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Fantasy i am the villain

houseplant

houseplant

embracing all my scars and imperfections
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)


















good evening...





"welcome to the 40th annual ball!"
Fairy lights and large flower arrangements decorated the walls, tables of food and drinks littered across the ballroom hall. It was a tradition every year for the royal family to host a ball for all of the young ladies and gentlemen of the kingdom, giving a chance for anybody too mingle as they please no matter the family they come from. With beautiful some of the most influential families gathered in one room, rumors and hostility run amok sparing nobody from it's wicked tongue.

for now, the ballroom was calm. but who knew what would happen between the two princes who often seemed to have it out for each other, or the evil lurking in the dark ready too pounce at any given moment unbeknownst to the crowd. it was definitely going too be a night to remember for the kingdom of Parlton.





























villain - k/da












♡coded by uxie♡

 










scroll
adelaide st.clair





location





interactions





tags










"Are you sure you're fine too go? You just got cleared after the accident."
Adelaide glanced at her younger brother through the mirror, nodding her head with a gentle smile thrown in his direction. It had only been a few days since she had been brought too this world, and she was still getting used to everything. She had been absolutely erratic when she had woken up, and it had taken four different people to hold her back. She was confused and terrified, and she almost felt like it was a dream until her brother thumped her hard on the forehead, the pain feeling too real for it to have just been a dream. From what she understood, Adelaide had went missing one night and had fallen into the ocean and been saved by a few fishermen who had found her struggling, but her memories of her real life were still fuzzy. She just knew she didn't belong here, and that she was just some imposter filling in the role of a villainess, but one thing was for sure, she was not getting the bad ending.

"I'm fine, Noah."
She finished fiddling with her earring, straightening up too stare at herself in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous, littered with gold roses and small yellow butterflies, and a beautiful ribbon filling in for a corset on her waist. The heart opening was a bit scandalous for the church in her opinion, but nobody had said a thing since she had put it on. As her hand raised, she glanced down at the thin scar running from her wrist too the crook of her elbow, just barely hidden by the sleeves of the dress. Virgil. The scar she had gotten when they were younger and she had tried healing his arm. Her fingers gently ran over it, a small smile playing on her lips as she remembered she'd be seeing him that night.

"Are you two almost ready?"
Adelaide's face dropped at the voice, but she quickly replaced it with a small smile. Her mother walked into the room, gown dragging across the floor as she passed her son. Her fingers reached for the ribbon around Adelaide's waist and she gave it a strong yank, tightening it in a single motion. Adelaide winced at the feeling, but refused too meet her gaze.

"Yes, mother."
Adelaide mumbled softly, and her face was yanked up forcefully by the chin her eyes meeting her mother's. It was like staring into the eyes of a serpent ready too strike. Devoid of any emotion but malice, not a hint of affection too be found.

"Speak properly. Do not make a fool of us tonight in front of the prince. Do you understand me?"
It was a threat and Adelaide knew better then too challenge it. Though, the person she truly was inside was running thin on patience for the vile woman in front of her.

"Yes, mother. We should get going so we're not late."
Noah quickly interrupted, grabbing at his sister's wrist and pulling her back from his mother's grip.

"I'll take care of her tonight, don't worry."
He assured giving Adelaide a gentle nudge. She nodded quickly, and he led her from the room.

"Relax, you're glowing."
Adelaide had barely noticed that she was emitting the warm glow due to her nerves, and she quickly willed it to stop giving him a thankful smile.

"I look like a glowstick."
She mumbled, and Noah turned towards her with a confused expression.

"What is a glowstick?"


-=-

They had arrived just as the ball started, and as they entered the room a few eyes were trained on them. It hadn't taken long for the rumors of Adelaide's recent accident too spread, but a lot of it had come with a lot of strange rumors. That she was meeting a secret lover she had been hiding from the Crown Prince was probably the most common one, but she had never been one too care about rumors. Her heart thumped at the thought of meeting him, and her eyes nervously flickered over the crowd, looking for him. Adelaide had dropped off a cute patterned ball she had found for Varik one day, but hadn't heard anything back since. Despite it not actually being her who sent it, she could feel herself aching for a response. It felt weird, whenever she looked at him she felt nothing but love, but she wasn't actually Adelaide. It felt like she was tricking him in a way, but she knew she had too do something to make sure she survived.

Without thinking, her fingers reached for the nearest glass and she downed it, hearing a few gasps. The drink was bitter, the faint taste of alcohol on her tongue as she sat it down. Noah stared at her like she had grown a second head, and a few of the nobles nearby were also staring at her in shock.

"I thought it was juice. That was gross."
She instantly lied, a small frown on her lips as she stared up at her brother. In all fairness, it did look a lot like the nonalcoholic juice sitting right beside it, but she had definitely picked up the wine with a purpose.

"Maybe mother is right. I think you've gone mad."
Noah shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation and she grinned, gently pushing him forward.

"Go enjoy your night, Noah. I'll go and mingle."
Noah hesitated for a second, but she motioned him away again and he nodded, giving her a small wave as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving the young woman too lean against the wall, eyes scanning the room once again.



♡coded by uxie♡
 



Calliope Salacia





































  • mood



    Exhausted…
















The short scoff from her governess would normally cut through Calliope like a knife. Sharp and disapproving, Emily is not quite sure how Calliope didn’t go crazy sooner.

“My lady, I really must insist that you change dresses. This is so… revealing.” The woman didn’t mean skin wise. The shimmering scales on the bodice of the dress complete with the flowing outline truly reminded her of the ocean; of her heritage.

"I’ll take it into consideration."
She replies curtly, her arms held out as her maids rushed to cinch her waist and decorate her hair with pearls. Madam Edith’s frown only deepens, and she lets out a small hiss.

“To think, I had to discipline you only a few nights ago after your outburst. You understand if this night goes poorly, I must do that again?” The threat lands on deaf ears, though Calliope’s calfs still sting from thrashes she’d received.

”I understand perfectly.
The only daughter of Lord Salacia, she was expected to bring grace and honor to her house hold. Though her father never pressed her to get married unnecessarily, the weight was still there. It had only doubled since Emily woke up in this body.

The last thing she remembered was carrying a delivery box upstairs, and failing to see whatever it is that made her fall backwards. She hit her head hard, and then everything went dark. Suddenly, she wakes up in a soft, comforting bed, with a silk nightgown and… long hair? She didn’t understand what had happened to her shoulder length brown hair, but all of the sudden she had flowing golden locks, and soft skin. Softer than what she remembered. She’d thrown a fit as soon as she looked in the mirror, causing such a ruckus her father even heard it. Her governess was furious, and gave her twenty full lashings on her calfs while the maids held her down.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Now, standing in a gilded room with opulent people, Emily isn’t sure what to do. She stands by a pillar, nursing an alcoholic drink, and desperately trying to avoid talking to people that she should know yet definitely doesn’t. Her gaze sweeps across the entire room, hazy and a little confused. She hasn’t spotted the heroine that should be here yet. Maybe meeting her will allow her to go home? She’s still completely convinced there will be a ‘going home’ stage, unfortunately.

Her gaze is torn away from the room by the entrance of another villainess in the game. Adelaide St.Claire. She never knew her story line too well, but Calliope knew she couldn’t be that bad if they were at the beginning of the plot line, right? And yet, as she says that, Adelaide grabs a drink from a waiter with barely a thank you, downing it so quick it makes Calliope raise her eyebrows. Interesting.

She leans back against the pillar, trying to enjoy the music and her drink, begging this dream to end so she can wake up and finish her dissertation. She never thought she’d say that sentence….

































MISSING HOME



nineishuman










♡coded by uxie♡


The short scoff from her governess would normally cut through Calliope like a knife. Sharp and disapproving, Emily is not quite sure how Calliope didn’t go crazy sooner.

“My lady, I really must insist that you change dresses. This is so… revealing.” The woman didn’t mean skin wise. The shimmering scales on the bodice of the dress complete with the flowing outline truly reminded her of the ocean; of her heritage.

"I’ll take it into consideration."
She replies curtly, her arms held out as her maids rushed to cinch her waist and decorate her hair with pearls. Madam Edith’s frown only deepens, and she lets out a small hiss.

“To think, I had to discipline you only a few nights ago after your outburst. You understand if this night goes poorly, I must do that again?” The threat lands on deaf ears, though Calliope’s calfs still sting from thrashes she’d received.

”I understand perfectly.
The only daughter of Lord Salacia, she was expected to bring grace and honor to her house hold. Though her father never pressed her to get married unnecessarily, the weight was still there. It had only doubled since Emily woke up in this body.

The last thing she remembered was carrying a delivery box upstairs, and failing to see whatever it is that made her fall backwards. She hit her head hard, and then everything went dark. Suddenly, she wakes up in a soft, comforting bed, with a silk nightgown and… long hair? She didn’t understand what had happened to her shoulder length brown hair, but all of the sudden she had flowing golden locks, and soft skin. Softer than what she remembered. She’d thrown a fit as soon as she looked in the mirror, causing such a ruckus her father even heard it. Her governess was furious, and gave her twenty full lashings on her calfs while the maids held her down.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Now, standing in a gilded room with opulent people, Emily isn’t sure what to do. She stands by a pillar, nursing an alcoholic drink, and desperately trying to avoid talking to people that she should know yet definitely doesn’t. Her gaze sweeps across the entire room, hazy and a little confused. She hasn’t spotted the heroine that should be here yet. Maybe meeting her will allow her to go home? She’s still completely convinced there will be a ‘going home’ stage, unfortunately.

Her gaze is torn away from the room by the entrance of another villainess in the game. Adelaide St.Claire. She never knew her story line too well, but Calliope knew she couldn’t be that bad if they were at the beginning of the plot line, right? And yet, as she says that, Adelaide grabs a drink from a waiter with barely a thank you, downing it so quick it makes Calliope raise her eyebrows. Interesting.

She leans back against the pillar, trying to enjoy the music and her drink, begging this dream to end so she can wake up and finish her dissertation. She never thought she’d say that sentence….
 
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scroll
Virgil Parlton





parlton palace





adelaide, marnius, alder, vilina





Dicentra Dicentra










The Annual Parlton Ball had been a celebration months in the making. Though most nobles only saw the luxurious decor and the mouthwatering food, Virgil had been present for all of his mother's fussing regarding the finer details of the ballroom. The height of the fairy lights, the precise shades that the banners must be dyed, and even the ice sculptures that stood atop the feast's table. Earlier in the day, Virgil considered volunteering to create the sculptures himself to avoid an audience with his uncle, but decided against it lest anyone think he had an interest in overseeing these occasions.

Sirius was more suited for dealing with commoners anyway.

Instead, the future king spent the rest of his morning with his war council discussing the recent attacks on the trade route between West Parlton and Rezegh. For the past month several merchant vessels had been raided and a few bigger ships commandeered by the Sea Princes. Led by a bearded man with a hammer for a hand, they'd been a thorn in the navy's side for the past month. Despite the nations best efforts, the captain was a slippery man with seemingly endless resources. Being the only nation bordering Rezegh, Virgil suspected that Zulbric might have hired the crew to sabotage Rezegh's food supply and in turn, drive a wedge between the two nations.

"Bah, I don't see why we should be sending our grain to those leeches!" His uncle had barked during the meeting, "they barely pay us any coin."

"Better that we take advantage of their blight than the Zulbric." Virgil replied. "Should we curry their favor, the king may be open to an official alliance."

By the end of the meeting, they decided to send a scouting party consisting of five soldiers and an illusory mage. Once the night's festivities were over, Marnius would begin planning their attack and Virgil would contact Rezegh's king.

Were that the extent of his time with his extended family, the Crown Prince would have been content; however, his father insisted upon a small lunch so that he and his uncle could prattle on about the success of his Dukedom and float questions regarding both Virgil and Sirius' future wives. The daughter of a priest and the daughter of a demon, the light of the Goddess and the darkness of Hell. With both marriages, the Parlton Kingdom would have the hand of both Ophelia's light and Infernal's darkness--they would be an unstoppable force so long as everyone played their parts.

"That's assuming that bride of yours still hasn't gone mad from the accident." His uncle chortled, only to feel a sudden chill bite his fingertips.

"Ridiculing the future queen reflects poorly on you, dear Uncle."


Thankfully, Virgil's irritation simmered down to mild annoyance, which allowed him to put on the face of a graceful prince. Donning an embroidered coat, matching pants, and a royal mantle, nobody could mistake him for anything less than Parlton's next king. The first arrivals seemed to track him as he walked to the wine table as if searching a sign to approach him. It was only after he took his first sip that one of the future dukes greeted him and the rest followed.

With the number of young men and women yearning for his attention, it was unthinkable for him to show anything less than a smile.
"How fare thee"s, "Thank you for coming"s, and "Good evening"s
graced his lips as he shook hands with the children of nobility. Unlike the commoners who would be forced to queue for an audience with him and Sirius, he was required to personally greet anyone of noble blood.

Even the lesser or fallen nobility would be graced with his presence because they were the ones who once took care of their territories. Of the most garish was House Tremayne whose presence lingered long after their wealth departed. Her parents convinced themselves that the invitations to the seasonal banquets were genuine rather than lip service to their ancestors. Instead, they attended every feast while believing themselves to be superior to actual members of the court. He could not comment on whether their daughter was equally deluded, but the discomfort of their past encounters told him otherwise.

"Lady Vilina, I trust you've been well this evening."



♡coded by uxie♡
 
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the demon princess.





‎ Lacia Arcaela Ataraxia Rosegrave



































Flawless My Dear

















mood

Anxious || Optimistic






location

The Grand Ballroom










mentions

Sirius






tags

Open!












Lacia glanced at herself in the mirror as the gown she was to wear to the kingdom’s ball that night was fastened with deft, expert hands. Her ladies-in-waiting, handpicked for their unwavering loyalty to both her and her father before her departure to Parlton, had never once passed judgment on her. They were her steadfast companions, and in their presence, Lacia always felt a quiet sense of security. A warm smile graced her elegant features when the ladies stepped back to reveal the incredible gown that had been tailor made just for her.

“I am…speechless–”
The Princess slowly turned in place and saw herself at every available angle it provided.
“I do not think I have ever worn anything so magnificent.”
Her eyes glanced between the two ladies who exchanged pleased looks between themselves.
“You have certainly outdone yourselves with the design. You have my eternal gratitude.”


Stepping down from upon the platform carefully, the full skirts of the gown gathered in both hands, Princess Lacia drew them into gracious embraces. There were few people in her life whom she trusted unreservedly, but these two—her devoted maids—displayed a sincerity that needed no further explanation. Their care for her was genuine, unwavering, and she felt it deeply.

"Are you quite certain about attending the ball, my Lady?" One of the attendants asked, her voice laced with concern as she took Lacia’s hand gently in her own. "You’ve only just recovered..."

"I must agree," the other lady chimed in, her tone equally filled with worry. "While we are all relieved that you’ve regained your strength, perhaps it is too soon to venture out, especially to a ball so soon after your illness."

Lacia’s melodious laughter filled the room, though she quickly placed a hand to her lips, a gesture of modesty. Her recovery had been swift and inexplicable, and she felt stronger than ever. The cause of her previous affliction was a mystery, but laughter seemed the only fitting response to such a strange turn of events.

“Your concern is appreciated but I feel that I must attend,”
She said, her voice light.
“There are matters requiring my attention and besides… it would be refreshing to be out and about tonight– perhaps.”
Her uniquely colored fuschia eyes glanced away briefly with a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
“O-Or so we shall hope, hm? Now…how about some tea before the hard work begins?”


•┈••✦ ✞ ✦••┈•​

Mina Ravencroft couldn’t quite piece together what had happened. One moment, she was bedridden with a severe illness, wracked with fever, and the next—she awoke in an unfamiliar world, trapped in a body that wasn’t her own. The environment around her felt strangely familiar, but nothing seemed to stand out at first, nothing that could anchor her to reality. It wasn’t until the attendants who waited on her called her by a name she didn’t recognize at first—Lacia—that a sudden clarity washed over her. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her mind.

Her name was Lacia Arcaela Ataraxia Rosegrave, and she was… well, she was a character from a video game Mina had once played, Phantoms of Love.

But if this was true—if she had somehow become this game character—how was she here? Mina's memories of the game were hazy at best, little more than fragments that didn’t quite align with the present reality. When she tried to reach back, to recall any concrete details, the fog would return, clouding the line between her former self and the woman now inhabiting this strange, foreign body. Lacia was a character deeply misunderstood by nearly everyone around her, a tragic figure whose story had several possible endings. Most were bleak, some were downright tragic, and only a rare few could be considered even remotely happy.

Mina couldn’t recall the specifics that might guide her toward a "good" ending, but one thing was abundantly clear: Prince Sirius of Parlton was central to her narrative. Whatever the future held, his role was paramount.

•┈••✦ ✞ ✦••┈•​

Lacia’s horse-drawn carriage slowly made its way towards the front of the castle, though she wasn’t in any hurry herself. She loved basking in the ceremony and spectacle of a ball and drank in the sights of all the kingdom’s lords and ladies dressed in their finest. The evening boasted some fun to be had and such a public setting would serve as a good change of pace. Much the introvert and content with her many books, venturing out amongst the company of others was a breath of fresh air.

As the carriage came to a halt, the door swung open, and her footman was immediately at her side with a velvet stool. He offered his hand to assist her as she disembarked.

"I won’t be long,"
she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.
"Please, enjoy yourself in my absence."


With a graceful motion, she stepped out, her delicate cowl draped over her head to shield her face. Her black cloak shimmered under the rapidly fading sunlight with its many shimmers and sparkles like starlight upon a canvas of rich, inky night. Underneath the travel garment, peeks of black, gold, and iridescence would occasionally come into view but it wasn’t until she was safely inside did the Princess remove her protective cloak. Lacia handed her cloak over to a dutiful doorman who collected the outerwear of all the attendees as well but the Princess held her breath once the veil was removed. She was no stranger to the sidelong glances and stares she always received– while it couldn’t be helped and people would think whatever they wanted to think, being on display…and ALONE made it more uncomfortable than usual.

Lacia’s maids had truly outdone themselves in preparing her for the ball. Her long purple hair cascaded in soft, elegant waves down her back, half of it drawn into a braided updo. Fine chains of gold wove through the style, and a tiara—fit for a princess—crowned her head. Her makeup highlighted her sharp, almost angelic features, and her unusually colored fuchsia eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, accentuating their otherworldly depth. She was breathtaking—every inch a true princess, but it was only her own breath that would be held in anticipation. Despite her beauty, Lacia was always kept at arm's length, no matter how often she engaged in acts of charity or kindness. As the Demon Princess, she had learned to accept that no matter how hard she tried to fit in, others would always view her with suspicion, if not outright fear.

‘Do not let the opinions of others dim your light.’


Squaring her shoulders back and holding her head high, the Demon Princess gracefully drifted into the main hall of the ball. Her gown seemed to glow with its own ethereal light: the blending of hard and soft, high contrast and sweet pastel from the iridescent fabric in her skirt blended together in perfect harmony; the bodice was perfectly structured, enhancing her posture, while the voluminous skirts swirled around her like a living veil. If any doubts about her inhuman heritage lingered, they would surely be erased tonight for her very presence seemed to radiate a quiet, undeniable power.

Confident or simply practiced, Lacia mingled with the other guests, exchanging pleasantries and small talk when drawn into conversation. She knew her path was fraught with challenges, but she held onto the hope that, one day, the kingdom—and perhaps even the empire—would accept her for who she was.

After all, there was something else she hoped to accomplish tonight.

She had to make a lasting impression, one that would reflect well on the Second Prince of Parlton... her betrothed.

‘...GOD I could really use a drink...’











 
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Vilina Tremayne
The Animal Whisperer
The Palace Ballroom
Survive. That was all she had to do tonight. Between all the bad endings she could face, the deceitful people she might encounter, and the disasters that loomed on the horizon.. all she had to do was survive.. in this accursed corset. Vilina could feel her ribs pressing against one another, grinding painfully, as her mother pulled each string of the corset tighter and tighter. Her breath hitched with every tug, but no complaint passed her lips. A small waist, a puffy helm - maybe the modern beauty standards aren't all that different from this age. The societal norms seemed as suffocating no matter the time period, literally and figuratively.

With one final pull, her mother released her, letting out an exhausted sigh followed by a long-winded complaint about how they ought to have maids for this sort of thing. "After all, we were once a prestigious family." But prestige meant little without money, and their coffers had long since run dry. The finer things in life were now out of reach, and in this era, that included the luxury of someone else enduring the arduous task of tying a torturous corset.

Vilina shifted, adjusting her posture just enough to allow her lungs the slightest room to draw breath - but still, the corset bit into her sides. Despite the lack of oxygen reaching her brain, Vilina thoughts didn't shift towards blaming her mother for her frantic obsession with tonight’s preparations. This was more than a ball; it was a rare and fleeting chance to claw their way back into society’s good graces. A chance her mother was clearly determined not to waste. Not to mention, the invitation hadn’t come from just anyone - it had been sent by none other than the crown prince himself. Virgil Parlton.

His name alone made the bitter pain of the bodice feel distant, her cheeks warming as a soft flush crept across them. It would be fair to say that Vilina harbored what some might call a small crush on him. After all, he was the dashing prince of the narrative - the very character whose route she had played countless times in the original game.

The same story she just so happened to find herself inexplicably living in.

A dashing prince whisking the heroine off her feet - the thought itself was like something out of a fairytale. She had replayed his route so many times that imagining him now, flesh and blood in this world, felt surreal, almost too good to be true. She wasn’t terribly thrilled about the ball itself - the suffocating undergarments, the endless formalities, the pressure to impress. But she was undeniably excited about one thing: seeing Virgil.

At least, that thought made the long carriage ride to the palace seem shorter. And it was a long ride. Unlike most nobles who could afford grand estates near the capital and the palace, the Tremayne family resided on the outskirts of the country, where the cost of maintaining even a modest estate was far more manageable. It was quieter there, Vilina mused, staring out at the rolling fields that stretched endlessly under the setting sun. Though their home lacked the grandeur of those nearer to the palace, it had a charm of its own - a tranquil simplicity that, in its way, she found comforting.

Oh, how she missed that tranquility already. As their carriage came to a halt, Vilina and her mother stepped out, carefully adjusting their gowns before making their way to the grand entrance. It wasn’t difficult to locate - every time the doors opened to admit another guest, the sound of lively laughter and animated conversations spilled out, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the faint strains of music. Vilina’s breath hitched slightly as they approached. The grandeur, the energy - it was everything she had imagined and more, and yet it felt like stepping into a completely different world, one that didn’t yet feel like hers. Well - she supposed that made sense.

The palace room was as lively as one could imagine, filled with the rustle of elegant gowns, the soft hum of conversation, and the occasional pop of champagne corks echoing. The blinding chandeliers cast dazzling reflections across the polished marble floors, so slick with their shine that Vilina had to tread carefully, bracing herself with every step to avoid a fall. The air was thick with the scent of exotic perfumes and the sharp tang of sparkling liquor, which had already begun loosening tongues and setting cheeks aflame. Everywhere she looked, nobles swirled in their opulent garments and tailored suits, their dialogue boisterous, their movements uninhibited by propriety. The entire scene felt both intoxicating and overwhelming.

Surely it couldn’t get worse - or so she thought. And then she saw him. His silver hair flowed effortlessly down to his hips, catching the light like a river of molten metal, each strand reflecting the glow of the chandeliers with a subtle sheen. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, were like the surface of a still lake at dawn - calm yet heavy, with a depth that seemed to hold endless coverts. His presence sent an cold chill down her spine, goosebumps trailing across her arms. Her knees wobbled under the weight of her shock, and for a moment, she thought they might give out beneath her. But thankfully, she caught herself, gripping tightly onto her composure.

She was no longer Chelsea, the girl from the cramped apartment that could barely fit three people in. She was Vilina Tremayne now, daughter of a fallen noble family who could… still barely welcome three people into their modest estate. Maybe, it would've been nice to have reincarnated into a wealthier noble. But still, she held her chin high, steadying herself as she cleared her throat, determined not to let her composure falter.

"The evening has served me well, Prince Virgil." She said, welcoming him with a graceful courtesy bow. Her voice was steady, though her heart raced beneath the polished exterior. "It is always a pleasure to see you. I hope that you have been doing well since our last meeting." She said, praying they've meet at least once before she's sent off to an asylum. "The refreshments and decor are lovely. It seems a lot of care went into the whole ball."

Truthfully, she had no idea what to say to him. Maybe, in a way, she was lucky to have been reincarnated into someone unaccustomed to upper-class gatherings.
Code by Serobliss
 
Marinus Theron Delmar
Captain, General, Assassin
location
Heading down the stairs to the ballroom floor
thoughts
"I really hope someone trips and falls into the cake so I can have a laugh before I go take out the enemy"
"How's momma doing?"
a pair of cerulean eyes fall back onto the young girl tip toeing behind him trying to fluff up his hair as her reflection barely peaks in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He's dressed in pure leather black with gold accents and the tip of the insignia of the royal family barely showing from the chair he's sitting on.

"Doing well, she's no longer smacking into things as much with the new cane we got her,"
Sheila continues to pat his hair upwards but it feels like she's playing with his hair more than to fix it for the ball. Marinus's shoulder lowered down upon hearing that which allows Sheila to look over him and into the mirror.

"Hey, I'm taller now!"


"Only because I let you-"


Smack! His head launched forward. It wasn't really the force of her hand that really launch him forward but more of his desire to make her feel powerful with that smack. His head eventually reels back as if nothing has happened as her tiny hands continue to fix his collar,
"I can't believe I'm helping you look the most pretty out of anyone at the ball."


"His Majesty prefers if the women swarm me rather than him..."


"But they still swarm him though even though you were walking out with a semi-exposed chest last time..."


"It just happens that some people like money more than beauty-"


The words left the young girl surprised as she shares a bewildered look as her head leans back with a tilt. A smirk don his face as he leans back a bit to her head,
"which means Prince Virgil might fall for you if you just don't mention his face or money at all to his face~"


Her mouth hangs open but she steps away,
"I'm going home! Mom probably has the servants hiding around the house for me to hunt already!"


"Good,"
he sighs as he stands up, his figure towering over the mirror in front of him and the little girl behind him as he stares down on them both through the mirror,
"I'm not babysitting you when I'm babysitting over 100 adults at the ball."


She looks a bit sad to see the dark man unbothered by her antics. Seeing her frown in the mirror, Marinus turns around and kneels down to her, extending his arm,
"Not when seeing you here makes me want to protect you more than the prince."


Her eyes widen as he continues with a gentle smile and a soft voice,
"and I need to do my job, okay?"


"I need to feed all of you, mom, and dad."


His arms widens a bit and inches closer to her, inviting her to hug and letting her know it's okay to. Her arms clasp around his neck in the matter of seconds, remembering the gash he had back then on his torso,
"Okay... come home soon."


His arms return her hug as they share this moment before she steps out of the room. The door clicks close as the smile slips from his face before he looks back to the side of the dressing drawer. He takes the highly embroidered sword and sheaths it to his side. The sword is eye-catching but on purpose. It serves to identify him to others and also that any assassins would seek to disarm that rather than what's in his sleeves.

Despite his preparation to get ready to monitor the ball, his mind couldn't help but to linger on the meeting he had this morning with Virgil and Alder about the trade route attacks. A sense of reassurance and confidence wells up inside of him when he remembers his decision to make his dad retire from trading and being a merchant.

Apparently, the enemy captain had "endless" resources he manages to use to slip away. Marinus really wonder if that's true. Is it really that the captain had endless resources or that he just knows how to manage his limited resources well? Doesn't matter. He's smoking that thing out tonight and making sure someone else doesn't lose their father tonight like he could have if he didn't become the General to pull his own father out of that job.

With his hand rising up and combing through his hair to reveal his cerulean eyes clearly, he needs to be sure the man he sees tonight in the mirror is The Captain and The Man that will assassinate the enemy tonight. Not like he's ever failed though, he is where he is for a reason unless he decides to play around with his enemies too much.

He steps out of the room and heads down to the ballroom. It's party time until show time-
 
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Alder Llewyn
the advisor
Time was an elusive entity, marching steadily at its own pace without regard for the servants scurrying about the palace halls or the tittering nobles eagerly awaiting the arrival of the annual ball. Some felt that there weren’t enough hours in a day. Others would do anything to skip past the minutes that seemed to drag on without end. Still, no prayer could convince the sun to take any detours or shortcuts as it traced the sky. And as the sun’s dying rays coloring the sky a bitter orange receded below the horizon, the blonde idling away in a spare waiting room finally acknowledged that it would be unbecoming of him to stall for any longer. A dereliction of duty. Not regarding the renegades brought up in the meeting earlier that morning but of a matter most nobles would scoff at as trivial. No, he’d rather deal with such ruffians than deal with- well, people. Unfortunately, Parlton’s annual ball required just that. And he quickly found that his desperate attempts at fleeing from a certain issue were coming back to bite him in the arse.
“My apologies. I received your letter, and...” “She’s quite the lovely lady, but…” “I appreciate your generosity, so it pains me that I cannot accept your invitation due to…”
The excuses he rehearsed for so long rolled off his honeyed tongue smoothly, politely asserting his stance while taking care not to step on their aristocratic pride. However, the nagging voice in his head nonetheless didn’t forget to scold him that none of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t ignored the marriage requests piling up ever since his broken engagement. Trivial enough to ignore but too important to burn, he’d ordered the steward to keep them locked up in a box out of view. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so he’d believed. Alder wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe those indirect invitations or perfumed letters were written with genuine affection in mind. Whether they were chasing status, wealth, or something else, it didn’t take a genius to realize the true intentions behind the matchmaking invitations sent to a noble in his position who just so happened to be unwed and without a fiancée in sight. Lady Isabelle had been the same, pushed into an arranged marriage between the Llewyns and Kapellas for the sake of political ties. Though Alder normally despised such arrangements made by his mother, the couple (if you could even call them that) had somehow managed to come to a comfortable truce. The woman reminded him much of himself: someone who detested the noble ties preventing her from spreading her wings. Yet she was a spirit far freer than he could ever be. Thus, when she came to him asking her to help her flee and settle in the countryside with her true beloved, he obliged. Deep down, a small part of him felt bitter, longing for the day that he too could follow in her footsteps despite knowing it would never come. Nevertheless, he genuinely hoped for her happiness, all while pretending to be a man deeply saddened by the fiancée who’d cruelly abandoned him. Most of the nobles had taken the hint to allow him to recover from the “heartbreak”, yet as the months grew into a year and a half, they’d returned to their usual antics of introducing their daughters—and sometimes their sons—with the hopes that one of them would catch his attention. Each time Alder directed his gaze towards the Duke and Duchess of Arland, he knew their expectations were fated to be wasted on him. Love was a fragile and fickle thing. It was like a glass ornament, beautiful but prone to cracking and leaving only sharp edges that dug into the bloodied feet of those who dared to step all over it. If even the eyes of his mother which once gazed upon his father’s proud figure with such warmth and adoration could become tainted with rage and jealousy, he could only hope his future spouse was as privy to his intentions as his previous fiancée. As for the days where he’d gently cradled a certain tenderness close to his heart, the decade that had passed since then had convinced him to give up on finding it once again. Alder lightly touched upon the inside of his left forearm, tracing the scar hidden underneath a stiff layer of fabric. It was the only remaining proof that his time in those woods hadn’t been a mere illusion. Like the wound from that day, his memories had long been eroded by time, yet the slightest impressions still remained. He still recalled that hardened gaze that seemed to trust no one softening into a mix of disbelief and mirth whenever he snuck bits of his lunch into Mishka’s awaiting mouth. He recalled the way he’d yelp out her nickname whenever “Lina” suddenly appeared from behind him. He recalled the way the soft waves of her silver hair brushed past his muddied cheek as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding in his arm. But were her eyes blue or purple? What expression had she worn when he was taken away by the guard’s sent by his uncle? Past the haze of pain fogging up his memories, he couldn’t recall those simple details. For the past decade, he found himself constantly chasing after the remaining traces of those memories. He wished to forget. He didn’t wish to forget. At times, his heart fluttered with an unfamiliar feeling, having mistaken someone else for that girl in the woods. Yes, just like… just like… Her? … Alder bit his tongue to suppress the deep sigh that threatened to slip past those traitorous lips of his. The woman standing beside the Crown Prince—more specifically her expression—was indeed one that he was all too familiar with, but to compare her to Lina was almost an insult. Despite his cold and stoic demeanor, Prince Virgil had no shortage of people gazing upon him with adoration as if he were the most priceless treasure they’d had the privilege to lay their eyes upon. To many, that austere mien of his added to his many charms, and the aristocrats of the capital had come up with a novel’s worth of rather interesting phrases used when waxing poetic about his noble appearance. Those admirers of the Crown Prince were none of his business. However, Alder had not a single drop of fondness for those shameless enough to chase after someone with a betrothed. One could even claim he held them in low regard. Almost instinctively, the blonde found himself approaching the unlikely pair, greeting them with a curt bow.
“Greetings, Your Highness. Pardon my intrusion, but it appears the St. Clairs have arrived. I’ve heard Lady Clair was recently involved in quite the harrowing accident, so I believe it would be of great comfort to the lady and her family if she were to be accompanied by her betrothed.”
His words were nothing more than an excuse, and given the distance the prince had been putting between himself and his fiancée over the past few years, the silver-haired man was likely to tacitly pick up on his advisor’s true intentions. Regardless of his past tenderness being coldly suppressed by his wariness of the church, it wouldn’t do to continue to ignore the rumors circulating throughout the capital. In addition, by acting out his part as the prince too busy being deeply concerned over the wellbeing of his betrothed, few would be capable of criticizing him should he choose to cut his greetings with the rest of the aristocrats short. He also hoped his little reminder would smother whatever hopes the maiden before them had for the Crown Prince. With a smile as warm as a midsummer’s day painted upon his gentle visage, Alder finally turned to face the silver-haired woman.
“My apologies. I don’t believe we’ve met? I am Alder Llewyn, son of the Duke of Arland. It would be my greatest pleasure to be honored with Your Ladyship’s name.”
Despite the subtle warning hidden between the lines when he addressed the prince, his body language and eyes were completely devoid of any semblance of hostility.
“I hope you don’t mind my company. I find that these kinds of events are the best times to make new acquaintances.”
Code by Nano
 



Calliope Salacia





































  • mood



    Anxious, Sad
















A flurry of lace, silk, and manners throws Calliope dreadfully off balance at the start of the night. She had all of Calliope’s memories, to be sure, but none of it could possibly compare to actually having to address these people as if she knew them well. With odd looks from those she was kind too, short conversations with those was nervous around, and clipped goodbyes from girls her own age, Calliope just felt… lonely. Dreadfully lonely. She was glad people were leaving her alone now, nursing still her first drink of the night and leaning against a pillar.

Watching the crown prince enter, addressing the nobles in a blank stare that showed boredom, regardless of the practiced smile.

Seeing the ‘Demon Princess’ enter the room, scathing judgment oozing from the pores of these stuck up nobles. Calliope had memories of her. She was… rather interesting. A different side of her from the game itself, she’d muse.

Lady Tremayne, kind as she was, obviously didn’t have the approval of Lord llewyn, who very quickly separated her from the Crown Prince.

Of course, that isn’t the only drama occuring…

”Ten points to Slytherin.”
Calliope had a smooth smile as she says that, watching two ladies bare their fangs with delicate smiles, carelessly airing their dirty laundry within earshot. Her particular phrasing was given to the red headed woman, after she informed her blonde friend that her ‘private flute lessons’ weren’t improving her skills at all after a year, so she hoped her ‘friend’ was still getting her moneys worth out of her handsome tutor.

Turning her gaze and attention elsewhere, she’d see another noble family arrive. A baron of some sort. She passes over them with disinterest, until her eyes fall on… oh.

A young girl, clearly fresh from her debutante ball. She’s smiling kindly as her mother fixes her hair, a small piece having flown loose of its jeweled clip. The two seem close. Calliope’s heart thrums deep, aching with every moment she keeps watching.

She remembered her own mother. Humming soft tunes while they cooked together. Family barbecues where her mother would lift her up; support her and brag of her accomplishments. That support system is gone. In one of the hardest situations Calliope has ever faced, she is forced to be motherless with a practically absentee father.

The whole realization is too much in that moment, and she briskly walks to the closest terrace, desperately trying to control her emotions and tears. She holds it together until she reaches the edge, letting tears fall while she shakily tries to box breath.

”It’s ok, you’re ok…”
She’s speaking to herself in-between breaths, convincingly tricking her eyes into slowing the water works down.
”This is not permanent. It’s can’t be. I’ll wake up in a hospital, my family around me. It’ll be-”
And then she’s choking on her tears, turning away from the light of the party and looking out over the terrace. No one who came out there would be able to tell that she’s currently sobbing her eyes out unless they approached her or she turned her head. It could be her little secret…

































MISSING HOME



nineishuman










♡coded by uxie♡


A flurry of lace, silk, and manners throws Calliope dreadfully off balance at the start of the night. She had all of Calliope’s memories, to be sure, but none of it could possibly compare to actually having to address these people as if she knew them well. With odd looks from those she was kind too, short conversations with those was nervous around, and clipped goodbyes from girls her own age, Calliope just felt… lonely. Dreadfully lonely. She was glad people were leaving her alone now, nursing still her first drink of the night and leaning against a pillar.

Watching the crown prince enter, addressing the nobles in a blank stare that showed boredom, regardless of the practiced smile.

Seeing the ‘Demon Princess’ enter the room, scathing judgment oozing from the pores of these stuck up nobles. Calliope had memories of her. She was… rather interesting. A different side of her from the game itself, she’d muse.

Lady Tremayne, kind as she was, obviously didn’t have the approval of Lord llewyn, who very quickly separated the two.

Of course, that isn’t the only drama occuring…

”Ten points to Slytherin.”
Calliope had a smooth smile as she says that, watching two ladies bare their fangs with delicate smiles, carelessly airing their dirty laundry within earshot. Her particular phrasing was given to the red headed woman, after she informed her blonde friend that her ‘private flute lessons’ weren’t improving her skills at all after a year, so she hoped her ‘friend’ was still getting her moneys worth out of her handsome tutor.

Turning her gaze and attention elsewhere, she’d see another noble family arrive. A baron of some sort. She passes over them with disinterest, until her eyes fall on… oh.

A young girl, clearly fresh from her debutante ball. She’s smiling kindly as her mother fixes her hair, a small piece having flown loose of its jeweled clip. The two seem close. Calliope’s heart thrums deep, aching with every moment she keeps watching.

She remembered her own mother. Humming soft tunes while they cooked together. Family barbecues where her mother would lift her up; support her and brag of her accomplishments. That support system is gone. In one of the hardest situations Calliope has ever faced, she is forced to be motherless with a practically absentee father.

The whole realization is too much in that moment, and she briskly walks to the closest terrace, desperately trying to control her emotions and tears. She holds it together until she reaches the edge, letting tears fall while she shakily tries to box breath.

”It’s ok, you’re ok…”
She’s speaking to herself in-between breaths, convincingly tricking her eyes into slowing the water works down.
”This is not permanent. It’s can’t be. I’ll wake up in a hospital, my family around me. It’ll be-”
And then she’s choking on her tears, turning away from the light of the party and looking out over the terrace. No one who came out there would be able to tell that she’s currently sobbing her eyes out unless they approached her or she turned her head. It could be her little secret…
 










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adelaide st.clair





location





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"Boring."
Adelaide mumbled under her breath as the ladies next too her continued to gossip, the young woman fixing them with a quick annoyed glance before moving from the seat she had taken beside them. She had tried her best too socialize, flashing a dazzling smile and blessing those that asked, but it was growing tiring quickly. It didn't help how close she was too Lady Lacia. Adelaide's body could remember the fear, the darkness threatening to swallow her light. Adelaide quickly bowed towards the women, bidding them farewell as she moved away across the ballroom. Her eyes scanned the room, before landing on a familiar set of golden locks. Alder Llewyn was someone she had a pretty neutral relationship with, the two weren't friends, nor were they enemies. They were simply acquaintances, bound together by the crown prince himself. Beside him was a beautiful young woman, who she instantly remembered from the game as Vilina Tremayne, the villainess from Alder's route. She watched them curiously, trying too decide if it was right to intrude in that moment, until she noticed the crown prince.

He looked just as handsome as she had remembered in the game, and she found herself momentarily starstruck, frozen in place. You're Adelaide now, get it together.

"Prince Virgil!"
She called out after a moment just loud enough to be heard over the idle chatter around them before making her way towards the three, though she didn't get very far before being stopped by another noble. He was red-faced, already completely drunk off of just a few glasses of wine, the one he had just finished still in his hands.

"Lady Adelaide!" He greeted warmly, and Adelaide gave him a polite smile, glancing back towards the prince.

"It's wonderful too see you sir if you could just excuse me for a moment-"
She politely bowed, angling her body to move past him. He seemed to have other ideas though, hand grabbing a hold of her wrist tightly and she winced, glancing back at him.

"I need you too come see my son- he's gravely ill and-" The man's grip loosened on her wrist as they made eye contact again, but so did his grip on the wine glass he was holding. The glass shattered on the ground between them, a few shards spraying around them. Thankfully the glass had already been empty, just a few drops of wine dripping onto the floorboards.

"My apologies Lady Adelaide are you alright?" The noble asked, a few of the staff running over to take care of the mess. A maid bent down to grab the glass shards and Adelaide's hand shot out instinctively, gripping her wrist to stop her.

"I'll do it, don't touch it you'll get hurt."
Adelaide said softly, and the maid started to protest but Adelaide kneeled down, careful to not kneel on her dress. She picked up each glass shard without even a flinch, some of them cutting into her hand but she barely seemed to notice, the warmth spreading throughout her body as the wounds slowly started to close. A small scar was left on her palm after a few seconds, but she barely seemed to notice. A maid quickly brought a towel and she placed the shards and the shattered wine glass onto it.

"I will come and see your son tomorrow."
Adelaide said softly, slowly moving to stand up again.
"Blessing be upon you and your son."
She reached out with a hand, gently touching the man's shoulders. His body instantly relaxed at the touch, and he nodded quickly.

"Thank you, Lady Adelaide." He bowed towards her quickly, and as soon as he was out of eyesight, her body quickly deflated, leaning onto the wall beside her for support. She had completely forgotten just moments ago she was about to greet her betrothed, rubbing her forehead as if too soothe the oncoming headache starting to pound behind her eyes.



♡coded by uxie♡
 
Marinus Theron Delmar
Captain, General, Assassin
location
Passing by the terrance
thoughts
"It's way too early for some woman-on-woman bullying"
Despite his eagerness to party and be upbeat, a faint cry reaches his ears and with that as he treads near the ballroom floor. He flips open his pocketwatch while his other hand moves to his head, instinctively adjusting a non-existent headband that he had forgotten his sister likes to take as a memento anytime she can.

6:25PM.

Sigh.

It's a little too early for some lady to be crying from some other higher up noble woman bullying her. It's not the sobs that frustrates Marinus but rather that he's stuck here "babysitting" before going off into some mission his majesty ordered when the sea calls for him. The sound of the waves drown out all sorrows and alcohol is the second closest thing to drowning these issues out. He'd rather hear the crying at the beach rather than be here and hear it. Each hic from the sob makes his finger twitch, yearning that bottle of whiskey more and more. He imagine he's probably driving up the cost of the whiskey locally with each weekly, if not daily visits he makes to the brewery. For a moment, he feels bad for the people trying to buy it on top of his current grumpiness and thinks he should switch to gin or vodka for once. Though, handing the sobbing woman whiskey until she's stuffed herself too much of it and has to be sent home would take this problem off his hand.

Still, he stuffs the tempting thought to hand the poor woman enough alcohol to fuel a drinking contest to the back of his mind as he makes his rounds towards the sobs coming from the terrance. He knows it's a cruel thing to do to her because he knows what he's doing to himself already.

With each step closer, he can already hear what the sobbing woman might say:

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to show myself like this! How embarrassing!"


"Get out! Out! I'll have the royal family at your head no matter how prestigious your family is!"


"Oh my Goddess, it's Marinus Theron Delmar! Thank you so much for sending me a man, Ophelia!"


He shudders at the last thought... That one... Yeah... that woman... she needs to go back to the church.

It has been a routine that some noble lady would cry their soles off in these balls as the gossips, rumors, and mean-talks can stab their heart. Marinus is somewhat immune to these like this coming from him. Well, his career isn't exactly immune to it since many envy his position as general or believe he does not deserve it for coming from a commoner's background unlike the previous general. No one can deny Marinus' skill which he thought should all that matters but rumors of him abusing it... well... could put quite a dent in his position. He's already dealing with some annoying Marquis demanding his position just because the general before the previous one was part of his family as he's the loudest of the bunch coming for his position. As much as he'd like to punch or wage wars to deal with this, this battle is in the domain of flattery and politics, and such thing is out of his hand but comforting a woman isn't out of his hand.

Maybe she'll like how he looks and stops crying for a moment. Maybe she'll be scared into not crying. Maybe... and just maybe... she'll just leave. Who knows? But an impression is to be made not just of him but of the royal family as someone working under the two Princes.

His shoes clack into terrance, letting his footsteps announce his presence to avoid starting the potential awkward conversation.

The violin and piano continues to stream in the background, the chatter of the crowd grows fainter and fainter as he steps closer and closer until his vision is filled with
her
pale-blue gown. His eyes and shoulder softens as the glimmer of her dress resembles the glimmers of the sea— the very sea that can quench him better than anything else... His lips part ever so slightly as his last breath leaves him. He can feel his heart gushing and pumping as the nerves work its way up him pushing his lips into a reluctant smile, excited yet nervous of what could happen next, of who could this lady be with her back faced towards him. His brows furrow at the shimmering scales from the boudice, bewildered at its glow in the soft light, making her look like the source of light herself rather than the moon.

Looking at her blonde flowing hair from behind, his breath hitches just slightly as he steps closer to her but he swallows his nerves down dryly knowing what he can't afford to have and what he came here to do. A familiar scent of alcohol hits his nose as their distance closes. The corner of lips turned downward knowing this is what
Sheila
must have felt like she saw him last week but duty guides his lips into a kind smile instead.

"Pardon me, my lady. It troubles me to see you fill your tears up with alcohol. What can the Great Captain Marinus do for ya instead?"


 
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Calliope Salacia





































  • mood



    He’s gorgeous…


















Thinking no one would have to know about her crying on the terrace all too quickly became a dream of the past. As she hears the tapping of boots on what she’s sure is a marble floor, she stands straighter like a deer in the headlights. It is Emily who takes a moment to wipe away her tears, trying to fight the bubbling sob by biting her tongue. She misses her mother desperately, and that anxiety is slow to die in situations like this. The water from her eyes blurs her vision, her shoulders tense and her demeanor worse.

And so, it is Calliope who turns, trying to give a hesitant, practical smile. It’s no wonder Marinus doesn’t recognize her. Many girls in this world have blonde hair, so she’s realized, for one. For two, the soft blue she currently wears is a rarity. Her governess usually tries to hide the mermaid part of her with reds, purples, pinks. Anything but blue… and as she opens her mouth to thank whatever gentleman has come out to check on her, she is stunned.

”I- oh.”
Marinus. The very character she spent hours trying to romance as the main character. He was always her favorite. While he had a kind heart, and was gentle to those who needed it, he never really treated anyone as ‘breakable’. He had a certain spunk that Emily loved, and the witty replies he would give to the heroine struck her as cute and amiable. A good sense of humor. She’d made a list once. Traits she wanted in a boyfriend. The list practically described her favorite video game character. She never thought that would be a problem.

”Lord Marinus. I’m so sorry, I’ve barely had a sip, honest-”
Her words hang true as her glass is barely half empty. She’s stunned, so it seems. Although Marinus may take it as being star struck. She’s outlining his face with her eyes, in a form of shock that makes her at a loss for words. Almost.

”I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being… audible.”
She gives an awkward laugh at the situation and takes a step back. Memories of Calliope’s flood her brain. Was she really that rude to him? It didn’t seem necessary. She can tell before she took over this body that Calliope secretly enjoyed the banter itself, but she always seemed to have an edge of cruelty in it. She wonders why, especially when he’s as gorgeous as this. The game didn’t do him any justice.
“Thank you for checking. On me, I mean. You don’t need to do anything, I’m fine.”
Theres a slight blush creeping up her neck, and she’s praying to… Ophilia, she guesses, that he doesn’t notice.

































MISSING HOME



nineishuman










♡coded by uxie♡


Thinking no one would have to know about her crying on the terrace all too quickly became a dream of the past. As she hears the tapping of boots on what she’s sure is a marble floor, she stands straighter like a deer in the headlights. It is Emily who takes a moment to wipe away her tears, trying to fight the bubbling sob by biting her tongue. She misses her mother desperately, and that anxiety is slow to die in situations like this. The water from her eyes blurs her vision, her shoulders tense and her demeanor worse.

And so, it is Calliope who turns, trying to give a hesitant, practical smile. It’s no wonder Marinus doesn’t recognize her. Many girls in this world have blonde hair, so she’s realized, for one. For two, the soft blue she currently wears is a rarity. Her governess usually tries to hide the mermaid part of her with reds, purples, pinks. Anything but blue… and as she opens her mouth to thank whatever gentleman has come out to check on her, she is stunned.

”I- oh.”
Marinus. The very character she spent hours trying to romance as the main character. He was always her favorite. While he had a kind heart, and was gentle to those who needed it, he never really treated anyone as ‘breakable’. He had a certain spunk that Emily loved, and the witty replies he would give to the heroine struck her as cute and amiable. A good sense of humor. She’d made a list once. Traits she wanted in a boyfriend. The list practically described her favorite video game character. She never thought that would be a problem.

”Lord Marinus. I’m so sorry, I’ve barely had a sip, honest-”
Her words hang true as her glass is barely half empty. She’s stunned, so it seems. Although Marinus may take it as being star struck. She’s outlining his face with her eyes, in a form of shock that makes her at a loss for words. Almost.

”I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was being… audible.”
She gives an awkward laugh at the situation and takes a step back. Memories of Calliope’s flood her brain. Was she really that rude to him? It didn’t seem necessary. She can tell before she took over this body that Calliope secretly enjoyed the banter itself, but she always seemed to have an edge of cruelty in it. She wonders why, especially when he’s as gorgeous as this. The game didn’t do him any justice.
“Thank you for checking. On me, I mean. You don’t need to do anything, I’m fine.”
Theres a slight blush creeping up her neck, and she’s praying to… Ophilia, she guesses, that he doesn’t notice.
 










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Virgil Parlton





parlton palace





adelaide, alder, vilina





houseplant houseplant










Was Vilina always this...amiable? Virgil considered himself someone with exceptional memory, yet the woman standing before him evoked a different feeling that one he had when they were young. That version had was distant and standoffish; she was the one child among the nobles that didn't try latching onto him (despite her parents' obvious desires). At the time, he enjoyed the refreshing coldness of her presence; it was unmarred by the shameless adoration the other girls of the court showed him.

The Vilina in front of him lacked the dead eyes of a shark. Was it possible to change this much in a season--for the frozen fields to bloom into purple irises or pressed lips to curl into a gracious smile? Her words left her mouth so warmly that he thought she might have been another soul entirely.

"The days are long, but the months pass in the blink of an eye."
he replied almost mechanically. What could he say wasn't locked behind closed doors or tied to his private life? So much time had gone into running Parlton that he hardly had time to do more than train or hunt. And yet, it was his duty to keep everyone happy while his brother was still woefully missing.
"Ophelia blessed us with a great bounty during last week's hunt, enough to fund this very feast."


What was he looking for? Surprise? Praise? A natural way to end the conversation? He opened his mouth to speak, only stopping when his advisor greeted the both of them. Yes, he'd nearly forgotten that Adelaide was, technically, his guest of honor.

"Thank you for notifying me, Alder,"
Virgil said before turning to Vilina,
"I'll be sure to pass along your compliments to my mother, thank you."


He searched the room, brushing past the aristocrats he already greeted. The mention of Adelaide's name was enough for people to give him space. Beyond the whispers of her accident or bids for her miracle healing, he could see a jubilant man heading the opposite direction. With a single glance, the Prince of Parlton brought his stride to a halt, icy eyes meeting the lesser noble's glazed pupils.

"Oh, Prince Virgil! My apologies, I did not see you there." He smiled sheepishly.

"Excuse me, have you seen Lady Adelaide?"


"Yes of course. I was just meeting with her in the east corner," the other man answered sheepishly before pointing behind him.

"Thank you. Please enjoy the rest of your evening."
Virgil continued his search for the brunette before finally finding her propped up against one of the walls.

What were you thinking, you fool! You could have fainted!
he wanted to say, but approached her instead. Given her recent accident, he would have rather she declined the invitation but he knew neither his or her parents would allow it. Regardless their feelings towards each other, the two understood the gravity of their situation. If someone were to see them now, they'd accuse Adelaide of being unfit for the throne, or Virgil of something nefarious.

Neither of them needed the rumor mill to churn.

"Lady Adelaide, please sit down,"
he said, taking her hand.



♡coded by uxie♡
 










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adelaide st.clair





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The throbbing behind her eyes slowly subsided after a moment or two, eyes fluttering open again. Her eyes locked onto the man in front of her, a flicker of surprise moving over her face. Her face turned red as she realized who was in front of her, not quite registering his words just yet. Of course she knew this would happen sometime tonight, and she had even been going to see him right before she met the noble, but now with him right in front of her any ounce of confidence had drained away, especially now that her hand was in his.

"I probably should. I apologize your highness, I just had a small moment of dizziness."
Adelaide sat down in the chair beside them with his help, slowly letting go of his hand once she was sat. Though, part of her didn't want to let go but she couldn't decide if it was Adelaide's memories, or her own actions as a fan of the game. Adelaide's eyes slid over the ballroom, looking for any sort of topic she could bring up in a hint of desperation.

"How have you and Varik been doing?"
She asked after a moment, giving him a warm smile.
"I apologize for being unable to see you two for the last couple of weeks, there has been a lot of sickness as of recent so I've been making lots of trips around the capitol."
She spoke softly, gently taking one of the glasses offered to her by a passing waiter, giving him a small 'thank you'. It wasn't a lie, before the accident that had led to her becoming Adelaide, the young priestess had been doing many house calls due to the recent sickness spreading through the capitol. It had taken a lot out of the girl, which they all believed was what partially caused her accident.

She stook a small sip of the juice, nearly making a face in disgust at the sudden sour taste. just barely managing to conceal her disgust. In her previous life, she loved anything sour. Sour candies, sour drinks and hated anything sweet. But Adelaide only had the tastebuds for sweets. It had definitely been an adjustment she was still getting used too, but it certainly did put a damper on her parade anytime she wanted anything sour.




♡coded by uxie♡
 
Vilina Tremayne
The Animal Whisperer
The Palace Ballroom




Two blinks, and the prince was gone. Yet, the impression he left behind lingered in Vilina’s flushed cheeks and the quiet joy that softened her features. His smile hadn’t been particularly warm when he addressed her, nor had his voice carried the slightest hint of familiarity or excitement. Still, he was the prince she remembered from the game - the monarch carved into her memory. Charming, composed, and distant, just as she had imagined him countless times before.

Her gaze followed him as he walked away, his attention fixed on his search for his fiancée. The reminder hit her like a gentle, yet relentless ache - he was already promised to another. A soft yearn tugged at her chest as she watched his silhouette withdraw, his footsteps mocking the growing distance between them.

She thought she knew him, though in truth, she did not. His subtle redirection of her compliment served as a quiet reminder of the space between them, an area both familiar and unexplored. Despite this realization, cordiality painted her cheeks, a blush blooming in response to his presence. She couldn't help but note he was taller than she thought.

It wasn’t love, she told herself. To claim she had feelings for him felt too grand, too presumptuous. It wasn’t about him as a person but the attachment she had formed over countless hours spent navigating his virtual world, unraveling the intricacies of his character. Yet, watching him now, so vivid and real, her heart felt something she couldn’t quite name - a bittersweet pull between the fantasy she once adored and the reality she could never claim.

In no world was she destined to be with him. In no story was she meant to be his ending. The villainesses were never written to find solace in their counterparts - not in the way Vilina dared to dream. Their fates were carved from tragedy, their roles confined to demise - their punishments swift for even the most trivial of faults. She hoped her story would not follow that well trodden path, though she couldn’t ignore the shadow it cast. The thought of living a cautious, on edge existence, constantly tiptoeing to avoid a fate as final as execution, felt suffocating. To Vilina, such a life was no life at all. Ultimately, she knew the key to survival lay in one thing: avoiding Alder. The man who marked her demise.

Well, originally, that had been the plan. Avoid him at all costs. Keep her distance. Rewrite her fate. But all of that fell apart the moment her eyes landed on him. The faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips fell. Golden eyes that shone with radiant prosperity, and gilded locks that appeared to have been kissed by the sun itself - she knew him to be Alder, even before he introduced himself.

A cold shiver wrapped around her heart - a gripping vice. The potential of an impending death loomed over her, its heavy warning suffocating. Her pulse pounded in her neck, each beat growing faster, louder, more insistent, as if her very body was screaming at her to flee before it was too late.
But she couldn’t just stand there in silence. Nothing had even happened yet in this world, and yet the weight of what she knew, of what could be, pressed heavily on her.

She placed both hands neatly in front of her, giving the illusion of poise and composure. In truth, one hand’s nails were digging into the back of the other, the sharp sting grounding her, a feeble attempt to keep her nerves at bay. Her expression betrayed nothing, but beneath it, an assail brewed.

"The pleasure is all mine, Duke of Arland." She said softly, dipping into a polite bow. Her smile had returned, perfectly placed as though it had never faltered. She could wear this mask - a service smile, effortless and unassuming. All she had to do was be kind, gracious, and keep her distance beyond the surface. It was just for tonight. After all, she reminded herself, their paths shouldn’t cross again as long as she managed things carefully. Provided that she kept her mother from meddling with the wrong invitations, she could avoid him entirely. A small price to pay for new her story.

He hadn’t done anything yet - not according to the original Vilina’s memories. As far as she knew, this version of Alder was a blank slate, unmarked by the actions that would eventually lead to her end route. All Vilina truly knew about this man was that in one of his endings, he betrayed her. That was enough to make her wary, to keep her guard up. It was hard to see him as anything other than a threat. But it was better to have him as an ally, to keep things hospitable and amicable, than to risk making him an enemy.

"I would be honored to be in your company. If you care for it." As a waiter passed by with a tray of drinks, she reached out and grabbed two glasses of wine, offering one to the Duke. “If you don’t care for it, I’m more than happy to drink both.” She took a small sip from her own glass, savoring the wine for a brief moment before continuing.

“The night is still young. Have you had the chance to dance yet?” Her gaze lingered on him for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Would you like to?” She asked,tilting her head slightly as she extended her free hand toward him, the other poised and ready to set her glass of wine aside should he accept.

Nano Nano
Code by Serobliss
 
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Sirius Parlton
The Hot Head
While on most days, the second prince was free to do as he pleased, there were times where the King and Queen saw to it that he would be trapped in the castle for a few days here and there. And the days where he instinctively felt like he needed to escape, the Queen seemed to sense it and had him kidnapped right out of his bed. Usually, it had more to do with holding court when the King and Virgil were both away or meeting with a noble that the royal family didn’t mind offending. Those days always leave him drained of energy while also feeling like a wild animal stuck in a gilded cage. But this time, during the weeks leading up to the Annual Parlton Ball, he was trapped on certain days here and there for new formal clothes for the ball. Like the unrelenting jaws of a hunting dog, his mother saw to it that he was properly fitted into a new set that represented “unity” within the royal family. While the temperamental second prince did make a show of struggle until he chased off all of his mother’s lackeys, they still managed to scrub off his hair dye again right before the ball. But for all the resentment that brewed, he still begrudgingly relented under the royal seamstress’ much more gentle hands. For all the trouble it was worth, once Sirius took a look at himself after being stuffed into the formal garments for the ball, he had to admit that the royal seamstress did a lovely job as always. She had even stuffed a small pouch of lavender into one of the inner pockets of the embroidered coat. All garments were enchanted to be fire-resistant of course. Just in case.
’Ha…she knows me so well…’
the prince internally mused, running a thumb across the near invisible enchanting embroidery that lined the inside of his coat. As per usual, he only half paid attention during the welcoming speech and outright ignored his family during the formal start of the ball while he was required to stay close for…”unity”. And the moment the tight claws of the Queen’s grasp loosened, Sirius took his chances and escaped from her side. Unlike his unfortunately stuffy brother, Sirius found amusement in the offense in the nobles’ faces when he outright ignored them as he brushed past. You’d think they would have learned by now that even the annual ball or drowning in alcohol could not make him want to talk to them. It almost felt like a game. Dodging them left and right while trying to look for a peaceful quiet corner to spend the rest of the ball in. And he probably would have spent the rest of the night playing cat and mouse with the nobles. If a familiar face, who was not supposed to be there, didn’t catch his eye.
“You-...shouldn’t you be resting? What are you doing here?”
he asked bluntly with an annoyed scowl on his face. Said scowl had thankfully sent the guests between them scattering.
Code by Nano
 
Marinus Theron Delmar
Captain, General, Assassin
location
Terrance
thoughts
"
She's
so-... Oh... Uh..."
Taking her dress in his sight, his eyes finally wondered up from the dress and up to a pair of grey-blue plastered onto a pale face. In the matter of seconds, Marinus blinks as his eyes widen with his head flinched back slightly to see who's in front of him. Shock, fear, and disgust temporarily flash through his face, realizing whom he was starting to fall for a little bit earlier before going back to customer-service smile.

His mind and thoughts calmed until the realization of that he might have let his emotions loose noticably to her causes the corners of his lips to wavers. He took a deep breath in as if swallowing the air with the emotions, leaving nothing but a smile.

"Don't worry about it!"
his voice roared jubilantly, maybe a little too jubilantly to cover up to initial awkwardness and shame for the things he felt... especially towards someone who had the reputation of an overgrown brat.

It also looks like karma got back to her for once and for all the "wonderful" things she's had to say about women around her. Though if she can cry like that, maybe she's not the Calliope Salacia he once knew. Judging by her tears, it was probably okay to tone down his smile into a soft one. He cleared his throat into his hand, facing away from her for just one moment. His eyes narrows onto the all-too familiar alcohol. His mind quickly flashes to another thought before the shame can come— his task to recruit Calliope into the navy but... that can wait.

"I don't think you are especially with this in your hand and I thought fishes like water,"
his black-gloved finger reached over to tap the wine glass she was holding.



 
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the demon princess.





‎ Lacia Arcaela Ataraxia Rosegrave



































Flawless My Dear

















mood

Exasperated || Melancholy || Slightly Amused






location

The Grand Ballroom










mentions

Sirius
















The ball continued, the hum of music and laughter filling the grand hall, but Princess Lacia felt herself drifting, her attention slipping from one conversation to the next. Her eyes flitted over the guests, searching for a particular face amidst the sea of sparkling gowns and pressed collars. The Second Prince, her betrothed, was notoriously disinterested in such events and his presence here was always a toss up…yet she couldn’t help but hope, a quiet, foolish hope that perhaps he would grace the festivities with his company.

Her thoughts were broken by a soft voice that pulled her from her reverie.

“Excuse me, Miss but I believe you dropped this.”

Lacia turned swiftly, her magnificent gown swishing with the motion, to find a young debutante standing before her offering a small wrapped parcel.

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed! I would have been heartbroken if I’d lost it,”
Lacia exhaled a relieved breath and graciously accepted the return.
“You have my deepest gratitude, my dear.”
Her warm smile softened the girl’s unease; the sudden shift in the young woman’s demeanor was noticed. It was a change Lacia was all too familiar with, one that seemed to accompany her everywhere she went in Parlton. She found it somewhat amusing to be the object of such caution and fear.

Her gaze drifted then, noticing the subtle yet unmistakable stir of whispers and gestures just beyond her periphery. Turning her head slightly, she saw a group of nobles huddled together, exchanging furtive glances and hushed words, each of them directing their gossip squarely at her. Lacia’s jaw tightened and though she could barely make out their cruel murmurs, the sting of their venomous words was enough to cause a flicker of irritation in her chest. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at them, her control held only by sheer iron will. Instead, she turned back to the shy debutante with a tired sigh.

"You should run along now, my dear,"
she whispered, her voice barely audible to anyone other than the girl.
"Conversing with certain strangers might not reflect well upon your reputation.”


Before she could turn her focus to the gossiping nobles, a voice cut through the air, sharp with irritation. Lacia's eyes snapped upward, the distinct tone of the Second Prince reaching her ears. She found herself unable to suppress a smirk, the corners of her lips quirking upward in a manner that only grew wider when she saw the expression on his face— clearly, he was not pleased with the Princess being there.

The group of nobles, who had been so bold moments ago, glanced anxiously between the Prince and the Princess, their panic palpable. Lacia stifled a laugh, the urge to respond to their discomfort almost overwhelming.

‘Don’t… don’t break now,’
she silently told herself, biting the inside of her cheek to maintain her composure.

Once the nobles had scattered, their hasty retreat almost comical, Lacia turned her attention fully to the Prince. Her gaze met his with a steady, calculating look, her head tilting in mild curiosity.

“Ahh… I’m glad to see you too, my Lord,”
she replied with just the slightest edge of sarcasm. The day had already been filled with enough scrutiny and unkind glances from the ball's attendees and she wasn’t in the mood to face another round of ire from the Prince.

“It seems that you might be in need of this sooner than I thought…”
she added, her voice gentler now as she extended her hands to present the wrapped parcel.
“It’s nothing extravagant, but… given your hair at the moment…”
she began, recalling the rare occasions when he had appeared in his true, blonde form and how much effort it had taken him to scrub the dye from his hair each time.
“This should help with such cases in the future.”


Inside the carefully wrapped parcel lay a simple but elegant necklace, a chain modest yet finely crafted. The real magic however, lay within the enchantment: a glamour spell that could alter the wearer’s hair and eye color at will. Lacia knew the Prince was capable of such magic himself, but this would offer him the luxury of not having to think about it constantly, freeing him to focus on more pressing matters without the burden of his appearance.

“Worry not, my Prince. I shall make myself scarce if it pleases you. I merely came to show my support, but I see my presence is… not necessary.”
She felt a sharp pang in her chest as she dipped her head respectfully, her silken purple curls falling forward to frame her face softly.












 



Calliope





































  • mood



    Surprised? A little unsure.
















She can see stages of grief and confusion flash across Marius’ face. It makes her frown slightly, unsure what it’s for. She knows he was never particularly fond of Calliope in the story, but she has a hard time understanding what in particular made him make that face. At this point in the game, he shouldn’t have too strong of feelings towards Calliope, positive or negative. Calliope’s obsessive behavior towards Marius doesn’t begin until the main character makes her appearance… and that hasn’t happened yet. Either way, it’s irrelevant.

She physically recoils a little at his sudden burst of tone, shifting from seemingly uncomfortable to obviously false. She gives an awkward nod in response, then watching his smile relax. Maybe he didn’t recognize her at first? That would perhaps explain it. Not really the destain, he shouldn’t quite dislike her this early in the ‘game’. Just the sudden shifts.

”Oh. Well, perhaps, but I’m only half fish now aren’t I darling?.”
The comment of ‘darling’ would not be out of the norm for Calliope. It’s just a term she uses to address people. She’s called Lacia that as well, or so Marius would have heard. She gives a cheeky grin at the joke, pulling some drops of the alcohol out of the glass to dance in a small circle.
”It’s just fun to play with, really.”


She brushes away the last tears on her face, shaking her head swiftly. She doesn’t like blubbering about things, much less to people she gets nervous around. She sort of feels like she knows Marinus, having played his route so many times… but now that he was here as a person in the ‘dream’, it felt different. Her tension could be felt as she looked over the water, taking a breathing moment but obviously a touch… awkward that Marinus was there. Not uncomfortable though.

































MISSING HOME



nineishuman










♡coded by uxie♡


She can see stages of grief and confusion flash across Marius’ face. It makes her frown slightly, unsure what it’s for. She knows he was never particularly fond of Calliope in the story, but she has a hard time understanding what in particular made him make that face. At this point in the game, he shouldn’t have too strong of feelings towards Calliope, positive or negative. Calliope’s obsessive behavior towards Marius doesn’t begin until the main character makes her appearance… and that hasn’t happened yet. Either way, it’s irrelevant.

She physically recoils a little at his sudden burst of tone, shifting from seemingly uncomfortable to obviously false. She gives an awkward nod in response, then watching his smile relax. Maybe he didn’t recognize her at first? That would perhaps explain it. Not really the destain, he shouldn’t quite dislike her this early in the ‘game’. Just the sudden shifts.

”Oh. Well, perhaps, but I’m only half fish now aren’t I darling?.”
The comment of ‘darling’ would not be out of the norm for Calliope. It’s just a term she uses to address people. She’s called Lacia that as well, or so Marius would have heard. She gives a cheeky grin at the joke, pulling some drops of the alcohol out of the glass to dance in a small circle.
”It’s just fun to play with, really.”


She brushes away the last tears on her face, shaking her head swiftly. She doesn’t like blubbering about things, much less to people she gets nervous around. She sort of feels like she knows Marinus, having played his route so many times… but now that he was here as a person in the ‘dream’, it felt different. Her tension could be felt as she looked over the water, taking a breathing moment but obviously a touch… awkward that Marinus was there. Not uncomfortable though.
 
Sirius Parlton
The Hot Head
Clocking the slight edge of sarcasm in her voice, Sirius couldn’t help but pause and stare at Lacia in surprise. As uncharacteristic of her it was, he landed on amusement and a bit of smug satisfaction rather than suspicion. Maybe he was finally rubbing off on her. He always felt that the demon princess could do with a little more backbone. Though the amusement melted away when she reminded him about his current appearance. His face hardened into a stubborn scowl as he self-consciously touched his bangs. He could almost still feel the phantom pulse of lingering pain on his scalp. Yet still somehow the evidence of the “guiding” hands of the King and Queen felt far more invasive than the physical pain.
“Thanks…”
he cleared his throat awkwardly before accepting the gift. The irritation deflating like a wet puffed pastry. But feeling the grating gaze of the Queen, he made sure to pocket the parcel in his coat instead of making use of the gift right then and there. As much as he likes to pretend that he didn’t learn a single lick of manners from his tutors he still knew better than to deliberately put Lacia in a difficult position with the Queen. He knew personally how oppressive the woman could be.
“No. It’s fine.
he sighed sharply. Folding his arms across his chest with an irritated glare that kept potential eavesdroppers away, his gaze briefly landed on the King and Queen again before flicking away.
“I understand. Just tell me when you get tired. …And don’t droop! The people here might as well be sharks looking for blood.”
…Though maybe he should pick a fight. For all he knew it would get them out of here faster.
Code by Nano
 



the demon princess.





‎ Lacia Arcaela Ataraxia Rosegrave



































Flawless My Dear

















mood

Uncertain || Trying Her Best || Mischievous






location

The Grand Ballroom










mentions

Sirius
















The amused glint in the Prince’s eyes did not escape Lacia’s notice, though she had long since grown accustomed to the quiet subtleties of others' expressions. Her ability to read those around her had become second nature, shaped by the years of watching from the fringes, never quite fitting in. It was a gift and a curse; she’d never been one to stay hidden for long, but sometimes it was easier to be a silent observer. Still, for all her delight upon seeing the foreign expression on Sirius’ face, she reminded herself not to let her more…modern proclivities slip too much.

Keen, rose-hued eyes watched as Sirius fiddled with his blonde locks upon her commenting. She took a step towards him, the urge to reach out and still his hands nearly winning her better judgement as there were no doubt eyes upon their every move but she stopped as the thought crossed her mind. The Princess cleared her throat to quiet her thoughts and kept her gaze fixed upon his.

"Either color suits you really,"
she said with a quiet, tender smile, her voice light but full of genuine understanding.
“So it’s not SO bad."
Her gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of compassion in her eyes, before she added softly,
“Are you in much pain from the scrubbing?”


The Prince crossed his arms with an almost dramatic flourish, clearly attempting to create some semblance of distance between them. Lacia, in turn, clasped her hands delicately before her, every inch the poised Princess despite the quiet awkwardness that began to settle over them. The invitation…the RE-invitation to stay at the ball, undoubtedly a gesture of obligation, now felt more like a complication. Her plans had certainly been foiled and the tension in the air only heightened the weight of that reality.

“Me? Tired?”
she scoffed, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips as she glanced sidelong at him. Her tone held just a hint of mischief, a counterpoint to the tension in the air in hopes to ease things between them.
“Perhaps...a little but it’s nothing a dance couldn’t solve."
She paused, her gaze flickering toward the King and Queen who were both seated on their gilded thrones, watching the exchange with a near palpable expectation.
"I must warn you though, the longer I stay, the more dangerously such an outcome looms over you."


Her voice was playful, but there was an undeniable knowing in her words. The royals, particularly the Queen, were watching them closely, their expectations pressing on both of them to fulfill their marital obligations. Lacia knew their promised union wasn’t born of love— it was one of convenience and strategy. A partnership forged from the need to secure the kingdom’s future, not from any kind of affection. She had been chosen for her power, for the strength that ran in her veins, not for her heart. Still, the weight of their gaze was heavy, even on her shoulders.

“You do look rather handsome tonight…if I may be so bold,”
Lacia said, her voice softening as she looked up at him through her long lashes to inadvertently study the unfamiliar depth of his blue eyes. She allowed herself the brief moment of sincerity before her lips curved upward in a teasing smile..
“A little stiff and uncomfortable, but dashing… even accessorized with your scowl.”


Her words, though a light jab, were meant to lighten the mood— to offer him something other than the ever-present tension that seemed to follow them. Lacia was warm and open with Sirius, even if he made it difficult at times with his detached coldness. It was ironic, given his powers, but still, she tried. She tried to make him smile, to soften the sharp edges of their world, even if just for a moment.










 










scroll
Virgil Parlton





parlton palace





adelaide





houseplant houseplant










The warmth of Lady Adelaide's hand lingered after he let go, reminding him of the way she used to latch onto him as a child.

Always in the search of affection, always in search of attention, always in search of...him. Before he understood the extent of his powers he thought freezing her fingertips would scare her, but that only encouraged her to get mittens (and for him to get a literal lashing). She seemed to grow immune to his icy sting, only backing down when he snapped as a teenager. At the time he justified it as still mourning the loss of his arm, but it was clear that even after his apology something shifted between them.

"I appreciate your efforts; however straining yourself will not help the capitol in the long term."
He replied, taking the seat next to her.
"We have the finest healers within the kingdom. Had they requested, I would have dispatched them earlier in the week."


His voice held no callousness, but no warmth either; Virgil spoke impassively as though they were young again. She may not have been twelve anymore, but that did not mean she ought to heal without discretion. She was human; her power was finite. Away from the prying eyes of the public, Virgil could see how much of a toll the evening took on her. Flushed and dizzy, her body betrayed her fragility and he was sure her travels only exacerbated the symptoms of her accident.

He nearly began chiding her again, but stopped in favor of getting a drink--one that he hadn't had since the beginning of the ball. Like Vilina, Lady Adelaide asked about his day-to-day life and just as with her, he wasn't sure what to say that he hadn't already told the lady of House Tremayne. Adelaide was a priestess, not a soldier.

But that was the problem wasn't it? Their bond was built from the mutual interests of her family and not each other. What interest did she have in swordfighting, hunting, or war? What did he have for flower picking, toy making, or the Church?

"I think Varik misses you,"
Virgil said finally,
"ever since he ripped apart the lamb you gave him, he's been in mourning."


She loved Varik, which was more than he could say for many of the noblewomen who gasped at the sight of him slaughtering a dove.



♡coded by uxie♡
 
Alder Llewyn
the advisor
As if roused from a sweet dream, the noblewoman’s smile fell the moment Alder replaced the presence of the prince she adored. Her disappointment (or was it wariness?) was fleeting, suppressed and locked away beneath the contrived poise every aristocrat shielded themselves behind. Though the first joint of his ring finger twitched when addressed as the Duke of Arland, he made no move to correct her. Fortunately, they had no other company, and any within earshot found their attentions far too dampened from the wines they had imbibed in excess. Had another slew of rumors risen from the woman’s careless words, he would’ve had to come up with another excuse to steer clear of his family’s manor for a week. That old codger had been sensitive as of late. Whispered questions passed through many ears, judging the Duke for his reluctance to relinquish his hold on his estate. Each time that sorry excuse of a father caught wind of the nobles needlessly wagging their tongues, he grew more restless—more irritable. The age in which everyone honored and flattered him had long passed, yet stubbornness drove him to keep a firm grasp on his title. Pressure kept him from naming his illegitimate son as his successor, while the fear that he’d be deposed by his heir apparent delayed the inevitable. His father was losing a war of attrition. Still, it didn’t mean Alder faced no problems regarding his right to succession. Alder accepted the proffered drink and carefully swirled the wine glass in his right hand. Refracted fairy lights danced upon deep violet as the sweet aroma of rich, aged wine wafted up from crystal glass. It beckoned him to wet his tongue with its delicate flavor, yet he knew that all that awaited was a bitter aftertaste. As thoughts regarding a solution to his recent musings germinated in his mind, he contemplated on how he’d go about avoiding drinking without letting the fair lady lose face. Fortunately, his opportunity to set his glass aside would come soon in the form of an invitation to a dance. Eyes of melted gold trailed up from the back of the young lady’s outstretched hand to the dainty smile upon her fair visage. She was beautiful, much like the other noblewomen with their lavish dresses and powdered noses. However, what truly planted the proposition he’d begun to consider in his mind was the strong gaze accompanied by her manufactured smile. Her eyes were a blade of quiet determination. Like a moonbeam, their depths were cold and mysterious. Yet to the Alder who only had the moon as company on those long, tranquil nights, they instilled within him an uncanny sense of familiarity. Her understanding of aristocratic circles and manners—whether it be the way she addressed him or how she’d completely forgone introducing her own name—were seemingly clumsy, yet she was clever when it came to masking herself. The answer to that paradox revealed itself within the scarcely hidden whispers of two nobles passing by and their mentions of “Tremayne”. For the first time that evening, he didn’t have to force himself to adopt the faint smile creeping back onto his face. So she hailed from a family he could easily manipulate. Good. Most importantly, her complete disinterest in him had been made clear from the start. As Alder took the woman’s hand in his, he responded to her invitation with a gentle
“it would be my pleasure,”
uttered almost reverently. The start of the next song led them into a steady waltz, stepping and swaying next to the other nobles attempting to show off their grace and elegance while struggling to keep their nosy eyes and ears away from the unexpected pair. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, the affection dripping from his eyes and the light but still rosy flush of his mirth were illuminated for all to see.
“Presumptuous as it may be to ask, do you fancy flowers, my lady?”
Alder asked with a tone tinged with a hint of shyness.
“My mother’s prized garden has a number of rare cultivars, and I’d like to extend an invitation. That is, I’d be honored to see you again after tonight.”
He paused briefly, taking another three steps before staring straight into the noblewoman’s eyes. His gaze was serene, yet the way in which his grasp on her hand tightened ever-so-slightly spoke of a subtle desperation.
“It appears they were right,”
Alder said, seemingly breathless yet with enough volume to allow anyone close enough to overhear.
“Perhaps love does cure all scars, even the ones left behind by love itself.”
However, the moment the music called for another slow turn, the blonde leaned in close. This time, his whispered words reached her ears only:
“Or how about a contractual engagement? A quid pro quo.”
He pulled away. This time, the dull light in his eyes didn’t match the curve of his faux smile.
“What do you say?” “Lady Vilina.”
Code by Nano
 










scroll
adelaide st.clair





location





interactions





tags










"I know. But they look too me as a beacon of hope."
A hint of sadness was conveyed with her words but she quickly covered it up with a small smile. She gently swirled her drink, watching the liquid move around the cup as her fingers tapped the sides gently. She knew how perceptive he was, and he could definitely see right through the facade of her smile but she honestly didn't care. He was one of the few she didn't mind being herself around, even if he harbored resentment towards her and the church. She was honestly just happy he never figured out the true intention of the accident a few days prior. It hadn't quite been the accident that everyone made it out to be. It had been a bit more intentional then that. Adelaide's heart ached at the thought. Despite her now being Adelaide, she couldn't help but pity the woman she had been before. His next words quickly pulled her from her thoughts, and her face instantly lit up. The first genuine smile she had done all night.

"I miss him, that big baby."
She sighed softly,
"I got him another actually, I'll have to drop it by for him soon."
Adelaide had taken too Varik from the start. As Virgil's future wife, she had gotten to see him many times as he grew and honestly sometimes she had just come to see him more then Virgil himself. Despite being a wolf, he often acted like that of a puppy, albeit an oversized one. While most people were afraid, Adelaide honestly felt more safe with him around. It also helped that he was very soft and fluffy (and made a good pillow). It had made her want her own pet, and that's how she had ended up rescuing Milo. He was a proud cat, fiercely independent (unless he needed snuggles), and also a bit grumpy. He wasn't as fluffy or friendly as Varik, but she loved him all the same.

Varik at first hadn't been super keen on the idea of the young woman always hugging on him, but as he got older he started to enjoy it more, and Virgil had once or twice found them both asleep snuggled up together on the floor while she had been waiting for him during a visit. There was nothing better then snuggling a large oversized dog in her opinion. Of course, maybe Virgil would be a bit better (although freezing), but she settled for wolf cuddles instead.

Her eyes drifted across the ballroom, watching as a gentle song started, couple's starting too enter the dance floor. The waiting eyes of nobles stared at them, waiting for the future Queen and King to make their move. Adelaide stood up, turning to face Virgil with a small smile, gracefully bowing too him.

"Should we dance, your highness?"
She held out her hand towards him,
"Should I take the lead, or would you like too?"
Of course, it was usually the men that had taken the lead in these dances, but Adelaide had never been one too bow out of something just because it was a man's job.



♡coded by uxie♡
 
Marinus Theron Delmar
Captain, General, Assassin
location
Terrace & Balcony
thoughts
"Huh... Well, Ophelia be damned..."
The friendliness, the willingness to talk... Marinus begins to furrow his eyebrows again but with no resistence from his composure this time. Was he speaking to the wrong Calliope Salacia? The hair and face say no because he'd recognize the person he needs to talk to for his goals anywhere but her words and friendliness say yes.

After what feels like a moment of silence and surprise, a chuckle erupts from him,
"Well, shit."


Ophelia be damned. She didn't give him the cold glare, ignore him, or anything that was Calliope-ish. Hell, maybe she won't even ask for a noble title or some obscene amount of dollars from the royal treasury for once. In his pocket was a written check dedicated to such occasions from none other than Lady Salacia herself here as he has a hand close to his pocket already. Though, his shoulders drops as he relaxes his arms onto the fence of the balcony and away from his pocket.

He leans onto the fence and stares at the sea in front of them,
"The little alcohol you have there is fun but tripping yourself into a happy accident into the sea is much more better, don't ya think?"


He turns his head back to her,
"It's a nice way to sober up and get you into your fishy fun, and I can catch ya on the bottom."


He winks and flashes a smile at her before tapping a finger onto muscle shapes that are slightly visible through his coat.

code by Nano Nano
 
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