from their radiant limbs a fiery blaze, Ribbons of golden web reeled round their hair, All dancing in a maze
Of fluent feet for pleasure; and he saw His father's wife the Lady Amphitrite, Eyed like an ox-a Goddess throned for awe In chambers of delight.
She flung about him purple raiment brave, Over his curls a perfect wreath she laid, The wedding-gift that cozening Venus gave, Thick roses in a braid.
The thing God wills, the wise man never deems Beyond belief. Close by the slender stern The Prince appeared, and O the world of schemes He slit by that return,
Miraculous from the deep! Bright maids arow Sang for surprise and joy-Upon his limbs Shone gifts of Gods!-laud sang the lads also The sea was loud with hymns.
We came from Ceos with a song and dance: Lord God of Delos be well pleased this day, Send us the conduct of thy lucky chance To help us on our way.”
As he recited the poem, his voice shifted, rising and lowering at the appropriate, never stopping with the dance. If dancing was as easy for him as walking, reciting poetry was just like talking and laughing. He was not a dance instructor; he was a dancer. He was not someone telling a story; he was a storyteller. He was not a mere poet; he was a bard. He was THE bard.
He stopped dancing, and looked at everyone. He smiled and offered a overly theatrical bow – he thought it deserved it.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hesiodos hasn’t been doing much during the lesson – just what he was instructed to do. Play music (he managed to get, on his opinion, the perfect light but sprightly sort of beat he was requested), look pretty, and to not to talk while the instructor did his lesson… and honestly, he was dying a bit on the inside for each moment that passed.
The Bard of Phossis has seen better dancers in brothels and better storytellers in bars at night where drink flowed like a river. If he had found him on any other circumstance, he would have undoubtedly called him a hack. Hesiodos concluded that whatever they were paying Lord Alekos, it was too much, and whatever they were paying him, it was too little. But he continued playing to the explanation… up until the lord asked him to come forward and tell the story himself.
Hesiodos tried to contain his smile, and failed. He was never to pass over a moment to shine, so without hesitation, he placed his lyre carefully where on his case and stepped where he was told. The eyes were upon him… that was the moment where he truly felt alive. He wetted his lips, deciding his course of action… what to tell, how to move, how to do the proper theatrics…
Then it came to him a poem he recalled.
He clapped his hands and smirked, “My ladies and princesses… I shall tell you the tale of Theseus and the minotaur….”, he said with a mysterious tone, the one that evoked wonder, the one you used when telling your child a bedtime story.
He began to dance the crane dance, with a looseness and precise movements, which suggested that dancing was, for him, just as easy as walking. He closed his eyes as his arms formed the chain with the invisible people at his sides, listening to music only him could hear, and suddenly, he began to recite:
“Poised for a leap, and passed within the bland Sanctuary of the flood.
The son of Zeus was merry in his mind; The tight ship to the breeze he bade them lay; Fast flew the keel, the strong North drove behind: But Fate ruled not the way.
All the Athenians trembled when the first Knight of their number seaward sprang, the tear Ran down smooth faces, waiting for the worst In heavy hopeless fear.
But quick the dolphin-people of the deep Down to his father's vasty dwelling steered; He saw the state the Gods of Ocean keep, And at the sight he feared:
The daughters of the blessed Nereus there Beamed from their radiant limbs a fiery blaze, Ribbons of golden web reeled round their hair, All dancing in a maze
Of fluent feet for pleasure; and he saw His father's wife the Lady Amphitrite, Eyed like an ox-a Goddess throned for awe In chambers of delight.
She flung about him purple raiment brave, Over his curls a perfect wreath she laid, The wedding-gift that cozening Venus gave, Thick roses in a braid.
The thing God wills, the wise man never deems Beyond belief. Close by the slender stern The Prince appeared, and O the world of schemes He slit by that return,
Miraculous from the deep! Bright maids arow Sang for surprise and joy-Upon his limbs Shone gifts of Gods!-laud sang the lads also The sea was loud with hymns.
We came from Ceos with a song and dance: Lord God of Delos be well pleased this day, Send us the conduct of thy lucky chance To help us on our way.”
As he recited the poem, his voice shifted, rising and lowering at the appropriate, never stopping with the dance. If dancing was as easy for him as walking, reciting poetry was just like talking and laughing. He was not a dance instructor; he was a dancer. He was not someone telling a story; he was a storyteller. He was not a mere poet; he was a bard. He was THE bard.
He stopped dancing, and looked at everyone. He smiled and offered a overly theatrical bow – he thought it deserved it.
Hesiodos hasn’t been doing much during the lesson – just what he was instructed to do. Play music (he managed to get, on his opinion, the perfect light but sprightly sort of beat he was requested), look pretty, and to not to talk while the instructor did his lesson… and honestly, he was dying a bit on the inside for each moment that passed.
The Bard of Phossis has seen better dancers in brothels and better storytellers in bars at night where drink flowed like a river. If he had found him on any other circumstance, he would have undoubtedly called him a hack. Hesiodos concluded that whatever they were paying Lord Alekos, it was too much, and whatever they were paying him, it was too little. But he continued playing to the explanation… up until the lord asked him to come forward and tell the story himself.
Hesiodos tried to contain his smile, and failed. He was never to pass over a moment to shine, so without hesitation, he placed his lyre carefully where on his case and stepped where he was told. The eyes were upon him… that was the moment where he truly felt alive. He wetted his lips, deciding his course of action… what to tell, how to move, how to do the proper theatrics…
Then it came to him a poem he recalled.
He clapped his hands and smirked, “My ladies and princesses… I shall tell you the tale of Theseus and the minotaur….”, he said with a mysterious tone, the one that evoked wonder, the one you used when telling your child a bedtime story.
He began to dance the crane dance, with a looseness and precise movements, which suggested that dancing was, for him, just as easy as walking. He closed his eyes as his arms formed the chain with the invisible people at his sides, listening to music only him could hear, and suddenly, he began to recite:
“Poised for a leap, and passed within the bland Sanctuary of the flood.
The son of Zeus was merry in his mind; The tight ship to the breeze he bade them lay; Fast flew the keel, the strong North drove behind: But Fate ruled not the way.
All the Athenians trembled when the first Knight of their number seaward sprang, the tear Ran down smooth faces, waiting for the worst In heavy hopeless fear.
But quick the dolphin-people of the deep Down to his father's vasty dwelling steered; He saw the state the Gods of Ocean keep, And at the sight he feared:
The daughters of the blessed Nereus there Beamed from their radiant limbs a fiery blaze, Ribbons of golden web reeled round their hair, All dancing in a maze
Of fluent feet for pleasure; and he saw His father's wife the Lady Amphitrite, Eyed like an ox-a Goddess throned for awe In chambers of delight.
She flung about him purple raiment brave, Over his curls a perfect wreath she laid, The wedding-gift that cozening Venus gave, Thick roses in a braid.
The thing God wills, the wise man never deems Beyond belief. Close by the slender stern The Prince appeared, and O the world of schemes He slit by that return,
Miraculous from the deep! Bright maids arow Sang for surprise and joy-Upon his limbs Shone gifts of Gods!-laud sang the lads also The sea was loud with hymns.
We came from Ceos with a song and dance: Lord God of Delos be well pleased this day, Send us the conduct of thy lucky chance To help us on our way.”
As he recited the poem, his voice shifted, rising and lowering at the appropriate, never stopping with the dance. If dancing was as easy for him as walking, reciting poetry was just like talking and laughing. He was not a dance instructor; he was a dancer. He was not someone telling a story; he was a storyteller. He was not a mere poet; he was a bard. He was THE bard.
He stopped dancing, and looked at everyone. He smiled and offered a overly theatrical bow – he thought it deserved it.
Melina was a silent shadow, wisely keeping her thoughts to herself on how she was hesitantly excited to learn how to dance. Traditions as they were, beneficial to uphold, and perhaps may give her the grace to follow her mother’s lead. However, then came the crashing down of reality. Despite practicing through depictions of dances she had seen, Melina had neither the grace nor aptitude to pull off the unfamiliar steps without a sense of stiffness.
Indeed, most of her movements, while correct, were not as graceful as her cousins or her sisters. Yet, the dark-haired girl knew she had to keep trying, even as her mind was instead of finding the history of the dances much more interesting than the actual dancing itself. Be graceful, her mind whispered. As graceful as the nymphs of legend, as elegant as your mother. Both were wishful thoughts, for Melina had been blessed with neither those traits nor confidence, but she wanted the shadow of her father to know that she was trying.
However, Melina surprisingly was doing better than the instructor himself, despite her stiffer movements. Intimidated as to fail in her attempts to mimic and embarrass herself in front of her family, she gave Dafni light sounds of encouragement that went unheard through conversation. Agape was at least more cunning and protective, so when it came to rebukes from the instructor, Melina was defended at the very least.
When it came down to tales of Theseus, her gaze widened, recalling the elegant writings of such a tale. How Theseus had been brave enough to battle the fearsome minotaur, guided by twine and brute strength. However, that story was not one of her favorites. She much preferred the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A story that made her heart flutter, of finding someone that would notice her and rescue her from the stiffening feeling of becoming an overlooked wallflower. In fact, the young girl was about to lift a dainty hand, when the bard burst into song. Tales of Theseus’s deeds, ones that she also enjoyed hearing about.
As the music came into play, Melina was reminded of Nana’s question on the way. One that Dafni had told her about as she arrived on a latter trip. Do horses dance? Well, for once, despite everyone laughing and Fotios disapproval of such an idiotic question, Melina could imagine the beats provided by horse hooves, the tune itself reminding her of adventure that she craved. Joining hands with Evangelina, and Nana, she gave a secretive smile, promising to share the little tidbit when she could be alone with her cousins and out of her father’s critical eye. If they saw the mysterious smile, she would answer softly, “I’m just enjoying the song. I do love listening to bards. They speak of stories in a way we can live them, don’t you feel it?”
It wasn’t that Lord Alekos did a poor description of Theseus, Ariadne, and the minotaur himself, but rather his gesturing didn’t allow for true imagination to take root. However, with the words of the proclaimed Bard of Phossis, Melina found herself immersed in a tale where she was falling the twine through the labyrinth itself. A journey that would eventually lead to her own minotaur to challenge, the dance instructions. Clapping in delight after the male bowed, she held in excitement, though her cheeks were practically flushed within, dark eyes starry bright. This wasn’t her first time listening to a bard, but each was a worthy adventure, one that left her with a sort of wanderlust that was placed at bay by reading literature and riding horses.
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Melina was a silent shadow, wisely keeping her thoughts to herself on how she was hesitantly excited to learn how to dance. Traditions as they were, beneficial to uphold, and perhaps may give her the grace to follow her mother’s lead. However, then came the crashing down of reality. Despite practicing through depictions of dances she had seen, Melina had neither the grace nor aptitude to pull off the unfamiliar steps without a sense of stiffness.
Indeed, most of her movements, while correct, were not as graceful as her cousins or her sisters. Yet, the dark-haired girl knew she had to keep trying, even as her mind was instead of finding the history of the dances much more interesting than the actual dancing itself. Be graceful, her mind whispered. As graceful as the nymphs of legend, as elegant as your mother. Both were wishful thoughts, for Melina had been blessed with neither those traits nor confidence, but she wanted the shadow of her father to know that she was trying.
However, Melina surprisingly was doing better than the instructor himself, despite her stiffer movements. Intimidated as to fail in her attempts to mimic and embarrass herself in front of her family, she gave Dafni light sounds of encouragement that went unheard through conversation. Agape was at least more cunning and protective, so when it came to rebukes from the instructor, Melina was defended at the very least.
When it came down to tales of Theseus, her gaze widened, recalling the elegant writings of such a tale. How Theseus had been brave enough to battle the fearsome minotaur, guided by twine and brute strength. However, that story was not one of her favorites. She much preferred the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A story that made her heart flutter, of finding someone that would notice her and rescue her from the stiffening feeling of becoming an overlooked wallflower. In fact, the young girl was about to lift a dainty hand, when the bard burst into song. Tales of Theseus’s deeds, ones that she also enjoyed hearing about.
As the music came into play, Melina was reminded of Nana’s question on the way. One that Dafni had told her about as she arrived on a latter trip. Do horses dance? Well, for once, despite everyone laughing and Fotios disapproval of such an idiotic question, Melina could imagine the beats provided by horse hooves, the tune itself reminding her of adventure that she craved. Joining hands with Evangelina, and Nana, she gave a secretive smile, promising to share the little tidbit when she could be alone with her cousins and out of her father’s critical eye. If they saw the mysterious smile, she would answer softly, “I’m just enjoying the song. I do love listening to bards. They speak of stories in a way we can live them, don’t you feel it?”
It wasn’t that Lord Alekos did a poor description of Theseus, Ariadne, and the minotaur himself, but rather his gesturing didn’t allow for true imagination to take root. However, with the words of the proclaimed Bard of Phossis, Melina found herself immersed in a tale where she was falling the twine through the labyrinth itself. A journey that would eventually lead to her own minotaur to challenge, the dance instructions. Clapping in delight after the male bowed, she held in excitement, though her cheeks were practically flushed within, dark eyes starry bright. This wasn’t her first time listening to a bard, but each was a worthy adventure, one that left her with a sort of wanderlust that was placed at bay by reading literature and riding horses.
Melina was a silent shadow, wisely keeping her thoughts to herself on how she was hesitantly excited to learn how to dance. Traditions as they were, beneficial to uphold, and perhaps may give her the grace to follow her mother’s lead. However, then came the crashing down of reality. Despite practicing through depictions of dances she had seen, Melina had neither the grace nor aptitude to pull off the unfamiliar steps without a sense of stiffness.
Indeed, most of her movements, while correct, were not as graceful as her cousins or her sisters. Yet, the dark-haired girl knew she had to keep trying, even as her mind was instead of finding the history of the dances much more interesting than the actual dancing itself. Be graceful, her mind whispered. As graceful as the nymphs of legend, as elegant as your mother. Both were wishful thoughts, for Melina had been blessed with neither those traits nor confidence, but she wanted the shadow of her father to know that she was trying.
However, Melina surprisingly was doing better than the instructor himself, despite her stiffer movements. Intimidated as to fail in her attempts to mimic and embarrass herself in front of her family, she gave Dafni light sounds of encouragement that went unheard through conversation. Agape was at least more cunning and protective, so when it came to rebukes from the instructor, Melina was defended at the very least.
When it came down to tales of Theseus, her gaze widened, recalling the elegant writings of such a tale. How Theseus had been brave enough to battle the fearsome minotaur, guided by twine and brute strength. However, that story was not one of her favorites. She much preferred the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A story that made her heart flutter, of finding someone that would notice her and rescue her from the stiffening feeling of becoming an overlooked wallflower. In fact, the young girl was about to lift a dainty hand, when the bard burst into song. Tales of Theseus’s deeds, ones that she also enjoyed hearing about.
As the music came into play, Melina was reminded of Nana’s question on the way. One that Dafni had told her about as she arrived on a latter trip. Do horses dance? Well, for once, despite everyone laughing and Fotios disapproval of such an idiotic question, Melina could imagine the beats provided by horse hooves, the tune itself reminding her of adventure that she craved. Joining hands with Evangelina, and Nana, she gave a secretive smile, promising to share the little tidbit when she could be alone with her cousins and out of her father’s critical eye. If they saw the mysterious smile, she would answer softly, “I’m just enjoying the song. I do love listening to bards. They speak of stories in a way we can live them, don’t you feel it?”
It wasn’t that Lord Alekos did a poor description of Theseus, Ariadne, and the minotaur himself, but rather his gesturing didn’t allow for true imagination to take root. However, with the words of the proclaimed Bard of Phossis, Melina found herself immersed in a tale where she was falling the twine through the labyrinth itself. A journey that would eventually lead to her own minotaur to challenge, the dance instructions. Clapping in delight after the male bowed, she held in excitement, though her cheeks were practically flushed within, dark eyes starry bright. This wasn’t her first time listening to a bard, but each was a worthy adventure, one that left her with a sort of wanderlust that was placed at bay by reading literature and riding horses.
There was a twinkling in the depths of her doe eyes at the encouragement of the snicker and smirk from the Princess Xene. A glance at her uncle though and she straightened and looked forward to the bard and dance master, her eyes downcast but her lips still creeping upwards in the corners. Evangelina didn’t particularly have a malevolent nature customarily, but this one of those prodigious moments where she’d felt back into a corner and it was to eat or be eaten.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she stood there silently as Roman master of dance addressed his young pupils. A doubting eyebrow arched, how was she ever to remember all of those steps. She might have been young, inexperienced, and completely lacking all the grace her cousins boasted but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why Lord Alekos generated such discomfort within her. How was it possible that she now wished she’d drifted further back in the class instead of right up front? She loved being in the thick of things…
Her eyes widened at a couple of embellished movements and felt her body shifted just a fraction backward to safety when the cultivated princess next to her spoke up. ‘If I may, Lord Alekos, I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus.’
Capturing her bottom lip, she directed her too-lively of a gaze back to the floor and tried to look like one of the contrite younger girls who needed the story illustrated. Quite honestly, Evangelina would have done whatever was needed to get the dance master to stop all of his flourished movements and picking at her arm posture.
‘Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?’
The tiny, doe-eyed Leventi’s mind was full of snickering and she’d not been able to focus on Princess Xene’s words so she simply bobbed her head in full camaraderie with the polished princess. The fool blustered for a moment and seemed to process what was being asked of him, rather too slowly if Evangelina was asked… which of course no one did. He seemed completely oblivious to the barbs about his inability to access at what levels his students were at as the Princess questioned his teaching abilities.
She coughed as quietly as she could into her hand and decided then and there the best philosophy was to simply avoid making eye contact with fools from this day forward. He seemed to shove all of the responsibility onto the bard, who from the smile on his lips found all of this exceedingly amusing. Probably because Lord of the Dance wasn’t picking at his arm posture, she thought with a hint of tartness.
The tartness faded slowly as the bard began his tale, entwining the words with rhythm and flow that was more than learned but something he’d possessed in his soul. Evangelina’s eyes darkened and then closed as she fell into the world of the poem. When it was said and done, Melina started clapping and she found her self smiling softly as her eyes opened and she curiously stared at the bard. Before that moment she might have disagreed with Melina about the way bards told stories, she’d never been taken in with spoken words but this bard had a way about his storytelling that had charmed her.
Tilting her head and trying to be undiscovered, she looked over at Melina and tried to whisper as quietly as she could, “Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one? It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one…”
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There was a twinkling in the depths of her doe eyes at the encouragement of the snicker and smirk from the Princess Xene. A glance at her uncle though and she straightened and looked forward to the bard and dance master, her eyes downcast but her lips still creeping upwards in the corners. Evangelina didn’t particularly have a malevolent nature customarily, but this one of those prodigious moments where she’d felt back into a corner and it was to eat or be eaten.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she stood there silently as Roman master of dance addressed his young pupils. A doubting eyebrow arched, how was she ever to remember all of those steps. She might have been young, inexperienced, and completely lacking all the grace her cousins boasted but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why Lord Alekos generated such discomfort within her. How was it possible that she now wished she’d drifted further back in the class instead of right up front? She loved being in the thick of things…
Her eyes widened at a couple of embellished movements and felt her body shifted just a fraction backward to safety when the cultivated princess next to her spoke up. ‘If I may, Lord Alekos, I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus.’
Capturing her bottom lip, she directed her too-lively of a gaze back to the floor and tried to look like one of the contrite younger girls who needed the story illustrated. Quite honestly, Evangelina would have done whatever was needed to get the dance master to stop all of his flourished movements and picking at her arm posture.
‘Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?’
The tiny, doe-eyed Leventi’s mind was full of snickering and she’d not been able to focus on Princess Xene’s words so she simply bobbed her head in full camaraderie with the polished princess. The fool blustered for a moment and seemed to process what was being asked of him, rather too slowly if Evangelina was asked… which of course no one did. He seemed completely oblivious to the barbs about his inability to access at what levels his students were at as the Princess questioned his teaching abilities.
She coughed as quietly as she could into her hand and decided then and there the best philosophy was to simply avoid making eye contact with fools from this day forward. He seemed to shove all of the responsibility onto the bard, who from the smile on his lips found all of this exceedingly amusing. Probably because Lord of the Dance wasn’t picking at his arm posture, she thought with a hint of tartness.
The tartness faded slowly as the bard began his tale, entwining the words with rhythm and flow that was more than learned but something he’d possessed in his soul. Evangelina’s eyes darkened and then closed as she fell into the world of the poem. When it was said and done, Melina started clapping and she found her self smiling softly as her eyes opened and she curiously stared at the bard. Before that moment she might have disagreed with Melina about the way bards told stories, she’d never been taken in with spoken words but this bard had a way about his storytelling that had charmed her.
Tilting her head and trying to be undiscovered, she looked over at Melina and tried to whisper as quietly as she could, “Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one? It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one…”
There was a twinkling in the depths of her doe eyes at the encouragement of the snicker and smirk from the Princess Xene. A glance at her uncle though and she straightened and looked forward to the bard and dance master, her eyes downcast but her lips still creeping upwards in the corners. Evangelina didn’t particularly have a malevolent nature customarily, but this one of those prodigious moments where she’d felt back into a corner and it was to eat or be eaten.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she stood there silently as Roman master of dance addressed his young pupils. A doubting eyebrow arched, how was she ever to remember all of those steps. She might have been young, inexperienced, and completely lacking all the grace her cousins boasted but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why Lord Alekos generated such discomfort within her. How was it possible that she now wished she’d drifted further back in the class instead of right up front? She loved being in the thick of things…
Her eyes widened at a couple of embellished movements and felt her body shifted just a fraction backward to safety when the cultivated princess next to her spoke up. ‘If I may, Lord Alekos, I think your instruction of the dance would hold more weight and excitement if you were to illustrate for us the entire story of Theseus.’
Capturing her bottom lip, she directed her too-lively of a gaze back to the floor and tried to look like one of the contrite younger girls who needed the story illustrated. Quite honestly, Evangelina would have done whatever was needed to get the dance master to stop all of his flourished movements and picking at her arm posture.
‘Many of my fellow young ladies are young and have not heard the tale. How can you expect artistic success if you do not give them all of the tools they need to keep with the mood and tone you wish to set? You are a man of drama, are you not?’
The tiny, doe-eyed Leventi’s mind was full of snickering and she’d not been able to focus on Princess Xene’s words so she simply bobbed her head in full camaraderie with the polished princess. The fool blustered for a moment and seemed to process what was being asked of him, rather too slowly if Evangelina was asked… which of course no one did. He seemed completely oblivious to the barbs about his inability to access at what levels his students were at as the Princess questioned his teaching abilities.
She coughed as quietly as she could into her hand and decided then and there the best philosophy was to simply avoid making eye contact with fools from this day forward. He seemed to shove all of the responsibility onto the bard, who from the smile on his lips found all of this exceedingly amusing. Probably because Lord of the Dance wasn’t picking at his arm posture, she thought with a hint of tartness.
The tartness faded slowly as the bard began his tale, entwining the words with rhythm and flow that was more than learned but something he’d possessed in his soul. Evangelina’s eyes darkened and then closed as she fell into the world of the poem. When it was said and done, Melina started clapping and she found her self smiling softly as her eyes opened and she curiously stared at the bard. Before that moment she might have disagreed with Melina about the way bards told stories, she’d never been taken in with spoken words but this bard had a way about his storytelling that had charmed her.
Tilting her head and trying to be undiscovered, she looked over at Melina and tried to whisper as quietly as she could, “Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one? It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one…”
Gianna balled her fists in an attempt to heed her sister’s instruction. She gazed up at the older girl, offering an appreciative smile in lieu of words as she found herself too nervous to speak. She was not one to typically surrender to nerves, but the youngest princess found that the looming task had set her on edge, even if the focus was not on her at the moment. She had to admit to finding some comfort in Xene’s invitation for Evangelina to stand with them. Perhaps she would feel less pressured to perform standing next to someone who appeared similar on a fundamental level?
Any response Gianna could have offered Evangelina was stifled by the lilting voice of Lord Alekos starting the lesson. Gianna listened carefully and attempted to recreate the image the man had described. As he flitted about the line making corrections, the blonde could feel her arms already starting to protest, but she held her position until her sister’s voice requested the tutor’s attention. Listening to Xene’s suggestion, Gianna found herself in agreement. Sure, she had heard the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, she was a princess after all, but she was skeptical about the story’s place in dance.
As her sister continued, offering a critique of the dance master’s oversight, Gianna had to bite her lower lip in order to maintain decorum and fight the urge to giggle bubbling just below the surface. It was unfortunate Lord Alekos was so unaware of her sister’s barbs, she thought, she might have enjoyed a match between the pair far more than the elaborate gesticulations she was subjected to, set in motion by Xene’s inquiries. She tried her hardest not to let emotions cloud her expression as she observed the man’s wild movements, but she felt herself slip once of twice until he stopped mid-sentence.
Gianna followed the tutor’s eyes, settling on the Bard of Phossis. Tracking him to where Lord Alekos stood, the princess attempted to make up her mind regarding how quickly the man handed off his duties to another. She conceded her suspicions as Hesiodos began his performance—it could be considered nothing else. She listened intently, allowing his words to transport her. She followed this rise and fall of his voice as images danced behind her eyes. She was admittedly rather captivated by his execution thus offered her own polite, but quiet applause.
Having overheard Evangelina, she could not help but ponder the tales she had heard about the ancient king. “There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell,” she offered her own explanation, taking care not to let the men hear.
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Gianna balled her fists in an attempt to heed her sister’s instruction. She gazed up at the older girl, offering an appreciative smile in lieu of words as she found herself too nervous to speak. She was not one to typically surrender to nerves, but the youngest princess found that the looming task had set her on edge, even if the focus was not on her at the moment. She had to admit to finding some comfort in Xene’s invitation for Evangelina to stand with them. Perhaps she would feel less pressured to perform standing next to someone who appeared similar on a fundamental level?
Any response Gianna could have offered Evangelina was stifled by the lilting voice of Lord Alekos starting the lesson. Gianna listened carefully and attempted to recreate the image the man had described. As he flitted about the line making corrections, the blonde could feel her arms already starting to protest, but she held her position until her sister’s voice requested the tutor’s attention. Listening to Xene’s suggestion, Gianna found herself in agreement. Sure, she had heard the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, she was a princess after all, but she was skeptical about the story’s place in dance.
As her sister continued, offering a critique of the dance master’s oversight, Gianna had to bite her lower lip in order to maintain decorum and fight the urge to giggle bubbling just below the surface. It was unfortunate Lord Alekos was so unaware of her sister’s barbs, she thought, she might have enjoyed a match between the pair far more than the elaborate gesticulations she was subjected to, set in motion by Xene’s inquiries. She tried her hardest not to let emotions cloud her expression as she observed the man’s wild movements, but she felt herself slip once of twice until he stopped mid-sentence.
Gianna followed the tutor’s eyes, settling on the Bard of Phossis. Tracking him to where Lord Alekos stood, the princess attempted to make up her mind regarding how quickly the man handed off his duties to another. She conceded her suspicions as Hesiodos began his performance—it could be considered nothing else. She listened intently, allowing his words to transport her. She followed this rise and fall of his voice as images danced behind her eyes. She was admittedly rather captivated by his execution thus offered her own polite, but quiet applause.
Having overheard Evangelina, she could not help but ponder the tales she had heard about the ancient king. “There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell,” she offered her own explanation, taking care not to let the men hear.
Gianna balled her fists in an attempt to heed her sister’s instruction. She gazed up at the older girl, offering an appreciative smile in lieu of words as she found herself too nervous to speak. She was not one to typically surrender to nerves, but the youngest princess found that the looming task had set her on edge, even if the focus was not on her at the moment. She had to admit to finding some comfort in Xene’s invitation for Evangelina to stand with them. Perhaps she would feel less pressured to perform standing next to someone who appeared similar on a fundamental level?
Any response Gianna could have offered Evangelina was stifled by the lilting voice of Lord Alekos starting the lesson. Gianna listened carefully and attempted to recreate the image the man had described. As he flitted about the line making corrections, the blonde could feel her arms already starting to protest, but she held her position until her sister’s voice requested the tutor’s attention. Listening to Xene’s suggestion, Gianna found herself in agreement. Sure, she had heard the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, she was a princess after all, but she was skeptical about the story’s place in dance.
As her sister continued, offering a critique of the dance master’s oversight, Gianna had to bite her lower lip in order to maintain decorum and fight the urge to giggle bubbling just below the surface. It was unfortunate Lord Alekos was so unaware of her sister’s barbs, she thought, she might have enjoyed a match between the pair far more than the elaborate gesticulations she was subjected to, set in motion by Xene’s inquiries. She tried her hardest not to let emotions cloud her expression as she observed the man’s wild movements, but she felt herself slip once of twice until he stopped mid-sentence.
Gianna followed the tutor’s eyes, settling on the Bard of Phossis. Tracking him to where Lord Alekos stood, the princess attempted to make up her mind regarding how quickly the man handed off his duties to another. She conceded her suspicions as Hesiodos began his performance—it could be considered nothing else. She listened intently, allowing his words to transport her. She followed this rise and fall of his voice as images danced behind her eyes. She was admittedly rather captivated by his execution thus offered her own polite, but quiet applause.
Having overheard Evangelina, she could not help but ponder the tales she had heard about the ancient king. “There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell,” she offered her own explanation, taking care not to let the men hear.
Fotios stood to the side of the hall, leaning against the wall like his presence was the only thing keeping it up. His shoulder pressed against the marble, his arms remained crossed and his legs extended out, one ankle over the other. He watched both the Lord Alekos and then the bard take centre stage and do their performances, one with all the language but none of the charisma and the other with all the charisma and none of the clarity of point.
Fotios groaned internally.
Artists.
Instead of wasting more of his time listening to the dance instructor pick up where the bard performer had left off and confusing the girls in question further (given that some of them had not yet hit the age of their courses, they were hardly likely to have the ability to untangle the complexities of advanced poetry).
"The minotaur is a monster created through the sins of lust." Fotios stated from the back of the room, causing heads to turn. His voice was monotone for he was neither storyteller nor performer. What he was was an educated man able to string an informative sentence together. "Half man, half oxen with the might of a god and the depravity of vice and violence. Unable to be killed, he was locked away within a labyrinth of mazes, fed with the enemies of the state." Fotios' tone of voice was almost bored as he recited the otherwise fearsome and exciting tale, but there was a sense of knowledge and power in his voice that kept his story gripping nonetheless...
"A young soldier Theseus was sentenced to die by the Minotaur but before he was lowered into the caves, he was given a gift by the princess Ariadne. A beautiful woman whom he had claimed the heart of, she gave him a pendant of twine that he could use to secure to the entrance, enter the caves, slay the beast and then follow back in order to find his freedom and safety once more." Fotios uncurled one of his arms from where he had crossed them across his chest. "The line you are all forming is symbolic of the twine, leading Theseus away from danger and back to Ariadne."
At the conclusion of his tale, Fotios fell silent once more, his intrusion on the moment only made for efficiency's sake rather than any outward interest in the events and activities of the day.
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Fotios stood to the side of the hall, leaning against the wall like his presence was the only thing keeping it up. His shoulder pressed against the marble, his arms remained crossed and his legs extended out, one ankle over the other. He watched both the Lord Alekos and then the bard take centre stage and do their performances, one with all the language but none of the charisma and the other with all the charisma and none of the clarity of point.
Fotios groaned internally.
Artists.
Instead of wasting more of his time listening to the dance instructor pick up where the bard performer had left off and confusing the girls in question further (given that some of them had not yet hit the age of their courses, they were hardly likely to have the ability to untangle the complexities of advanced poetry).
"The minotaur is a monster created through the sins of lust." Fotios stated from the back of the room, causing heads to turn. His voice was monotone for he was neither storyteller nor performer. What he was was an educated man able to string an informative sentence together. "Half man, half oxen with the might of a god and the depravity of vice and violence. Unable to be killed, he was locked away within a labyrinth of mazes, fed with the enemies of the state." Fotios' tone of voice was almost bored as he recited the otherwise fearsome and exciting tale, but there was a sense of knowledge and power in his voice that kept his story gripping nonetheless...
"A young soldier Theseus was sentenced to die by the Minotaur but before he was lowered into the caves, he was given a gift by the princess Ariadne. A beautiful woman whom he had claimed the heart of, she gave him a pendant of twine that he could use to secure to the entrance, enter the caves, slay the beast and then follow back in order to find his freedom and safety once more." Fotios uncurled one of his arms from where he had crossed them across his chest. "The line you are all forming is symbolic of the twine, leading Theseus away from danger and back to Ariadne."
At the conclusion of his tale, Fotios fell silent once more, his intrusion on the moment only made for efficiency's sake rather than any outward interest in the events and activities of the day.
Fotios stood to the side of the hall, leaning against the wall like his presence was the only thing keeping it up. His shoulder pressed against the marble, his arms remained crossed and his legs extended out, one ankle over the other. He watched both the Lord Alekos and then the bard take centre stage and do their performances, one with all the language but none of the charisma and the other with all the charisma and none of the clarity of point.
Fotios groaned internally.
Artists.
Instead of wasting more of his time listening to the dance instructor pick up where the bard performer had left off and confusing the girls in question further (given that some of them had not yet hit the age of their courses, they were hardly likely to have the ability to untangle the complexities of advanced poetry).
"The minotaur is a monster created through the sins of lust." Fotios stated from the back of the room, causing heads to turn. His voice was monotone for he was neither storyteller nor performer. What he was was an educated man able to string an informative sentence together. "Half man, half oxen with the might of a god and the depravity of vice and violence. Unable to be killed, he was locked away within a labyrinth of mazes, fed with the enemies of the state." Fotios' tone of voice was almost bored as he recited the otherwise fearsome and exciting tale, but there was a sense of knowledge and power in his voice that kept his story gripping nonetheless...
"A young soldier Theseus was sentenced to die by the Minotaur but before he was lowered into the caves, he was given a gift by the princess Ariadne. A beautiful woman whom he had claimed the heart of, she gave him a pendant of twine that he could use to secure to the entrance, enter the caves, slay the beast and then follow back in order to find his freedom and safety once more." Fotios uncurled one of his arms from where he had crossed them across his chest. "The line you are all forming is symbolic of the twine, leading Theseus away from danger and back to Ariadne."
At the conclusion of his tale, Fotios fell silent once more, his intrusion on the moment only made for efficiency's sake rather than any outward interest in the events and activities of the day.
The young girl had to admit that every bit of these dance lessons was unconventional. From having an inadequate dance instructor to having a bard that was overly zealous in his stories, and finally to have the princesses who would have done a better job at instructing them. Melina felt honored to be close to such royalty, but the tinge of anxiety that she would fall into the background was one that was just starting to surface in the brunette. That’s why it was so easy to applaud the bard, a distraction, one that she desperately needed as she tried to dance to her father’s approval. In fact, had her father not been in this room, it was possible that she would have been more outspoken, at least willing to share with Evangelina her encouragements besides a soft smile.
Although Princess Xene was right, it wasn’t expected for most girls around her age to know the tale about the Minotaur, something that found herself nodding even as she held in the pride that she actually had read the story. Xene was always so prim and proper, something that clearly must have come from her royal upbringing and something that brought a bit of joy and envy to the young Leventi. She certainly wasn’t going to try and contradict the older girl, even if she wanted to at least say that she knew the stories.
Though, the story that the bard shared was not one of Minotaur that was bested by Theseus, but rather another tale of the great king of old. While it was easy to get absorbed in the tale, for Melina found herself enjoying the spoken word twisted into song, this wasn’t going to help any of them understand what Theseus had to do with their dancing lesson.
-Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one. It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one.-
Melina found herself biting her lip at the question, looking in her father’s direction before she nodded. She wanted to explain to Evangelina that there were many stories about the king of old, how just the one about the Minotaur, while famous, was just a part of his story. Yet, she found her moment squandered as princess Gianna responded.
-There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell.-
Once more, the young brunette nodded, this time her gaze falling upon the younger princess. They were so different from the Leventis. Prim, proper, perhaps that was found deep within their veins instead of being taught to them each day. It was then that Melina found herself daydreaming of another goal. She wanted to be a princess too, just like the ones before her. Something she knew could happen if father arranged a match just so. As if a bubble of hope began to grow in her, the thought that she would one day become adequate in her father’s eyes, Melina found herself finally speaking. “I’ll let you borrow my books, Evangelina, I doubt father would mind one bit.”
Already an image of the two reading in the grass filled her mind, a thought that filled her with relief versus the parts of her mind that were already becoming bleak with resignation. “And you can join us too, your highness.” Even if she knew that she couldn’t be a princess, her mind imagined how sweet it would be to have one as a friend, to hear tales of the royal life.
Of course, any more that she could have said was squandered the moment her father spoke. His monotone caused her to straighten her posture, her expression growing smooth with discretion. Still, she listened to the man, giving him her rapt attention. So, they were supposed to symbolize the rope then? Perhaps this was a dance that she could find her own escape in, even she wasn’t nearly as graceful as either of the princesses. Another beacon of hope, that she would find her own twine, leading her to love and success filled the woman, eyes returning to their brightness that only a child could have. She wasn’t going to think of the fact that Theseus had eventually ditched Ariadne for someone else, for that would just ruin the tale and darken her dreams of the future.
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The young girl had to admit that every bit of these dance lessons was unconventional. From having an inadequate dance instructor to having a bard that was overly zealous in his stories, and finally to have the princesses who would have done a better job at instructing them. Melina felt honored to be close to such royalty, but the tinge of anxiety that she would fall into the background was one that was just starting to surface in the brunette. That’s why it was so easy to applaud the bard, a distraction, one that she desperately needed as she tried to dance to her father’s approval. In fact, had her father not been in this room, it was possible that she would have been more outspoken, at least willing to share with Evangelina her encouragements besides a soft smile.
Although Princess Xene was right, it wasn’t expected for most girls around her age to know the tale about the Minotaur, something that found herself nodding even as she held in the pride that she actually had read the story. Xene was always so prim and proper, something that clearly must have come from her royal upbringing and something that brought a bit of joy and envy to the young Leventi. She certainly wasn’t going to try and contradict the older girl, even if she wanted to at least say that she knew the stories.
Though, the story that the bard shared was not one of Minotaur that was bested by Theseus, but rather another tale of the great king of old. While it was easy to get absorbed in the tale, for Melina found herself enjoying the spoken word twisted into song, this wasn’t going to help any of them understand what Theseus had to do with their dancing lesson.
-Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one. It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one.-
Melina found herself biting her lip at the question, looking in her father’s direction before she nodded. She wanted to explain to Evangelina that there were many stories about the king of old, how just the one about the Minotaur, while famous, was just a part of his story. Yet, she found her moment squandered as princess Gianna responded.
-There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell.-
Once more, the young brunette nodded, this time her gaze falling upon the younger princess. They were so different from the Leventis. Prim, proper, perhaps that was found deep within their veins instead of being taught to them each day. It was then that Melina found herself daydreaming of another goal. She wanted to be a princess too, just like the ones before her. Something she knew could happen if father arranged a match just so. As if a bubble of hope began to grow in her, the thought that she would one day become adequate in her father’s eyes, Melina found herself finally speaking. “I’ll let you borrow my books, Evangelina, I doubt father would mind one bit.”
Already an image of the two reading in the grass filled her mind, a thought that filled her with relief versus the parts of her mind that were already becoming bleak with resignation. “And you can join us too, your highness.” Even if she knew that she couldn’t be a princess, her mind imagined how sweet it would be to have one as a friend, to hear tales of the royal life.
Of course, any more that she could have said was squandered the moment her father spoke. His monotone caused her to straighten her posture, her expression growing smooth with discretion. Still, she listened to the man, giving him her rapt attention. So, they were supposed to symbolize the rope then? Perhaps this was a dance that she could find her own escape in, even she wasn’t nearly as graceful as either of the princesses. Another beacon of hope, that she would find her own twine, leading her to love and success filled the woman, eyes returning to their brightness that only a child could have. She wasn’t going to think of the fact that Theseus had eventually ditched Ariadne for someone else, for that would just ruin the tale and darken her dreams of the future.
The young girl had to admit that every bit of these dance lessons was unconventional. From having an inadequate dance instructor to having a bard that was overly zealous in his stories, and finally to have the princesses who would have done a better job at instructing them. Melina felt honored to be close to such royalty, but the tinge of anxiety that she would fall into the background was one that was just starting to surface in the brunette. That’s why it was so easy to applaud the bard, a distraction, one that she desperately needed as she tried to dance to her father’s approval. In fact, had her father not been in this room, it was possible that she would have been more outspoken, at least willing to share with Evangelina her encouragements besides a soft smile.
Although Princess Xene was right, it wasn’t expected for most girls around her age to know the tale about the Minotaur, something that found herself nodding even as she held in the pride that she actually had read the story. Xene was always so prim and proper, something that clearly must have come from her royal upbringing and something that brought a bit of joy and envy to the young Leventi. She certainly wasn’t going to try and contradict the older girl, even if she wanted to at least say that she knew the stories.
Though, the story that the bard shared was not one of Minotaur that was bested by Theseus, but rather another tale of the great king of old. While it was easy to get absorbed in the tale, for Melina found herself enjoying the spoken word twisted into song, this wasn’t going to help any of them understand what Theseus had to do with their dancing lesson.
-Was that the same poem Lord Alekos was reciting? Or a different one. It sounded different. I think it might have been a different one.-
Melina found herself biting her lip at the question, looking in her father’s direction before she nodded. She wanted to explain to Evangelina that there were many stories about the king of old, how just the one about the Minotaur, while famous, was just a part of his story. Yet, she found her moment squandered as princess Gianna responded.
-There are so many poems about Theseus, it can be difficult to tell.-
Once more, the young brunette nodded, this time her gaze falling upon the younger princess. They were so different from the Leventis. Prim, proper, perhaps that was found deep within their veins instead of being taught to them each day. It was then that Melina found herself daydreaming of another goal. She wanted to be a princess too, just like the ones before her. Something she knew could happen if father arranged a match just so. As if a bubble of hope began to grow in her, the thought that she would one day become adequate in her father’s eyes, Melina found herself finally speaking. “I’ll let you borrow my books, Evangelina, I doubt father would mind one bit.”
Already an image of the two reading in the grass filled her mind, a thought that filled her with relief versus the parts of her mind that were already becoming bleak with resignation. “And you can join us too, your highness.” Even if she knew that she couldn’t be a princess, her mind imagined how sweet it would be to have one as a friend, to hear tales of the royal life.
Of course, any more that she could have said was squandered the moment her father spoke. His monotone caused her to straighten her posture, her expression growing smooth with discretion. Still, she listened to the man, giving him her rapt attention. So, they were supposed to symbolize the rope then? Perhaps this was a dance that she could find her own escape in, even she wasn’t nearly as graceful as either of the princesses. Another beacon of hope, that she would find her own twine, leading her to love and success filled the woman, eyes returning to their brightness that only a child could have. She wasn’t going to think of the fact that Theseus had eventually ditched Ariadne for someone else, for that would just ruin the tale and darken her dreams of the future.
If the princess were not keen on breaking royal decorum more than she already had, the young woman might have brought her palm to her face and left the room without another word. Her ask for the tutor to further explain the story was for the younger girls' benefit, and the princess was already starting to wonder what Palati steward had booked such a crook to teach them to dance. Especially a complicated dance such as this that was being given no real context.
Especially when the man shoved the entire explanation to the bard... who then also told an entirely different poem than the one that Xene was asking for. Xene imagined herself to be Hercules with all of the strength it took not to let her eyes roll all the way toward the ceiling in pure exasperation. Clearing her throat, she trailed her hands down the front of her gown instead of acknowledging the absolute disaster this dance lesson was becoming.
The princess was not impressed.
The glint in her eye said as much and she wasn't as impressed with the bard as the younger girls were. It was hard to feel excited about a performance when it was not the performance that they should have been learning. They were supposed to be learning about specifically why they were dancing with arms entwined, like twine itself, rather than some hyped-up poem of Theseus that truly told the young students nothing. The princess kept her features schooled, though her apt silence was enough to convey her displeasure as she stared directly at the tutor, Lord Alekos. Xene was not a bully, but she was deeply considering becoming one just to make this one particular lord much more uncomfortable than he already was.
Relief finally trailed through Xene when it was Lord Leventi's turn to speak. Her head did turn to cast her gave back at him. A tender breeze swept through the great gallery, catching one of her golden curls and the princess lifted a hand to brush it from her face while she listened. Lord Leventi sounded bored, but the tenor of his voice would have made him a wonderful poet if he had ever found interest in such things. He clearly had no interest in the story at all, though the princess was pleased that at least one man in this room could tell the story in a way that all could understand.
"I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story," the princess said delicately, the smallest of smiles turning up the corners of her lips. Then the smile was gone and she was trailing her attention back toward the tutor and the bard. "How about we form our line again, ladies?" Xene offered, "And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together," the princess then offered one hand to Princess Gianna and one hand to Lady Melina to start, silently wishing she had a third in order to encourage Lady Evangelina to join. "You should stand beside my sister," Xene said kindly, intent on entirely ignoring the tutor until he made himself more useful.
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If the princess were not keen on breaking royal decorum more than she already had, the young woman might have brought her palm to her face and left the room without another word. Her ask for the tutor to further explain the story was for the younger girls' benefit, and the princess was already starting to wonder what Palati steward had booked such a crook to teach them to dance. Especially a complicated dance such as this that was being given no real context.
Especially when the man shoved the entire explanation to the bard... who then also told an entirely different poem than the one that Xene was asking for. Xene imagined herself to be Hercules with all of the strength it took not to let her eyes roll all the way toward the ceiling in pure exasperation. Clearing her throat, she trailed her hands down the front of her gown instead of acknowledging the absolute disaster this dance lesson was becoming.
The princess was not impressed.
The glint in her eye said as much and she wasn't as impressed with the bard as the younger girls were. It was hard to feel excited about a performance when it was not the performance that they should have been learning. They were supposed to be learning about specifically why they were dancing with arms entwined, like twine itself, rather than some hyped-up poem of Theseus that truly told the young students nothing. The princess kept her features schooled, though her apt silence was enough to convey her displeasure as she stared directly at the tutor, Lord Alekos. Xene was not a bully, but she was deeply considering becoming one just to make this one particular lord much more uncomfortable than he already was.
Relief finally trailed through Xene when it was Lord Leventi's turn to speak. Her head did turn to cast her gave back at him. A tender breeze swept through the great gallery, catching one of her golden curls and the princess lifted a hand to brush it from her face while she listened. Lord Leventi sounded bored, but the tenor of his voice would have made him a wonderful poet if he had ever found interest in such things. He clearly had no interest in the story at all, though the princess was pleased that at least one man in this room could tell the story in a way that all could understand.
"I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story," the princess said delicately, the smallest of smiles turning up the corners of her lips. Then the smile was gone and she was trailing her attention back toward the tutor and the bard. "How about we form our line again, ladies?" Xene offered, "And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together," the princess then offered one hand to Princess Gianna and one hand to Lady Melina to start, silently wishing she had a third in order to encourage Lady Evangelina to join. "You should stand beside my sister," Xene said kindly, intent on entirely ignoring the tutor until he made himself more useful.
If the princess were not keen on breaking royal decorum more than she already had, the young woman might have brought her palm to her face and left the room without another word. Her ask for the tutor to further explain the story was for the younger girls' benefit, and the princess was already starting to wonder what Palati steward had booked such a crook to teach them to dance. Especially a complicated dance such as this that was being given no real context.
Especially when the man shoved the entire explanation to the bard... who then also told an entirely different poem than the one that Xene was asking for. Xene imagined herself to be Hercules with all of the strength it took not to let her eyes roll all the way toward the ceiling in pure exasperation. Clearing her throat, she trailed her hands down the front of her gown instead of acknowledging the absolute disaster this dance lesson was becoming.
The princess was not impressed.
The glint in her eye said as much and she wasn't as impressed with the bard as the younger girls were. It was hard to feel excited about a performance when it was not the performance that they should have been learning. They were supposed to be learning about specifically why they were dancing with arms entwined, like twine itself, rather than some hyped-up poem of Theseus that truly told the young students nothing. The princess kept her features schooled, though her apt silence was enough to convey her displeasure as she stared directly at the tutor, Lord Alekos. Xene was not a bully, but she was deeply considering becoming one just to make this one particular lord much more uncomfortable than he already was.
Relief finally trailed through Xene when it was Lord Leventi's turn to speak. Her head did turn to cast her gave back at him. A tender breeze swept through the great gallery, catching one of her golden curls and the princess lifted a hand to brush it from her face while she listened. Lord Leventi sounded bored, but the tenor of his voice would have made him a wonderful poet if he had ever found interest in such things. He clearly had no interest in the story at all, though the princess was pleased that at least one man in this room could tell the story in a way that all could understand.
"I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story," the princess said delicately, the smallest of smiles turning up the corners of her lips. Then the smile was gone and she was trailing her attention back toward the tutor and the bard. "How about we form our line again, ladies?" Xene offered, "And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together," the princess then offered one hand to Princess Gianna and one hand to Lady Melina to start, silently wishing she had a third in order to encourage Lady Evangelina to join. "You should stand beside my sister," Xene said kindly, intent on entirely ignoring the tutor until he made himself more useful.
Hesiodos was reveling on the praise of the poem… people seemed to like it, just as he expected. He smiled, satisfied with his performance, but as soon as he realized that not everyone liked the poem, he realized the mistake he made.
The poem was about Theseus, yes, but in general and not specifically about his adventure with the minotaur, and the origin of the dance, which was what he was being asked. Hesiodos cursed on his mind… once again, he got lost in the passion and the art, like it often happened.
He watched as Lord Fotios explained the story. He actually explained it, yes, but Hesiodos thought that he lacked taste… he clearly was not a fan of liberal arts. Well, he thought, you couldn’t win them all… an important part of being a performer was knowing how to roll with a failure, and not backpedal. That would only make him look worse.
So he waved his hand and chuckled, and said with his melodic voice, “Ahh… the point was lost in the passion! By our ardent storytellers… so now we must all reference, to the wisdom of this old fella!”, he said and nodded his head, “Magistral explanation, my Lord”, he said with a pleasant smile. He avoided saying ‘I could have done it better’, and quietly stepped out of the spotlight, “Do you need any further assistance?”
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Hesiodos was reveling on the praise of the poem… people seemed to like it, just as he expected. He smiled, satisfied with his performance, but as soon as he realized that not everyone liked the poem, he realized the mistake he made.
The poem was about Theseus, yes, but in general and not specifically about his adventure with the minotaur, and the origin of the dance, which was what he was being asked. Hesiodos cursed on his mind… once again, he got lost in the passion and the art, like it often happened.
He watched as Lord Fotios explained the story. He actually explained it, yes, but Hesiodos thought that he lacked taste… he clearly was not a fan of liberal arts. Well, he thought, you couldn’t win them all… an important part of being a performer was knowing how to roll with a failure, and not backpedal. That would only make him look worse.
So he waved his hand and chuckled, and said with his melodic voice, “Ahh… the point was lost in the passion! By our ardent storytellers… so now we must all reference, to the wisdom of this old fella!”, he said and nodded his head, “Magistral explanation, my Lord”, he said with a pleasant smile. He avoided saying ‘I could have done it better’, and quietly stepped out of the spotlight, “Do you need any further assistance?”
Hesiodos was reveling on the praise of the poem… people seemed to like it, just as he expected. He smiled, satisfied with his performance, but as soon as he realized that not everyone liked the poem, he realized the mistake he made.
The poem was about Theseus, yes, but in general and not specifically about his adventure with the minotaur, and the origin of the dance, which was what he was being asked. Hesiodos cursed on his mind… once again, he got lost in the passion and the art, like it often happened.
He watched as Lord Fotios explained the story. He actually explained it, yes, but Hesiodos thought that he lacked taste… he clearly was not a fan of liberal arts. Well, he thought, you couldn’t win them all… an important part of being a performer was knowing how to roll with a failure, and not backpedal. That would only make him look worse.
So he waved his hand and chuckled, and said with his melodic voice, “Ahh… the point was lost in the passion! By our ardent storytellers… so now we must all reference, to the wisdom of this old fella!”, he said and nodded his head, “Magistral explanation, my Lord”, he said with a pleasant smile. He avoided saying ‘I could have done it better’, and quietly stepped out of the spotlight, “Do you need any further assistance?”
Fotios nodded in peaceful calm obedience to the young princess of the realm when she spoke to him in thanks for his explanation. whilst she was still young, the blonde was still technically of higher rank than himself so he was open to accepting that he had to bow to her authority in all things this day. His hand came to his chest as he bowed and then moved back into the folded cross at the bottom of his ribcage.
The ladies all then began to form the line once more, now with a greater understanding of what it was they were doing and why. The Lord Alekos - who had stood with a slightly awkward smile pasted on his face as the lesson had momentarily gone off of the rails - now brightened with renewed enthusiasm, his hands clapping together with exuberance.
"Yes, yes! Fantastic summation, my Lord." He agreed, distracting Fotios from being wrathfully angry at being referred to as an 'old fella'. Never sure whether his ire would rise over something so small to new heights or if it would fall like water on a duck's back - it so often depended on his temperament that day - Fotios was glad that his reactions had been cut short. Instead, he was able to focus on the matter at hand.
"Just music, minstrel." He told the man, for the women had yet to dance and would need the melody to follow their steps together.
Taking the hint, Lord Alekos leapt forward to adjust hand positions and encourage the arms of the women into a straighter line, once more being careful not to actually touch any of the noble females but imply and indicate where alterations needed to be made...
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Fotios nodded in peaceful calm obedience to the young princess of the realm when she spoke to him in thanks for his explanation. whilst she was still young, the blonde was still technically of higher rank than himself so he was open to accepting that he had to bow to her authority in all things this day. His hand came to his chest as he bowed and then moved back into the folded cross at the bottom of his ribcage.
The ladies all then began to form the line once more, now with a greater understanding of what it was they were doing and why. The Lord Alekos - who had stood with a slightly awkward smile pasted on his face as the lesson had momentarily gone off of the rails - now brightened with renewed enthusiasm, his hands clapping together with exuberance.
"Yes, yes! Fantastic summation, my Lord." He agreed, distracting Fotios from being wrathfully angry at being referred to as an 'old fella'. Never sure whether his ire would rise over something so small to new heights or if it would fall like water on a duck's back - it so often depended on his temperament that day - Fotios was glad that his reactions had been cut short. Instead, he was able to focus on the matter at hand.
"Just music, minstrel." He told the man, for the women had yet to dance and would need the melody to follow their steps together.
Taking the hint, Lord Alekos leapt forward to adjust hand positions and encourage the arms of the women into a straighter line, once more being careful not to actually touch any of the noble females but imply and indicate where alterations needed to be made...
Fotios nodded in peaceful calm obedience to the young princess of the realm when she spoke to him in thanks for his explanation. whilst she was still young, the blonde was still technically of higher rank than himself so he was open to accepting that he had to bow to her authority in all things this day. His hand came to his chest as he bowed and then moved back into the folded cross at the bottom of his ribcage.
The ladies all then began to form the line once more, now with a greater understanding of what it was they were doing and why. The Lord Alekos - who had stood with a slightly awkward smile pasted on his face as the lesson had momentarily gone off of the rails - now brightened with renewed enthusiasm, his hands clapping together with exuberance.
"Yes, yes! Fantastic summation, my Lord." He agreed, distracting Fotios from being wrathfully angry at being referred to as an 'old fella'. Never sure whether his ire would rise over something so small to new heights or if it would fall like water on a duck's back - it so often depended on his temperament that day - Fotios was glad that his reactions had been cut short. Instead, he was able to focus on the matter at hand.
"Just music, minstrel." He told the man, for the women had yet to dance and would need the melody to follow their steps together.
Taking the hint, Lord Alekos leapt forward to adjust hand positions and encourage the arms of the women into a straighter line, once more being careful not to actually touch any of the noble females but imply and indicate where alterations needed to be made...
In the vastness of the great gallery, Evangelina felt a bizarre mixture of confined and small. She fidgeted as Princess Gianna answered ensuing an offer from Melina to borrow her books. A smile spread across her face at Melina’s offer for the princess to join them to do some reading. It was a natural offer from Melina. Sometimes, Evangelina felt some of her cousins… her eyes darted to Nana without thought, but sometimes she felt like perhaps their graciousness was a bit hollow.
Her mouth opened to continue the conversation but stopped short when her uncle’s voice cut through the air and silenced the girls, the barb, even that preposterous dance instructor. Her head turned and her nut brown eyes gaped at her uncle as he cut through the all of the lyrical babble of the poems with a candid review.
‘I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story.’ Princess Xene’s soft authoritative voice spoke, thanking her uncle and breaking the moment of gaping surprise that he was paying attention at all to what was being said regarding the girls. The princess continued issuing her directions, ‘How about we form our line again, ladies? And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together.’ Xene reached out taking the hands of Melina and her sister before directing Evangelina to take Princess Gianna’s hand.
Without hesitation, she took the delicate hand of Xene’s mischievous sister and prepared for the music to start again. However, the bard spoke using a free tone with her uncle and she knew her eyebrows must have raised high enough to skim her hairline. With a quick look at Melina to see if she’d heard the bard call her father ‘old fella’ before focusing on the floor and trying not to fidget further.
She could feel the waves of disapproval that seemed to radiate off her uncle at the bard’s insolence. It was a surprise though that the reaction was mostly ignored and music was ordered which brought about that fluttering nitwit Lord Alekos back about them tittering and tottering as he adjusted their dance positions.
Once the music started again, she tried to focus on the steps. Her movements were a bit stiff but at least they were in the right directions at the right times and the right number of steps. Fluidity might come with a bit more practice, or… not. There was a distinct possibility she’d never have the sort of grace and elegance that Xene had, but Evangelina could dream about it.
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In the vastness of the great gallery, Evangelina felt a bizarre mixture of confined and small. She fidgeted as Princess Gianna answered ensuing an offer from Melina to borrow her books. A smile spread across her face at Melina’s offer for the princess to join them to do some reading. It was a natural offer from Melina. Sometimes, Evangelina felt some of her cousins… her eyes darted to Nana without thought, but sometimes she felt like perhaps their graciousness was a bit hollow.
Her mouth opened to continue the conversation but stopped short when her uncle’s voice cut through the air and silenced the girls, the barb, even that preposterous dance instructor. Her head turned and her nut brown eyes gaped at her uncle as he cut through the all of the lyrical babble of the poems with a candid review.
‘I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story.’ Princess Xene’s soft authoritative voice spoke, thanking her uncle and breaking the moment of gaping surprise that he was paying attention at all to what was being said regarding the girls. The princess continued issuing her directions, ‘How about we form our line again, ladies? And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together.’ Xene reached out taking the hands of Melina and her sister before directing Evangelina to take Princess Gianna’s hand.
Without hesitation, she took the delicate hand of Xene’s mischievous sister and prepared for the music to start again. However, the bard spoke using a free tone with her uncle and she knew her eyebrows must have raised high enough to skim her hairline. With a quick look at Melina to see if she’d heard the bard call her father ‘old fella’ before focusing on the floor and trying not to fidget further.
She could feel the waves of disapproval that seemed to radiate off her uncle at the bard’s insolence. It was a surprise though that the reaction was mostly ignored and music was ordered which brought about that fluttering nitwit Lord Alekos back about them tittering and tottering as he adjusted their dance positions.
Once the music started again, she tried to focus on the steps. Her movements were a bit stiff but at least they were in the right directions at the right times and the right number of steps. Fluidity might come with a bit more practice, or… not. There was a distinct possibility she’d never have the sort of grace and elegance that Xene had, but Evangelina could dream about it.
In the vastness of the great gallery, Evangelina felt a bizarre mixture of confined and small. She fidgeted as Princess Gianna answered ensuing an offer from Melina to borrow her books. A smile spread across her face at Melina’s offer for the princess to join them to do some reading. It was a natural offer from Melina. Sometimes, Evangelina felt some of her cousins… her eyes darted to Nana without thought, but sometimes she felt like perhaps their graciousness was a bit hollow.
Her mouth opened to continue the conversation but stopped short when her uncle’s voice cut through the air and silenced the girls, the barb, even that preposterous dance instructor. Her head turned and her nut brown eyes gaped at her uncle as he cut through the all of the lyrical babble of the poems with a candid review.
‘I thank you, Lord Leventi, for your unyielding patience and your keen knowledge of the story.’ Princess Xene’s soft authoritative voice spoke, thanking her uncle and breaking the moment of gaping surprise that he was paying attention at all to what was being said regarding the girls. The princess continued issuing her directions, ‘How about we form our line again, ladies? And make both further use and further sense of the poem we are to dance to together.’ Xene reached out taking the hands of Melina and her sister before directing Evangelina to take Princess Gianna’s hand.
Without hesitation, she took the delicate hand of Xene’s mischievous sister and prepared for the music to start again. However, the bard spoke using a free tone with her uncle and she knew her eyebrows must have raised high enough to skim her hairline. With a quick look at Melina to see if she’d heard the bard call her father ‘old fella’ before focusing on the floor and trying not to fidget further.
She could feel the waves of disapproval that seemed to radiate off her uncle at the bard’s insolence. It was a surprise though that the reaction was mostly ignored and music was ordered which brought about that fluttering nitwit Lord Alekos back about them tittering and tottering as he adjusted their dance positions.
Once the music started again, she tried to focus on the steps. Her movements were a bit stiff but at least they were in the right directions at the right times and the right number of steps. Fluidity might come with a bit more practice, or… not. There was a distinct possibility she’d never have the sort of grace and elegance that Xene had, but Evangelina could dream about it.
Hesiodos was a firm believer that he had to know when to hold them, when to fold them, when to walk away and when to run, and this moment, he knew he had to fold. There would be other times in which he could tell more relevant poems, stories and songs, but for now, he decided to just sit back and do his job, until instructed.
He decided to be bold and call Lord Fotios old, as well, though it was mostly because it was the rhyme that occurred to him, and less because he was being irreverent… though he was almost always irreverent, most of the times, unless he knew it could cost him his head. He could at least hope it would take a few giggles out of the girls dancing.
At his instructions, he gave a small bow, and said, “As you command, my lord”, and with that he sat back on his spot, picked up his lyre and began to strum the dance music for the girls. He at least knew when to always play the correct songs, and so far, no one has complained.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hesiodos was a firm believer that he had to know when to hold them, when to fold them, when to walk away and when to run, and this moment, he knew he had to fold. There would be other times in which he could tell more relevant poems, stories and songs, but for now, he decided to just sit back and do his job, until instructed.
He decided to be bold and call Lord Fotios old, as well, though it was mostly because it was the rhyme that occurred to him, and less because he was being irreverent… though he was almost always irreverent, most of the times, unless he knew it could cost him his head. He could at least hope it would take a few giggles out of the girls dancing.
At his instructions, he gave a small bow, and said, “As you command, my lord”, and with that he sat back on his spot, picked up his lyre and began to strum the dance music for the girls. He at least knew when to always play the correct songs, and so far, no one has complained.
Hesiodos was a firm believer that he had to know when to hold them, when to fold them, when to walk away and when to run, and this moment, he knew he had to fold. There would be other times in which he could tell more relevant poems, stories and songs, but for now, he decided to just sit back and do his job, until instructed.
He decided to be bold and call Lord Fotios old, as well, though it was mostly because it was the rhyme that occurred to him, and less because he was being irreverent… though he was almost always irreverent, most of the times, unless he knew it could cost him his head. He could at least hope it would take a few giggles out of the girls dancing.
At his instructions, he gave a small bow, and said, “As you command, my lord”, and with that he sat back on his spot, picked up his lyre and began to strum the dance music for the girls. He at least knew when to always play the correct songs, and so far, no one has complained.
Lagging a bit behind her sisters and cousins because of her shorter stride, Imma was the last of the girls to enter the gallery. She stopped just inside the entrance, glancing around her in awe. In her entire four years of life, she had never seen any place so beautiful. The statues looked so lifelike that she thought they might step forward at any moment. She wanted to observe them more closely but she was herded to the center of the room with her cousins and the princesses when a man she had never seen before beckoned them inside. His voice sounded funny.
The little girl knew that they had come for a dancing lesson, but she didn’t think she needed one. She danced all the time … in her room, in the gardens, and down the hallways, everywhere she went. It was really easy. All you had to do was jump around and twirl. Her attention was distracted by the paintings on the walls. Imma would rather go over and look at them. Art intrigued her and she was learning how to draw and paint. Maybe she could wander over and nobody would notice she was gone,
She turned her attention back to the strange man as he told them that they would be earning the geranos, whatever that was. Oh! It was a dance about Theseus and the Minotaur. Her nurse had read her that story not long ago while she looked at the pictures in the book. The Minotaur was big and scary. Why was there a dance about him?
Imma liked the music. She didn’t want to get in a line with the other girls and she had no idea how she was going to reach their shoulders. Petite for her age, she would have to jump to reach that high. She would much rather study those paintings. And oh look! There were more paintings on the ceiling! How did the artists get up there to paint it? Could they fly? Had the gods given them wings? She wanted to paint a ceiling when she grew up so she could fly too.
She didn’t pay much attention to what the princess said or the dance teacher’s reply. The ceiling was fascinating and her neck was hurting a bit from looking so far up. The other man, the one who had been playing the music, spoke loudly enough that she lowered her head and turned her large blue eyes in his direction. He started to dance and then he recited a poem,
Tired of standing up, she plopped down on the floor, feeling the cold marble permeating the fabric of her chiton. She stared at the man with an intensity that was common for children her age. His voice and his movements held her entranced. And then he stopped. Imma sighed but a few moments later, was caught up in the tale that her uncle spu. It was only a bit different from the story her nurse read to her. Lying back upon the floor, she gazed at the paintings while she listened.
It was only when someone nudged her gently that she leapt to her feet and joined the other girls in the line, lifting her arms to take the hands of those on either side of her. The steps seemed easy enough but when everyone changed direction, she continued to move as before. Losing her gripped on the girls’ hands, she stood still and placed her dainty hands on her hips. Her lips turned down in a cute little pout. “Why is everyone else going the wrong way?” she asked loudly. At four years old, Imma was much too young to realize that she had no sense of direction.
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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Lagging a bit behind her sisters and cousins because of her shorter stride, Imma was the last of the girls to enter the gallery. She stopped just inside the entrance, glancing around her in awe. In her entire four years of life, she had never seen any place so beautiful. The statues looked so lifelike that she thought they might step forward at any moment. She wanted to observe them more closely but she was herded to the center of the room with her cousins and the princesses when a man she had never seen before beckoned them inside. His voice sounded funny.
The little girl knew that they had come for a dancing lesson, but she didn’t think she needed one. She danced all the time … in her room, in the gardens, and down the hallways, everywhere she went. It was really easy. All you had to do was jump around and twirl. Her attention was distracted by the paintings on the walls. Imma would rather go over and look at them. Art intrigued her and she was learning how to draw and paint. Maybe she could wander over and nobody would notice she was gone,
She turned her attention back to the strange man as he told them that they would be earning the geranos, whatever that was. Oh! It was a dance about Theseus and the Minotaur. Her nurse had read her that story not long ago while she looked at the pictures in the book. The Minotaur was big and scary. Why was there a dance about him?
Imma liked the music. She didn’t want to get in a line with the other girls and she had no idea how she was going to reach their shoulders. Petite for her age, she would have to jump to reach that high. She would much rather study those paintings. And oh look! There were more paintings on the ceiling! How did the artists get up there to paint it? Could they fly? Had the gods given them wings? She wanted to paint a ceiling when she grew up so she could fly too.
She didn’t pay much attention to what the princess said or the dance teacher’s reply. The ceiling was fascinating and her neck was hurting a bit from looking so far up. The other man, the one who had been playing the music, spoke loudly enough that she lowered her head and turned her large blue eyes in his direction. He started to dance and then he recited a poem,
Tired of standing up, she plopped down on the floor, feeling the cold marble permeating the fabric of her chiton. She stared at the man with an intensity that was common for children her age. His voice and his movements held her entranced. And then he stopped. Imma sighed but a few moments later, was caught up in the tale that her uncle spu. It was only a bit different from the story her nurse read to her. Lying back upon the floor, she gazed at the paintings while she listened.
It was only when someone nudged her gently that she leapt to her feet and joined the other girls in the line, lifting her arms to take the hands of those on either side of her. The steps seemed easy enough but when everyone changed direction, she continued to move as before. Losing her gripped on the girls’ hands, she stood still and placed her dainty hands on her hips. Her lips turned down in a cute little pout. “Why is everyone else going the wrong way?” she asked loudly. At four years old, Imma was much too young to realize that she had no sense of direction.
Lagging a bit behind her sisters and cousins because of her shorter stride, Imma was the last of the girls to enter the gallery. She stopped just inside the entrance, glancing around her in awe. In her entire four years of life, she had never seen any place so beautiful. The statues looked so lifelike that she thought they might step forward at any moment. She wanted to observe them more closely but she was herded to the center of the room with her cousins and the princesses when a man she had never seen before beckoned them inside. His voice sounded funny.
The little girl knew that they had come for a dancing lesson, but she didn’t think she needed one. She danced all the time … in her room, in the gardens, and down the hallways, everywhere she went. It was really easy. All you had to do was jump around and twirl. Her attention was distracted by the paintings on the walls. Imma would rather go over and look at them. Art intrigued her and she was learning how to draw and paint. Maybe she could wander over and nobody would notice she was gone,
She turned her attention back to the strange man as he told them that they would be earning the geranos, whatever that was. Oh! It was a dance about Theseus and the Minotaur. Her nurse had read her that story not long ago while she looked at the pictures in the book. The Minotaur was big and scary. Why was there a dance about him?
Imma liked the music. She didn’t want to get in a line with the other girls and she had no idea how she was going to reach their shoulders. Petite for her age, she would have to jump to reach that high. She would much rather study those paintings. And oh look! There were more paintings on the ceiling! How did the artists get up there to paint it? Could they fly? Had the gods given them wings? She wanted to paint a ceiling when she grew up so she could fly too.
She didn’t pay much attention to what the princess said or the dance teacher’s reply. The ceiling was fascinating and her neck was hurting a bit from looking so far up. The other man, the one who had been playing the music, spoke loudly enough that she lowered her head and turned her large blue eyes in his direction. He started to dance and then he recited a poem,
Tired of standing up, she plopped down on the floor, feeling the cold marble permeating the fabric of her chiton. She stared at the man with an intensity that was common for children her age. His voice and his movements held her entranced. And then he stopped. Imma sighed but a few moments later, was caught up in the tale that her uncle spu. It was only a bit different from the story her nurse read to her. Lying back upon the floor, she gazed at the paintings while she listened.
It was only when someone nudged her gently that she leapt to her feet and joined the other girls in the line, lifting her arms to take the hands of those on either side of her. The steps seemed easy enough but when everyone changed direction, she continued to move as before. Losing her gripped on the girls’ hands, she stood still and placed her dainty hands on her hips. Her lips turned down in a cute little pout. “Why is everyone else going the wrong way?” she asked loudly. At four years old, Imma was much too young to realize that she had no sense of direction.
Fotios watched the girls as they performed in a way that barely held true attention. His eyes followed their movements but it was more a case of his staring into the open space was aligned in their direction more through chance than deliberacy. Either way, he watched them with half an eye and half a mind, his thoughts turned elsewhere but always conscious of exactly what was happening in the room. He approved of the Lord Alekos and his means of tutoring, and how he knew not to touch the girls. But he couldn't resist the desire to roll his eyes when the man took on a feminine pose or stance in order to exemplify the instructions he was giving. Did the man hold no male pride?
That being said, he must have been a half way decent tutor because the girls started to fall into line and began to carry out the dances appropriately. The only one to step out of line or get themselves in a muddle was Imma. Dafni even managed to maintain her care though this was perhaps because she was sandwiched between two other girls and not left on the end of a line like her cousin. Imma, still young and awkward and easily distracted sat down on her bottom at one point, having completely given up interest in being on her feet and Fotios was forced to intervene.
With a soft sigh, he put pressure upon his shoulderblades to force himself upright once more and then moved to stand behind the young girl. A gentle nudge for her to get to her feet was all that was needed as she bounded back to taking the hand of the closest dancer.
Fotios melted into the shadows for a little longer but was drawn back out of them when Imma demanded to know why everyone was going the wrong way. He was about to step forward and nudge her again, giving her the sharp lesson in life that, if everyone was wandering in a particular direction but her, it wasn't likely to be everyone else that was wrong. Only, he was beaten to it by Lord Alekos who danced before the young girl with a skip and a jump, clearly unable to let music go about its business without needing to add his own personal sway and bump to it.
"Little Lady, little Lady!" He commented with a look of sympathy over how she had been caught unawares. "Remember! The paths of the labyrinth go this way and that! A single direction would have been too easy for our hero! We must show his courage and determination by going this way and that!" The man swayed from side to side, his arms gesturing to and fro.
When Imma was back in the line and involved once more, the Lord Alekos allowed the girls to continue for a while before he clapped his hands like a happy school child at the progress they had made.
"My ladies, my ladies of Taengea! You are as graceful as the reputations of this kingdom do tell! I can tell you now with all confidence that I have suggested to the Court that you perform this promenade and dance for the people of the capitol come the harvest festival!" His eyes were wide and encouraging as he looked from one to the other, as if he had just announced free cakes had been delivered to the hall rather than giving a two month deadline on a performance for the population of Vasiliadon.
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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Fotios watched the girls as they performed in a way that barely held true attention. His eyes followed their movements but it was more a case of his staring into the open space was aligned in their direction more through chance than deliberacy. Either way, he watched them with half an eye and half a mind, his thoughts turned elsewhere but always conscious of exactly what was happening in the room. He approved of the Lord Alekos and his means of tutoring, and how he knew not to touch the girls. But he couldn't resist the desire to roll his eyes when the man took on a feminine pose or stance in order to exemplify the instructions he was giving. Did the man hold no male pride?
That being said, he must have been a half way decent tutor because the girls started to fall into line and began to carry out the dances appropriately. The only one to step out of line or get themselves in a muddle was Imma. Dafni even managed to maintain her care though this was perhaps because she was sandwiched between two other girls and not left on the end of a line like her cousin. Imma, still young and awkward and easily distracted sat down on her bottom at one point, having completely given up interest in being on her feet and Fotios was forced to intervene.
With a soft sigh, he put pressure upon his shoulderblades to force himself upright once more and then moved to stand behind the young girl. A gentle nudge for her to get to her feet was all that was needed as she bounded back to taking the hand of the closest dancer.
Fotios melted into the shadows for a little longer but was drawn back out of them when Imma demanded to know why everyone was going the wrong way. He was about to step forward and nudge her again, giving her the sharp lesson in life that, if everyone was wandering in a particular direction but her, it wasn't likely to be everyone else that was wrong. Only, he was beaten to it by Lord Alekos who danced before the young girl with a skip and a jump, clearly unable to let music go about its business without needing to add his own personal sway and bump to it.
"Little Lady, little Lady!" He commented with a look of sympathy over how she had been caught unawares. "Remember! The paths of the labyrinth go this way and that! A single direction would have been too easy for our hero! We must show his courage and determination by going this way and that!" The man swayed from side to side, his arms gesturing to and fro.
When Imma was back in the line and involved once more, the Lord Alekos allowed the girls to continue for a while before he clapped his hands like a happy school child at the progress they had made.
"My ladies, my ladies of Taengea! You are as graceful as the reputations of this kingdom do tell! I can tell you now with all confidence that I have suggested to the Court that you perform this promenade and dance for the people of the capitol come the harvest festival!" His eyes were wide and encouraging as he looked from one to the other, as if he had just announced free cakes had been delivered to the hall rather than giving a two month deadline on a performance for the population of Vasiliadon.
Fotios watched the girls as they performed in a way that barely held true attention. His eyes followed their movements but it was more a case of his staring into the open space was aligned in their direction more through chance than deliberacy. Either way, he watched them with half an eye and half a mind, his thoughts turned elsewhere but always conscious of exactly what was happening in the room. He approved of the Lord Alekos and his means of tutoring, and how he knew not to touch the girls. But he couldn't resist the desire to roll his eyes when the man took on a feminine pose or stance in order to exemplify the instructions he was giving. Did the man hold no male pride?
That being said, he must have been a half way decent tutor because the girls started to fall into line and began to carry out the dances appropriately. The only one to step out of line or get themselves in a muddle was Imma. Dafni even managed to maintain her care though this was perhaps because she was sandwiched between two other girls and not left on the end of a line like her cousin. Imma, still young and awkward and easily distracted sat down on her bottom at one point, having completely given up interest in being on her feet and Fotios was forced to intervene.
With a soft sigh, he put pressure upon his shoulderblades to force himself upright once more and then moved to stand behind the young girl. A gentle nudge for her to get to her feet was all that was needed as she bounded back to taking the hand of the closest dancer.
Fotios melted into the shadows for a little longer but was drawn back out of them when Imma demanded to know why everyone was going the wrong way. He was about to step forward and nudge her again, giving her the sharp lesson in life that, if everyone was wandering in a particular direction but her, it wasn't likely to be everyone else that was wrong. Only, he was beaten to it by Lord Alekos who danced before the young girl with a skip and a jump, clearly unable to let music go about its business without needing to add his own personal sway and bump to it.
"Little Lady, little Lady!" He commented with a look of sympathy over how she had been caught unawares. "Remember! The paths of the labyrinth go this way and that! A single direction would have been too easy for our hero! We must show his courage and determination by going this way and that!" The man swayed from side to side, his arms gesturing to and fro.
When Imma was back in the line and involved once more, the Lord Alekos allowed the girls to continue for a while before he clapped his hands like a happy school child at the progress they had made.
"My ladies, my ladies of Taengea! You are as graceful as the reputations of this kingdom do tell! I can tell you now with all confidence that I have suggested to the Court that you perform this promenade and dance for the people of the capitol come the harvest festival!" His eyes were wide and encouraging as he looked from one to the other, as if he had just announced free cakes had been delivered to the hall rather than giving a two month deadline on a performance for the population of Vasiliadon.