100th Annual Cendrillion Ball

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Asuran Dorix
Duke of Dorimun

Nearly as soon as the event began, Asuran could feel through the ground the echos of what seemed to be a... giant's footsteps, perhaps? The shaking continued, and suddenly a form of indescribable size appeared in the doorway, clad head to toe in armor, his countenance obscured by a helmet with a full faceplate. "Who exactly does this" he muttered, pausing for a moment to consider the correct word "person think he is?" Clearly the knight was invited, or else he would never have made it to the castle to begin with, but if that was the case, who had invited him? A show of power by one of the other families, perhaps? This was a man who he would have to be keeping an eye on, that was certain.

After a moment the colossus attempted to take a seat, only to have it shatter under the great load of his armor. For a moment or two he remained on the floor, unmoving, before returning to his feet without the slightest sign of being fazed by this sudden turn of events. Hearing his rumbling pronouncement of his position as the "Knight of the Lady" Asuran could only find himself yet further confused. Who was this Lady? What brought such a figure as this Helbrecht to be among royalty? So he isn't some royal's bodyguard, then, Asuran noted, glad that he wasn't some form of power-play, but also suddenly uncomfortable at the threat such a unaccounted for variable posed.

Questioning would have to wait, however, since Asuran's attention was quickly taken by the arrival of Klaus Diefenbach. He had proven to be a pleasant man in the few personal meetings Dorimian-Ramerian trade had demanded, and his kindhearted display of assisting with Helbrecht's chair only further supported this impression, not to mention the adoration poured upon him by the masses during the parade. Far more cheers that I ever have received, he reflected. Shaking himself back to the present, it came to Asuran's attention that there was a woman accompanying Klaus who, when Klaus soon after introduced himself, was said to be his sister, and it seemed that she had stowed away upon his carriage to get here. Wracking his brain, it came to Asuran's mind that she was an artist, and although she would be an interesting addition to the event, her presence was yet another surprise that Asuran had not accounted for.

Finally, with the great commotion of the moment done, Asuran took a minute to observe those who he hadn't yet taken notice of. Luciano was there, a pleasantly at least semi-familiar sight among the many royals he had met very few or no times. One man who Asuran hadn't yet met was revealed by the crest upon his chair to be the Prince of Nezzie, the eyeglasses perched upon his nose giving him an interesting looking. Finally, then there was... oh. The royals of Greedo, Dahlia and Tristan Sinclair, were there as well. Keep your mouth shut, don't sneer, don't do anything, Asuran chided himself, knowing that if was not careful he could find himself insulting one of them and ruining diplomatic relationships before the ball had even started. Regardless of who they were, he had to keep himself focused; petty rivalries would need to be overcome for the good of Dorimun. Forcing himself to continue with his sweep of the room, the lack of not only Lepumir but also Marine and Sea was disturbing to him, for their absence displayed clear instability somewhere within Roserasia; no one would willingly miss such an important event as the Cendrillon Ball. Not only that, but the Princess herself was missing. He had heard that she had been known to shirk royal duties, but at such as important time as now? This was unthinkable.

Luciano's announcement of himself (although rather insultingly short and flippant, Asuran noted) seemed to be establishing a precedent, and so Asuran felt the need to act likewise. Standing, he gave a quick glance around the table before squaring his shoulders and saying, "Greetings. I am Asuran Dorix, duke of Dorimun. I am overjoyed both to newly meet some of you and to reunite with others. I wish all of you a most... successful experience at the ball," although his voice was rather lacking in the "joy" he claimed to possess.

Syrenrei hosaki Pretzel Heart Unwavering Knight Olissa

 

[Peppermint Patty]

It wasn’t working… What’d he expect, though? There was no way for him to be permitted without any proof- Tristan and the princess were nowhere to be seen… What was he to do now?! After pleading with the guards for a good five minutes or so, he finally gave up- he wasn’t getting in today, the day when everything was starting, the day everyone had waited for- and he was missing it. Exhausted and crestfallen, he slouched forward and begrudgingly started to walk away. Or, rather, that’s what he would’ve done, but a voice came from an oncoming, familiar man… Greedo castle staff! And, judging on how the man was talking, he could assume the man knew him as well! As he spoke, Chantie straightened up his posture again, as if to prove that he was affiliated with the royal family. There was no need to say anything- everything Booker was saying was accurate, and working out- all that left Chantie to do was silently nod in agreement every so often.

By the time the tutor was done, the guards had stepped out of the way for him to pass- and as he went through, they didn’t come back together. Chantie looked two the two- back and forth for a second. One of them gave him a nod, and excitedly, he ran through.

Upon entering the main hallway, his senses were overloaded with brightness- shimmering, shining walls of what looked to be made of pure gold! Lavishly decorated… Everything! The roof was so high, even ten of him could not touch the top, stacked on top of each other! He’d been in Greedo’s castle on a few occasions, but this was entirely different. Everything was just so much… Richer. After a few awestruck moments, spent gaping at his surroundings, he felt a bit of a shunt- a particularly wide man had passed by, accidentally bumping into him. Immediately, Chantie flustered up, fiddling with his tie and apologizing repeatedly to the man. They looked back in mild curiosity, before continuing on their way. This wasn’t how to act in the presence of royals, was it?.. He was supposed to be calm, collected- and most of all, stay moving with the rest of the crowd. It was at this moment that Chantie realized how alone he was, in a seemingly alien environment. He knew nobody here- maybe he might have if he’d met with Tristan on time as plan, but now he was completely left in the dust. No clue what to do, he poked his head up above the heads of the people in front of him, looking this way and that. Then, he spotted it- just who he wanted right now. Taking off into a sprint, he chased down Elliot, stopping abruptly by his side.

“H-hey, I wanna thank you a ton for- for what you did back there! Really saved my skin, I was s’posed to meet with Tristan this morning, but I overslept, I know it was dumb and I’m just lucky to have had you to get me in and we don’t know each other that well but- uh- uhhh…”

“C-couldja… I know you had other stuff to attend to, and after what you did for me I really shouldn’t be asking anything else, but… This is all so f-foreign to me… And I dunno what to do… If you could help me- help me find a way to… Get started… Or maybe give me a quick r-rundown on what to do here?.. I’d just- really appreciate it! Don’t feel like you have to but… Please?..”

Mentioned: Booker ( hosaki )​

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the Lady.

As Klaus approached the sitting knight the helmeted gaze set itself on him, silently listening as the young man attempted to help the armored man up. Klaus Mathis Diefenbach, representant of Rameria. High-pitched tone and eloquence, indicative of frequent public speech. Well-bred mannerisms, standard for noble successors meant to portray a family's wealth and aspirations. Graceful movements, filled out cloth, product of a life devoid of want or need, granted a balanced diet every single day for full biological development. Oddity: Some movements led with more force than softness, expression of weight-training? Perhaps this one had been led to learn some amount of self-defence.

"You are not She." was all that Helbrecht noted, the senator's attempts to raise him going unheeded. Only when the servants came with a sturdy chair did the knight budge from his undignified position to take a proper seat. As he had entered the house on legal accord, he was beholden to its rules, after all. At least so long as it didn't defy Her will.

The Nezzi-representative's comment did not go unnoticed, the knight spared a glance towards the empty seat of the Lepumir-Prince. Not only this one, but also the Marine-kingdom and even the euthalian princess herself were not present yet. A poor showing, uncharacteristic for what had been told of Old King Regis's hold upon the global authority. Helbrecht's judging gaze settled on the Old King, noting his expectedly stern demeanor, but also the tired eyes. Was this the look of one that felt the weight of a lifetime's reign bearing down heavily upon them?

The knight was drawn from his musings when the Greedo-Princess addressed him, unanticipatedly. Surprised, Helbrecht found himself roughly on eye-level with the woman as she leaned over, grinning without apparent precedent. "What I am planning to do after dinner..." he repeated her line, thinking it over. This one, Princess... Dahlia, her form had the usual developmental signs of one having rarely had a physical want, though she showed clear appearance of a recent form of starvation. Her leisurely movements had a slight stagger to them, indicators either of intoxication - which was unlikely - or physical frailty. "... as my kind is wont to do, a knight must go and quest in the Lady's name, whereever he might tread. I would patrol the streets throughout the night, perhaps sleep, then return to the castle."

This princess's demeanor had something... contagious to it. The sort of cheery attitude perhaps most fittingly attributed to a caged bird now finally freed to fly. It reminded him and also made him curious. "Princess... Dahlia." the knight mused, looking over to her brother, Prince Tristan "... if she wishes, she can accompany me. None of evil mind would touch her."

Addressing the Greedo Princess again he asked "But are you certain? My path is a crusade, violence may ensue."


Pretzel Heart Syrenrei hosaki

 

[Olissa]

EVALYN 'EVA' JONES​

Someday... Someday I'll have my adventure in a far away land ~ Eva
It had taken a moment for Eva to find her bearings after having landed so ungracefully on the softness of what felt like a carpet. Being a dancer one would have at least thought that she would have been able to hold her balance. Then again, how could anyone have expected of her to know how to travel through a magical portal.

Magic.

It was the only way to describe, well, everything that happened so far. A portal, a totally different world, flying squirrels. Actually, no, flying squirrels existed back home as well, they just didn't hover in one place.

Or talk.

Or wear glasses.

And there definitely wasn't anything back home that was called an ary... aery... arie? Something like that.

She had however met a guy once named Arie. But that didn't count.

The room that Eva had entered was truly spectacular. It was probably bigger than her entire house by the looks of it.
It was then that her eyes were drawn to the HUGE bed. Now that just called to be jumped on.

With a short sprint and strong jump from well trained leg muscles Eva sent herself flying onto the soft, but firm bedding, and instantly was pole vaulted straight over the other side with a surprised yelp.

"I'm okay, I'm good." Eva stated as she quickly recovered from her second ungraceful landing.

The two of them had arrived on the morning of the festival. And it was good that they did. It had taken the entire day to go over the basics that she as 'Princess' Evalyn would have to know and do. How to walk. How to talk. How to greet people. Which, she might add, that wasn't just one simple step, oh no, every different social status was to be addressed differently. To some she'd curtsey, to others a short nod of the head, or not even any movement at all. The variations seemed to be endless.

Thank goodness she was at least allowed to smile, or she would have died all together.

He told her she should pause before replying, but never let it draw out too long. Remain charming and pleasant, but never too attached. How to introduce herself, what her full name was, and the names and ways to address or mention her parents. Which utensil to use, which cup to drink from, how to politely refuse or accept anything that is offered.

Then came all the formalities of who is who, what their status, and relation was to the princess, and their relations with Euthalia. For that they had snuck into the nearby library.
Of all the information that was given to her, one tiny little aspect stuck out like a sore thumb.

She recognized almost all the names. Almost. That was weird, right?

There was no time to linger on the subject however. There was too much to cover that could possibly fit in one day. Probably even one month. Thank goodness she wasn't trading places forever or this would have been an epic disaster. Here in the library they also covered the basics on what arie were, the presence of witches. (Seriously? Witches! As if this didn't already look and feel like a fairytale.) Before finally heading back to the bedroom.

Due to the time crunch Kip had opted to forgo the whole parade. It would be better to prepare her just that little bit longer, and then make a good impression at the banquet itself. Where she would have to perform a dance.

A dance.

As delighted as she normally was to get an opportunity to dance, this time it made her tremble with fear. How in the world was she going to perform a dance she never even practiced? Thankfully Kip had seen enough of the dance during the few times Princess Evalyn had actually gone to her lessons to be able to relay some of the steps to her.

Then came the introduction to the Princess' wardrobe. And by the heavens what a wardrobe it was. Row after row overflowing with the finest fabrics and delicate jeweling in the most intricate of designs. Gobsmacked the young woman stared at it, unable to move. Kip had quickly brought forth a dress that had already been selected for Princess Evalyn to wear at the banquet. A stunning sight to behold. With the different fabrics in a number of hues of blues combined with golden finery and matching jewelry.

As she changed into her outfit Kip quickly gave her the final run down of what was going to happen this evening.
At long last she was done, ready to be presented to the world as Princess Evalyn Sabine Euthalia. Standing before a mirror Eva could not believe her eyes.

This was her now. A picturesque image of elegance and grace. Of high nobility and the farthest thing imaginable from a normal run of the mill girl.

A princess.

With a flick of his wand Kip had created an updo for Eva that would have normally taken hours to create, even for a professional hairdresser that her home world's royals and celebrities would have had.
Her hair was adorned with strains of jewels that sparkled and shimmered even if she didn't move.

Truly magical.

At long last she was ready, just as the parade was coming to a close. With a deep breath Eva, now Princess Evalyn, opened the doors to the hallway.

Spoiler: Background Music

Though she had briefly crossed the hall twice to the library and back, she had scarcely taken a moment to take in the scenery, out of fear someone might have spotted her.
Now, as if for the first time, her breath was taken away from her.

Such beauty of the pure white walls, contrasting the dark mahogany woodwork with the most delicate carvings, adorned by the finest golden detailing. The deep red heavy curtains flanking the windows felt softer than any fabric Eva had ever felt as she ran her hand by them while she walked by. And the windowsills (where you could actually sit) were decorated with velvet pillows lined with gold and fine white embroidery of a rose in the center.
Flowers, both real and of various materials such as wood and precious metals, snaked upwards to the grand ceilings of the 'simple' Chateau.
Grand paintings of landscapes and people adorned the walls between the rows of windows that looked out to gardens that seemed to have no end to them.

For a moment, a brief moment, Eva felt like Belle wandering through the Beast's castle. "What's in the West Wing?" She mused, a quote from the movie.
Kip, for all obvious reasons, hadn't gotten the reference and started explaining what was in the actual western wing. Information that completely went over her head as she reveled in the sights of the building's corridors.

It was a good thing that no one was in these halls at this hour, or they would have seen the princess looking up and around her own home as if she were a tourist. Which actually was the truth. She was like a tourist in a massive palace.

Massive.
Until she learned of the grand building that they had to go to next. The great palace itself dwarfed the little chateau like it was nobodies business.
With every turn she made and hall she saw she was more and more reminded of Versailles. The detailing, the perfection.
Okay fine, she had never actually been to Versailles, but she had seen images in school books and online. It was on her long, very long, list of places she wanted to visit one day.

But as much as it reminded her of the grandeur of Versailles, even Versailles paled compared to this.
This was powered by magic, grounded in pure fantasy. It was as if walking through a dream. A lucid dream where she had full control over her own actions. Or perhaps even like being a part of the most detailed and well written fantasy video game ever made. If such a game existed, she was definitely going to buy it. Even if it was just to walk down the halls and rooms endlessly, taking in all the details and beauty of this place.

As the pair exited the building they went around the back of the Palace to avoid the masses of people that had gathered by the front door. Kip had found that to be safer, and she agreed.

What's more, it led them through part of the grand gardens. Before her eyes fields after fields after fields that seemed to continue on endlessly of flora both known and unknown to her. Perfect, pristine flowers bloomed as if nature itself was trying its utmost best to be the epitome of perfection and beauty during the Cendrillion ball. Dancing in effortless unity with the wind as it drifted by like a soft hand.

Eva hadn't noticed how she had stopped, taking in the breathtaking performance before her until Kip was the one that urged her on. They were running late.
The make belief princess couldn't help but chuckle. In her mind the image of the white rabbit appeared from Alice in Wonderland. In a way Kip and the rabbit seemed to be quite alike. 'I'm late I'm late I'm late!' Too bad the people here were not going to understand any pop culture references.

With one last look over her shoulder the pair left the beautiful scenery that would make any florist's heart leap for joy behind them.

Trying not to look too hastened Kip and Eva hurried to the banquet hall. A journey that Eva had to admit she severely had underestimated. At last they arrived. The doors were currently closed, two figures that she presumed were guards were standing by the sides of the entrance. No matter what, there was no sneaking in, or out, now.

The deepest sigh in recorded history rolled over flawlessly painted rose colored lips. This was it.
Her journey here to these doors had been so calming, so serene and beautiful. A stark contrast to the sensation of bewilderment and fright that coursed through her veins this very second.

Standing up straight, relying on her experience as a dancer to carry herself and the quick course of training Kip had given, Princess Evalyn strode to the doors. Her eyes fixed on the dual doors as to not end up staring uncharacteristically at the guards.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. This felt like the first time she had to perform. She had made a blunder and failed then. She could not fail now.

As if on cue the two she presumed were guards leaned forward, startling Eva for a second, and opened the doors to the banquet hall.

The splendor of the room came flooding her way, but she could scarcely take it in. Her head panicking, racing a mile a minute, her eyes fixated on the table with all the representatives for this year's annual ball.
Behind her she heard Kip's whispering voice, which was the sole thing keeping her from freezing up.

Steadily the fake princess walked to her seat, refocussing her attention on her years of training as a performing dancer. No matter the nerves, she had to smile, and sauntered with confidence across her stage.
Eyes briefly rested on the face of the man at the head of the table. Dad? She almost lost all composure. What was he-... no... This must be the Princess' father. The King. Quickly she looked away.

Unsure of whether she was supposed to voice an excuse as to why she was late, Eva opted to remain silent and sat down in her assigned decorative chair.

Dress image modified by Olissa
Original content: Qishi Huanxiang Ye. Chapter 58
Mentioned: Pretzel Heart (Kip, King) Addressed: N/A?​

 

[hosaki]

Booker Elliot

If Booker hadn't long grown accustomed to his private time being interrupted, he may have shown some shred of annoyance at being dragged back to this whole banquet business. As it was however, he merely displayed the same kindly attentiveness that had won him the hearts of those older, more curmudgeonly palace servants who liked to ramble and rave on at times. After all, being a tutor required a patience rivaling that of the Lady herself.

"This banquet is but a formality for Their Highnesses to reacquaint themselves with each other, so just enjoy the good food and the company. I hear they've invited some people from the merchant sector this year -- I'm sure they'll make for interesting conversation."

His eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer to whisper a remark that might have turned some heads with its indelicacy if he had spoken them outright. "...Besides, this will be the closest you'll get to holding a silver spoon in your mouth. Euthalian royalty doesn't skimp on their guests." He rubbed his fingers together in a gesture to emphasize the millions of golden Roseras that must be lying in the Euthalian treasury for their country to host such a large event every year.

The joke didn't seem to relieve the panic in Chantie's wild eyes, so Booker gave him a reassuring smile accompanied by a squeeze on the shoulder. "Relax. They have seating arrangements ready and although Prince Tristan might have forg- might have missed you," he corrected himself, "he personally made sure that you were on the guest list. Just remember your manners and address everyone by their proper titles should you engage them in conversation. His Majesty for King Regis, His or Her Highness for the princes and princesses, His Grace for the Duke of Dorimun, Lord Galleria for the viscount, Senator Diefenbach for the dashing young senator of Tenenbaum. Of course, if you're not certain what to say, keeping quiet is certainly an option."

Booker smoothed out the wrinkles his palm had left on the shoulder of Chantie's suit before giving the aria a final pat of farewell.

"Now go forth, young lad. As a scholar of history, I can assure you that never has a dinner guest's head been lopped off for committing the gross indecency of forgetting the soup spoon."

He gave a wry smile. It was hard to say whether or not that would remain true for the remainder of the month. Of course, he didn't mean to wish ill on the aria; the problem was that he would be overseeing Chantie's stay in the Chateau. Always waving his blade about for the smallest of things, the nut. Booker chuckled to himself in pity for the poor fool standing before him before shaking his head.

"Now I really must go. My work cannot be delayed any longer... But I hope we shall have the fortune of speaking again."

But for now, any more talk of Their Highnesses would surely leave him feeling lightheaded. He paused to request the help of one of the passing guards to kindly lead the way to the Dining Hall for Chantie before resuming his path towards the Chateau, now with a briskness that would hopefully deter further interruption. Those books weren't going to read themselves.

Peppermint Patty (Sorry, I only intend to play Booker as an NPCish character for now, so I don't want him to be too involved with the main events of the story. Hopefully this was enough to get you started with some ideas...?)


Kalen

The dancer positively pranced along the parade path as he drank in the lively atmosphere, darting in and out of the crowd to get glimpses of the moving orchestra and the magical tricks being performed by the arie. What a sight! The excitement, the fervor, people pressing in from all sides with their eyes shining... Kalen was in his element. The street shows he often performed in were hardly of the same scale, but the essence of the crowd was much the same.

His eyes lit up when he glimpsed a mop of black hair and heard whispered predictions of sure victory; he wrestled through a brigade of screaming girls in the hopes that he could see the famous Luciano Barbosa in person. Others had spoken of the man's dancing skills and some of his arrogance, but none of how the man looked beyond the most rudimentary of details. Naturally, he was curious about his would-be rival's appearance. When he finally broke through the front line (that was the most difficult, with the most vicious of girls guarding their places with tooth and literal nail), he was immediately underwhelmed by the short pasty male that paraded by.

No wonder nobody had said anything; the boy looked like he hadn't seen a day of sun in his life, nor a night of fitful sleep. How could he dance when he looked like he would keel over any minute?

Well... that was an exaggeration, Kalen amended. Luciano held his head high and walked with the grace and surety of an experienced dancer, contrary to what his deathlike appearance would suggest. But still... Kalen sighed. He thought nobles had multi-course meals everyday. Did the kid's folks starve him or something? He looked too thin for a man almost twenty.

Yet thin or not, Luciano would be a formidable rival; that was one thing Kalen was sure of. It was just deflating to see that one of his fellow dancers wasn't quite as robust looking as he had hoped. He personally believed it was a dancer's duty to take care of their bodies too; after all, the body was the instrument through which the dancer expressed their art.

"-SENATOR DIEFENBACH! LOOK THIS WAY!" "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, HE SMILED IN MY DIRECTION!!"

The man jolted out of his thoughts as a new wave of fangirls surged up against him to follow one particular figure among the procession. It was Claud or Klaus or something like that...? Anyway, the Luciano's partner. It was getting uncomfortable, with so many ladies and their metal skirt frames jostling him around. Not to mention, his ear drums were beginning to hurt.

"Hey, hey. We don't have to get so- violent-" Kalen protested amidst the rabid excitement that threatened to sweep him away, yet his voice was drowned out by a chorus of pitched screams. As he struggled to fight his way against the pull of the crowd, he was met with an elbow to the face and a fan to the rib, the latter which would surely leave a bruise. So much for the body being the dancer's instrument. In the end, there was little he could do but resign himself to a fate of ear piercing screams and swooning women.

---

By the time Kalen made it into the Banquet Hall, he knew more than he'd ever wanted to know about Senator Klaus Mathis Diefenbach, age 19, young eligible bachelor from Rameria, five-feet-eight, born on the 20th of Salune, with "gorgeous green eyes" and a "charming smile," rumored to possess an impressive six-pack... All of this was processed with an amused bemusement and that mental work seemed to have taken its toll on him: he was ravenously hungry. Kalen picked up the fork next to his plate, the weight of it strange in his palm. And the knife, what was that for? Did royals gut their own meat too? He inspected the blade and drew it across his palm, frowning at its dullness before setting it down again. The strange knight sitting next to him seemed to have an equally bad grasp of table manners as he did, seeing as the man had thought it fit to seat himself on the ground after breaking a chair; asking him about the utensil setting seemed counterproductive. It looked like he'd have to wing it himself then. More importantly though...
he tapped a fork on his plate for emphasis.

"Kalen's the name. I've never been part of such a large event before, but I look forward to meeting you all on the ballroom floor. I hear that every noble learns to dance from a young age, so you must all be very good then. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Oh, wait. That wasn't proper enough, according to Grier. "Your Majesties? Your Highnesses? Whatever your title is, just pretend I called you that." He gave a flippant laugh and fiddled with a spoon, hoping that this wouldn't be grounds for them to drag him out onto a chopping block for execution. After all, he'd made an attempt and that was more than anyone could say for his usual self. Part of him never understood nobles' obsessions with titles. After all, if your parents gave you a name, you should want people to call you by that name, right? All this Your Highness, Your Majesty, and Lord nonsense were just empty words that detracted from the person. Luckily, attention was directed away from his potentially disastrous faux pas by the entrance of a young red-haired lady dressed in an elaborate blue gown -- likely the Euthalian Princess. Well, it was about time for her to make her appearance. The people were all gossiping about the young representatives scrambling over themselves to win her hand and it would have been a pity for them if her seat had remained empty for the entire night.


Tristan Thaddeus Sinclair

Dahlia wasn't ready to settle down yet, was the implied message Tristan received from his sister's reply. He'd expected as much. The silent oath he'd made to himself before he'd boarded for Saint Lyon steeled his nerves anew. He had as much right to be here at this table as anyone else did, and he would do everything that was within his power to protect Dahlia's happiness and his country's future, somehow, even in Princess Evalyn's absence. Of course, that didn't mean Dahlia could do whatever she pleased: sneaking out of the castle during such a dangerous time was absolutely out of the question! Tristan opened his mouth to object, but it seemed that the girl had read his mind and was already rushing headlong to cement the deal with that large knight named Sir Helbrecht, of questionable origin.

His eyes widened in shock upon Sir Helbrecht's answer and he sought to quickly interrupt the flow of conversation before it got too out of hand. "Violence? I apologize... that may not be entirely suitable for us, seeing as we are..." He trailed off. Foreign representatives getting involved in a street scuffle would be scandalous, and Dahlia certainly didn't need any more excitement of that nature.

"...formal representatives of Greedo." He looked meaningfully at Dahlia, but the expression was complicated by a strange pained furrow of his brow. It was at times like this that he wholly felt the conflict between duty and will. Explicitly reminding his sister of her position, when she had almost lost her life and when she was currently being pressured to give up the rest of that life she'd fought to keep because of it, that was hypocrisy of the highest degree. Still, he resisted the guilt that crept upon his conscience. In the end, keeping to the rules of royal etiquette would pay off if he could achieve their political goals. He followed up after that man -- Kalen's -- crude introduction with scarcely a missed beat, standing to garner the attention of those at the table.

"I am Tristan Sinclair, crown prince of Greedo. I believe I have met some of you and only, regretfully, heard of the good of others." His introduction was interrupted by the announcement of one Princess Evalyn Euthalia, who glided to her seat without a sound, each step light and stately. He fell silent for a moment, briefly spellbound by the way the light refracted off of the jewels adorning her person and the faint scent of roses that wafted by as she passed. Her presence seemed to invigorate him, his voice taking on more volume and energy when he was finally allowed to continue his speech. "Regardless, I am grateful to have the privilege of meeting each of you in person now -- a privilege that can only be attributed to the country of Euthalia and its centennial long mission of peace that has allowed us to gather here today. Thus, as a fellow representative, I would like to propose a toast." He lifted his glass up to eye level, pausing to rest his gaze on everyone present. "May peace continue to reign in Roserasia and may fortune smile upon its keepers." He raised his glass: "To our hosts, His Majesty, King Regis Mutto and Her Highness, Princess Evalyn Euthalia. To every one of us here today."

theplasticdemon Pretzel Heart Syrenrei ParadoxalPaladin Unwavering Knight

 

[Pretzel Heart]

❦ Kiefer Avescamp ❦
One perfect moment
​

Discounting the fraught anticipation of the next month's endeavors (which caused the young man to feel that, at any moment, his heart may tear through the frail structure of his chest), Kiefer's first night faded into his first day in Saint Lyon with little of interest. While he had been intent on encountering the Princess as quickly as possible, providence had intervened, leading him into a fruitless goose chase across Saint Lyon tracing her shadow. No one and everyone had seen her, with sightings of the red-haired maiden echoing throughout the market and city. And yet...for his troubles, no reward.

As much as it killed him, the Princess would have to wait.

Having nothing better to do until the parade, Kiefer did his best to instead familiarize himself with the castle's structure, carefully transfiguring every square inch into detailed notes in his little black book. Whenever a curious servant or guard seemed to get a touch too close, he would instinctively shrink away, pressing the worn pages to his chest and looking down over glasses frames with mild suspicion.

Not that he thought anyone would question him, really. Kiefer had indeed been traumatized by his interactions with arie, as of late.

The morning's gambit about Saint Lyon had at least provided some useful information about the city, and listening to the commoner's dribble had further gifted him with some intriguing rumors.

Every word going in careful script.

Experience after experience.

Memory after memory.

The beautiful and the ugly, all recorded there for him to relive, over and over.

He also poked around the other Representatives' rooms in the Château, taking note of who had already arrived and who was running boorishly late. But such absences just meant he could examine their quarters without them being aware. The maids seemed to have neglected to lock the doors of suites yet unoccupied-- or perhaps it was a purposeful maneuver with the amount of preparations blowing them in and out of rooms at cyclone's pace. It wasn't his fault they were being languid about their duties, and as for those who hadn't bothered to arrive on time...well, he knew a few fitting punishments for such disrespect. Rameria...Galleria...Marine...Ceasar-- sorry, Sea, and, of course, Lepumir.

Only the door to the last remained firmly shut.

And yet, it was over that final seal that he hesitated the longest. Rough fingers, worn from so many days spent tending the earth, traced delicate silver of sentinel's ears. Stroking over the lifeless face.

With a sigh, he had eventually retreated back to his own room next door. It was well-furnished yet decidedly plain, especially when compared with some of the other quarters he had perused. Kiefer would certainly want to order some plants. A miniature garden could be a lovely excuse, after all. "I finally learned how to pronounce their names." But as dark eyes danced across walls full of unspoken potential, they kept being drawn towards the righthand side, which the closed-off rooms of Lepumir's legacy lay just beyond. The whole world in an uproar, searching for the missing prince. What would they say if they knew he was waiting in secret in this very house? The door, being locked...it was possible, wasn't it? Missing to a world that had forsaken him, completely ignorant of the turmoil his absence had caused. Living out a covert paradise behind closed doors.

Though it really wasn't such a paradise, was it?

But - at last - it was time to prepare to meet his Princess.

Kiefer's luggage was filled to the brim with countless fineries, showing off every stage of proud Nezzien fashion. Despite having had to pack in such a hurry, with so little even available to prepare from, Kiefer had still somehow managed to outdo himself in that steady, quiet way of his that had, by some ludicrous mercy, eventually won him hard-fought respect from those he would come to call his men. There were also magical accessories aplenty- so many that he could scarcely recall what each of them were for, or which would be best to catch the Princess's spirited eye.

None of the trinkets in the trunk, that was for sure.

The young man turned towards a marble stand adorning the luxurious bedside. Inside was a small carved-out compartment into which he had placed a simple wooden box. Opening it up revealed a dark crimson cushion mottled with age, lined with rings, brooches, and even a misplaced earring or two, though Kiefer himself had no piercings nor use for such things. The metal on some of the items was a bit rusty, sometimes dented, other times nicked. And yet this was the box he took a moment to clasp near to his heart, a private smile unable to help itself from creeping over his face.

His treasures.

And one pin, in particular, he carefully picked out to be his "opening number." The prelude to the magnificent show that would be his coming into himself this Cendrillion Ball. This piece had none of the blemishes of the others. In fact, to Kiefer, it seemed to shine with all the mystery of the nighttime stars.

Standing before his bathing room's wide mirror he fussily pinned it on, making sure that the rubies and amethysts would hang straight so as to be seen in their full glory. Then, when all was in place, he closed his eyes in private glee, mouthing the secret words he had stolen to keep all to himself. How many times had he dreamt of such a moment? No-- not just the moment, but the purpose behind it. Getting to dress up and go to a real ball? The trinkets. The plans. The desires. All the little pieces that were his, forming the figure now standing before the mirror.

Opening his eyes to just catch the last of the fleeting glitters of transformation, he could scarcely believe the beauty of that lying reflection, so lit up it was by the borrowed powers of that shining world. The way light hair so carefully framed a delicate face. The protrusion of crimson and maroon lace defining the tailored coat cut from fine velvet cloth. Every bit a true fairytale. The only thing wrong about the picture was the eyes. He didn't like the way they glinted so dangerously in the flickering candlelight, marring the otherwise perfect mirage.

At least the glasses helped.

Finally satisfied, Kiefer Avescamp made his way to where the parade would begin. It was a passage he had earlier scoped out, weaving between halls lined with chatting nobles and arien servants rushing around to make sure that all was as it should. He did not envy them the work the humans' celebration would bring. Even now meticulously hung garlands of fresh flowers draped every stone like scented portraits, taking their floral brushstrokes from all corners of Roserasia. He contented himself with trying to name whichever blossoms his eyes caught upon as he passed.

It was good practice.

And also a much-needed anchor for his drifting nerves. The excitement that had been building and building and building since the night before once again trembled through every tendon, sending what felt like a shockwave of anticipation with every move. He could almost feel himself shivering despite the climate being incredibly tepid compared with Denbigshir's dreary winter everlasting - in fact he was almost hot. Was there a drop of sweat on his brow? Would he faint under the pressure as so many doubtlessly expected poor, decrepit Kiefer to do?

No. He was not that poor Kiefer, after all. Not anymore.

And at last--

But the Princess continued to ellude him. Over hunched shoulders ravenous eyes darted across every face that passed, waiting for the one he would know as soon as she appeared. He could feel his hands instinctively drawing up into fists to steel himself, and for a wild moment he almost felt as if he would strike the next person to cross his path.

Where was she?

"Kiefer! Oh...uhm, I mean, Your Highness. It's been so long. Remember me?"

Sullying his thoughts was a quiet voice that might have been calming to anyone else not the purple-haired man standing in the shade of the door.

Kiefer gave no answer, instead his lip curling ever so slightly to meet his teeth. The notes his mother had given him. The endless hours of rehearsals, of memorizing names, of habits, of histories. The majority of the Representatives were austere, keeping to themselves, in short- uninteresting. And he should be too, except--

"Ah, I'm sorry to have startled you. Anyways, I hope we can talk later. I have to go."

Hm.
Klaus was shorter than he had expected.

And yet, for a long while after Kiefer continued to stare after the boy and the woman who walked with him. He had almost missed her at the approach-- she was so like quiet and air. But who was she...?

He had little time to ponder. Apparently his glare after Rameria lasted longer than he realized, for the blast of music from just behind him jolted the young man upright and into a new frontier of nerves.

It was time to survive the parade.

Being at the end of the procession floated Kiefer in a sea of arien acrobatics and magical tricks. Color sickeningly swirled before his eyes as they leapt and wove and sang. It was disgusting, the way they pranced about like clowns. Not when he knew they were capable of so much more... but he had to watch himself for the thought was making him frown. He was frowning, and an ocean of eyes were upon him.

Human eyes.

Like a rabbit in crosshairs he froze, nearly bringing the entire procession to a halt. Before him fell a final few traces of harmless magical flame scattered by the wind. And the crowd. The crowd. Never in his life had he seen so many people gathered in one place. Watching the bobbing, jostling, expressionless heads was like staring into the jowl of eternity-- frightening, enlightening, and full of awe.

And they were staring at him. They were cheering for him.

Surely, compared to the harpy-like shrieks that had accompanied some of those who had went before, the confused murmur as curious onlookers tried to parse the awkward, stilted prince was practically null.

And yet, he had their attention. An entire city, come to see only him.

The last rays of the falling sun filled his chest with an uncertain kind of emotion he was sure he had never experienced before...

Something about...gold...about......brightness...about......being a part of the light.

This was his world, now. Of course, he had known it would come to pass, but such bittersweet sentiments had never before felt so real.

It overwhelmed him, and he was overcome by the terrifying sensation that he was about to cry.

Thankfully he got ahold of himself before such a ridiculous display could mar the perfect moment, and Kiefer remembered that his legs were functioning things that should be propelling him towards Waltz Castle's glistening gates, beckoning with the seductive gleam of the sun's final, twisted grasp.

And he fell into it head over heels, scarcely registering a single thing more until he found himself once again lost against the grandeur of the Dining Room. Just a few hours before it had seemed business as usual- over-glorified stone. Finer than most Denbigshir had to offer, that was for sure, but devoid of meaning beyond what scribbles he could make into his book. But now the entranceway was a sight so magnificent that he almost had to shield his eyes. Such fineries were never seen in the gloomy rooms of Lundgren, even during their fanciest soirees. Watching the arie concentrating so intensely on their magic - even just a few minutes before a gaudy, useless act - now, a miracle. Was that what had made it come alive? Without those brilliant illusions, like the darkness of Lundgren, even Waltz Castle would be nothing but stone.

But, of course, he would have to realize that hidden inside those tantalizing images was a heart of rock, like ugly coal hidden by the allure of flame.

Kiefer no longer trusted the arie, and he would have to remember it.

Thankfully the evening quieted henceforth. The droning speech from the King allowed his heart a moment's respite to quiet its tempestuous fluttering. Without the Princess's presence there was nothing keeping him to the table other than a more detailed (though equally idle) glance over the other Representatives-- his rivals. Despite endless years of isolation, it was easy enough to match most names to a country and face. He forced himself to take in everything regardless of their disinterest to his eyes. The absence of the Queen was strange, not to mention the gaps left by half the Representatives on her side, stranding him with two empty chairs for partners. Across was little better, being faced with who could only be Greedo and, he supposed, the rumored Greedan girl. Wasn't she in Euthalia due to illness...? The news, when he had first heard it, had caught...something...of his interest. But to see her in the full of flesh he felt as if such stories were for naught. She appeared as lively as ever. It was almost...disappointing.

But the one next to her...

For a full minute it was all Kiefer could do but stare at the giant rabbit, audacious enough to sit at the table's very own head!

It's him...it must be......

He had heard talk of such a one, but scarcely believed that they should come into contact so quickly, and so closely.

The rabbit likely looked passably mundane to most those sitting around him, but Kiefer thought he could just pick up the tiniest movements......like the way pink eyes focused to rest on both of the present princesses for just a moment too long...the slightest twitch of his ears...

Was it panic? Was it nerves?

But then, best of all, the rabbit turned towards him.

Kiefer held the gaze with disdain. It was an aria, after all. Though as soon as it turned away the smallest of smiles found its way to the young man's lips. Perhaps he would find the time to pass the interminable evening pleasurably after all.

But any such plots were immediately shattered by the distraction of a...gigantic hulk of iron by his side, clattering like an animal on the floor just next to where Lysander might have been. The great figure was completely covered by dull plates, bellowing an introduction in a gruff voice that instantly grated upon Kiefer's ears.

Knight of the Lady?

For a moment paranoia returned as the young man eyed the armor with unbridled contempt. What did that mean, 'Knight of the Lady?' Surely it had nothing to do with his Princess...? His mother would have warned him--

And to make matters worse Rameria used the opportunity to sidle up in a pathetically predictable show of "helping" out. And that's all that it was. A show. And a waste. The Princess wasn't even present, and the King didn't seem to care less what happened with the unruly knight, despite Rameria's anxious glance in his direction, likely to ascertain the contrary.

Well, he wasn't about to let such a poor player have all the fun.

"Why doesn't he sit there?"

Kiefer used his scorn to fuel a squeak of melancholy to his voice...though he was truly surprised by the feeble noise that came out. Was that really how he sounded...?

Taking a deep breath, shuddering- perhaps with sadness, the others might think -he strengthened his tone as he continued:

"It's not like anyone will be needing it..."

That seemed to catch Rameria off guard.

"I'm sure we can find a more suitable solution..."

It was an admittance of defeat. Almost subconsciously the pointed tip of a pink tongue smoothed over plush lips at the way Rameria's brows furrowed in consternation at his own faux pas. It reminded him of that night in the forest. The glint of moonlight on glass. On steel. Recognition. Fright.

And at last the nuisance was gone, the knight situated, and Kiefer left once more to his thoughts. "Sir Helbrecht" was certainly a thorn. He had not counted on such a one...his body standing even taller than the peaks of the ridiculous rabbit's high ears. If such a one were to interfere...

But is it even possible?

The young man continued to sink into himself, glazing over the round of introductions that seemed to start at, once again, Rameria's irksome invitation. Kiefer had no intention to play at someone else's game, and it gratified him to see that at least a few at the table agreed, Greedo's Girl delightfully distracting both herself and the knight with other talk. At least he learned the identity of the one who had walked with Rameria...his sister...most unexpected.

He would have to write back about that soon. Not that it truly mattered, but he felt it was better to keep those waiting informed.

In fact, he pondered if it wasn't the worst idea for him to slink away to get to writing right then. Without the Princess, what was the point? Now that he had ascertained his opponents- put faces to his mother's whispers, to scripts of notes on wrinkled page- they were quickly losing interest. Like a child with a magnifying glass admiring ants, he was getting bored with by lesser life.

Could not his time be better spent, even, in search of the missing Princess? Or......he dared not think what new mess Vladimir was getting himself into. He had given the servant the day off in return for his adequate work with the carriage, though it was likely a mistake with how little he could trust him to be by himself.

Truly he had just about enough, preparing to raise himself mid-Greedo's speech when a shuffle at the doorway turned his gaze.

Quasar. Supernova. Flair.

His mind was filled by galaxies that swiftly melted his body back down into chair.

It
was
h e r

How could he forget? How could he forget? How could he forget? How could he forget?

Bouncing vermillion curls. The loveliest tilt of her head as she quietly flowed into her seat. Green eyes flashing with life. The white hand that had taken his taken his hand. Red against Grey. Green against White. Light against Dark. You're not like I heard. The sweetest chimes of a child's laugh. They said you're weird, but--

She had grown in quite the blossom indeed. But it was certainly, undeniably, her. As the young man stared, he silently urged her to look at him. Look upon the image of beauty that he, too, had become. Look upon no one else.

Blaze the fire that had guided him through eleven long years of black--

But Greedo was speaking.

Painfully tearing his gaze away from the Princess's silhouette...so far...too far at the other end of the table......Kiefer re-focused the full of his energy onto the tall blonde-haired prince. Greedo's words seemed to stretch on and on forever, and each eternal syllable felt like another hammer on the nail he was driving into Kiefer's heart. If stares could silence the prince would never speak again. In fact, he might even find his tongue ripped right from his mouth--

But then he said the phrase that would seal his fate.

"...Her Highness, Princess Evalyn Euthalia..."

"You--"

Kiefer violently stood, knocking his chair back to grate cruelly across the floor. He could feel the beating motion of his heart somehow in his throat, threatening to spill out into a choke of writhing and blood.

For an awkward moment it was silent. He had, of course, not thought about what to say once he had stood. And he was almost afraid of what would come out if he tried, his entire being reduced to tension and shuddering breaths.

His eyes fixated uselessly ahead, only registering the point at where the waist of the cursed man in front of him met the table. This was his moment-- the one he had been waiting for the past eleven years-- no, his entire life.

And the man now before him had ruined it.

How dare Greedo steal first introduction? How dare he even think to utter his Princess's name upon those cracked lips?

Eyes clenched, finding the light filtering through them too painful to bear. Despite the hate that filled him, now was not the time.

No. In fact, for once in his life, others were counting on him. "Something only you can do." And he could not fail. Five years said he could not fail.

Taking one more breath, he carefully reshaped his mouth so that his words, as they passed through it, floated out in Kiefer's quiet, unassuming monotone. An embarrassed tint colored pretty cheeks. His eyes opened to dart clumsily from side to side, as if not used to things such as public speaking and social conduct.

"...must forgive me. I guessed where you were going and took the logical step, getting ahead of myself."

Stiffly picking up his own glass - in all honesty, half forgotten - he raised it and forced a smile upon his lips.

"To our loveliest of hosts. And to our reunion."

His gaze was fixed directly upon the Princess as he spoke, carving the double entendre of his words into an arrow shaft of truth that had to pierce her heart. Despite their distance as he elegantly bowed, he felt as if he was directly before her, and wondered if not just the Princess’s eyes, but all others in the Dining Hall were upon him. He secretly wished they were. He wanted everyone in the room to witness how he had stolen back this perfect moment, a homecoming after so many lost and fragmented years---

The joining of the Princess and the Prince who would sweep her off her feet.

Pretzel Heart Pretzel Heart Pretzel Heart Olissa theplasticdemon hosaki Syrenrei ParadoxalPaladin Unwavering Knight ​

 

[Syrenrei]

Dahlia Lenore Sinclair
Princess of Greedo
​

Back in Greedo she was the clear favorite of her mother; however, it was undeniable (in her mind) that her brother was preferred. As her elder, and a male, it was not really surprising that he was the heir despite the contentious matter of his birth mother. Perhaps Dahlia did not mind that she was treated as the "spare," who was to be wed off like she was a pawn rather than a living and breathing person, because Tristan was such an exemplary person. There was no reason to compete. Not only did she not want the responsibility of the crown, she fervently believed that Tristan deserved greatness. Why should she be envious? It was an ideal situation for the both of them. Yet beneath her veneer of optimism there were times the smile on the inside had lost its footing. A few times she caught herself sincerely yearning for the recognition, the adoration, and the attention that had eluded her when it came to the king and his most respected advisors. Admittedly her behavior had colored their perception of her, but it felt as if Tristan was on a higher step on the staircase and even if she leaned forward, strained, and stretched her fingers as far as they would go they would never make contact.

So she sought approval elsewhere. The smiles, laughs, and warmth of the commoners were no less than those of elites and royalty. When they gave her (or tried to gift her) trinkets and baubles, samples of food, sketches that didn't sell, or any variety of things it was precious. The items were less important than the feelings behind them. Dahlia was buoyed by society's 'insignificants' and did not regret her emotional investments in them. But they could not eradicate completely the little hole that had developed as years passed and child grew to woman. It was a whisper of an insecurity that softly suggested she was lacking in some way but that she tried to disprove with the evidence of her plentiful friendships.

Here, for the first time she could recall, she was truly among giants. While her place at the table straddled the line between the royals and the guests of 'less pronounced heritage,' between her and King Regis were almost exclusively heirs. Klaus, who stood to inherit (albeit through non-traditional means) a place of position within Rameria was seated next to his sister, Rosalien. He had tried to start a round of introductions that she had not found nearly as inviting as talking to Sir Helbrecht. Duke Asuran, of Dorinum, gave a brief greeting that could not have sounded less enthusiastic. Count Luciano, of Galleria, sat quietly with a visage of apathy. Prince Kiefer, of Nezzie, was evidently distressed over an unknown turn of events (perhaps that originated in the parade or the night prior). Had the empty seats for Princess Evalyn, the Marine representative, the Seas princes, and Lepumir's Prince Lysander been filled, they would have also been up the step of proverbial stairs. No only was she eclipsed politically and socially at the banquet, it was boring, lacking any semblance of fun, and most importantly she felt as if she didn't belong.

When it was only Tristan and Dahlia it was tolerable even on her worst days. At this table, however, she felt as if she were the scenery instead of a treasured participant. She was no more valuable than the china, the tapestry, or the linens. Being a doll did not suit Dahlia. She could not sit quietly and reverently as someone to just be observed but not necessarily heard. Oh how she knew her beloved brother was counting on her to just that, be the lady that by definition faded into the background and whose sole job it was to be pretty, but that was not her. They were both aware of the fact, and he did not maliciously push her in the box, but his presence here as Crown Prince Tristan implied such behavior. Etiquette demanded it.

Helbrecht's utterances that he was going to quest in the name of a lady and patrol the streets was thrilling. The invitation made her almost leap out of her chair with excitement. His reassurance that 'none would touch her' was all the encouragement she needed for, despite his chased remark that there was a 'crusade' and 'violence might ensue,' she wasn't all that worried for her safety. The would-be assassins were after Tristan instead of herself and were in another country. With an armoured knight as a deterrent to anyone that might consider her a fine hostage she was absolutely positive this was an incredibly opportunity. A chance for a new friendship, for a glimpse into the life of a knight, and an escape from this stifling situation was resting at her feet. Dahlia could only imagine the fantastic artisans that lay just beyond the walls of the castle: bakers, painters, sculptors, jewelers, blacksmiths, glass-blowers, florists, leatherworkers, and carpenters. Sir Helbrecht would surely be able to escort her to at least one of them if she made the request.

But Tristan shot down the offer. His position was understandable. Relations between Euthalia and Greedo were strained as of late and it was his duty, obligation, and responsibility to not only mend those ties but also forge new diplomatic relations. Making certain that Dahlia was contained and on her best behavior was in the best interest of those goals. Additionally, she could only fault herself if he was worried unnecessarily about another attempt on her life as she did not and would not reveal that the actual target had been him. Dahlia kept her bright smile even as he turned towards Kalen as he spoke, and then stood and began an introduction himself that was interrupted by Princess Eva.

Dahlia saw her chance and she would be damned if she didn't take it. Evalyn, Klaus, Rosalien, Luciano, Kiefer, Asuran, and Tristan could have their fine dining experience but her presence was unnecessary. Turning the opposite way of Tristan she called over a confused servant and whispered into his ear that she 'didn't feel well' and to 'convey her apologies to the king' but that she absolutely needed to excuse herself. Her dearest brother had stopped speaking by the time she made her (completely false) excuse and she worried the window of opportunity had closed. Fortunately, Kiefer had abruptly stood, knocking over his chair in the process, and awkwardly commended the toast. With a practiced quiet stealth - that belied how often she did this sort of thing- she slipped out of her chair. As all eyes were (best she could tell) trained on Prince Kiefer she motioned towards the front door discreetly to Sir Helbrecht.

And that was the last that the formal dinner would see of Princess Dahlia- her backside as her slender frame edged through the doorway. Tristan would be upset when he noticed- but he had the continent's most desired bachelorette now admiring his charming speech no doubt. His success won by charisma would soften the blow. Free of the room she let out a loud sigh of relief in the hallway. Being poisoned had an unexpected boon! Not only was she fitting into a smaller dress size she could excuse herself to adventure. Hopefully Helbrecht would follow.

---

Unwavering Knight hosaki Peppermint Patty (if you want Chantie to be there now and greet her)

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the lady...

Tristan's denial was understandable. Few siblings had the desire to leave their family members in Helbrecht's care, especially when he foretold outright that their way would be prone to trials of martiality. As the young princeling rose to formally address the round, the knight parsed him over in a more inquisitive manner. In person and mannerisms, the man showcased the same attributes as the other assembled heirs of their respective countries: Well-developed, comely flesh, a product of a life spent being moulded into an asset for a kingdom. Extraordinary to the mundane peasantry's eye, certainly, but at this table-round seated by so many lavish figures the young man appeared downright standardized.

What gave Helbrecht pause in his critical observation was the way Princess Dahlia beheld her brother; complete and utter adoration was written across her features, even when her features gained a pronounced note of indignation when the prince implored her not to join the knight's patrol. Perhaps there was more to this young man than met the eye, Helbrecht mused.

Then there was the Nezzi-Heir, Prince Kiefer. Bespectacled, distant, dour. The princeling emitted a hound-like gaze, scouring the attendants. For what? Considering that he was still searching even after scrutinizing all those present, it could logically be concluded that he was seeking someone not currently present. Considering the political tensions and waves of refugees fleeing from the arien rebellion, it was likely the princeling was aiming to improve relations with Euthalia, the nearest and most powerful authority, for aid. Was he searching for the Queen or the Princess?

The knight's unspoken question was answered when the grand doors of the hall's entrance-portal swung open, hushed guards respectfully bowing their heads before the figure entering with uncertain step.

The entirety of the banquet-hall set their eyes upon the euthalian princess, onlookers stern and curious alike closely scrutinizing the princess's every step, her eyes betraying bewilderment as she hurried to her seat. Helbrecht's helmeted head gave a slight and sudden twitch, his armored form leaning forward on the table as he tried to look at the figure more closely.

She took to her chair with a strange sheepishness. Guilt for the lateness? He could not tell. But something compelled him to look closer. The heavy chair the knight had received as replacement-seat gave a few groaning creaks as its armored occupant learned further forward, a thrillsome urge driving him to parse and decipher the euthalian heir with need bordering on desperation. From within the helmet the disturbing sound of the knight's teeth snapping shut and sternly grinding upon eachother intoned for just a second, audible perhaps only to his sole present neighbour, Kalen.

Others of the table-round rose from their seats, most notably the Nezzie-Heir who appeared to have found his mark. Helbrecht was uncertain. He felt more of that urge to look upon the euthalian princess from a closer distance, but beyond that all he could register was a creeping despair. He didn't recognize her. As a knight, if he saw the Lady, certainly he would know She, and She would know him on first glance? But he couldn't tell. Had it been so long that he could no longer tell if She was present, even when directly in his sight?

The euthalian princess didn't even spare the knight a glance. Instead she appeared to try and shrink away from the pressing ganders being cast her way. She gave not a single indication of having even registered his presence. Was she not She? Was this a test? Or was it simply another failure...?

Uncertainty and disappointment mingled within the knight's heart. Perhaps if he only looked closer...?

Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed Princess Dahlia rising from her seat. Not only that, but she appeared to actively try to catch his attention, gesturing to the exit, before going on her way, apparently intent on leaving. As if broken out of a spell, the knight found a new uncertainty pressing down on him. His helmeted gaze switched rapidly between the euthalian and the greedan princesses. He was honor-bound to escort the greedan princess, as she had asked him to. His urge to look closer at Eva wrestled with his duty to look after Dahlia.

The knight's hands balled into fists, emitting a clinking sound of metal as iron-claws slammed shut upon plated palms. Several seconds went by as the knight averted his gaze to look down between his fists, dim view set upon the table without aim. Slowly his fists opened, his shoulder-plates sagging in dejection.

He rose from his seat. Without a single word, the knight turned his back on the table-round and followed after Dahlia. His gargantuan figure straightened as his iron-shod steps echoed across the banquet-hall.

He would not be the Lady's knight if he put desire above duty.

Exiting the grand hall, the knight's steel-gaze set itself on the greedan princess. "Are you well...?" he asked her, his voice quiet, tone hollow. Decades he had searched. Across the world he had marched. He had never ceased, even while failing again and again.

He had dared to hope and again his hopes had been dashed, replaced with more uncertainty.

Syrenrei hosaki Pretzel Heart

 

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Asuran Dorix
Duke of Dorimun

The moment he finished his own introduction, he knew he had made a mistake. You must at least sound like you want to be here! he scolded himself mentally. Luckily, attention was quickly pulled away from him as yet another unexpected guest arrived. According to his introduction he called himself Kalen, and although this Kalen did seem to be a little lacking in manners, the frankness of his introduction was at least rather refreshing.

His focus upon the upcoming dance competition betrayed him as a dancer. Ah, so that's why they he is here, Asuran though to himself, the questioning look he had pointed towards Kalen fading away. Asuran knew himself to be far from the most competent dancer, and so this reminder of the upcoming competition made him resolve to practice his skills in preparation; his pride allowed him no other options.

Asuran's mouth had already opened to respond when his attention was drawn to the beginning of Tristan's introduction. Seeing him here made a small measure of annoyance rise within him, but before Asuran could do anything too rash the Princess decided to make her appearance. She was dressed opulently, as was befitting her station, and with her red hair and graceful demeanor he could see why many spoke of her beauty. However, her silence confused him; if she was arriving late, surely she would give some form of apology or excuse? However, none was forthcoming, and so Tristan continued with his introduction.

But, as seemed to be a developing pattern in this meal, that couldn't finish without another interruption, as the Nezzie prince rose to his feet with such speed that his chair clattered backwards behind him. His gutteral cry was, after a moment, amended to become a stilted, if at least somewhat normal, toast, but the oddity of its beginning struck Asuran, and so even as he stood up to join in the toast he found himself asking "Is there perhaps some issue, Kiefer? For a moment you seemed rather distressed."

Asuran then quickly turned to the head of the table to complete his toast, not wanting to be outdone by Kiefer. "And of course, to our gracious hosts we wish good health, and good tidings in the celebrations ahead."

 

[Syrenrei]

Dahlia Lenore Sinclair
Princess of Greedo
​

Dahlia was genuinely unable to conceal her unadulterated delight that Helbrecht had chosen to depart the banquet and join her. She was optimistic he would but all her good will and hopes did not mean a certainty. The Princess of Greedo bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, the heels of her shoes tapping on the ground rhythmically as she did so. Her curls bounced up and down, sliding off her shoulders only to be returned to them a second later, and the fabric of her gown twisted more gracefully than she moved herself. So absorbed was she in her excitement that she almost missed that the knight had spoken.

"Am I well?" she asked quizzically. Dahlia was easily consumed by her imagination when there was anything resembling an adventure ahead. It took a moment for her thoughts to shift from considering where she could go and what she could do with an actual escort to his query. Briefly her mind flickered towards the past: two shadowy figures discussing a heinous plot in the moonlight, as if they were ripped from a nightmare tale, of charming her way into a bizarre request with the chef, 'white' lies as to why she wanted Tristan's food, of waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, wretching, falling off her bed trying to ring a bell for an attendant... "Oh, you must have heard I was sick!" she exclaimed with realization.

Seeing as there were other people around- servants, guards, visitors, and the like- Dahlia was hesitant to speak too loudly. The premise for leaving the formal, stuffy, boring, borderline insulting dinner was that she was ill. Feigning a little cough she moved closer to Helbrecht before realizing he was absolutely entirely too tall to whisper too. The bouncing on her feet stopped abruptly and she tugged on one armored arm to motion for him to lean down closer to her level. With roughly a foot and a half between their respective heights it was almost comical how he towered over her. Idly she wondered how much more he saw than she did. He could see over everyone's head, clear down the hallways, without any obstruction! Even the tallest prince could not compare to Helbrecht yet she did not find him intimidating. There was something noble about his figure that she trusted implicitly for better or worse.

"I'm completely cleared for eating, and dancing, but I excused myself by claiming to not be feeling well. I promise I'm just fine but I'd appreciate if you didn't tell them! You see, everyone's pretty sure that the Euthalian princess, Princess Evalyn, is going to pick a prince at this ball and so I almost feel like I'm intruding! And I don't really handle the political negotiations either, my brother Tristan does. Don't worry, he'll be perfectly fine in there by himself. Probably better even!" She patted his gauntlet even though he had not- could not- express worry for the heir of Greedo. Dahlia wagered that Helbrecht was more of the silent type and she was all too happy to talk his ear off so long as he indulged her. "Follow my lead here, we need to take a detour before we can go anywhere."

Standing back and straightening she took on an air of formality. With perfect posture and enunciation she spoke loudly, just in case an errant guard was getting suspicious of the whispering. "Will you escort me back to my room, Sir Helbrecht?" And then Dahlia winked with such exaggeration it almost looked more like a muscle spasm than a subtle gesture, but her head was turned towards him such that it was difficult if not impossible for another to see. A courtier or two tossed her strange looks at the emphatic broadcast but Dahlia pretended not to notice.

Breaking character suddenly she looked alarmed. "Oh, but what about your lady? Will it be all right? Is she supposed to meet you in the hall?" Dahlia was perplexed by this potential wrinkle in her plan and guilt crept onto the edges of her face.

Unwavering Knight (Chantie will have to wait for another round)

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the Lady...

For all the knight's growing dismay, Dahlia's demeanor was something else entirely. Few graced the knight with upbeat attitudes, especially while he conducted what often amounted to grisly work. Most preferred to keep their distance, either for the sake of frightened grandstanding or deedless cheering. Especially nobles, born and bred in comfort to espouse ideals of aestheticism, displayed such inaction if they weren't in harm's way. The Greedan Princess however showed no such qualms nor restraints, instead preferring to openly present an outgoing attitude, lightly bouncing in tact with her steps akin to an invigorated page.

When she reached for the plates covering his upper limb the knight found himself perplexed: The fewest voluntarily stepped into reaching-distance to him without hostile intent, yet this one had no such reservations. Unused to being touched, Helbrecht's arm gave a noticeable twitch as he almost drew back by reflex, denying the instinct only when Dahlia grasped his claw with carefree gentleness. Slowly, hesitantly, the knight allowed the princess to ease him into leaning down, putting himself at a more even level to listen to her whispering.

As she spoke, her voice betrayed a resentment for the proceedings in the banquet-hall. Why that was, he could not tell. Some of the interactions between humans were beyond him even to this day.

Her eyelid gave a pronounced twitch, giving credence to the assumption that the upper levator muscle of her ocular nerves sustained damage of sorts, perhaps even going down to the sphenoid bone, though it didn't seem to bother her as she loudly asked if the knight would escort her.

Strange. Yet overall the knight found her demeanor... charming. Certainly it managed to take his mind off the most recent failure in the Quest.

"Escort you I shall, Princess Dahlia, as any knight would a damsel in distress. Lead the way and none shall harm you." he answered, his tone gaining vigour. That energy was lost when Dahlia inquired about the Lady, noticeably deflating the knight again as he answered with resignation "The Lady... bore no witness. Did She appear? I know not, for She would not tell me, Her light I have not seen in decades."

Syrenrei Peppermint Patty

 

[Syrenrei]

Dahlia Lenore Sinclair
Princess of Greedo
​

Decades? Dahlia tilted her head to the side curiously after having taken a half turn away from Helbrecht (to face down the hall they needed to pass through). Rocking her shoe from heel to toe and back again, making a light tap on the polished floor, she spun back towards the imposing knight. In her mind she had pictured the person below the armor as someone her age. It was human nature really. Without reason to assume otherwise, people naturally had a tendency to associate their own traits with the unknown. Children would always guess their parents were closer in age to them rather than farther because they didn't understand age well- they didn't have context. Dahlia and other humans frequently had a hard time discerning an arie's age- again, they didn't always have a good metric or the right context- and mistook elders as their peers. If Helbrecht had really been seeking this 'Lady' for decades, then that meant he was quite a bit older than her. Becoming a knight took years of training. Were she to assume that he was knighted at twenty or so, he had to be at least twice her age now!

Dahlia wasn't quite sure how to process this information. Of course she didn't dislike old people- that wasn't the problem at all- but if he was an older, elderly gentlemen it felt like taking advantage to ask him to be her escort. Her mother and father weren't very forthcoming how years past their 'prime' had changed them but others were. Not all palace servants and nearby artisans were pleased by her 'escapades' as they were oft called. Dahlia had still not won them all over. Most did humor her, however, and were glad that someone so earnestly took an interest in them and their lives. It was those people, the commoners and merchants, that spoke of ailments, of fatigue, of sleeping longer hours than in their youth, and things that the princess might not have thought of otherwise.

Sir Helbrecht was widely rumored to be unbeatable in combat and to be strong as a dozen men. As Dahlia regarded the gleaming, brilliant silver plate that adorned his figure she couldn't help but remember he was still human. His age was a grounding revelation that there was a heart beneath the inscrutable exterior. Greedo was full of illusions as she was sure other countries were. Citizens believed the illusion of a perfect royal family just as the royal family believed the illusion that they could keep themselves safe at all times. Helbrecht's lustrous armor was an illusion of someone who could not be harmed by time.

"You haven't seen her light in decades?" Dahlia asked, hesitant to broach a topic that made him obviously sad. Patting his arm again, with a familiarity that was not normal for someone of her station, she smiled warmly and brightly. "Then I'll just have to find something to cheer you up! If you listen to my mother I'm not much of a lady- not like she is, that is certain, but I promise I won't abandon you if you don't abandon me." She gave a cheeky wink and then saw, just pass his elbow, a very familiar form.

"Chantie!" she exclaimed. Without even thinking, she half-walked and half-skipped towards Chantie, turned, tugged on Helbrecht's wrist to indicate he should follow, and then quickly 'bounced' back towards the timid arie. Dahlia knew her brother had probably brought a person or two with him but she hadn't guessed he'd bring a friend for her. Her smile only brightened at the thoughtfulness of Tristan. Queen Iris thought that she over-idolized her older sibling but this was proof her praise was not undeserving. Once again Dahlia was bouncing on her heels in excitement as her eyes gleamed with unmistakable joy and mischief.

"Have you been trying to get inside?" she asked as she leaned in, again trying to carry on a private conversation with guards all around. "I just came from inside. You're not really missing too much, I promise. All the princes are trying to make their best impression on Evalyn so I slipped right out saying I didn't feel well... ah!" she said with a snap of her fingers. "You can take my seat! They're not even looking in my direction so they won't really notice. If you put on a wig, or a really big hat, I doubt they'd notice... except for Tristan, but he likes you too much to say something."

It was the most absurd proposal that Dahlia might have ever come up with. Chantie was neither the right gender or species. To say they didn't resemble each other was an understatement, yet Dahlia had started laughing at the idea of Chantie creeping in and taking her seat. How could the princes of the other countries react? How would they try to tactfully and politely point out a male arie had taken the Princess of Greedo's seat? Could they even eject Chantie from it if he was already a guest and given Dahlia's express permission to occupy it?

"I'm going back to my room," she said with a clearly faked cough and an impish wink. And as quickly as the Dahlia whirlwind had approached Chantie she had spun, grinned at Helbrecht, and started walking towards her quarters. A disguise would be needed before she could sneak out. Trying to disguise Helbrecht would probably be impossible but perhaps they could pass him off as simply being a gentleman to a woman on her own in the world?

Peppermint Patty Unwavering Knight

 

[theplasticdemon]

Rosalein Katharina Diefenbach​

Making her way silently into her room was easier than she had thought. Much of what she carried was on the lighter side, though, much of the weight had come from her feet dragging across the pristine floor. With the way Rosalein had been living for the past few days, even the little touch-up on the way from the carriage proved ineffective to the bags of stress under her eyes. Her hands twitched slightly, urging her to paint, or do something to ease the weight. She was the reason for her poor brother's stress. Rosa should have been more attentive to Klaus than to herself. Her mother's attempt at pressuring her could only have been tenfold towards him... and not to mention the ball...

She felt a blush reach her face as they brushed by the Princess' chateau. While her appearance couldn't be helped, her spirits lifted slightly, reminding her of why she was here. Rosalein didn't pay much attention to the details of the chateau, more than what they symbolized for the young girl. Afraid of being caught staring, she stayed close to her brother, her eyes towards the ground.

Glancing upwards, her jaw dropped as she entered their room. This was magnificent.

A piano.

Of course, the rest of the room was beautiful, with the wide windows giving her inspiration for her pieces and the modern style of it all reminding her of Rameria. The books inside the bookcases looked rather expensive, hopefully curing Rosa's boredom down the line if it ever came down to it. However, Rosalein had mostly been dreading what to do without her piano by her side. Now, with its appearance, all of her feelings of panic had settled somewhat. Perhaps coming here on a whim wasn't much of a mistake after all.

Though... she had the whole month for things to go south.

Rosalein turned her absent-minded stare towards the doorway leading to the bathing area that closely resembled home. "Yeah." Rosalein replied almost inaudibly, there was nothing much to say on her part.

"Thank you." She nodded, and stiffly made her way into the basins. While Rosalein did try to hurry things, much of her time was the petite girl dunking her head below the warm water, only briefly rising up to her nose to take a breath. It was unproductive, but she enjoyed looking at the ripples, albeit pensively. Luckily, the water had washed out most of the knots in her dark hair as well as the last of her memories from suffocating herself in that god-awful carriage. Just for this moment.

Rosalein's transformation was slower, as well as more muted than the Senator's. A glance into one of the large mirrors that lined the room indicated that Rosalein looked different than when she began to lock herself in her room chambers. Her tired eyes turned hopeful, with the colourful paint stains or darker ink smudges around her body gone. If anything, she even looked... pretty?

Now, that was impossible.

Hearing her brother's voice nearly made her jump. "I'll be ready soon!" Rosalein called out. Combing out her dark hair, she expertly weaved together her signature flowering vines into a thick braid. For the occasion provided, Rosa made an extra effort to add a single golden headband and smaller braids in between. Having perfected this style since childhood made this rather easy.

Her bright eyes averted the glare of the mirror as she reached for the burlap sack Rosalein had haphazardly thrown onto the bed with the rest of her luggage. As she was searching, her hand felt a soft cloth... silk? Rosalein thought, confused at the presence of something so unlike her. Though, the Ramerian wasn't mistaken. Remembering that during the ball, there was a possibility of attending a formal event. Moments before leaving, the young girl had tossed random dresses she was barely familiar with in the far depths of her closet into her bags.

Not that she recalled which ones she took, Rosalein stood, dumbfounded at what she had chosen. Perhaps Freya had taken serious attempts at adjusting to her style while simultaneously fulfilling her style expectations. Shaking her head, she let out a small, bitter laugh at the thought that Rosalein didn't hate it. The dress was a light gold colour with tinges of pink that matched the flowers in her hair. Smaller gemstones weaved together through intricately embroidered patterns finished off the look. Overall, it was a flowing, with an understated elegance that grew on Rosalein the more she admired it. As she slipped on the garment, a silver chain with a tiny bird appeared around her neck as a satisfying conclusion.

Lining up to the parade became the nightmare that she anticipated. Rosalein did not enjoy or have as much experience with large crowds of celebration the way her brother did. Squeezing his hand as a show of appreciation, her eyes wandered elsewhere only to land on the ground. There was no need to see the crowd of screaming fangirls that surrounded her brother. As grateful as she was, his reassuring gesture proved to be rather futile. They weren't here for the president's daughter, they were here for the Senator.

Besides, their critical whispers of 'that girl' more than proved her point.

As they made their way to the banquet hall, Rosalein wasn't sure if she felt envy or shame. Turning back to her brother, the young girl forced a smile. "There was never any doubt, Klaus." While the younger Diefenbach sibling considered herself inept at most forms of social interaction, putting in some form of effort was the least she could do. Nearly bumping into a giant hunk of metal, Rosalein looked up at the knight, frozen in place as the two spoke. Shaking her head as if to search for an answer to her deja vu, she received none before a familiar Prince Kiefer interrupted her thoughts.

While she had not noticed the young man at the parade, he appeared almost ghostly. Noticing the empty chair beside him, Rosalein winced. Lysander was not a man she knew very well, as the rebellion had taken place before any substantial interactions could be made. Though from what she knew from Klaus and Kiefer, the Lepumir prince and the Nezzien prince were rather close.

While she had not attended the last year's Cendrillion Ball, Rosalein had a sinking feeling she was not missing much.

What a strange man... Rosalein remarked silently before leaving Helbrecht and moving towards the King himself. Towards the table, the sole chair bearing Rameria's crest only further cemented the idea that she didn't belong. A heavy sense of guilt weighed her down once more as Rosalein avoided King Mutto's critical glance he passed her way. At least her the Senator shared the same conflicted emotions. Leaving most of the miracle work to Klaus, she silently thanked the servants for bringing out another matching Ramerian chair.

An awkward smile could only be given to the seats that were occupied as yet another introduction. Oddly enough, the black sheep of Rameria had not expected to sit directly next to the princess herself. A small smirk was given as Luciano followed through, unsure of whether or not his first impression was worse than hers. Hearing the Duke of Dorimun, Asuran, if she remembered correctly, speak, there was a life to the Banquet only comparable to a dead fish. That was, until she showed up.

Evalyn, stood in a beautiful blue gown, her scarlet hair delicately twisted and held in place with jewels. Like Rosalein, the princess sat down wordlessly. While this might have been normal for Rosalein, it was awfully unlike Evalyn to appear utterly... stiff. Perhaps they were only nerves? An incoming aura of worry plagued the president's daughter. A blush rose to her face as awareness of the situation at hand increased. She was sitting so close.

How long had it been? Did she still remember who she was? More importantly, how did her hair look?

The Euthalian princess was already breathing life into the Banquet, with the Ramerian having troubles paying attention to anyone else. Rosalein half-listened to the speeches before a sudden noise sent a jolt down her spine.

Blue eyes stared at the Nezzien Prince inquisitively before staring back at Greedo, whose name she could not place. Noticing the entrance of the Princess had only created more tension, Rosalein held her glass high in reluctance and flashed an uncertain look towards Evalyn. Without paying attention to the contents of her drink, Rosalein took several gulps of the glass before setting it down.

Placing a piece of dark hair from her face and biting her lip, she turned her head towards the princess beside her.

"You look beautiful."

Pretzel Heart Olissa hosaki Syrenrei ParadoxalPaladin Unwavering Knight
(I wasn't sure who to tag lmao)
​

 

[Peppermint Patty]

After making his way through the hall a bit more, slowly but surely, Chantie had the banquet room’s huge doors within eyesight. Each step seemed to make his heart beat doubly faster than it was previously- and by the time he was nearly right close enough to touch the door, he was doubting that he even wanted to go at all- six months ago, even a year ago, this seemed like it would be like such a treat, but by now, it seemed like more of a stress test. Anything, anything that would stall or give him a reason to wait would be amazing- and to his utter disbelief, that wish actually came true! From across the hall, the small figure of the princess herself came bounding towards himself, with a huge, hulking mass of armor following close behind. In a dizzying, unexpected, and frenzied minute, the princess had managed to both make him feel a bit more comfortable, make him not want to enter even more, and supply him with a ludicrous plan of taking her place- before finally leaving him dazed and confused as she left again.

Chantie stood there, blinking for a moment, gathering all the information in his mind that he’d just gotten, as he watched the royalty take back off in a different direction with the large man. Was she really going to just up and leave the banquet?.. Surely, if she was, it wasn’t just to go to her room. No, that wouldn’t be enough of an excuse for her, very out of her personality… There was obviously some sneakier undertones to her room visit. Could she be going somewhere where she’d be in danger? Possibly… And he wasn’t quite sure what made him do it, but he instinctively decided to follow her instead- he didn’t want to dine in there with the royalty, anyways. But why was he following her? She had that huge knight to protect her… Maybe it was just his mind compelling him to go away from that dining hall. Either way, while he took off in their direction slowly, he sidestepped to a potted plant, and after having a double-take to make sure nobody was watching, he plucked a large flower from it. After a bit of racking his mind to remember how to perform the spell, he tugged gently on both sides of the flower, seemingly stretching it into the shape of a large, red, triangular hat. A bit ridiculous-looking… Yet it’d do. He placed it on his head and tilted it forward, effectively covering most of his face from bystanders. Looking down at his clothes, he tapped them twice- and slowly, the bottle-green colors of the outfit shifted to a rich reddish color, looking surprisingly nice and fitting alongside the hat. After a bit of waiting for people to pass, he stepped back out from behind the plant and looked up- the princess and whoever the large knight was weren’t far off yet. He took off in a half-sprint, finally slowing down to a regular pace once he was trailing about twenty feet behind the two…

Mentioned: Dahlia ( Syrenrei ), Helbrecht ( Unwavering Knight )​

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the Lady.

Princess Dahlia downright subverted the trappings of her station, moving - or even gyrating - with enthusiasm that most of her peers would think to be unbecoming. The knight had trouble identifying her demeanor that didn't appear to express more than sheer whimsy, feeding his gnawing uncertainty as he attempted to calculate her patterns. There was a rationality to most humans, but Dahlia seemed to care little for such stifling hindrances, what with her so liberally touching his armor presumably despite her knowing little about him. For one like him who had spent most of his known existence exclusively marching and fighting, he was treading little-known grounds.

The Quest, after all, never ended.

When Dahlia told the knight that she wouldn't abandon him, a surge of suspicion-fueled perturbation wrestled with innocuous amusement within his steel-shelled form. Making such a statement was easy for the clueless and the young, many would likely discard it as just another thoughtless whim of a princess who had spent her life in leisure. But that didn't mean Helbrecht was opposed to believing it - after all, above and beyond he was knight to dream the Impossible Dream.

And as such he allowed himself to be happy with her half-jested promise.

As the greedan princess and the knight set course for Dahlia's chambers, Helbrecht took note of the lone aria following them from a distance behind. Considering that the princess had approached this one, 'Chantie' as she had called him, with familiarity, it appeared odd that he would now choose to attempt a covert stalking. An odd figure, seemingly different from most arie the knight had encountered, though he couldn't quite identify what marks stood out. Perhaps it was just a strangeness stemming from the high genetic variety amongst arie. So long as this one was contend with just following and watching, the knight had no reason to interfere with his choice.

An earlier quip of hers had given him slight pause, piquing curiosity. As Dahlia and Helbrecht marched the marble-walkways of the castle, the knight asked "Why would your mother deem you to be less of a lady?" his helmeted gaze scanned the princess up and down, in a manner that many would deem to be unseemly "Are you the crossdressing sort?"

Peppermint Patty Syrenrei

 

[Syrenrei]

Dahlia Lenore Sinclair
Princess of Greedo
​

Dahlia did not realize that Chantie was 'tailing' them. When she snuck out of the castle, typically in the evenings, she had to be aware of her surroundings. At those times she was vigilant about how defenseless she was without the protection of bodyguards. In the palace, however, she could see guards what felt like every other step and so there was no reason to be so cautious. Even if there was not a sentry around every corner she had Helbrecht in her company today. He was more than equipped to deal with the occasional ill-intentioned stranger.

Additionally, she did not even consider that Chantie would want to accompany them, much less incognito. He had been looking to enter the feast and, despite her criticisms, Tristan and the other royals were people of great importance. Many citizens would be willing to make sacrifices to share a table with the leaders of the world. There were no guarantees a prince, duke, or senator would necessarily listen to their concerns and suggestions, but they would have the unique opportunity to at least voice them. Chantie had enjoyed the company of Tristan and Dahlia before but not (to her knowledge) Klaus, Rosalien, Asuran, Kiefer, Evalyn, or the not-yet-arrived representatives of Marine and Sea. To most forging some sort of relationship, mercantile, platonic, or otherwise, would be highly desirable. Dahlia did not presume her importance as superior to such a rare gathering- even when the party in consideration was a friend.

"Cross-dressing?" The boisterous laugh of the Greedan princess was indicative of the erroneous speculation. Imagining her mother's face if she caught her in man's clothing brought tears to her eyes. "No, I don't cross-dress. Do you?" Dahlia asked impishly. There was a masculine voice that resonated out of the suit of armor so she was confident that Helbrecht was a man. At over seven feet tall, with broad shoulders, and a large frame, she didn't dare to dream what he'd look like in a dress. She devolved into another fit of giggles that brought out a couple more tears she brushed away with her hand before they could ruin her make-up entirely. Already the conversation with Helbrecht was infinitely more entertaining than anything the feast could have possibly offered.

"A lady is expected to be calm, demure, soft-spoken, graceful, and always strictly adhering to the rules of society and etiquette. Those are wonderful traits and virtues to have, but they aren't the sort of person I am, and I think that a lady can be so much more than those things." She shrugged as if she was indifferent. Dahlia was more passionate than she would admit- even to herself- about such matters. Mingling with servants, commoners, and arie had made her more empathetic to those of a lower socio-economic class than Queen Iris thought was healthy, especially given that Dahlia was powerless to help everyone all the time. But Dahlia felt there were threads of commonality among all walks of life and she wanted to befriend and brighten everyone's life without restraint. Tristan would make a fine king and she genuinely believed he'd do much to help make things more fair and just for all. Dahlia was reluctant to believe there were any flaws in her brother; however, she was acutely aware that not even he probably viewed her as a proper lady, able to fetch a powerful husband to support the kingdom, much less dictate new policies.

It was better for Dahlia not to get worked up over her beliefs. She tried to avoid the negative state of mind her opinions could spin her into and the feeling of frustration she would inevitably feel at her lack of ability to solve them. Breaking into another smile, she spun around such that she was walking backwards to her room. As they progressed down the halls the crowds thinned considerably. The suites that were occupied by the representatives of the different countries were strictly off-limits to guests that were not members of their entourages or expressly invited. "I don't suppose you have anything besides that armor that you've brought with you to wear, do you? Oh, and do you know the way to Samba Square? I haven't been allowed to explore much on my own," she confided now that the guards were sparse enough it would be difficult if not impossible for them to overhear most of their conversation. "If you wanted to go somewhere and not have them know you're Sir Helbrecht, I can try to see if anyone has a dress in your size," she teased playfully. "Do the knights have any rules about cross-dressing?"

Peppermint Patty Unwavering Knight

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the Lady.

The princess's quips earned her another calculating gaze from the knight as he attempted to parse her reactions. As far as contemporary 'lady-like' women went, Dahlia's sort wasn't necessarily a rarity, at least as far as superficialities went. The knight had encountered plenty of noble-born women that felt the urge to rebel against their gilded upbringing and arrogant caretakers. Some succeeded, managing to achieve a sense of independence as they assumed their own gained position or even broke away from the family entirely. Some failed, abandoning what they came to look at as 'delusions of grandeur' and added themselves to the fold like sheep to the herd.

The fewest met the worst fate a being could possibly imagine, the knight reminisced, a single irregular step in his gait - one of a steelboot crushing the stoneground beneath it with prodigious force - all that betrayed his feelings on the unspoken matter.

Which one would Dahlia be of these three? The knight could not tell, as she could easily cast off the trappings of whatever analysis he might impose upon her. The only thing he could be certain about her for now was that she likely held plenty of surprises in store for him.

"Knights, in fact, do not have written rules regarding the assumption of clothes unsuited for the Quest." Helbrecht responded to Dahlia's question matter-of-factly as the duo marched the castle's corridors "As for myself, I only put on a damsel-dress once in my existence." Many of the knight's standing would have uttered such a sentence with caution, even hesitation, but Helbrecht's tone did not falter as he simply recounted what he remembered "A witch I met promised that I would find a rapid path towards the Lady. As such I allowed her to sew a princess's fabric into my bared flesh in a procedure that took several hours. Unfortunately, it turned out that the item was cursed and retained its previous wearer's thoughts, prompting the dress to try and eat me alive as its sutures turned to teeth chewing away at my matter."

Still the knight's voice did not change, his composure and gait remaining completely even as he calmly narrated an experience that many would have found to sound utterly silly at best and downright gruesome at worst "It took me some time to surgically remove the silk from my flesh yet again, during which the witch managed to escape. I burned the remains of the dress afterwards, befouled by past and my lifefluid as it was."

The unlikely duo encroached upon the wing containing the grand chambers of the different country-representatives, passing by the waning number of serfs and guards holding duty in this particular part of the castle. A possible weakspot in the fortification's defensive makeup, Helbrecht noted.

"I have nothing I am willing to wear beside my armor. The Quest never ends, the Lady might yet arrive, and She might yet see, thus knightly I must be." he answered Dahlia's inquiry, decisiveness clear in his harsh voice "The way to Samba Square is known to me. I spent part of the day scouting out the city afore I made my way to Waltz Castle. If it is guidance you require, this knight can grant it."

The two came to a halt before the door leading to the greedan family's chambers. Naturally, only Dahlia would be able and authorized to open and enter.

Syrenrei Peppermint Patty

 

[Syrenrei]

Dahlia Lenore Sinclair
Princess of Greedo
​

Dahlia had not anticipated that Helbrecht had actually ever donned a dress for any reason. If she had known that his story would involve sewing a cursed dress into his flesh, having said garment try to eat him alive, and then surgically removing the clothing from his skin she would have never made the joke. From anyone else it would have been an absurd tale to laugh about. Dahlia might have told them that something so fantastical would be an excellent scene for their fiction writing, praising the creativity, and carried on her way. As it stood she believed that this relatively horrific tale was completely true. Helbrecht was a man of honor that she expected did not lie except under the most dire of circumstances. Certainly not in passing and to make small talk. There was no motivation for the knight to be deceptive and what little she knew of his reputation suggested he was strong, arguably violent, but absolutely devoted to righteousness.

"That sounds horrible!" she blurted out as her brows knitted together in an expression of sympathy. Dahlia tried not to visualize his 'lifeblood' and the wounds such an encounter would cause- and failed. No one had ever accused her of not having a vivid imagination. She shuddered and clacked her heels on the hall as she refocused her attention back on the present. Helbrecht was not fishing for her pity or admiration but he earned both. The young royal swore that the silver gleam of his armor only intensified as she considered the conviction and courage he must possess.

If their roles had been swapped she doubted he would been fleeing a banquet of the who's who of Roserasia. Considering how committed to his quest he surely wouldn't have tried to deflect, flee, and shirk duties for as long as she had. Maybe this gentleman could help her find her footing in the world of politics despite him having nothing to do with it himself. Queen Iris and her tutors had told her that she had all the knowledge and resources at her disposal to jump in, she just lacked the personal motivation. Perhaps in spending time with Helbrecht she could figure out what was missing that made him a man of stalwart dedication and her a disappointment when it came to official duties.

"Was that a long time ago? Are you okay now?" She pressed open the door to the Greedan suite. The guards were incredibly sparse as all the other occupants of the chateau were at the banquet, requiring more security for the esteemed guests. Dahlia eyed them as she considered the best way to exit the palace and draw the least amount of attention. As excellent a guard as Helbrecht would make he wasn't subtle or stealthy. Then again, she wasn't certain that any of them had the authority to prohibit her from leaving either. If it wouldn't blemish Tristan's reputation than her exit of the banquet hall already had, she would have mustered all the power of her status to make her escape.

"When I first game to Euthalia a couple weeks ago I was extremely sick and I think there are still some remedies in my room if you could use any. I wasn't attacked by a dress, I was...." she paused, realizing she had almost let something slip she ought not to, and smiled brilliantly to cover up her redirection, "afflicted by something very different. But I'm sure there is something that could help if you need it! Come on in... oh, and watch your head. I've never met someone as tall as you Sir Helbrecht! Are you certain you aren't half giant?" Dahlia jested. Helbrecht didn't seem to understand humor but that didn't mean she was giving up on him- not yet. Even the most grim and serious of royal advisors had a funny bone. It took a lot of digging to find them sometimes, and it wasn't always a sense of humor she appreciated, but no one was completely devoid of it. Not even impossibly tall knights in shining armor.

"I just need to change quickly. Don't worry, there is a separate sitting room where you can wait so you're not in the hallway. You don't need to change but..." she paused sizing him up for a second. How did his plate armor sparkle so when the lighting in the hallway had been dimmed appropriately for night time? "being a knight isn't about your armor. It's about what's right here," she said, reaching up and touching where she imagined his heart laid beneath the surface. It was corny but Dahlia was sincere, her smile slightly lopsided before she laughed at how far she had to reach up to touch the breastplate. "You really are tall! But it's true. You're a knight no matter what you wear. If your lady is truly a lady, and truly deserving of your service, she'd be able to tell you're a knight no matter what you wear. And she won't be disappointed if you are wearing a shirt, or your armor is covered in mud, because that doesn't matter as much as who you are. If you think your lady will only recognize and appreciate you in armor I think you're underestimating her."

With an impish wink and a flounce, she turned back towards the Greedan suite and held open the door for Helbrecht rather dramatically. "Please sir, after you. I insist!" He was certainly odd but there was something refreshing about Helbrecht. He had such an even, calm, stoic demeanor that she did not feel she was treated any differently than any other woman he met. It was true he was doing her a favor of offering to escort her to Samba Square, but he wasn't engaging in false flattery, or faking a laugh at a poor joke, or showing any signs of an ulterior motive. In his own way he was simply being kind and it made her feel free to be the same. Instead of Princess Dahlia Lenore Sinclair of Greedo, right now she was something simpler.

Unwavering Knight Peppermint Patty

 

[Pretzel Heart]

✥ Kip & Friends ✥
Parenthood
​

Seven royal heirs sat at the table. Seven people upon whom Roserasia's entire future hinged. Not to mention a king on the brink of giving away his precious only daughter. And a girl whose very life dangled upon her ability to make pretend. And yet...none in that vast room filled with countless, jittery faces, could have possibly been more nervous than Kip Hamoon Stallon, 77th of his name and rank, who floated skittishly behind his ward, apprehension causing every one of his thousands of hairs to stand straight up on end. He hoped that his glasses - a fancier, bejeweled set to replace his plainer "uniform" - were enough to hide the gross beads of sweat forming on his brow. It was taking every Newton of control that years of service had instructed into him to somehow keep his rhythm steady. Just what had he gotten himself into? It was the millionth time he had asked himself the question that day. Every movement made caused his whiskers to twitch. Just one step too awkward. One word misspoke. And the whole world would know that the most exclusive dinner in Roserasia was being infiltrated by a stranger.

The girl may have her life on the line, but Kip had both his life and the countless lives of his forebears before him. The proud Stallon name that had stood by the royalty of Euthalia for generations, extinguished forever by one idiot's poor mistake.

It was times like these that he regretted devoting so much of his life to making sure the princess got to her dance lessons, and not enough to strolling the streets of Saint Lyon or the nearby forest where many of his people made their beds. There wasn't much of marrying material for a burned-out old tutor in the castle. And without a wife, how could he ever hope to pass on his illustrious name? And now, it seemed, that name was in danger of being dragged through the mud to the point it wouldn't be worth gifting...

The girl suddenly stopped, causing Kip to nearly ram into her, and though he prevented that catastrophe his heart continued to whirl ahead in perilous tailspin.

"The chair by His Majesty!" he whispered harshly, assuming that must be the cause of her hesitation. "Not the red one, the pink one on his right side." At least being small and- abnormal for an aria- used to flying had it's advantages. And before he knew it, imposter Evalyn had settled, and the greatest test he had ever undergone in his long life began.

"That's...Princess Dahlia?" Kip was startled by the image of a girl moving toward the door as soon as Evalyn sat down, "I'm glad to see she showed up, though perhaps she's not quite ready to leave the sickroom yet... And her brother, Prince Tristan, giving the toast." Kip flicked his wand in the speaking man's direction, silently thankful that he had taken the opportunity to introduce the princess who was obviously not about to introduce herself. This seemed to start a short round of guests each taking their turn, allowing Kip the perfect chance to name Prince Kiefer of Nezzie, and Duke Asuran of Dorimun. Of course they had gone over all such information earlier, but it was crucial for the imposter to attach names to a face. Even the slightest slip would be disastrous, a fact which he was praying to every god he knew she would recognize--

"Thank you gentlemen for your words. We receive them graciously." Blessedly the king himself finally clapped his hands, signaling an end to the circle before it could grow any longer and veer into the ridiculous. There was the slightest smile on his lips, as if he could easily see through what these young men were trying to accomplish. And, of course, he could. It was, after all, his very own ancestors that had, year after year, steadily twisted the "diplomacy" of the ball into its current form. He had wanted his daughter to be a part of that display, as he himself had been, years ago. But now that she was here...strange. It was an odd feeling running through him. For not the first time that night he found himself wishing that at least his wife could be by his side.

Regis supposed he should be happy enough that Evalyn had shown at all. And he was. It was the first time all evening he had felt anything but made of stone. An almost warm sensation passed over him as he settled back into his chair. Enough to make him even forget the girl's severe transgressions- missing the parade, publicly embarassing them yet again. But at least she had showed. And in that moment, her father couldn't be more proud.

"Evalyn, daughter. We're glad to see you are feeling well enough to join us."

It was his way of providing an excuse, warning that he didn't want to hear anything else said on the matter, and that the dinner should proceed accordingly. The king's smile actually deepened into something almost pleasant as he made eye contact with the little fluttering tutor who owed him an explanation. Kip was usually collected, but he seemed to be...hovering tonight. Regis didn't want his fretting to effect the table's mood, so he tilted his head in a gesture to call him over.

Oh no. Oh no no no. He realizes something is wrong. The gig is up before it even began--!

Trying to calm the storm of negativity that had kicked up in his mind, Kip, with the placidity of the obedient servant, made his way to his liege. However, a bat-like aria with beautiful, velvety wings beat him to it, softly lifting himself to King Regis's ear, stranding Kip awkwardly by his side with nothing to do. Nothing to do but people watch. He threw back a friendly smile at Balthazar, standing at the wall behind His Majesty, who merely frowned with a shaking head. Not good. Not good at all. At least Kip had dealt with the king long enough for them to build up a kind of...mutual understanding. The tutor did his best, but in the end, Evalyn was merely a wayward girl, and despite the iron grip he retained over all worldly affairs, King Regis seemed content to, for the most part, let her grow as she felt she must. With a too-often absent mother, and her role to one day answer to her husband... really, what other choice did he have? And what difference would it make?

"Your Majesty, the Princess Dahlia has excused herself for the evening. It seems as if she is feeling unwell."

And instantly the sense of peace Regis had been enjoying receded, like an anenome shrinking at bad news' touch. Looking below him to the left was nearly a full row of empty chairs, with only the stuffy Duke of Dorimun and bumbling Prince of Nezzie to interrupt it. Every absence weighed heavily upon him. At least there was none of Rameria's ravenous media swarming around. It was a constant back-and-forth with them them each year, and for the Centennial, it had taken too much of his inestimable strength to keep them at bay. But luckily he had, with the way things were starting. Very much so. Though with Evalyn here, perhaps he should make a point to highlight her appearance? Or should he let rumor do the work for them? Maybe even turn it back on the rebel-rousers' heads...

"Very well. Send someone to check in on her."

He had his own thoughts about the girl they had taken in, but it was the very least a host could do to show some hospitality. King Bertrand was...in his eyes, a weak ruler. Then again, it was often hard for Regis to connect with any of his peers across the continent. He was the eldest of them, after all, with old fool Duke Caeori's passing. And Bertrand was amongst the youngest. Which meant it was all the more important to keep him restrained.

Meanwhile Kip had allowed his eyes to wander over the rest of the table's head. He hadn't noticed it before, but the Ramerian Princess's presence was unexpected. And she was sitting right next to Evalyn. Kip's heart did three more bellyflops as he tried to remember whether he had even mentioned the girl during his hasty lessons. Why was she here? But she was a guest at his king's table, so there had to be a reason for it. Oftentimes the princess - his Evalyn - was too preoccupied by the all-consuming presence of Rosalein's brother to pay much attention to the girl, if memory served. Though she had once sent a small painting alongside Klaus's letter, which the princess must have liked well enough to hang upon her wall, just under the emerald necklace she prized so absolutely. Kip himself couldn't tell if it was any good, as he certainly wasn't an artist, and moreover had little interest in the ways of paint. He had a few too many traumatizing memories of the messes his ward would get up to when allowed to play with it as a girl. She had gone through quite the phase, too, running around with dripping brushes for weeks on end. He shuddered to think of it.

Whatever the case, it seemed the Ramerians were deep in conversation with Evalyn, so he'd just have to pray she could hold her own without his help.

The absence of not only Marine, but the two Sea councilmen also caused a raised brow, though at least it made him feel a bit more optimistic about his chances at not getting thrown out on his face for being late. He had been so occupied training Evalyn that he hadn't even checked to see who had and hadn't arrived. Perhaps some travel woes had held them.

Other than that, there was nothing too unexpected. Though...his bright, emerald eyes did linger on Nezzie's Prince. He was surrounded by servants trying to upright his chair, though he seemed to pay them zero mind. Instead his gaze remained steadily upon Evalyn. It sent a shudder through the aria, though he couldn't possibly understand why. Perhaps it was his subconscious reminding him that the prince had been through some of the worst of the Rebellion, and many of the arien servants had been politely reminded to keep that in mind while trying to attend him.

Prince Tristan...Duke Asuran...Viscount Luciano...they were present, but sallow folk. Particularly the Viscount. But, excluding the absentees, they rounded out the people this poor, strange Evalyn would have to dance around (and with) over the course of the Ball. And...the unspoken question remained.

Only guests would have been likely to be in the château late at night.

Which meant that one of these men (or women, he supposed), had spooked the princess enough to the point where she had fled to a whole other world.

I don't get paid enough for this...

But before he could wring his hands any further the bat dispersed and it was Kip's turn with the king.

"So, old friend. What kept you this night. No trouble, We would hope?" Despite his use of familial terms, the tutor felt nothing but ice from the king's low speech.

"N-No, Your Majesty. She was just nervous. I'm sure you can imagine. We went through six different dresses before she felt confident enough to leave-- not to mention the hairstyling-"

"We see. So she was in her room all day."

"Quite, Your Majesty. Where else would she be?" He gave a little laugh that he hoped sounded less nervous to the king than it did to him. Technically speaking, the princess was still in her room. In her closet. In another world...

"Well, there was the incident last year, so We were worried. But good. There can be no allowances this time...you know that, don't you? It will be up to you to make sure she's on time from now on."

"Yes. On time. Definitely." He would get a whistle and stopwatch if he had to. He would whip this girl into the shape of her life. They couldn't afford even a second out of place.

"Very well, then. Make sure she enjoys herself."

The king had a strange way of ending conversations, giving more of a sense of drifting back into whatever cerebral world he lived. But those who were close to him easily picked up on it over the years. Kip knew he was dismissed.

Ears drooping from the stress, he at least took comfort in the fact that everything seemed to be going well...so far, in any case. There was still a long night ahead.

As he floated back down to the would-be princess, however, he was surprised to see her dance instructor standing beside her.

The talk of royals unfolding around him, Celso had quietly risen from his chair...walking behind the heirs with the elegant, silent motions of a swan cutting water, completely oblivious to the frivolous conversations which formed their world. He had become comfortable here, in the background, walking behind the chairs in the area where servants patiently stood, waiting to attend the every need of those of higher birth. That was his role now, after all. To serve Euthalia's princess. It was a...hard business, that much any man would have to admit. But he had come to enjoy it. A life of nothing but dance - his greatest passion - whether it be with his wayward pupil or watching over the variety of other nobles who would, at times, drift into his studio for advice.

With the graceful air of a gentleman far above his stature, he pardoned himself for interrupting his mistress's conversation, before elegantly placing a white-gloved hand on her chair to bend mouth to ear.

"His Majesty said you were feeling unwell. Are you still up for the opening dance tonight? You uh...did miss our last practice, after all."

What could only be described as a bemused smile widening across his face, the rabbit receded, calmly awaiting her answer.

Olissa (Addressed)
Syrenrei Unwavering Knight Peppermint Patty (Affected)
theplasticdemon (Mentioned)​

 

[Pretzel Heart]

❂ Luciano Barbosa ❂ Klaus Mathis Diefenbach ❂ Kiefer Arlie Avescamp ❂
"I can't wait..."​

The introductions continued as Luciano started to work on his ability to doze off open-eyed...

That is, until a single word caused him to sit up straight.

Ballroom.

"Of course I'm good. I'm the best," he retorted as an automatic response. Honestly he wasn't even sure who had brought it up. Leaning forward, he tried to see anything past the great big clunk of junk that was the knight Klaus had earlier wasted his time with. Though he hadn't made metallurgy his focus in life, it was hard to grow up in Varevia and not grow at least a little accustomed to its finer principles, and some of its most beautiful examples. So he could only raise a disappointed brow that anyone had allowed such a plain-looking suit of armor to disgrace an otherwise upscale event.

But more importantly, that ugly armor was blocking his view.

Trying his luck leaning back, he at last spied a rough, dark-skinned young man playing with his tableware as if he had never seen a plate before in his life.

Well, it wasn't as if no one had ever called him tactless before, so Luciano wasn't exactly in a position to judge. Instead he remained suspiciously curious as to who the young man could be. Kalen. It was am unfamiliar name. The comment itself had been innocuous enough, but he couldn't help but see it as an unspoken challenge. This 'Kalen' had gone out of his way to associate his introduction with dance. A bold move in the viscount's presence.

Heh, I'd like to see what kind of challenge any no-name could present.

It wasn't as if Luciano hung around Euthalia much, and, to be honest, he hadn't spent that much time traveling through the international scene. But he liked to think he kept abreast of all the world's most famous auteurs, and plenty of its less-famous ones as well. Someone who was unknown to him...with some mysterious background?

Well, given the start of what the Ball was shaping up to be, any challenge would be welcome at this point. It would be a miracle if such a mystery could pluck themselves up from nowhere to truly push him and Klaus on the floor, in Lysander's absence, to give meaning to their wins. No one would beat them- of that he was sure- but a victory not hard-earned was hollow. What was it that he had said? 'You must all be very good then'? Hah! If only it were true.

But at least, in a world so devoid of talent and drive, he had Klaus.

Coming down from his thoughts, he turned to nudge said Klaus and was about to comment on Kalen's challenge when he realized his friend's and all other sets of eyes were focused on one figure.

"Huh? Is that some kind of celebrity?" He muttered, looking around him at everyone's slack-jawed faces as if he were becoming aware in a dream. Just who was this red-headed girl to command such attention? Oh...wait. Red hair. Duh. She was the princess...Ava, or some such. Yeah, he had heard enough about her. His parents, more exasperated than hopeful, made every attempt to remind him how powerful Euthalia was and how it was "so auspicious" he be around their daughter's age. And then he would remind them of all those bratty stories he had heard about her not only avoiding her dance practices, but outright refusing to make any public attempt at the art. Her behavior the previous year did little to earn her favor. As far as Luciano was concerned, she already had her chance to make a good impression...and she had failed.

Though he was looking forward to her awful presentation. After all it would probably give him enough material to laugh at for the next four weeks of this whole interminable affair.

While everyone started jockeying for the girl's attention, Luciano refocused back on his food, carefully picking at his salad. The leaves weren't very crisp, given the so-called importance of the event. Disappointing. At least the dressing wasn't half bad.

And then a sharp, ear-torturing scrape drew him mid-bite to glare at the weird Nezzie kid, standing awkwardly as his chair rattled behind him.

"Oh cool. It's over already?"

Huh. The time had flown by faster than he thought. Grabbing Klaus's arm, he made to stand as well until the kid picked up a glass and started to toast. Oh. The time hadn't moved at all. They were still doing this.

Rolling his eyes Luciano settled back down.

"Is everything okay?"

Klaus, a bit surprised to have been tugged at, tossed his friend a quizzical look. Luciano was about to throw back a retort when he noticed that the senator's expression was...kind of sad. What? Oh no. He didn't get to drag them to this thing and then act disappointed. What was he sulking about?

"I could ask the same of you. Aren't you excited to see what's-her-face? Since you guys are such good friends."

Having traveled with Klaus for nearly a week, he had heard much of his hopes for the celebration. And more than he'd ever thought possible to tolerate about the princess and how great she was.

"Of course." At least that seemed to brighten Klaus up. The pale-haired man gestured behind him, showing that Rosalein had Ava's attention just then and he didn't want to interrupt.

"Then what? Sorry you didn't get to make a speech?"

Personally, Luciano was grateful that the King seemed to have put an end to that. Any more pointless babbling would have probably made him throw himself out the Banquet Hall window.

"Oh...no. That's fine. It's just......Princess Dahlia..."

Well. That was the last name he expected.

"...She didn't even introduce herself...and then she just kind of left. Do you think she's mad at me?"

"Nah. She's just sick...right?" He was pretty sure his parents or someone had mentioned that at some point. Probably his parents, prodding him to perhaps get an "in" with the girl.

"I know...poor thing. I thought this would be the perfect chance for her to get out of the house, but I guess she's still not feeling well..."

Luciano listened placently, taking a sip of water as he checked that, indeed, Greedo's Princess had gone. Huh. When did that happen? And more importantly, did her precedent mean he could dip, too? Dahlia's was one of the few names he had paid attention to because of her reported skill in dance. Which he had seen for himself, at a gala a few years back. She had some ability, he had to admit, especially on her turns, though her overall form and presentation left something to be desired. Typical Greedo. Letting talent go to waste. And now she was dying of some disease or something. Well, if she ever got herself cured, he was kind of curious to see what she could do with a proper tutor.

Noticing a lull in the conversation next to him, Klaus took it as his cue, trying to push any lingering worries over Princess Dahlia's opinion of him and her suffering health to the back of his mind. Outside of their small corner in the South, Rameria's closest neighbor had to be Greedo. However, historically the two had never been too friendly. But why? Okay...sure, there were plenty of complex reasons historical, political, and ideological. But still Klaus couldn't understand it. They were neighbors, after all, which meant that they should be friends. It was one of the things the young senator wanted more than anything to change, past policies be damned. After all, there were few among the heirs that he respected as much as Prince Tristan.

Klaus listened with a practically beaming smile to every word the prince spoke, his captive complete. He had scarcely been here for five minutes and he was already high off of the energy of the Ball. Yes! It was a privilege to be able to all meet like this. Yes! He was thankful to Euthalia for allowing him this chance. Yes! He was so happy and grateful and excited to see the king and the princes and princess and Evalyn and just everyone once again. He might have leapt up and cheered if not for Prince Kiefer's accidental interruption.

So much of what he had heard of Prince Tristan's exploits had been mere hearsay- attempts to grow closer to him on a more personal level had been disjointed and slow. The fact that his parents...didn't exactly approve...surely didn't help. But Klaus was determined. He had sensed from the start that Tristan held a good heart. And his sister was equally as charming, always being a delightful presence whenever he was able to slip out of the capital to visit.

He was just so hopeful to get to know the both of them - and everyone, really - better during the Ball. For political reasons, perhaps. But mostly, for friendship.

Which was why it was all the more unsettling to think that he might have caused the princess some disservice. But Luciano was right. Perhaps she was just feeling ill. In which case he should try and check in on her later. For the moment, it was another princess who called his attention.

Placing a gentle hand on his sister's shoulder, he leaned forward to give Evalyn a soft grin, almost surprised at how easily their emerald eyes locked after being separated for so long.

"Perhaps you remember me, Princess. Klaus Matthis Diefenbach, Representative of Rameria. It's been a while."

He wasn't able to give her a fancy toast, but he didn't mind. Truly, it was nice not to have the spotlight shine upon this pure moment of reconnecting with an old friend.

Aaand I've lost him. Just great.

Having Klaus literally turn his back to him, Luciano folded his arms in a puff, sitting stiffly in his chair. The Kalen fellow was awkwardly far down the table but...huh, a whole lot more visible now. Where had that knight gone? In any case, with so few interesting options to choose from, he thought he might as well try and reach out to him.

"Hey, so you're a dancer, right? Where are you from?"

Well, he had to take his own earlier suggestion of shouting just a bit too literally to get the man's attention. But before they could begin to chat the damn prince of Nezzie once again decided to steal the show, walking past him.

What the hell is that guy doing?

If one more person got up to leave Luciano wasn't going to let himself get left behind. If Klaus wanted to play tea party all night with his new friends that was fine, he would get in some practice.

But Kiefer wasn't leaving. Maybe all this toasting was taking its wear, and the kid was drunk. Or just plain crazy? If he was being honest, Luciano had never really met him before. Just heard talk. A lot of talk. In short, the kid was strange. Bookish, obsessed with plants (of all things), and never left his castle. Pretty decent at dance though, which was why he had even bothered to inquire after him in the first place. Well, he would have to be the final judge of that.

And now, to add to his many graces, probably insane. Kiefer had decided a mere toast just wasn't enough, skipping over chairs to take the empty one that - from its design - seemed set for the Marine Princess...who Luciano guessed was running late (yet another disappointment, since he was actually kind of curious to see what a woman who could do Samba might be like).

Even Klaus was drawn out of his conversation with Evalyn to take in the bizarre turn of events. His eyes widened to find Kiefer suddenly sitting across the way. Well. At least this would make talking to him that much easier.

"Uh...Prince Kiefer? I think that seat is for...Marine's Princess....."

But he was ignored, Nezzie's prince seeming to have eyes only for one.

"Oh, is it? I'm sorry...I just saw the rabbit get up and move and wanted to do the same...I didn't...I'm so sorry. I guess I'm not very used to these sorts of gatherings. And I'm not very good at making myself heard..." His eyes skittered left and right, anywhere to avoid direct contact, the blush that had formed at his almost blunder with the toast deepening on his pale cheeks. "I just wanted to have a real conversation with Your Highness." He leaned earnestly across the table to appeal directly to Evalyn, "...After all, we haven't seen each other in so long...I just wanted to let you know how much I was looking forward to seeing you dance."

The sheer sincerity of the speech was enough to melt Klaus's heart. If only he could let Kiefer know how much he was worried about him! And of course, he could only imagine how difficult it would be if he were the one sitting on the opposite side of the table, unable to properly talk with his long-distanced friend.

"Well...I guess it wouldn't hurt too much...just until she arrives...I mean, of course, as long as you don't mind it, Your Highness."

Luciano passed an annoyed eye over all present before focusing back on what had his interest: Kalen.

"Anyways, so as I was saying. Where are you from, Kalen? Sounds like you might have more than a few styles under your belt."

A small smile played on his lips. He could issue challenges, too.

Olissa hosaki (Addressed)
theplasticdemon hosaki ParadoxalPaladin The Succubi Queen (Affected)
Syrenrei hosaki Unwavering Knight (Mentioned)​

 

[The Succubi Queen]

Naomie Marie Thalassa

A Few Hours Ago​

After unpacking, Naomi had decided she needed a nice, long soak. The hardest part about being on a boat for several weeks was the lack of access to hot water, and between the fact that she probably smelled like a sailor and her simple desire for the pleasure of submerging herself in hot water for at least an hour, she resolved to take a bath.

It hadn't been easy, getting the tub to work. She had just assumed the taps would work, and it wasn't until she had drawn the curtains and stripped of her clothing that she realized that, not only did the tub have three valves that all looked a little different, they were all rusted just enough that opening them wasn't as simple as turning them. So, wrapped in a towel, and now cold, Naomi practically wrestled the first of the valve open, only to find that that one was the cold water. She swore at the tap, and closed the valve, thankful it was easier to close than open. Well, on to the next one, which was hopefully hot water.

It was, thank goodness, and while she was still curious about the third tap, she resolved not to mess with it right now. She didn't want to be late. The tub was enormous, so it took quite a while to fill, but eventually, Naomi was able to close the valve and sink into the water, grateful that she'd at least managed to accomplish this on her own. It was so nice to have a bath after all this time. The water was perfect, in that it had almost scalded her when she got in. She vaguely wished, yet again, that she had least brought an attendant or someone to get her things ready while she bathed. It would also help her be a bit more time efficient, because at this rate, in this perfectly warm water in this dim bath room, she might just fall asleep....

Much Closer to the Present​

Naomi's eyes snapped open. The water was cold now, and her fingers were wrinkled beyond belief. She thought she had just closed her eyes for a moment, but she had fallen asleep. Where before, they had been yellow light, dimmed by the curtains, it was very obviously now closer to sunset. She was so very, very late.

She leapt out of the water, grabbing her towel and frantically rubbing herself dry. Swearing viciously, she ran out of the bathroom, trying to figure out what to do to make sure she didn't arrive terribly late. She then ran back into the bathroom and pulled the plug on the tub, letting it drain. Witch forbid she leave it for now and then forget to drain it later.

She grabbed the dress off her bed, struggling in to it and getting stuck. Why didn't it want to go on??? Oh, because she hadn't undone the belt before she tried to fit it over her head. She yanked the dress off, undid the metallic belt, and then finally managed to get it over her chest. She then spent another few minutes struggling to get the belt redone before she put on her jewelry.

Finally, dressed, she looked in the mirror. Her hair was still tied up from when she had bathed, and she pulled the haste knot, her hair tumbling down her shoulders in what she had hoped would be elegant perfection, but really just looked like a bun that had fallen apart. Which was fair, considering that was exactly what it was.

As she shoved her feet into her shoes, she braided her hair into what she hoped looked like a meticulously messy braid. She'd seen girls in the village who would braid their hair and then intentionally pull strands of hair out and make it look somewhat elegant, and she hoped this looked that way. She turned, as assembled as she could possibly be in her panic.

She was terribly late, but at least she looked nice. Or, she at least thought she looked nice. If anyone asked why she wasn't wearing cosmetics, she'd just make something up. "Ohkay, Naomi" She told herself in the mirror. "Maybe here in Euthalia they also recognize the merits of being fashionably late." Sure, her mother had always told her that lack of punctuality was never fashionable, but she had to comfort herself somehow.

The Present​

"Fashionably late, fashionably late." Naomi chanted to herself like a mantra, walking down the hall towards the ballroom. She stopped at the door, before taking a deep breath. It was now or never. She was already late, so she just had to make sure to spin this as best as she can. It was all she could do.

She shoved the door open, and smiled her most princessy smile. "My apologies for my tardiness- my journey was very long and I needed to freshen up." It was the truth, in the most technical of terms, and she curtseyed, hiding her still very wrinkled fingers in the draping cloth of her dress. She passed a glance at the many empty seats in the hall, and the wash of relief was likely obvious on her face. "Well, better late than absent, I suppose! I'm sorry to have interrupted, and I hope I haven't missed anything terribly important." She moved towards what the letter had indicated was her seat, and stopped short when she saw a young man with glasses in her chair, right across from the Princess.

After the only beacon of hope had been that she was going to sit next to the Princess. "Ah, well. I'd known I'd be at a loss on culture practices here once in a while, but I hadn't expected to be caught unawares so soon." She gave the boy (who she could only assume was another prince) a wicked smile, before she turned to the King and Princess and replaced the mask of elegance she often wore on her visits to Marine social events.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness. I am Naomi of the Marine Queedom. Obviously, we haven't had the pleasure of being introduced, and seeing as how I know no one here, I'm going to have to be bold enough to introduce myself to you." She laughed, and gave another curtsy, directly to the two of them. She had figured Roserasia still expected people to be introduced to each other before talking with familiarity, like they did in court on Marinous, so even though she was blatantly ignoring the social practice, at least she was addressing it.

She then turned to address the Princess directly. "Now that we know each other, I'm sorry to say I must ask for your advice. I am sure you are as understanding as you are beautiful- which is very beautiful, by the by- so you'll have to forgive me my ignorance on the matter." She gave an embarrassed laugh. "In Marine, we don't really have any protocol for what you should do when someone is in your assigned seat, because... well, because such things don't really happen. I must ask: what is the proper etiquette in this situation?" She gave a smile that was obviously aimed to garner sympathy.

"Do I ask him politely to return my seat to me, or do I take his seat in exchange, in which case I must further ask, who is he and which one is his seat? Or, do I just take any open chair at the table, and hope I don't put the next late-comer in my current awkward situation?" She looked back at the boy in her seat, and smiled more politely at him, a part of her very grateful that she was able to recover from the faux pas of her lateness by shifting attentions to this bespectacled youth.

Addressed: Pretzel Heart (Keifer) Olissa (Evalyn)​

Nearby: Pretzel Heart (Klaus and Luciano) theplasticdemon (Rosalein) hosaki (Tristan and Kalen) ParadoxalPaladin (Asuran)​

 

[Peppermint Patty]

Chantie, from his spot, couldn’t hear the pair ahead of him very well, but he believed he caught a few words here and there. Probably small talk… Dahlia looked to be a bit flirtatious. Was she hitting on the knight?.. Despite spying on the two, he felt awful about having watched this, like he was just overall being a sneaky, gossipy arie. Blushing to himself, he pulled his hat over his eyes a bit more, blocking out all of their bodies aside from their feet, then whistled very lightly and slowly to try and prevent himself from overhearing their conversation, from invading their privacy even further.

The minutes went by very slowly and uncomfortably in his mind. He really, really felt bad about doing this… But even so, Dahlia needed someone to make sure she didn’t get into big trouble. And the knight… Well, he didn’t know about the knight. He seemed to be perfectly fine, but you honestly never know with people these days. And then there was the whistling he did- it was extremely hard to do it at a level where it drowned out his ears, but didn’t pull in much attention from others. As they went, the crowding throughout the halls thinned more and more, eventually getting rid of most sounds that weren’t their footsteps and his whistling. It was much too obvious now- he stopped whistling and looked up. They were nearing a door… As their steps slowed down, he did as well, silently striding to one of the walls and leaning against it, his hat tilted down once again. He heard them speak a bit, and the door open- then the sounds of armored footsteps walking once more, and finally the shutting of said door. What were they doing in there?.. And what room was it, anyways? He decided upon waiting them out for a few minutes- perhaps they’d be back out in a minute…

… But after a minute, nothing happened- nor after two, nor five, nor seven. To add to it, he couldn’t hear anything at all through the thick walls- seemingly no sound escaped the room. Falling back on his last idiotic plan, he decided upon doing what anyone would else to enter a room- knock at the door. And that’s exactly what he did- stepping right up to it, he gave two firm raps to the wood and waited.

Mentioned: Dahlia ( Syrenrei ), Helbrecht ( Unwavering Knight )​

 

[Olissa]

EVALYN 'EVA' JONES​

Someday... Someday I'll have my adventure in a far away land ~ Eva
Try as she may, Eva dared not look at anyone at this point. What was she to do? Not only was she late, she had apparently interrupted in someone's speech and no doubt broken protocol in so many more ways. Her mind had been so preoccupied even that she hadn't noticed how one of the guests had gotten up quietly and excused herself nor the dark knight that had followed her out. Neither did she hear any of the words that Kip was whispering to her, trying to prepare her for conversations with the individuals she might encounter.

Quietly she stared at the plate before her, scarcely taking in the view. If she had she would have stared wide eyed at the fine golden trim, the motif of roses, the delicate paintwork that had to have been done painstakingly by the hand of a master painter. Perhaps it was good she didn't notice it. After all, would it not be more common for the Princess of Euthalia to see this crockery set?

She had barely sat down when someone stood up so violently that the chair caused a loud clamor on the far end of the table. It had startled the make belief princess. A jolt rushing through her. What was happening, had she been exposed? She should have known this was a bad idea. Why had she agreed again? Maybe if she ran she could make it back to the closet.

Wait.
A toast? To what, who?
To her?

In half a panic her eyes had darted around the room, but now were trained on the man at a distance, standing with a glass in hand. A shiver went down her spine. There was something about his choice of words that unnerved her. Or maybe it was still the fright of a moment ago.
With the best smile she could muster at this point she followed the example of the rest around her, lifting a glass and taking a sip.

A deep breath rolled over her lips as she placed the glass down. That was less disastrous than she had imagined that to go down. Now all that was left was to eat, dance, and then she could leave.
Of course there was no leaving or any dancing or a meal without the King having addressed her and her tardiness. It was just a sentence. Nothing much. It seemed kind enough or was that just a king's way of showing disdain and anger while being completely poised and composed in front of guests.
Was she supposed to react now? Or- Her question was answered before she could formulate any other options. The father of Princess Evalyn had turned his attention to Kip.

Time to stare at her meal once again.
By her right side a familiar voice drew her attention. It couldn't be... Could it?

Looking over to her right she saw the familiar face of- "Rosa!" She exclaimed with glee. Crap. Wait no. She wasn't supposed to be so happy to see a friend right? Nor surprised. Oh gods she had messed up on literally the first word that uttered her lips. Find an excuse. Find an excuse. Quick!
"I err-" Her eyes quickly darted towards Kip. He wasn't in a position to help. She was on her own. "Kip hadn't told me you were coming?" Sorry Kip. She didn't mean to throw Kip under the bus, but it was literally the first thing that came to mind. He'd forgive her, right?
"Are you well?"

Behind Rosa there was a movement that caught Eva's eye. Without even planning it she locked eyes with one of the people she had held a flame for in her heart when she was at school. "Klaus." She breathed. There was no mistaking it. Literally every single one of the names she had recognized from Kip's list of guests was linked to the exact face she associated with it. So she wasn't the only one with a double.
"How wonderful to see you." If the night kept up like this, she actually thought she might survive this all. "How was your journey here?"

Before she could get a reply though, someone else was whispering in her ear. She looked over her shoulder only to freeze in the moment.

What.
Was.
That.

Every thought of how Kip had resembled the White Rabbit of the Alice in Wonderland tale paled and was swiftly forgotten when she lay eyes upon the massive, human sized, rabbit. Undoubtedly she was staring at him wide eyed. Perhaps it played well with the whole dislike and dread Princess Evalyn had for dancing. Or perhaps it would be yet another clue that she wasn't who she said she was.

After what was undoubtedly too long of a pause Eva cleared her throat. "O-of course. I apologize for not attending my session with you today."
Wait, was it time for the dance already? Oh no oh no oh nooo. She was not ready for this. If she had to dance right now she'd probably stumble over her own two feet! This was it. No getting away from it.

With her heart once again beating loudly in her chest her focus turned back to her conversation partners. Namely Rosa and Klaus.
"I must attend to other matters. I hope we can continue our conversation at a later time." Was that too over the top? As elegant as she could, using every bit of her dance training as reference, Eva got up from her seat. She was indeed way over her head. She was definitely very clear about that now.
"I am as ready as I'll ever be." She told the big bunny. Gosh this was so weird.


Celso was quite taken aback by the princess's reaction to his little inquiry. Though perhaps not as much so as he was to see his innocent desire to check on her health lead to...some interesting politics, to say the least.

Nezzie's prince...

Albino eyes flicked up to quickly scan the young man's face before dropping. Really, whatever went on at that table was no business of his. His business belonged to Princess Evalyn- to seeing her dance, and seeing her win.

Turning back to the girl, he eyed her a bit curiously. The timid, polite apology was like a foreign animal to his experience. It wasn't as if she had ever been outright cruel in the past, but...he couldn't call her the most respectful of pupils, either. Well, she had shown up for the banquet. And, by her own words, she was ready. Perhaps she had grown up a bit after all.

The thought gave him hope...so, in return, he decided to help her out.

Gracefully taking Evalyn's hand with the firm yet gentle confidence that had won him his position, he prompted the girl back to her seat.

"My dear, I know you are looking forward to showing off the fruits of all our hard work, but no need to excuse yourself so prematurely," he began in a voice clear enough for others who might be wondering about the princess's actions to overhear. Then, leaning down by her ear once more, he continued much more quietly, "we'll have all the time in the world to dance after the last course is served." Giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder, he even winked as he added, "word is the chefs have prepared Your Highness's favorite dessert," before fading to the background where he belonged.


Oh man she had been so stupid. Of course the meal wasn't over yet. They barely ate the first course. Quietly, without another word she sat down. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Here she was, trying to get herself as chipper as possible for the next set of events, only to realize what a major blunder she made. Ack. Could this night get any worse? In need of some kindness from a friend Eva glanced sideways to Rosa and Klaus.

By now Klaus' attention was drawn elsewhere. Instinctively Eva looked over as well. That looked like... And indeed her thoughts were answered when Klaus called him 'Prince Kiefer'. He had come by the shop so often, it would have been weird if she hadn't recognized him. Though he at times did have a weird aura about him. Not that she could read auras, it's just what people said when someone gave them weird vibes. He'd been friendly at all times, and bought a lot. So she couldn't really complain.

Oh wait! That was the same guy that had toasted and was a little weird about it. She hadn't really looked at him in detail then. Mostly too disoriented to really focus. Speaking of focus. Kiefer's was really honing in on her. Awkward. Real awkward.
As he started speaking he was quick to avoid any real eye contact though. She supposed the confusion would be forgivable, after all, she had just about made a complete fool of herself by getting up and thinking she had to dance. Of course now she was placed in the position where she had to tell Kiefer if he was allowed to remain seated or not. She didn't see why not, but she could also see why not. Before she could reply though yet another face came bursting through the doors.

The princess Naomi as it turned out. It gave her a sense of relief to know she wasn't the only one that was late, and the sudden entrance felt like it helped briefly lift the weight of her own dumb actions. Not that it in the end was a great relief, because Princess Naomi asked her, of all people, what to do with the situation about Kiefer sitting in her chair.

Her first diplomatic decision. This was just like in one of those roleplaying sim games she played back home. Choose one answer and you score points with one, but lose them with the other, choose a different answer and the reverse happens, or pick the totally wrong option and both end up disliking you. But in this case it wasn't multiple choice. Oh no, it was an open question where you had to fill out something yourself, and every little misplaced word and spelling error would deduct points.

Not helping.

Eva took a deep breath before trying to form her first sentence. "I..." Nope. She was stuck. All the air was breathed out as she looked around the table. There were a few more empty spots. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
"It seems only right that you may sit in the seat reserved for you. Of course I do not mean to ever chase you away Prince Kiefer. Perhaps we can find a way to accommodate you so you can remain close by." She motioned over to the still empty chairs.
"Until the other representatives come, I don't suppose they would mind it much if you sat on the other side of Prince Asuran." She had recognized his face and made the logical conclusion. "We could even ask some of the servants to bring up your chair. That way there definitely won't be any talk about taking actual seats."

Alright! She aced that test, she was sure of it. Not at all taking into equation that rearranging seats was yet another breach of protocol. Or the fact that Asuran was actually a duke. To be added to the long list of missteps she made this hour alone.

Mentioned: Pretzel Heart (Kip, King), ParadoxalPaladin (Asuran). Addressed: Pretzel Heart (Klaus, Kiefer, Celso) The Succubi Queen (Naomi), theplasticdemon (Rosalein)

Celso's response by Pretzel Heart ​

 

[ParadoxalPaladin]

Asuran Dorix
​

The King’s response to their toasts was quick, and Asuran gave a slight smile at having been one of a select few who had managed to get words in in time. The King’s response to Evalyn’s arrival did give her some excuse —everyone does get sick, after all— but Asuran’s natural skepticism was only heightened by the immediate muttered conversation between the king and various castle staff following his statement.

Asuran’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought of what willful lack of attendance meant about the Princess, however. It betrayed a lack of care for the immense power she, as the most powerful woman in Roserasia, wielded. Whether that was born of incompetence or absolute comfort with her position was yet to be seen, and would prove to be very important in the grand scheme of things.

He allowed himself no outward signs of his displeasure past a nigh-on-imperceptible shake of his head. Don’t judge her too harshly already, he reminded himself. You’ve only just met her. In fact, Asuran realized, that could go for anyone he had met so far at the Ball. Even Tristan could have his purposes, even if he had to hold his nose while working with him.

Near to immediately after he had finished his toast, Asuran found himself lost among, yet not within, the myriad of conversations that sprung up across the table. He was an island amid of sea of conversation, a sea which flowed with friendly greetings and personal conversations that it seemed he could not hope to become a part no matter how hard he tried. After all, these men and women had known each other from birth; he was the royal equivalent of a country bumpkin among people of stature such as this.

That is what I am here to change. When I am done, Dorimun will be the uninformed edge of the world no longer.

At this thought Asuran began to sit up straighter and pay rapt attention to all that was going on around him; it would not do to give anything but his best to this most important of tasks. The small touch of jealousy he had felt welling up for those around him was washed away by his motivation, and he knew then that the next step was simply to find a way to apply it.

Luckily, exactly such an opportunity soon presented itself. Immediately after the prince of Nezzie decided to sit himself down in the chair of the missing Marine representative, the woman herself arrived and identified herself as Naomie. This Naomie, evidently, was quite a capable speaker, for she quickly managed to circumvent the obvious social discomfort that would come with removing Kiefer from her seat by placing the decision upon the shoulders of Evalyn.

The beginning of Evalyn’s response was rather well formed as well, and Asuran was almost impressed. Clearly, despite what he had heard of her lack of participation in royal affairs, she had garnered some diplomatic ability. At least, he was thinking that until he heard “Prince Asuran”. He nearly choked upon his wine then, and for a moment before he could stop himself his eyes narrowed and he found himself giving Evalyn a look that concealed none of his displeasure.

Attempting to regain control of himself, he put his anger into a particularly rough clearing of his throat before pulling himself back together. If Asuran wished to make a good impression upon Naomi, he had to begin this moment, and anger would not do. “I am inclined to agree with Princess Evalyn in that it would be correct for Prince Kiefer to move, although I fear moving seats to place him close to the head of the table unless we are certain that those who would normally be seated beside myself will not arrive. After all, I would not wish upon anyone here to have this happen once more.” The humorous thought of a Sea Representative waltzing in and forcing Kiefer to move once more broke through his annoyance and caused a small smile to rise to his face. He could only imagine what exactly they would need to do about reseating Kiefer then.

Feeling that he had provided all opinion he could without stepping on the toes of others or appearing overly controlling, Asuran then turned his attention back to the room’s newest arrival. “And I offer greetings to you, of course, Princess Naomi. I am Asuran Dorix of Dorimun, and I hope that your time in Euthalia has been rather more enjoyable than your first moments here. How long has it been since you arrived?”

 

[Unwavering Knight]

For the Lady.

"Twelve years, seven months and two weeks ago it was. As such, I bear no more than scars from the encounter now, medical aid is unnecessary." Answered the knight, impassively. The greedan Princess's concern confused him; he had failed to find the Lady with the venture, that was the only regret he could feel for it by now. Any pain suffered in service to Her was suffered with gratefulness. Even if it had been rather embarassing from him to be led astray with such ease.

The knight quietly listened to Dahlia as she recounted how she arrived at Waltz Castle, the young princess confirming some of the hearsay he had picked up upon the streets. Though her suppressed trepidation, denoted by the slight hesitation as she interrupted herself upon the cause of her ailment, gave way to an additional conspiratory assumption...

"Half-Giant I am not. But made to slaughter Giants and Dragons I am." he answered her attempt at humor with cold decisiveness "The Lady decreed that I shall, thus I can, thus I am."

His gait did not change as they walked, his steps nigh-mechanical, even if his thoughts were not. The Princess's continuing remarks about attire and the Lady's possible perception of him certainly reflected Dahlia's good will quite nicely, but they also betrayed a streak of self-righteousness. It was not his to choose how to appear before the Lady. The Lady demanded that he be, thus he had to be. And beyond that...

Whether right or wrong, he felt he had to correct her.

"It is not the Lady that failed the knight, but the knight the Lady." For the first time, a pensive edge entered the knight's voice, his usual harshness enhanced tenfold, almost painful to the ears "She banished me, for service failed. My Crusade is one of penance. To find Her, to be absolved, be found worthy once anew, for a knight without Lady is like a body without soul."

At the Princess's behest, Helbrecht entered the greedan suite, ducking his helmeted head beneath the door-frame to fit his armored bulk through the entrance. Rising to his full stature again, the knight gaze rapidly paced about the room, a reflexive need to scour the interior for any possible venue from whence attackers could creep forth.

It wasn't often that the knight entered rooms for purposes other than assaults. Frankly, it was extremely rare, and the times he had found himself in a noble suite such as this without overarching goals could be counted on one hand. As such, his reflexive inspection soon turned into a more curious observation, as he beheld the lavish decorations, portraits, ornaments and various other assorted aesthetics whose existence solely served to please the beholder's eye.

Some might have thought that his profession-driven aesceticism would have caused a kind of dislike for such apparent waste of materials. But to a certain extent, beauty for beauty's sake harbored quite some practical use. Raising morale was an integral part to any living being's mental well-being, which correlated closely with physical health, which consequently determined Quest-efficiency. Only fools believed that a being's mental state could be disregarded when it came to proper conduct of service.

As Dahlia went to put some other layer of fabric upon her flesh, the door gave some telling raps, a diminutive hand knocking for attention from outside.

Opening the entrance, the knight's helmeted gaze stared down at a furred humanoid. Judging by scent and appearance, it was the same aria that had followed the Princess and the knight earlier for an unknown purpose. For a moment Helbrecht scrutinized the probable servant in silence. Even up close he couldn't quite categorize the furred one's phenotype - the eyes especially a unique color, the sclera black as ink with the pupils akin to specks of cruor.

So intent on analysing the aria's being was Helbrecht that it took him a few more moments of awkward silence before the knight realised the uncivility of the act. "... Hail." He finally spoke "Helbrecht, Knight of the Lady am I. What is it you require? Is there something you need from Lady Dahlia?"

Syrenrei Peppermint Patty