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Fantasy All's Fair in Love and War [characters]

peachiepalette

peachiepalette

New Member



All's Fair in Love and War

applications













application info.




name.
age.
gender.
sexual/romantic orientation.
kingdom.
occupation.
visuals.
personality.
a little background/history.


















roles.











Platet



2/5 open





The Kingdom of Platet, also known as the plains kingdom, is found in the heart of the Valoreum Empire. This is the kingdom that is hosting the Finem Belli Festival, as it is the home of the common woman who stole the high general of Pluvia's heart. Platet is known for its vast and flat grasslands and rich soil. They produce most of the Empire's fruits, vegetables, grains, dyes, flowers, as well as a few animal products. The people of Platet are known to be warm and welcoming, they say they mirror their King Louis, who is just as warm and welcoming. Thanks to King Louis and all his children following his example in public, the Plateians have never turned away strangers, they've always welcomed new traditions and cultures into their own with open arms. It's why the plains kingdom will be the perfect setting for the wedding!
Although, what kind of secrets could the King be hiding when the two different women of his five children are both dead?

Platet Princesses: 1/2 open
Platet Princes: 2/3 open










Arborious



3/3 open





The Kingdom of Arborious, also commonly referred to as the forest kingdom, is the northern most kingdom in the empire. The mountain range they hide behind adds to the mysterious aura around their kingdom and their people. Arborious is the biggest lumbar producer in the entire empire, along with animal pelts; with the entire kingdom being a massive forest, they are the native home of many larger, more dangerous animals; meaning they have some of the best hunters, trackers and marksmen in the whole kingdom. Queen Amina and King Devon are tight lipped, quiet, and withdrawn rulers. This attitude falls onto their people and even their own children. Although, people remember the King and Queen being more outspoken, before their third child came along. now the entire royal family is as mysterious and quiet as the forest; some have speculated that the youngest royal child was a mistake.

Arborious Royal Children: 3/3 open










Caelum



1/1 open





The Kingdom of Caelum is also known as the mountain kingdom. Bordering the northern-most kingdom, Caelum is made up entirely of the northern mountain range., making a natural border that tends to seclude the forest kingdom from the rest of the empire. Being mostly known for their precious stone and gem exports, it's unsurprising that the King of Caelum leads his people with a high and mighty attitude. Just like the mountains themselves, the Caelumites believe they are above all else, looking to everyone else like they are nothing; or at least, that they are much lower and less intelligent than themselves. The people of Caelum tend to only befriend others within their kingdrom; if you're seen willingly spending time with others that aren't from Caelum, it was an unspoken rule for you to be shunned out of Caelum. However, with the festival bringing all the kingdoms to one place, will the one, single Royal Child of Caelum stick out like a sore thumb? Or learn to open up to others?

Caelum Royal Children: 1/1 open










Pluvia



2/2 open





The Kingdom of Pluvia, found on the southeastern coast of the empire, makes up the coast along with the scattered island across the bay. The coastal kingdom is most well known for their fish, shrimp and other seafoods, along with other coastal gems such as coconuts, shells, seaweed snacks, and even glass-blown beauties. Having only their Queen and her two children to lead them, Pluvians have adapted a sense of courage and bravery. The people of Pluvia are the ones who set sail on treacherous, stormy seas in order to provide for their families; as a matter of fact, one of these voyages was what took the life of the their King. Knowing the dangers of the sea, Pluvians are a very humble, respectful people, but thrill-seeking, none the least.

Pluvian Royal Children: 2/2 open










Non-Royals



Unlimited





Now, don't get us wrong! These roles are just as important as the Royal ones! There's more to a story than the ones in power and we welcome anyone to fit into the stories as they choose.
Ideas to consider:
Lords and Ladies
Ladies in Waiting and Knights
Dukes and Duchesses
Couriers
Etc.















extra information.






Feel free to use whatever character sheet template you prefer! Coding is notnecessary, but you are expected to at least provide the same information listed off to the side! As this is an advanced roleplay, we would love to see tidbits of that in your character sheet (rather than one-liners to describe your characters personality). Additionally, please make sure to use realistic faceclaims for your character!









remember that these are applications; posting a cs does not mean you are guaranteed a royal







there's no due date for apps at this moment! (will be updated later)

















♡coded by uxie♡


*just as a little disclaimer, it's my first time doing this and posting things and being a true gm, so if I'm missing rules and things, I'm sorry! if you have any questions, please ask in the OOC server or shoot sunshineysoul sunshineysoul or I a DM!! <3
 








  • scroll








    scroll





    ❝
    a candle loses nothing by lighting another candle





    google
















    princess of platet



    Avileen.







    full name

    princess avileen of platet






    nicknames

    her siblings call her avi






    age

    twenty-six






    d.o.b.

    10th of janurary






    kingdom

    platet






    sexuality

    heterosexual

































    song name


    artist




















    01.



    visage

















    height

    5'8"






    weight

    143 lbs






    hair c.

    black






    eye c.

    deep brown, almost black






    faceclaim

    simone ashley























    02.



    psyche









    Avileen's siblings tend to describe her as "stuck up," or "a stick in the mud," and to be fair, they're not ALWAYS lying. Avi, being the oldest sister of the Platet royal family, has learned the responsibility it takes to be in the royalty spotlight... and the responsibility it takes to make sure her siblings understand the royal responsibility as well. Avi is always poised, always the exact picture of beauty and grace; an aura of regency around her wherever she goes. well, wherever she goes in public, that is. But when she's able to sneak away, when she doesn't have any little brothers or sisters to keep in line, she's able to have fun. And Avi is a very fun-loving spirit, despite the word on the street about her. Her favorite pastime is horseback riding through the fields of her kingdom. Her and her horse, Hazelnut, tend to only ride in the cover of darkness, when everyone is asleep and no one is needing her.
    At her core, Avi is selfless, focused on taking care of her siblings, her people, however she can. For as long as she could remember, she did her best to take the blame for her siblings, never wanting them to get into serious trouble; She also had a certain knack for talking herself out of anything with anyone. She was a princess, after all, what kind of princess didn't know how to be diplomatic?






    likes

    - horseback riding
    - dancing
    - flowers (specifically lilac)
    - her siblings
    - reading
    - exploring
    - meeting new people






    dislikes

    - being alone
    - her siblings getting in toruble
    - the cold
    - sweets that are too sweet
    - cloudy days






    fears

    failing in making sure her family is taken care of


















    03.



    history









    while avileen was born into royalty, her life is anything but glamarous.
    well...from a certain perspective....

    Of course she was born with a crown and the title of "princesses", and yea she lives in a castle with an entire staff of maids and ladies in waiting to dote on her every move; but it's not everything Avi has always wanted. When she was young, maybe not even a year old, Avileen's mother died. The King announced that the autopsy was inconclusive & her dead was ruled a mystery.

    Soon after Avi was born and her mother passed, the King remarried and the new Queen had a set of twin boys and suddenly the mood of the entire kingdom shifted. Unbeknownst to the Kingdom of Platet, their King was unhappy with the idea of a female heir to his crown. When it was just Avi and her father, he tended to just smile and nod and dismiss any questions about passing down. But when the boys, Atticus and Anastacius were around, suddenly they were all the King could talk about. Suddenly, the King loved talking about how he would pass down the crown to one of his boys, even when they were only three years old. He gushed about how he couldn't wait to start their training, and he couldn't wait to see which son would prove themselves worthy of the crown.

    As the children of Platet grew, Avi noticed the differences in how they were treated; She noticed the restraint put on what she could do, even though she was the oldest, while her younger brothers were basically invincible; at least, that's what it looked like from where Avileen was standing. But at least she had Queen Esperanza.

    Queen Esperanza, many times, had been called the kindest Queen Platet had ever seen; there were some that exaggerated and said she was the kindest Queen the empire had ever seen; Her majesty being as humble as she was, would always smile and respond with a simple "thank you" and move along. Only for the first six weeks of Avileen's life, did she have a mother. She began building the bonds with her birth mother, until her mother was not there anymore. Then, three years later, Esperanza came into her life.

    Where most Queens would've resented the child from the previous marriage, Esperanza seemingly picked up right where Avi's mother stopped. She took the child in as one of her own, some would say it was excellent practice for the Queen before she birthed her own baby girl.

    As Avi and her half-siblings grew up, she never truly realized that Esperanza wasn't her birth mom. She just knew that as far back as she could remember, Esperanza was there, raising her, the twins, and their younger sister. But Avileen loved Esperanza, she saw her as her own mother. She would talk to her when she felt her father was being unfair, and it was through Esperanza's comfort that she found the fire to fight her father.

    Many times, as she was a child, Avileen yelled at her father when she felt she was being treated unfairly. When he told her she could no longer take horse riding lessons, when she no longer trained in sword fighting with her brothers; but the straw that broke the camel's back was when Avi heard her father say she would never be queen. It was in a conversation with some other nobles and Avi, at seven years old, stormed out and began yelling at her father. She was frustrated, she had had enough; even at seven years old, she was tired of how much of a jerk her father was towards her.

    However, when Avi was having her outburst, the king saw an opportunity. He began to spread the rumor that his choice of not passing the crown to Avileen was in Platet's best interest; How could Platet have someone as unstable as Avileen, who didn't know how to hold her tongue, as the future Queen. Avileen was crushed, it was the first time her father had publicly spoken against her, shown that he didn't care about her and what she wanted. The nobles agreed, how could they not? She dared to burst into a private meeting and yell in the presence of royalty. It seemed to be the beginning of everyone forgetting Avileen was the eldest Platet Princess.

    She ran to the Queen, the woman she saw as her mother, seeking comfort; and Esperanza did her best, but there was only so much comforting she could do. Her husband was very set in his ways, and no matter how many times she tried to explain that Avileen had shown many signs of being a fantastic future Queen, the King wouldn't hear it. This was the first major event that caused Avi's fire to dim, but she still attempted to fight her father as much as she could, trying to get him to see the errors in his ways.

    But she didn't give up trying to prove she deserved to be Queen. While her father was busy trying to micromanage her brothers, Avileen would sneak into the town to get to know the people of Platet. She was sweet, king, and caring. She wandered into shops and taverns, making conversation with whoever she could. She never went hungry, everyone was always offering up to feed the princess, and she only ever took what she needed. Eventually, she knew almost every townsperson in the royal city by name. She knew about their lives their kids, she even knew who the street cat was and where they liked to wander. At such a young age, Avi gained such a deep love and appreciation for her people.

    And then, tragedy struck as Platet faced the loss of another Queen. Esperanza had also fallen ill and died due to unknown circumstances. Avi was about twelve, almost a teenager, and losing her mother figure crushed her. Esperanza was genuinely the only mother she had known, she always called her "mom" and "mother" as they all grew up, and nobody told her any differently. The funeral was beautiful, as about as beautiful as a funeral could be; Avi held her baby sister while the two boys clung to Avi as they cried. When Avi realized the twins sought her for comfort rather than her father, it was when the last of her fight died.

    She knew how horrible the King was, and she wanted to fight him with everything in her; but the truth was that he was planning to pass the crown down to one of the twins. And no matter how much they didn't want it, it was going to happen. In that moment, being the beacon of comfort for her siblings, her entire core shifted to a new purpose. Her old desire of being Queen and doing well by her people got locked away, and her new focus was to take care of her siblings. She forgot every selfish desire she had, so she could be there for Ana and Atti in their training to be King, while of course making sure her sister had someone to be there for her.

    Now, with the festival coming to their own kingdom, Avileen knows this is the perfect time to find Ana and Atti a partner to rule with them. Their father still hadn't solidified his choice on who he would pass his crown to, but she was making it her mission to try and make sure the twins were ready to prove themselves at the festival. She even had plans to try and find her sister someone as well. Thinking about everyone but herself; very on brand for the Eldest of Platet.




















    04.



    gallery


































    05.



    connections

















    character name



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    06.



    miscellaneous

















    whatever

    hello






    whatever

    hello




















    ♡coded by uxie♡

 
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  • Entertainer of Pluvia


    • REQUISITE

      FULL NAME:
      Auguste Cortés Martin

      AGE:
      Twenty-Five

      GENDER:
      Cis Male (He/Him)

      SEXUALITY:
      Gay

      OCCUPATION:
      Court Entertainer - Royal Bodyguard

      BIRTHDATE
      June 30




      I would shun the light, share in evening's cool and quiet. Who would trade that hum of night for sunlight?



    the festival of fantasy
    awaits me.
    passion that I never knew glows, and ashes left? maybe time is the
    grows
    as the date draws nearer. I worry I may end up
    alone.
    Still, I want to find you like a
    flower
    wants to bloom.


    Cherry Wine
    Hozier




    code by butterfly aubade


 
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    • "I COULD FIX HIM" GOOD FOR YOU. I COULD MAKE HIM WORSE.












      appearance











      height

      6'1"
      (175cm)






      weight

      198lbs (89kg)







      eye c.

      Olive














      Hair

      Laden with scented oils and pomade, spider-black hair is sliced short and preened precise. Synonymous with matha patti jewel, it is uncharacteristic to be without ornamental addition.






      Eyes

      Gauging the purity of someone’s soul, the duality of Rajah’s can be jarring. Sun soft-olive winged with Kajal soot, rarely do they spoil into soured sage. Meteoritic lustre cheapened to a belly of crude abyss, they take all the likeness of a cat cradling feathers in its mouth.






      Style

      A cacophobic lackey, preen and polish is Rajah’s comfort. Favouring mulberry silks and crushed velvets, they are stringed with gemstone and never less than perfect.






      Distinguishing

      Bathed in glamour, it’s no surprise they consider themselves a sheet of satin in a forest of rough wool. Meticulous is his visage, this costume he chooses to bear. Never without gloves, the cotton layer dividing him from others gives a germaphobe impression.






      Face-claim

      Zain Shah.


























































    ♡coded by uxie♡


 
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❝
She was a mess of innocent chaos.





















princess of pluvia



Lorelei.







full name

Lorelei of Pluvia






nicknames

LeiLei






age

Twenty-Three






d.o.b

February 20






gender

Female






sexuality

Bisexual






kingdom

Pluvia

































U - English Version


millennium parade, Belle




















01.



visage

















height

5'3" (160cm)






weight

115lbs (52kgs)






hair c.

brown






eye c.

brown






faceclaim

Ellise Chappell






style

A whirlpool made of cotton, linen, and sometimes silk on a good day. She despises excessive layers as it weighs her down while swimming or climbing. She resembles the simplistic concept of free and flowing, but durable. Shoes are a hard pass despite it always being insisted on.























02.



psyche









Does one dare speak of her— a creature with a smile of polished pearl and cotton? Malevolent, beguiling siren brandishing sword of impulsive, reckless abandon? She whose soul possessed by Poseidon's vigor— both raw and untamed?

If so, you must either be blessed or a fool.

She was birthed with noble Pluvian blood and made successor of her parents' profound bravery. Fraught veins of cerulean seafoam lush; blessed with legs made for the rock of a full-rig. The grotesque battle of storms and waves against hardy oak would never deter her. She would not be the type found prancing about with a bijouterie of jewels and stained blown glass on her bodice while her people exchange their souls for a morsel of rye. Damned the thought of clinking porcelain brimmed with wine among high-born knaves and wenches mistaking their hypocrisy for nobility. Let thy expectations lay to rot!

However, thou must be warned. It is unclear of which parent Lorelei inherited such keen curiosity and recklessness. The King and Queen were equally unhinged in their own little ways, and thus, a braided twine from each became knotted into Lorelei's soul. Now a slave to an unfathomable itch forever far from her grasp, she must find ways to soothe the insatiable. She is insistent on following wherever her instincts take her. A constant wild passion brews in her eyes as sea breeze whips into her hair, met with pure melted bliss as bared feet meet soaked sand and muddy puddles. Stifling formal settings is the least likely place to find Lorelei. Instead, seek her as she scavenges for the highest seaside cliff for a quick dive, skinny dipping beneath waterfalls, or sitting casually on the tips of bowsprits.

Surprisingly, Lorelei enjoys sticking to herself. Perhaps it's due to the tempest of fog she has placed between her and others— a protective measure of sorts due to the consequences for her own gullibility and misplacement of her trust in others. A grandiose of patience and perseverance is required to approach the Pearl of Pluvia. Without it, take heed of the warnings from fallen knights who succumbed to her relentless mischief.

"Kindly turn back now, or fill yourself with lead and drown in the defeat I bestow upon you."

Beyond the hushed whispers daggered for her throat and the storm which guards her, Lorelei of Pluvia is an individual flourished with inexhaustible warmth and sincerity. She speaks in a honeyed lullaby— filled to the brim with gentle pecks of laughter followed by feathered touches against rosy cheeks. Those welcomed into the eye of the storm of her heart may find her incredibly doting and affectionate with a childlike disposition yearning for a warm embrace and hand to hold against the world.






traits

adventurous. kindhearted. gullible. curious. forgetful. generous. mischievous. energetic. independent. affectionate. passionate. reckless.





likes

studying jellyfish (extremely up close). sun bathing. flower crowns. dishes made with octopus. hand holding. people watching. star gazing. street markets. sneaking out. sour fruits. tide pools. romance novels. hugs. swimming. rock climbing. savory snacks.






dislikes

the texture of seaweed. heavy jewelry. parrots. swords. wearing shoes. spiders. being underestimated. tight clothing. responsibilities. coconuts. gossiping. violence. overly sweet desserts. formal functions. barrels.






fears

Lorelei fears losing her freedom and having her life planned out for her. She would rather run away and hide than live a life stifled with responsibilities and be tied down by rules.


















03.



history









It Begins
Lorelei was born among blackened skies lacquered with gunsmoke, cannon fire, and rain. Like a moth to a flame, young Lorelei found comfort in her father's embrace. With a firm grasp of her father’s finger, she would not cry as her eyes gazed upon his. However, such a sweet moment was short lived as her father departed to aid his people fighting for Pluvia’s horizon. As Lorelei sensed the loss of his warmth, her first cries pierced throughout the land. The King's last command before his departure: keep her safe and away from harm.

A swift chill took over the kingdom shortly after the King left. A stillness in the air tarnished the joyous period that came with Lorelei's birth. In order to fill the void of the King’s absence, Lorelei was smothered with affection by maids and nannies as an attempt to shield Lorelei from the dangers of the world. She was a treasure to behold— the "Pearl of Pluvia" a few jokingly called her. As Lorelei spent her childhood hidden away in her oyster (the castle), she grew fearful and timid of the world around her. From shadows, bugs, loud noises... The maids and nannies suspected a life of ease and comfort ahead of them due to Lorelei's obedience.

Then, grave news returned of the King’s passing. Tension snapped and the kingdom crackled into chaos and mourning; shattered hopes of even the most courageous and brave Pluvians polluted the land. A dark cloud hung above everyone. The Queen, denied the luxury to mourn, assumed the role the King left vacant for her, even if that meant abandoning her newborn child.

An Awakening
“Don’t slouch, Princess. Place back your shoes! Princess, step away from the edge— AH! A princess must always… Princess!”

Nag. Endless nagging. Lessons piled like a lead crown— drifting her further into the deep. Responsibilities were bounded like shackles to ankles. Every day was a battle to keep her head held above water— a constant struggle for breath. Pins pricked underfoot. Hands sought to mold her. Remember, only feathers may touch the ground. Be graceful. Move like pearl fluid. Not so languid, but do so with purpose. The only purpose is to prove. To survive. To be accepted as rightful for the throne of her predecessors.

“...but what if that is not what I wish to be?”

She was denied her wishes to explore outside the castle. A wasted youth spent watching through stained glass windows. She envied the people and ships that sailed freely beyond the ports. One day, she wished, she will explore the world outside her window.

"I wish I was born as a fish than a princess."

Perhaps something (or someone) grew tired of listening to Lorelei's constant complaints. A fated opportunity gave way for her to sneak out one night. The castle fell into panic in search for the missing princess. After a few days passed, she returned. A tumble and then a stumble dressed cherished silk petal skin in cuts and grime. However, exhaustion and fear nay dared to overtake her. With a newfound wildness in her eyes— an alarming replica of the King's— she greeted those with a beam and spoke, "Guess what I found."

That night, the spark within her was luckily overlooked. Unfortunately, it was far too late to extinguish the fire. A life of ease and comfort was now far from reach. Lay waste to obedience and feed it to the wolves. A devilish streak in her youth had begun and an end to her onslaught of rebellion was bleak and improbable. She watched as expectations hung above her like a noose festered and burned. She was fiendish— unforgiving to the hands tempting to manipulate her. A challenger of the unthinkable. She learned to dance with stormy seas. She was truly doused in drunken inquisitiveness. Perhaps, even madness.

"Let me see what I can do."

Adoration morphed into disappointment over time. A vision of a ruler— a worthy ruler like the King— crumbled as Lorelei was led astray by her curiosities and resentment for the crown. Lorelei learned to grow numb to the foray of whispers whipped down her nape. However, she was still young and forgetful. She was fresh with naivety. A wrong turn, a poor choice to outstretch the kindness in her benevolent hands, nearly led Lorelei to her demise. She foolishly welcomed those who lurked in the shadows into her heart. Now, nightmares visit her slumber. Never again will she overlook the malice and contempt hidden beneath a mask of smiles and warm embrace.

Lorelei ached to retrieve what was stolen from her, but time and acceptance could only heal what had been done to her. However, she was stubborn like the King and a fool for following in the Queen's footsteps. Lorelei denied herself such a luxury. As Lorelei's wraiths never lingered too far behind, Lorelei redirected herself to other means of coping (among them was stealing romance novels from maids). Even in the midst of the war, the expectations she described as a noose were faint, but continued to hang low with bated breath. For all she knew, any step she took could lead her straight to the gallows.

Perhaps, Lorelei was robbed of luck in the process as she found herself (once again) in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Consequently, a terrible, (another) life threatening plan entered Lorelei into the fray of war.

The Present
Time certainly aided in Lorelei's recovery, but not enough for her to accept that who she once was was forever lost. The wraiths bombarding her became manageable and nearly acquainted. She found comfort in even the most unlikely places. The end of the war brought upon a new and uncertain path. It was a path Lorelei could not deny. It was one she could only look forward to amidst the recovery of her home. Yet, she could feel a familiar spark. A breath freed of gunpowder and soot. A hand outstretched for new horizons. A yearning or perhaps a calling? Whatever it may be, Lorelei could only do what she does best— answer.

"Finem Belli! Here I come!"


















04.



gallery


































05.



connections

















King Kai



To my Father, was I enough? Was this what you wanted for me?

The splitting image of her father— soot dyed threads, unruly like the wind, eyes set ablaze under the sun. After being told many stories, she cannot deny the admiration she holds for him. Sometimes, she dreams of what they could have been. A daughter seated on her father's lap during a royal audience? Perhaps, she would have been carried in his thick arms around the town's square? Would he teach her how to knot rope or rig a ship? Would they laugh together? Bond over a drink of mead together? Such thoughts were dull aches from needles sewing threads of longing to a hollow chest. Over time, she's been left with shoes that become more and more difficult to fill. Now, she cannot decide whether to respect his legacy or loathe him for what he made her become.

















Queen Serenia



To Mother, a vortex consisting of rose thorns and broken glass. How much shall I bleed as I pick up the pieces?

The war robbed Lorelei of her mother's presence at a young age and spat her out as an empty shell of a woman who used to be full of compassion and courage. To this day, Lorelei describes her mother as an apparition residing within the castle— forever bound to search for a lover long lost to the sea. Lorelei could sense her mother's denial of the King's passing whenever she spots her mother's silhouette leaving the port from her bedroom window. Neither could Lorelei feign ignorance to the condemnation in her mother's eyes whenever they cross paths. After all, Lorelei's birth was an exchange for the King's life. Now, Lorelei must watch from afar as she holds the remnants of her mother's broken heart in her hands.

















TBD



These paths have yet to cross...

















TBD



These paths have yet to cross...





















06.



headcanons

















01. Knightmare

Lorelei and the Knights of Pluvia hold mutually feelings of resentment for each other.






02. Captain

She once snuck out and got drunk with a crew of pirates. They called her "Captain", but at some point, she got too wild. She had to be tied up and then dropped off in a barrel. To this day, Lorelei still hates barrels.





03. Flinch

A passionate loather of violence; she still flinches at the sight of fighting and the sound of guns.






04. Hands On Learner

She intrigued by it's squishy texture and the sound it makes as it's smacked against the sand. However, she's made a bad habit of flinging way too many jellyfish like a weapon. Yes, she's been stung many times in the process.





05. Not So Cinderella

Who knows how many pairs of shoes Lorelei goes through within a year? She doesn’t deny her shoes might be in every corner of Pluvia. A superstition among locals is to avoid touching them if paths ever cross. Apparently, a touch could make one go manic.






06. A Subtle Hand (Or Not)

Hidden in a disguise, Lorelei stole goods from enemy ships and handed them out to Pluvians in need. She might have burned a few empty ships down, but those who ask will be met with denial.




















♡coded by uxie♡
 
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PRINCE OF PLATET


  • REQUISITE

    FULL NAME:
    ATTICUS OF PLATET

    AGE:
    24

    GENDER:
    MALE

    SEXUALITY:
    PANSEXUAL

    OCCUPATION:
    PRINCE OF PLATET

    BIRTHDATE
    JUNE 21



    I know, Im more fool than wise



Oh, you're making it
worse.
'Cause all your kisses linger like a sunburn! I said, oh- You're making it
worse.

'Cause every time you try to kiss it better
it burns!
Your kiss like a
sunburn.


MUSIC PLAYER COVER -->



SUNBURN
ISAAC DUNBAR






code by butterfly aubade
 
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    • BASICS
      name
      Lady Kaeteryna of Caelum

      age
      24

      gender
      female

      sexuality
      bisexual biromantic

      kingdom
      Caelum

      occupation
      Lady of Caelum, cousin of the prince, second in line for the throne outside of the main family
      VISAGE
      height
      5'4

      weight
      120 lbs

      build
      lithe and feminine

      hair
      icy white blonde

      eyes
      a light blue

      fc
      emilia clarke
    𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦
    𝑜𝑓
    𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑦
    𝑎𝑛𝑑
    𝑖𝑐𝑒







    coded by reveriee.


    name: Lady Kaeteryna of Caelum
    age: 25
    gender: female
    sexuality: bisexual biromantic
    kingdom: Caelum
    occupation: Lady of Caelum, cousin of the prince, second in line for the throne outside of the main family

    height: 5'4
    weight: 120 lbs
    build: lithe and feminine
    hair: icy white blonde
    eyes: a light blue
    fc: emilia clarke

    Personality:
    The kingdom of Caelum is a harsh place, a frozen wasteland that will lead you to your demise without proper shelter. Icy, cutting, and cruel, the northern kingdom is not a place most would choose to visit, and that is exactly the point. Outsiders don't understand the hidden treasures that lay deep within the mountains, that you must traverse the inhospitable climate to reach the beauty that lies within. Kaeteryna is much like her kingdom in this way.

    Kaeteryna has learned that biting remarks and a better-than-you attitude ward off any unwanted attention. Born a rose, she has built her own thorns to keep others from plucking her delicate petals dry. Kaeteryna wants to be more than a pretty face, so she uses her wit to insult and prove that it's not just her looks that matter.

    From a young age she has been told that her worth is in her ability to marry and have children, the resentment over that sentiment has built up and made her want to ward off any potential suitors with her sour attitude. Kaeteryna wants to be free to make her own decisions, rebelling with her rude demeanor as a small act of defiance against her family.

    But if you can get past the thorns, Kaeteryna is a thoughtful, caring, and loyal friend. For those she loves she would fight tooth and nail to protect them, those who earn her trust earn her fierce loyalty for life. Though she comes off as cruel, she just needs someone to show her kindness and understanding to break down the icy walls she's built.

    History:
    A disappointment from the moment she was born, Kaeteryna was a daughter and not a coveted son. The only daughter of the king's brother, Kaeteryna was not destined to rule, but the expectations and strict roles of royalty still fell on her shoulders. In her parent's eyes, she could only be useful to her kingdom by marrying an important man to strengthen their house and provide children with a claim to the throne.

    This misogynistic view bore resentment in the young girl, rebelling against the expectations as much as she could. Playing in the dirt with her cousin, using sticks as a pretend sword, and generally being a menace around the castle grounds. Her mother was constantly scolding her for bringing shame to their family, smacking her when she would talk back which only made Kaeteryna run her mouth more.

    The only children in the castle, Kaeteryna and Vaeron were inseparable, more like siblings than cousins. This also meant that Kaeteryna often dragged Leo into their shenanigans, the two boys like brothers she never had. They were each other's savior from the loneliness of an empty castle, where everyone was only nice to them because of their titles. To survive Caelum you had to be harsh, a lesson that they learned the hard way more than once. They were partners in crime, running from their nannies and hiding from the adults and their expectations.

    After the attack on Vaeron and their entrance into teenage years, Kaeteryna's mother cracked down harder and limited the amount of time the cousins spent together. Days were spent with the boring, vapid ladies of the court, talking about the latest gossip and eligible suitors, things that Kaeteryna didn't care for in the slightest. Yet, she still tried for her mothers sake, tired of the constant fighting. She bit her tongue and played the part of the dutiful daughter, but it still wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough, and so Kaeteryna stopped trying to fit into the mold her mother had made for her.

    Luckily, her sharp tongue was enough to keep most of the suitors away, but not all. At twenty-one, Kaeteryna was engaged to a duke, the son of a friend of her father. Threatening to make a scene at the wedding, she was able to convince her parents to agree to post-pone the wedding until after the war ended.

    Now that the war is over, Kaeteryna is desperately trying to find another reason to delay her engagement.
 
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Heir of Caelum
































# 26








# Ewan Mitchell




















♡coded by uxie♡



“It’s him!”
“It’s me.”

From the ashes, a prince is born.​


Name. His Royal highness Prince Vaeron of Caelum
Nickname(s). One-eye, a name torn from the mouths of those silent in passing, whispers sealed tightly behind taut lips. A great bravery they must have then, for
the white fog still lingers. May mercy find them before the blade does.
Age. 26
Gender. Male
Sexuality. Duty hangs like a cross against his back, taking from what has been taught; strength and courage are the virtues most desired
Kingdom. Caelum
Occupation. Heir to the throne


“Now they see you as you are.”
​

Appearance. War is more than just a battle, he's learned. It can bear a voice, a face, even a soul. War can be a man.

Etched into the fine lines of his skin lay the foundations of stories untold, offered only by drunkards and the insolent are memories of torment and grief, framed with a mouth that utters little of it. A prince, of noble blood coursing through his veins, importance reeks of him, whispers follow faster than the length of his own shadow. With grand intention he walks, long locks the colour of mountain peaks drifting behind him. He is no average sight to behold, not another face in the crowd, though he once wished he was. A presence that demands attention, that forces eyes to meet his own, one shrouded by obsidian and the other the colour of deep waters; a gaze that could drown those brave enough to look.

Sharp features fulfill mystery, twisting and contorting under his control, though often cemented within an air of arrogant indifference. As if to say that he’s already found the answer, drawn the conclusion that he, Prince Vaeron of Caelum, has already won. A Caelumite obvious in impression, Vaeron stands tall and is well-kept -and- with his nose pointed in the air and eye flickering past his chin, wonders just when the peace will come to an end. Time is ticking.



“Exhausting, isn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.”​


Personality: Mountains are the shields that lay in wait, daring those to enter, begin a journey that never ends as it began. Snow falls like feathers and from the high verandas he watches, alone but seldom lonely, as the fruits of his kingdom remain hidden, protected from the eyes of their enemies. A history not so far from his own.

A boy thrust into a world unbefit for a child; a future bleak had he not been wanted, begged for by the sheer desperation of their majesties the king and the queen. How many was it that had passed before him? Four? Five? Brothers and sisters he would never come to meet until death would appear with his shining scythe, morbid thoughts remain his reality. They come to him in dreams sometimes, these ghosts, on restless nights amongst the corridors they whisper “Live for me! Live for me!” And he responds the same, a soft, crippled “I must, I shall.” It is grief that he answers to and grief alone.

A boy thrust into the world in place of a prince, heaven can be kind just as it can be cruel. Expectations precede and have always preceded him, a tale as old as his father and his father’s father. Similar yet worlds apart are they, a bond strained by the blindness of paternity. Superficiality rarely concerns him, whereas the king’s own reflection might enrapture him for hours. It’s been said that although he is his copy, the prince has always been the king’s greatest opponent. A battle between sons, prodigal without intending a return.

Bearing a composure that is almost stubborn within its placidity, the crown prince is not one that succumbs so easily, not one to abandon his graces, not one to give into temptations. With a watchful eye he spectates as others make fools of themselves, plays the game as if he hadn’t been playing at all.
And, when his patience wears thin unexpectedly he strikes, with the accuracy of a bullet his words oft measure. Struck down are any attempts of upheaval, deceit, insult. If there’s anything Vaeron knows, it is how to hurt others. He knows how to hurt just as he has hurt. Words that pierce the heart are spoken through a challenging smile, as if to say “Go on, reach for the blade. You won’t.”
Vaeron doesn’t wish to be unkind, but kindness must introduced before it is extended.

And life has never been kind.


“What have I done, if not what is expected of me?”

I. The beginning.​


History: There were others before him, that he knows. A babe that had only a taste of life before bidding it goodbye. A child whose cries were exchanged for that of their mothers’; grief raged against the hollows of the castle walls, sobs stifled by the hands of worried chambermaids and occasionally, her husband. It seems that flaws can find anyone, even kings and queens. For years hope escaped them, as if they’d done something to deter it, as if the bloodshed of war was to be repaid by the bloodshed of their own children.
Fights broke out like storms, a marriage built upon convenience more than heart itself, crumbled with each passing breath. Love existed least of all in these moments.

And then, he was born. A boy with hair the colour of ice and eyes like gaping entrances to the skies, he, Prince Vaeron, was what had saved Caelum.

II. The Middle.
​
It is said that Prince Vaeron was merely twelve years old when it happened. Not yet a man, but forced to become one anyhow. But how does a child who is beloved by all become a monster? Well, he must first become a victim.

A day spent gallivanting with Leonardis, a boy who had noble blood just like him, though would seldom act like it. Prince Vaeron’s world had always been small, as the sole surviving heir in a time where war threatened the crown, he had little to do with the outside world. But with Kaet and Leo by his side, there were moments where he felt unstoppable. Moments he looks back upon fondly, before his fingers hover over the thin fabric that shields a memory he wishes to forget.

Innocent children make easy targets, the man was smart enough to know that. Vaeron can see it clearly now: his large hand reaching for something small, sharp. How it glinted before him, how its tip laid pointed like jagged ice. If it were not for the beauty, tragedy would not be so loved, he thinks.

A scream. And then blood. Red like the wine his father liked to drink. Red like the lips his mother painted on. Red like the beginning of the end.

Vaeron remembers little of what followed after, but he was told one thing, they had tried to take his life. The had tried take his life and they had failed.


III. The End.

​
From that moment on the young prince had withdrawn himself entirely, could not ignore the whispers, the curious eyes that followed his own as walked he past. Picking him apart as if he hadn’t been one of them his whole life, as if he were no longer worthy to bear the throne. The days were quiet as he threw himself into his teachings, as his curiosity stilled and his words hung over the tip of his tongue, unable to form what he needed to say most, to voice what he needed most.

His father didn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to have a maimed son, and his mother absorbed the shame in a different way; the feeling that she could’ve stopped it, that she could’ve kept him by her side and hadn’t, the thought still haunts her to this day.

But there was one thing for certain, anyone to make mention of his eye was to have theirs taken— it was a threat he’d whispered time and time again, low and breathy as he kept his hand on the hilt, a precaution more than a weapon.

Guarding more than just a boy, lay the blade that would protect his heart.


​












Lady In Waiting
































# 23








# Melike ipek Yalova




















♡coded by uxie♡



​

“Oh what a shame, I almost liked you.”
​


Name. Her lady in waiting, Celine Yildirim
Nickname(s). ‘Lina!,’ a ghostly voice calls to her; ‘Lina!’ it cries and she is seven years old again, stuck in a body that shakes, flinches at the sound of her own name. A past pushed to the depths of her skull, she responds only to Celine.
Age. 23
Gender. Female
Sexuality. A superficial creature yet not so- beauty is fleeting, but wealth and power, if dealt correctly, may last an eternity.
Kingdom. Arborious
Occupation. The hand of Princess Delphine



“You bear the face of a woman you’ll never meet. ”
​

Appearance. Beauty, it is both a lady’s greatest ally and her greatest enemy. It watches as she kneels before, lips quivering as she pleads, prays to the heavens to make her something- anything worthwhile. But what is beauty, if not a beast? Tearing through the psyches of young wards all around, only the wisest know what it truly is: a weapon. A sword and a shield.

A belle caught between castle walls, stuck in a position where she must not take and can only give, only grant, an ideation that has spurred resentment for many years. She thinks herself pretty, more than most, with fair skin and deep brown eyes the colour of chocolate, waves of midnight hair and full lips; Celine could be a portrait made walking. Could be, if she hadn’t been forced to conform to mundanity. Plain gowns shield her back, trail behind her as she goes on about prancing upon noble grounds. Always with an ear or an eye out, always in search of a secret.

“I want to be great or nothing.”​


Personality: Like the tides of the black sea Celine was born inevitable, voracious, starving. Simplicity once called for her, but she chose not to respond; And instead, she turned her back on it, with no remorse and her head held high, like a lady. Except she never was, never will be she reckons, not without her own divine intervention. An ambition so hungry it could be confused with bloodlust, yet Celine is not murderous, she does not wish to harm, only to join. To be the one who is served instead of the one who serves, who is extended the tray and no longer bear the responsibility of the one who must carry it. She wants to be one of them.
But how can she, without a coin to her name?

Whispers, they travel faster than the wind. Through the walls they course, through careful mouths they are spoken, and Celine welcomes them all. A vice that has little to do with sabotage and more to do with opportunity, she can be a shameful woman. Can be, if she were even able to feel it in the first place. It is a nasty world my dear, run by monsters and by men, both not so different from one another.

A storm wrapped in beautiful flesh, Celine is a puzzle, sparing toothy grins at her enemies and piecing glares at her friends, she knows not everyone can be trusted. Not even herself.


“Love can either be a shrine or a scar.”

I.​


History: Her life was satisfactory once, she supposes. When she still had her mother and father cooing behind her, when her tiny feet would touch the sands beneath them, as she mastered the art of walking. Celine had always been a fast learner, the kind of child who, at a young age, seemed to know too much about the world, yet still bore the instincts of a naive thing, the fear, the uncertainty. One step- and then another, she was always testing just how far she could go.

The daughter of a humble blacksmith and a midwife, they hadn’t had much but what they did was enough to make her think that she had it all. Their own queen of the tides, Celine was oblivious in her joy, could not see how different her parents would act when she was not there. Whispers, they follow you everywhere.

II.
​
The war. Being young and unimportant she knew little of it— other than that it was gravely serious, that they needed her father, a poor forger and his hands, his talents. He was the one of the best in all of Pluvia, she remembers taking pride in that, but now she only feels disgust. How fickle bonds can be.

Left alone with her bustling mother, Celine had caught whispers amongst the other children, a boy who had lost a brother, a girl who had been caught in an attack, suddenly grief was everywhere she looked. Still, she was blind.
​
Enemies, one must keep them close so they do not draw blood. She knows this now. Learned as her mother cried out for her, as the flames devoured their home. A mother calling for her daughter, a daughter searching for her father, a husband who chose a war before them both. They say that shame evades her, yet there is not a single fibre in her being that does not wish that she hadn’t been scared that night, scared of dying, scared of living.

Lina. Every night she has the same dream, a dream where she is both the evil and the victim, burning and being burned. Every night she is reminded that she killed her own mother.


III.
​
She was eight when the burial took place, the ashes scattered, the vows broken. The ghost of her father’s hand rested upon her shoulder as she said goodbye to the open sea, wished her mother’s spirit would return to them like the waves. Her father said nothing, though he wept, wept so hard that she could hear him at night, alone in a bed that was no longer shared.
He was broken.

A father incapable of being one, Celine, for the two years approaching, found herself taking from him his ale, would stop him from drinking himself to death, to shame. She had no one for many moons, though she defended him nevertheless. Even to her uncle, who evidently knew what he was: a waste.

Lord Aaron was her mother’s brother, a sly merchant that wove a web of connections, far as each end of the earth. Stoic, stern, he was everything her mother was not and more, yet still, he refused to see his only niece live a life unbecoming for a child. And, after declaring such, the artful man took the young and impressionable Celine on his journey across the seas and to a place where he knew she would thrive: Arborious.

There she would live with the king and queen, bear cups and lace up gowns, and, if she’d learned anything from him, make of herself something untouchable.
​
 
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Lady of Platet
Maiv
  • Openness
    conscientiousness
    extraversion
    neuroticism
    “
    ”
    What a joy to be bathed in the light of the golden days...
    Name
    MAIV HLUB VAAJ
    Orientation
    Pansexual
    Gender
    Cis Female
    Kingdom
    Platet
    age
    TWENTY-ONE
    Region
    Pajtshiab
    Royal Court Name
    Lady Maiv Hlub Vaaj of the Pajtshiab Valleys
    Appearance
    A pajtshiab trademark are their brown eyes. They are brighter than the usual brown pair of orbs as the light may reflect the shimmering orange-yellow gleams that tell on themselves of the homeland that they originate from. Maiv is no different although her people spread rumors of her eyes were different colors at birth, symbolizing the struggles of the people of Pajtsiab. As she grew older, her chunky baby face filled in while her wise eyes shared uncanny resemblances to her grandmother. Her eyes "now" are the same color, the people determined this as unity as the 50 Year War comes to an end. She would just call them brown and keep going on with her day.

    Outside of the defining eyes, Maiv would consider herself average in her looks, only letting her black hair down from it's forever braids on special occasions. She's never had a body image issue, as empty praises to a Lord's daughter were enough to keep her self-esteem afloat. She find herself blessed to never have a pimple stay long enough to leave scars white her rogue moles never stood out in a sea of people. Maiv is happy to look like her people, even if it meant she wasn't a showstopper- she would very much prefer it this way.
    Personality
    Humble and dutiful, the Lord's daughter has a reputation to uphold in Pajtsiab and Maiv makes sure every step she makes shows her pride for her people. Outside of boring royal court, Maiv had a bad case of adventure, something a Lord's daughter isn't supposed to have. Never taught how to fight, the most adventure she's ever had was visiting the battlefields after the fight, helping those displaced and lost. Maive is kind as many Platet are, extending this to even the roughest of Caelumites, believing that kindness is how things can be solved.
code by Nano
 
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rocketman



sara james












Arborious Royal Guard















B

asic Info.










name


Glarion Valdh







kingdom


Arborious







age


Thirty Four







hair c.


Dark Brown







eye c.


Green







sexual o.


Heterosexual














p

ersonality.





A somewhat tortured individual, Glarion is driven by high ideals and a deep desire to protect the people and lands that he loves. He is a natural leader, an inspiring and encouraging commander who fights passionately alongside followers and friends. He reciprocates loyalty, displaying acts of valor even to those that doubt his character.

A flawed introvert, Glarion finds himself at home in his own mind. He is passionate and loves deeply, but these signs of affection are guarded and secretive even to those close to him. He is very intuitive, which guides him in even the most dire situations. He uses this trait to connect with others on a deeper level and inspire troops.

His love for creatures great and small is evident in the way he treats all those he comes into contact with and fights to protect. These feelings translate to his passion for planting and wilderness safekeeping - finding a linking connection to Mother Earth.









h

istory





Shaped by the death of his father, Glarion lives to make proud a man of legend. His father, Ivaran Valdh was the right hand of King Devon and a loyal commander in his army. He was a fierce warrior that died in the war but would forever be remembered for turning the tide in Arborious’ favor with his bow.

His mother was a woman of Platet, a handmaiden who fell in love and left her entire world in its pursuit. She left Platet for Arborious in hopes of escaping the war and being with Ivaran, only to find there was no escaping it - the war spread like a plague and no one excluded.

Glarion was born in turmoil and shaped to survive it. Trained by his father, he was put through constant trials that would see him grow as a warrior. Upon reaching the age, he was drafted to protect Arborious and fight alongside him. For years the two Valdh men fought hand in hand, enduring the hardships of losing brothers and protecting their lands. However, one day only one would return home to speak about it.

Ivaran Valdh fell in battle three years prior to current day. He was struck by the blade of a Caelum soldier. Glarion watched his father perish in battle, unable to save him that day. Fast forward a couple of years and Glarion has found himself in the position his father once stood - right hand to the King.

He takes pride in being compared to his father both in looks and position. As the war’s tide turns, his objectives have changed dramatically. He no longer finds himself in the front lines of an endless war, rather by the side of the royal family. His mission is to keep them safe at all cost and he would lay down his life for his cause.










g

allery.
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



wild child!


  • REQUISITE

    FULL NAME:
    Princess Delphine of Arborious

    AGE:
    23

    GENDER:
    cis. female

    SEXUALITY:
    bisexual

    OCCUPATION:
    princess

    ETHNICITY:
    white northener.

    KINGDOM
    Arborious



    i take a deep breath and listen to the old brag of my heart. i am. i am. i am.



your cold eyes, they
kill me.
the fire in your heart that used to glow, why is there only ashes left? maybe time is the
medicine
but i'm getting weaker. the pain is getting
number too.
fine, i'll forgive you. i'm gonna live like a
flower.
can't stop me now.


OPHELIA
S U N M I





code by butterfly aubade
 
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Prince Anastacius
















# dumbass prince




# ryan prevedel










♡coded by uxie♡











lonely




crown prince



anastacius

I know it's cliché when I say that
I'm a classic sign of self-sabotage
A monster dressed in your mirage
Once I said, "I love you," I ran away
But I loosened my grip
I called it quits
And I waited for you to call me
Like the lover that you are​




the basics.

name
anastacius
nickname
ana
date of birth
june 21
age
twenty-four
sexuality
pansexual
gender
male
role
crown prince of platet




the visage.

height
5'11
weight
170 lbs
hair
unruly mane of locks colored in a toasted walnut brown
eyes
ocean blue with twinkling bits of amber
style
anastacius had traveled closer to the sea recently. he was greatly influenced by adjourning looser shirts and pants. sometimes, his outfits could just be him with just his trousers. the prince prefers clothing that is comfortable enough to be able to nap out in the gardens.
body type
lanky and toned, he likes to sleep in the sun like a cat
face claim
ryan prevedel








selfish






the personality.

anastacius is like a golden retriever: constantly happy without a care in the world. he will do anything to please himself and others to lighten the mood. responsibilities? they can be done some other time most likely not. he tends to have others get caught up in his shenanigans, whether they want to or not. despite how much of an open book he may seem, he is quite closed off. he doesn't want to let people get to know the real him. he isn't even sure who the 'real' he even is. in a perfect world, anastacius's only wish is for his siblings never to leave him, and they can all live happily in a small cottage in the middle of an isolated island where there are no wars or conflicts. just them having a good time.


the virtues.

even-tempered

anastacius does not get angry easily. when things go awry, he just gives it a good laugh and either makes the problems worse or walks away from it. however, when he does get angry, it’s not a good idea to be in his presence.

outgoing

our prince could be compared to the golden retriever: happy to see anyone he meets (even though half of the time he likes to poke fun).

loyal

willing to fight and defend for those he deeply cares about. he may not look like it, but like a dog, he will never betray his loved ones and is always loyal to them.


the vices

mischievous

similar to his brother, anastacius thrives on teasing others and watching their reactions. he loves getting a rise out of his sisters, maybe it’s because he loves them dearly so much that he wants to see them squirm from his pranks.

an idiot

he’s not much into academics. maybe that is why he prefers not to take the throne (also probably because it’s a lot of responsibility for our carefree prince). so he’s easily deceived.

stagnant

anastacius is content with how his life is and becomes anxious whenever a big change happens, such as when he and his siblings find love. it’s unsure why he is so afraid of change, but he tends to lash out more when he is dysregulated.

selfish

he only focuses on himself. yes, he’s cheery and empathetic, but when it comes down to it, the decisions anastacius makes are for his benefit. when he went on a sabbatical for two years, he didn’t think about how his decision impacted his family members. he doesn’t think that his decisions affected others because he only thinks of himself.

likes.

dogs, cats, anything fluffy, naps, sunbathing, drinking, moonbathing, sleeping, pranks, messing with siblings, SIBLINGS, ATTI, vacations, the beach, sand, oceans, puff puff pass, meat, fish, stargazing

dislikes.

papa platet, change, strangers, spiders, rude awakenings, academics, duties, papa platet, abandonment, classical music, boring things like running a country, being the crown prince




childhood

Anastacius was born a couple of minutes before his brother on the summer solstice. Which was quite fitting for a prince compared to a rising sun: bright, beautiful, and very annoying to some, if not all. Despite being older, he never took charge of the mischief he and his brother would concoct. But it may be because he might not be as bright as Atticus.

As Anastacius grew up, he was always causing trouble with his brother. It certainly drove the other Platet siblings crazy. His father was adamant about making the carefree prince king despite the odds against that notion. The young Anastacius was vigorously pushed into his academics, sword-fighting, and other tedious tasks to prepare him to be the next ruler. However, Anastacius “half-assed” his studies and barely showed up for his sword-fighting lessons. Instead, he would goof around with his brother while patronizing his sisters since that makes him happy the most: being around his loved ones.


adolescence

WIP


currently

When Anastacius became an adult, he became a bachelor many men and women fawn over. It obviously didn’t help that after the death of his mother, he spent two years in a different empire, lazing on the coasts. When he came back, he came back with a new wardrobe and forever sun-kissed skin.

Ever since Anastacius returned from his sabbatical, he reverted to his old ways, which were not putting in the effort in his academics and sword-fighting, much to his father’s dismay. The king of Platet has been urging him to find a partner suitable to help him run the kingdom. Anastacius is still surprised at how persistent his father is about making him a ruler, even though he has no interest in running a country. If the prince could choose, he’d like to isolate himself on a warm island with his beloved brother while harassing his poor siblings.

So when the kingdom of Platet announced they were hosting the Finem Belli Festival, the king ordered the siblings to attend. They were all expected to find a partner at this festival. Anastacius's heart dropped. First, the prince has no interest in finding somebody romantically. His walls have been built so high that it would be hard for any stranger to pass through, especially ever since his mother died. Second, the king expects Anastacius to find the new queen of Platet? Ridiculous. Anastacius can't do arithmetic. How can he be expected to lead this kingdom?

(Actually, he does know how to do arithmetic. He really does not want to lead this country.)

((PS. He will push the notion that Avi should be ruler. She would make a fine queen for Platet.))






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
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princess maia of arborious.

twenty one years old. a wild fire of a child. not for a rebellious spirit, but rather for her curious nature and fascination of oddities. bruised knees, bare feet and calloused palms from climbing trees, her hair a wild nest as she finds comfort in placing strands into her mouth. the maids grumble over her mess, the knights frown as she attempts to ride their horses, and her parents live with the weight on their shoulders knowing their daughter would never be fit to be a queen






  • O




    we will run and scream. you will dance with me
    they'll fulfill our dreams and we'll be free





    name
    maia of arborious

    age
    twenty one

    gender
    female

    d.o.b
    21st july

    sexuality
    demisexual

    kingdom
    arborious

    occupation
    princess










    not with haste - mumford and sons




    There is a reason why they call it falling in love. There is no warning sings, nor time to think about what is happening. It’s inevitable. An event you can’t control. A crazy, heart-stopping, roller-coaster ride that just has to take its course. You free fall because you know there’s someone there to catch you on the other side. But, sometimes, the person you fall for isn’t always ready to catch you. Sometimes, they purposefully let you slip through their fingers.








the girl

holistic

beneath

history











© weldherwings.
 
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sir henry, knight of platelet

twenty four years old age. an orphan taken in by the most respected knight of platelet after his own little village was burnt to the ground by rivalling kingdoms. once living in a small community filled with peace and tranquility to being thrown into the world of sword fights, ongoing battles and learning how to live another day without dying. his tongue shredded during a fierce, bloody battle, he is known amongst others as 'the silent knight'.






  • O




    even if everything's gone,
    i'll search for you again





    name
    sir henry williams of platelet

    also known as
    henry the silent

    age
    twenty four

    gender
    male

    d.o.b
    5th may

    sexuality
    Heterosexual

    kingdom
    platelet

    occupation
    knight










    stay here - gaho




    There was a roaring in my ears, and I lost track of what they were saying. My stomach twisted in knots and my knees buckled under the weight of this newfound reality which I would have to live my days in. I questioned the Gods why this was happening. Why was my soul hurting so? And I firmly believe it was the physical manifestation of unbearable grief that was crippling and rendering me useless.








the boy

holistic

beneath

history











© weldherwings.
 
Last edited:
Rowan Havlayne Prince of ___________
Romanface2.jpg​
  • name: Rowan Fenris Havlåyne
  • age: 25
  • gender: Male
  • sexual/romantic orientation: Heterosexual
  • kingdom: ______________
  • occupation: Prince, General, Excellent Swordman, Phenomenal Archer, Incredible Physical Prowess, Fighter of All Weapons, and Hunter Extraordinaire (These may or may not be self proclaimed)
  • personality: Rough around the edges, sometimes even tyrannical if he has enough power in the situation. Expectant of getting his way, edged with conceit and spoiling, its hard to get to the center where he may be kind, thoughtful, and maybe even loving. But those things are for the weak, and Rowan is anything but weak.
  • background/history: Eldest son of _______, Rowan was ordained by birth to rule when his parents pass. At the seat of inheritance of an entire kingdom, Rowan has been very involved with the 50 year war for almost the entirety of his 25 years. Involved with preparation, strategy, and execution, he has known war his whole life in large part, as a groundwork foundation for his future role as reigning King of _____. He has led charges on the battle field since he was 16. War torn and cut, physically fit and imposing at 6'4, broad shouldered and chested. Built to fight, that's all he's ever known and expected in life; that everyone and everything comes with an angle of, 'what's in it for them?' Because truly kind people don't exist, they're just waiting to get their just rewards for lying in wait.

Defining Song: Zomboy - Battlefields
 
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Prince of Pluvia
















#29




#Eoin Macken










♡coded by uxie♡



♡coded by uxie♡

╰┈➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍.

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Arledge, Eldest Prince of Pluvia
𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐬: to choiced few, he is 𝘼𝙧𝙡𝙚, to whispered grave he is 𝙍𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙩.
𝐀𝐠𝐞: Twenty and nine years of age; a gratefulness hidden.
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Male.
𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: a pursuer of emptiness he has not found a preference over the years, warmth a base requirement.
𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦: Pluvia.

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞: It's expected, as all things are, down loosened collars and the tightly bound prisons of leather. Through force or will he stands in that lurking mildew hunch, a figure of prose pitter pattered down drains. In a room of strangers he blends in as cotton and wool, an unassuming figure cutting no mention of the status or riches offered to one expected in ornate thrones and tightened waists.

He is a man, if unnervingly normal in that sense; a frame cut from water-slapped rocks and a mother widowed too early on. Sandalwood notes linger on the softened colours draped on weary shoulders, decoration seen only at the pleading behest of blood and peacocked feathers. A step into the sea would go unnoticed if his preference allowed, a whisk to foamed waters and a plastering of the curls lingering past ears.

A scar, skin torn in its failing ability crosses a collarbone, jagged, uneven. His body will be littered with them, nicks and scrapes from assorted tousles in his life and the consequences following. Touched by hands, many but fleeting they have seen the fingers of others and he too reflects them in bruised knuckles and lips. Prince, still they will whisper, a hand thrown silk onto arms, leather onto legs in the acceptance of his costume and role.

𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚, they will still say.

At the least, he will look the part.

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐀 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐞:​

A head holds itself high, stilts propped under the grimacing chin forcing itself into placated smiles and breathy laughs. Notes spelling out the jig of sisters move feet into prickled sand and before the expanses of ships. Bodies bend themselves to the gales of the sea, succumb broken souls in hearty bodies before the throngs of soldiers setting into cerulean waters. It is all he can do to maintain a light step and gentler touch, turned cheek from a life stained by the greed of fate.

Gravestones mark the bodies that never returned from unforgiving sea, lifeless in their granite tombs, decorated with floral memories. Arledge finds himself a tottering mass before them all, a prince in name alone against the building rise of responsibilities and eyes peering behind humbly stained cloths.

They wanted answers and his lips buried under sand.

Born from the folds of fighting he grew a tucked head clutched to skirts, a man by age and stubble alone. 𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮, they would coo and caw, pinching at cheeks until the funeral shroud gave gossamer barrier to tears that weren't allowed to flow. 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮, the words would transition to and with it he fell to the change too. Princely, if only just enough; an heir only in whispers.

Something about him says there is more, a voice behind silenced eyes claiming the world before them. He keeps himself humbly still, a bowed head before nobles and stares following the hems of skirts as they whisk themselves away to far more important guests. It is preferred, if he is allowed the reprieve. Breaths falter, stumbling over themselves as again he smiles, stretches wide the weary cheeks of expectation and joins another dainty jig.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦, 𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲:


𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔​
A bell tolled the day of his birth, a resounding muted tone layering in navy sheen along cobbled stones and war-stricken cheekbones. He was a future, if anything, a promise to veiled scars of war to a continuation of blood. He was a 𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚, nothing more.

Like tsunamis it started small; a child prince walking leisurely as others ran ahead, sinking below water in a gasped breath, forced to watch the frolics above. He was himself and not enough, a sonata missing its crescendo and stumbling in hobbled gait through corridors and carpet. War at this age waited like medicine under sugar, silver spoon resting on eager tongue under the softened eyes of youthful naivety. He had a father that touched his cheek and told him of the stubble that was sure to grow soon, a marker of the man he wasn't prepared to become.

" 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

The bell tolled again and he began to run.

𝕽𝖊𝖋𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓​
Weathering wood groaned under trepidation, watching through keyholes at the babe clutched to ropes in growing uncertainty. A father guided him with steadying hand, reminding of the need to bend joints to wave desire and conquer tempestuous waters. Sniffled nose betrayed the troubles found in the task, shied away from comforting words for the sake of fear.

" 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭? " Lower lip trembled as it often did, sallow face gazing horridly at taut ropes and knots unknown. Another breath he'd be made to take, answer in firm grip and the braids cutting into skin. Again and again they'd cut deeper and he'd run the bleached hemp along skin until crimson dyed it a washed rose. Callouses would form in hardened lumps and scratch signatures into the face of newfound lovers and wards. Whispers would convince him in tittering tongues that it was normal of a prince, a side effect of an early birth.

To velveteen plush he continued to fall as limbs lengthened and stepped from drowning to a dance on the surface, a mockery of churning waters below. Freely he could prance for awhile, drinking from amphoras of salt to inhaling the scents of curtained homes and plush-covered floors.
​
𝘜𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖊​
The waves at least he remembered. Their churning maw and gutterly gasps to thundered skies. Charybdis swallowed whole the vessels who dared, dragged sacrificial souls to feed unseen beasts; it led to a father bested by storms he claimed to wield and conquer. Ink-laden eyes traded glances with the depths now in the age of man, concealed through mourning colors. Empty were the waters, quieter the response.

War came with death to a trickling slow, a faucet stemmed of its rage until lapping waves alone remained. A tomb rested, a trophy unwanted, a title unpassed.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦.

The donning of silks and silvered mists would mean little to aging eyes and torn hands. A festival meant only the rocking sound of acceptance after years of dredged denial. It was only defiance he would allow himself to the waves below, spit for the voyage never completed and a new journey set out upon.

Arledge stands uncertain again, lost of hand to soothe and ropes to tie. He is a placeholder for a man greater to himself and wistful to the ones free of constraints. Defiant, reluctant, a laboring heart filled with the uncertainty of a child holding ropes and running on sand.

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

► A skilled sailor, if anything, a man of knots and the riggings of ships; a fervent denier of the same abilities if asked
► Has an awful habit of scaling out of stone barriers and teetering along rooftops
► Preference for floral scents despite a continuous salty musk lingering on everything he disgraces with his touch
► Awful sense of subtlety, exasperated in the courts of pomp and circumstance
► Fond of small, slinky animals; often found scooping up critters of various kinds from surf and sand to display to others
► A romantic if only through shanties and songs sang by the common man
► Made dreadfully ill by sugary sweets and confections, a nauseated face pulled at the mention of spun sugar

 
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Royal Protectorate


  • REQUISITE

    FULL NAME:
    Estella Blackwood

    AGE:
    30

    GENDER:
    Female

    SEXUALITY:
    Homosexual

    OCCUPATION:
    Royal Protectorate of the Pluvia Household

    BIRTHDATE
    24th of December



    QUOTE ABOUT OR BY YOUR CHARACTER



Finem Belli
awaits me.
passion that I never knew glows, and ashes left? maybe time is the
grows
as the date draws nearer. I worry I may end up
alone.
Still, I want to find you like a
flower
wants to bloom.



TITLE OF THEME SONG

ARTIST




code by butterfly aubade
 
Last edited:













  • Medb

    squire of pluvia





































    full name


    Medb Sung









    nickname(s)


    None









    age


    20









    gender


    Cis female









    p.o.b.


    Pluvia









    d.o.b.


    May 21st









    ethnicity


    Pluvian
















































    • hair

      Black and straight. She choppily cut it short when she began her work as a squire, and continues to hack it off with a sword every year when it starts getting too long.









      eyes

      A dark brown, almost black. Monolid and wide.









      height

      5'3









      body mods.

      None










      faceclaim

      Dianne Doan

















    ♡coded by uxie♡

 
Last edited:






Marchioness Iris de Alger
















# widowed marchioness




# min










♡coded by uxie♡











ambitious




marchioness



iris de alger

I get what I want, and I don't wanna wait
You could call me impulsive, but I won't ever make you wait
Yeah, call me what you want 'cause a bitch ain't afraid
You can get nothin' from me,
I'm fuckin' here to make my place​




the basics.

name
iris de alger
nickname
n/a
date of birth
may 5
age
twenty-seven
sexuality
bisexual
gender
female
role
marchioness of caelum




the visage.

height
5'2
weight
125 lbs
hair
sleek, black hair draping down right below her chest
eyes
round brown eyes revealing nothing but ambition and greed
style
glamorous. she dresses as if comes from old money
body type
slim and petite. her weakness is she isn't physically strong, but her confident demeanor makes up for it
face claim
min








selfish






the personality.

iris views everyone she meets as potential pawns. judgmental and haughty is what many people that . however, to those she deems useful, she is charismatic and charming. she could be so ambitious that maybe that is why she does not have many people who she could call 'friends.' maybe she would rather throw others away before they throw her away. maybe it's that iris wants to be the one in control of the relationship. or maybe she is just content being alone surrounded by money as she drains the rich of their wealth.


the virtues.

charming

Iris had to be charming in order to schmooze her way into high society. with her intoxicating smiles and the constant batting of her eyelashes when she acts as if she’s embarrassed when people compliment her, it’s no wonder why the high class finds her so irresistible.

ambitious

as someone whose only drive is to milk the rich of their wealth and become rich herself, one has to be ambitious. iris worked hard to be where she is today. she started from nothing and used her resources and ambition to fake her way to becoming a marchioness

clever

how did she become part of the high class if she started from the slums as an orphan? she didn't. she lied and used her clever brain to get there. manipulating those around her to rise above the ranks and with a stroke of luck, managed to get one of her late husbands to sign her off as designated heir to their land right before he died. now that she’s a widow and ready to mingle, she’ll use her clever brain once again to wrangle in another poor, dumb rich person and drain them of their wealth.


the vices

selfish

iris is very one-tracked minded and only focuses on herself. she will sacrifice anyone and anything for her own benefit. some people in high society in caelum know her as the “low-class selfish bitch” who miraculously bulldozed her way in to be a marchioness

cold

to survive, iris had to grow up being cold. she learned to not grow attachments to anyone or anything because they will leave her in the end. so, she will hurt them first before they hurt her. which makes her feel less guilty when she backstabs a person in order to achieve her goals.

snobby

iris wants the best of the best. the newest fashions, expensive artwork, anything that makes her seem she is the most glamorous in all of tairis. she is very particular about how her foods should be and how her drinks should be made, if they are made wrong then iris will have a passive-aggressive talk with the head chef.


likes.

desserts, money, rich people, jewelry, high class, looking youthful, gold, jewelry, beaches, relaxing, drinking, spreading rumors, gossip

dislikes.

herself, poverty, being poor, stupid people, friends, partnerships, animals, dirty, cleaning, lack of control, unpredictability, emotions




childhood

Ever since Iris could remember, she was always been surviving. Always looking for the next scrap of food for the day. Always looking for the next best place to sleep. Always wondering if she was going to live the next day. Her mother was hardly there, sleeping during the day and disappearing at night. Sometimes, when Iris did see her mother, she would spiel dreams of having a better future and that her daughter needed to get out of the slums somehow. To be better than she is now. Of course, as a child, Iris had no idea how to get out of being poor. The rich always spat in her face or kicked her to the side of the road like some scum.

When Iris returned to her makeshift home, her mother wouldn't wake up. Iris vowed to get back at the rich and steal their wealth so they could realize how it feels to be in her position.

The young orphan devised a plan to try to infiltrate the upper class. That way, she could learn the ways of the high class and receive a better education. One day she peered and noticed some posh children playing near a lake. A dark thought flashed in her mind, and Iris decided to act upon the thought. She threw a rock at one of the kids, and the child fell into the lake, unable to swim. Iris quickly dove into the lake to save the child and was deemed a hero. When the parents came to ask what had happened, the children noted that someone had thrown a rock at the drowning child, and Iris blamed it on a homeless passerby.

The parents of the child Iris had saved were so grateful that they decided to sponsor this poor, homeless orphan's education by enrolling her in an academy.


adolescence

Iris excelled in her academics and etiquette. She learned how to be warm and charming when needed. Although, she did not make many friends because she chose to befriend those that increased her social standing. She became top of her class. It impressed her sponsor family so much that they ended up adopting her. Thus, she became part of a family of viscounts and viscountesses. When she became of age, her adoptive parents decided it was time for Iris to find a husband. Iris was ecstatic, she could finally set her plan in motion.

It seemed like luck has been on Iris's side because she seemed to catch the eye of a viscount. This viscount was a sleazy and older man who fell for Iris's beauty and charm. Just as he had fallen for her, he married her just as quickly. Soon enough, Iris gained the status of a viscountess. She lived lavishly and made sure she warmed her way up to be his one and only confidant. Soon, the viscount became mysteriously ill and ended up being bedridden. As the viscount's only confidant, Iris could gradually milk him of his money into her own savings. Once the viscount realized the betrayal, it was too late. His wife had already disappeared with all of his money,


currently

After her first scam, Iris went around the country with various identities and drained the rich of their wealth. It became an addiction. She hated being poor. She wanted to never run out of money and was able to exact revenge on the wealthy people that saw her as a literal shit stain when she was younger. Now she has the power and the means to make the high class hit rock bottom. It was thrilling, really. It made her elated that she was completing her goals. Of course, Iris would often see a poor orphan scavenging for food, and it would obviously remind her of herself. With a slight pang of empathy, she would give the child exactly three gold coins. If Iris gave too many, she would also end up living in poverty again, and she certainly did not want that to happen.

One day, she met a frail marquess desperate for a wife. Iris thought taking him as her husband would be quite easy to steal from, especially since he was about to die anyways. However, he was nothing like she expected. The marquess spent all of his time trying to petition for programs that could benefit the homeless in the area. Iris became confused, she assumed all wealthy people were despicable and heartless. But not this one. Though, Iris supposed it may be because he had a terminal illness and he was making up for all the sins he may have committed.

On the marquess's deathbed, he wrote on his will that Iris will be the sole owner of his property and riches. Now, that Iris has a steady income, will she continue to steal more money?

Probably.






/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
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    • Have you never wished to become someone else?












      appearance











      height

      5'10"






      Hair

      Black







      eye c.

      Black














      Hair

      Never been cut. Dark strands go all the way down to her waist when down, but it's thin enough to be hidden in a large hat when masquerading as a man at sea.






      Eyes

      Black as the night sky, when light hits them it looks like shining stars.






      Style

      More into leather and pants than lace and bows. Though she'll play the part, she feels much freer at sea than here in the ballroom.






      Distinguishing

      Certain scars on her body are not achievable through a princess lifestyle. Though most can be covered by clothing, one on her cheek requires a lengthy makeup routine to keep up her ruse.






      Face-claim

      Amita Suman


























































    ♡coded by uxie♡


 
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  • vivid.









    the artist.










    01.



    02.



    03.














    • 01.




















      01


      name.


      beatrix bardot







      02


      a.k.a.


      bea







      03


      gender.


      female







      04


      age.


      twenty-five







      05


      birthday.


      july twenty-third







      06


      orientation.


      unaware homosexual







      07


      kingdom.


      arborious



















      visage.







      height.


      5'4"






      appearance.


      Long, dark brown hair that falls in tousled waves and once considerately done braids and twists line the frizz of hair pulled free along with cocoa-colored doe-wide eyes and dark eyelashes - these components make up the highlights of Beatrix’s appearance. A thin, small button nose is posed in the center of her face, with roseate, half-bitten lips following underneath. She has fair skin, particularly pale despite time in the sun, though has naturally rosy cheeks.

      The artist is relatively thin, set apart by her arms, which have a decent amount of muscle in them from activities such as climbing trees and pulling herself up onto ledges. She’s feminine in appearance, preferring delicate dresses of lace and tulle when allowed, with soft pastels of color. When she can’t wear her nicer dresses and wants to keep her party clothes safe, the girl settles for button up blouses and long skirts that she can risk getting dirty in any way she sees fit (often with paint splatters or dirt).






      faceclaim.


      lee ji eun


















    ♡coded by uxie♡


 
Last edited:
This CS may still have further edits!












Name: Cyrus, the Bastard of Bellvaire
Age: 28
Gender: Cis males, uses he/him pronouns.
Orientation: Bi
Kingdom: Arborious.
Occupation: Soldier. Highest rank achieved was Commander (Led a unit of about 2000 men)
Visuals:
Hair: Dark brown, parted on the side. He has it grown out a bit, usually somewhere between an inch below his chin to just brushing his shoulders depending on how recently he got it cut. He typically wears it down, but will tie it back or braid it for formal occasions.
Eyes: Dark brown
Build: Cyrus is a little over 6’ feet tall and while muscular, he is not overly so. He looks like he could fight well, but not win on strength alone.
Skin: Light brown, tans easily. He is covered in scars of various sizes, some of which he remembers the origins but still more he has no recollection of receiving.
Faceclaim: Luke Pasquillano.

Personality.

It’s difficult to succinctly describe Cyrus’s personality, because he acts so differently depending on where he is- Or more accurately, who he is with.

With his seventeen year old sister, he is a doting older brother. He is infinitely patient with her rambling stories about trivial things, concerned about her well being, and always willing to help her appraise the tapestry she has been working on most recently, often giving suggestions for a certain color here or a specific stitch type there.

Around his father, he is commonly reticent and even outright bitter at times. He’s often stone faced and silent, but sometimes he argues simply to pick a fight or flirts openly with the stableboy to get a rise out of the older man. If Cyrus was self aware enough to know what the desired outcome of such behavior was, maybe he could say if it was effective or not.

In the company of his troops, Cyrus was a calm but demanding leader. He developed a reputation as being level-headed even during great stress, but not one to abide by any misbehavior. Those under his command found to be abusing civilians learned that he follows the old tradition- A hand cut off for the first offense. The head for the second. Notably, Cyrus always swung the ax himself.

Having been elevated to his eventual high rank, Cyrus remained fairly humble during his military command. Instead of taking his meals alone in his tent as he was entitled, he would rotate amongst the squads for dinner. He was also known to personally lead quite a few of the more dangerous and covert missions he planned, and it could not be said that he was the type of leader willing to send his men into situations he himself would not face.

Cyrus has many facets, and it remains to be seen exactly what kind of man will be attending the Finem Belli Festival.

History.

TW for child abuse

For generations, the duchy of Bellvaire has passed to the oldest child, regardless of gender. Exceptions have been made, of course- When the current Duke or Duchess feels their eldest not fit to inherit. They might instead appoint a younger child, or even a niece or nephew instead.

Lady Emeria was a year older than her brother Lord Garret, as cold as she was beautiful. Although Lord Garret had established himself as a man of the people, and married the Queen’s sister and already had a child on the way, there did not seem to be a reason to break tradition.

Until Emeria could no longer hide the growing swell of her belly. Her father raged and ranted, but she refused to marry. She refused to even name the child’s father. The scandal was all the people of Arborious- noble and common alike - would talk about for months, a welcome bit of gossip to contrast with the constant news of the never-ending war.

The rumors circulating ranged from plausible to impossible, though by far the most popular was that she had some low-born lover she was protecting from her father’s wrath.

And then- The madness took her, shortly after Cyrus’s birth. It must have been the combined stresses of the scandal and the pregnancy that broke her mind. Insanity is the only reason a new mother would try to suffocate her newborn son.

Thankfully, the nursemaid caught her in the action and spirited the infant Cyrus away. The nursemaid relayed the story to the Duke and to Lord Garret, and soon the whole duchy knew of what had happened.

In a truly selfless act for which he was later widely lauded, Lord Garret told his father the Duke that he would take in his bastard nephew. That he would raise Cyrus alongside his own toddling boy, Elion, and treat them both as his sons. It came as no surprise to the people of Bellvaire when Lord Garret was officially named as the Duke’s heir- And just in time too, for the old Duke passed of a brain storm shortly after.

The new Duke Garret was a kind and generous man, everyone said, to take the boy in and raise him as his own.

Cyrus and Elion grew up together, and grew to be just as close as biological brothers. They sat in lessons with their tutors together, learned to ride horses together and played at sword fighting together, boasting to each other of the glory they would bring to Arborious someday.

If the servants changing their clothes noticed the fresh bruises across Cyrus’s skin after the boys had snuck out of Bellvaire Castle to spend the afternoon exploring the forest around the house- It wasn’t their place to say anything.

If the Duchess noticed that Cyrus limped after Elion had back talked to his father- At least her husband’s rage was pointed away from herself and her son.

A hundred other incidents- Ignored. After all, Duke Garret was a kind and generous man.

Eventually, Cyrus learned not to scream. It only gave his adopted father pleasure.

Cyrus learned to be bitter and withdrawn, to lash out when he could- He was going to be punished regardless, so why not earn it?

When Cyrus was eleven and Elion twelve, their little sister was born. It was a difficult pregnancy for a woman of the Duchess’s age, and she did not live to see her daughter named.

Despite the tragedy of her arrival, the young Lady Graceling was beloved by all, even her mercurial father. Her presence softened Cyrus’s own growing temper, as he knew his access to his little sister was controlled by the Duke.

Despite the way the Duke treated him, Cyrus had long since thought of him as ‘father’. He had little relationship with the Lady Emeria, who’d been confined to a remote countryside estate for years. He wrote to her occasionally out of instructed duty, and rarely had a reply back. He was fifteen when she suffered a brain storm like her father before her- It did not kill her, but her health was ruined, and her mind slipped even further from her.

As they grew older, the war became more and more real for Cyrus and Elion- No longer a thing they might one day seek glory in, but an all encompassing conflict that was destroying their continent. It was true that Arborious was more removed from the everyday reality of battles due to their mountain border, but the war still touched them and everytime the conflict escalated, the people of their homeland starved.

Cyrus was seventeen when he joined the war effort, and Elion decided to follow him. Elion and Duke Garret had a massive row about it, the only time the Duke raised a hand to his older son. His heir could not risk his life on the battlefield, and when the Duke eventually saw his boy would not be swayed, he got Elion an enlisted position where he might be safer than on the frontlines.

He did no such favor for Cyrus.

So Cyrus was a foot soldier for two years, and Elion his officer.

But Elion was not the kind of man to sit behind while others fought, and the Duke’s plans were for naught.

In a battle against Caelum for control of one of the mountain passes, Elion and several other officers were captured. With no one else in charge for the time being, Cyrus took over command of the men and organized a small rescue mission.

By the time they infiltrated the Caelum force’s camp, the officers had been tortured and killed. Elion’s eyes were staring blankly ahead when he was found, and Cyrus closed them before gently pressing his lips to his brother’s bloodied forehead. There was no time for the proper burial rites, no time to say goodbye.

Instead, Cyrus snuck into the tent of the force’s highest ranked commander, and beheaded him while he slept. Then he and his men burnt the camp to the ground.

Cyrus and his small band returned to the Arborious forces and held the pass for another week before reinforcements could arrive.

After that, Cyrus rose through the ranks of the Arborious military quickly.

He became known as the Bastard of Bellvaire, an epithet of dual meaning. His tactics were sneaky and underhanded, according to his opponents. ‘Effective’ was the word he would have chosen.

He raided the crop fields of Platet whenever he was near one, but when he was done- He would salt and burn the fields.

He swam aboard a Pluvian ship under the cover of a moonless night and poisoned their drinking water.

He set off a landslide and crushed the supply lines feeding a camp of Caelum soldiers.

Nearly a decade of his life, he dedicated to the war. He had a leave break of several weeks each year, which he spent at Bellvaire Castle, fighting with his father and marveling over how little the letters they exchanged did to show how his sister had grown. But always, he returned to the war.

He fought and bled for it, and nearly died for it more than once. His body is littered with the scars of it. He starved for it. He killed for it, and saw those under his protection killed for it return. And now… It’s over?

Simply because one man fell in love with a woman. It feels surreal to Cyrus, like something he’d read to his little sister in a book of fables. Not like something that actually happened, something that changed his life.

He’s been back at Bellvaire Castle for a bit now, trying to settle into a new routine. The announcement of the Finem Belli Festival shook up all the nobility of Arborious, and the Duke of Bellvaire was no exception. Getting on in his years, he does not feel up to traveling such a great distance. But Bellvaire is one of the most powerful families in Arborious, and must have representation at such a gathering.

So Cyrus is being sent in his stead. He is to treat with the other nobles of the continent and engender good feelings towards the Bellvaire family, and to assess the young lords for possible marriage matches for his sister.

Cyrus is a bit skeptical of how well he will achieve this- He was raised as a noble, yes, and is treated as one by the people of Bellvaire. But even with his finest table manners and politest turns of phrase- things with which he has long since been out of practice- will the other nobles see him as an equal?

When Duke Garret first announced his intention to send Cyrus to Finem Belli Festival, Cyrus initially suspected a cruel joke on his father’s part. Some ploy to demonstrate that Cyrus would be unable to fit in with the continent’s finest.

But the next day, his father pulled him aside and shared his other concerns- That the war may be officially over, but that the tensions were not. And so Cyrus was instructed on his second goal for the Finem Belli Festival: To make sure the Arborious princesses come home safely.

They have their own guards, of course, but should anything go… sideways, the Duke feels it would be beneficial to have another soldier dedicated to the girls’ well-being. And if Cyrus’s actions should endear the Bellvaire family to the royals, then all the better.

The Duke may have no affection for the boy he raised as his son, but he knows his strengths- You can take the man out of the war, but it’s much harder to take the war out of the man.









the bastard of bellvaire



Cyrus








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
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  • YOU HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL BE MY QUEEN.












    appearance











    height

    6'1"
    (185cm)






    hair c.

    Black







    eye c.

    Black














    Hair

    Styled swept to the side his hair is bashfully perfect. Even down to his neatly kept beard. Without as much as a flyaway insight, he effortlessly gives off am annoyingly polished appearance. On rare occasions when he’s spotted at night one might catch a glimpse of healthy disheveled curly hair.






    Eyes

    Kind pools of teasing charcoal. They always seem to be sparkling with emotion; amusement, disbelief, annoyance. His gaze easily betrays him with its honesty. This quality typically wins over untrusting strangers given time.






    Style

    Loose and flowing shirts take up the majority of his wardrobe in hues of brown, blue, and white. Fond of breathable clothes, especially picky when it comes to arms, Cal tends to sport sheer tops with puffed sleeves. If modesty is encouraged he’d rather layer a corset over his average outfit than wear a jacket or suit. The only “fancy” component of his attire is how most of his shirts are embroidered with symbols of Pluvia tailored by his father. Otherwise, his dress is simple and humble of his station.






    Distinguishing

    Necklaces and bracelets dangle on his limbs. Each given to him by other people in his life. They are kept in pristine condition and are never seen removed from his person.






    Face-claim

    Raymond Ablack.

















































♡coded by uxie♡

 
Witch of Arborious
Juno
  • Introversion
    Inquisitiveness
    Neuroticism
    love of frogs
    “
    ”
    The wildlife come and go as they please, but I like it when they're here.
    Name
    Juno Belrose
    Orientation
    Omnisexual
    Gender
    Female
    Kingdom
    Arboreous
    age
    TWENTY-ONE
    Pronouns
    She/they
    Occupation
    Witch, potion maker, botanist extraordinaire
    Appearance
    BALALALA THIS IS WHERE APPEARANCE GOES

    Personality
    BALALALA THIS IS WHERE PERSONALITY GOES
code by Nano
 
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