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Fantasy ´ 𝑷𝑨𝑿 𝑹𝑶𝒀𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺 ` 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲















devana acindius



S

he could feel the servant behind her trembling ever so slightly. Shaking hands and combing through her mess of curls with the upmost care. Void-like eyes met lovely greens for a brief second. The woman seated admired them in the soft glow of the candlelight. Her love for precious gemstones kept her gaze focused, and the two of them locked in a staring contest before the emeralds disappeared behind pale lids. A grin appeared behind her fanged mask. She dropped her gaze, instead looking at her own visage.

The silence around them stretched as she lost herself in thought. Her invitation had made it to her safely. However, the messenger had an entirely different story. He had arrived at the entrance to their estate—or rather, whatever had taken his form had arrived with the letter in tow. There was no way of knowing what happened to the body, and she could only pray that the animals had gotten to him first before they snatched his form.

Nevertheless, her family had decided that the invitation called for a celebration. The night before her journey had been quite a revel. They had taken to the forest in a frenzy. Screams, howls, and cackles filled the night air, traveling far off into the wilderness and inviting more to join in their celebration. She had noticed how their numbers grew and the forms that crept from behind the trees. The Acindius family carried on well into the morning.

A low chuckle slipped from her lips. Peering at the handiwork of the maid, she hummed in satisfaction. "Leave me." She was alone soon after she’d spoken. Gazing at the invitation on her vanity, the heiress smiled to herself again. It had been quite some time since she had gone to a sleepover. Her first one had been her very last after a little incident, but that had been fine with her. Now, though, her interest was piqued, and she was genuinely curious about her fellow guest.

With one final look in the mirror, Devana was gone. It could just be a simple trick of the eye, but the shadow at the entrance of the peace hall seemed to get darker. From the shadows stepped Devana, clad in black and wearing the mask of some fanged creature. Her steps were light, and her black, pupil-less eyes took in those around her as well as her surroundings. She seemed rather out of place against the color scheme of the room. "Hello, I am Devana Acindius." Her tone, though icy, was polite.








MOOD

calm/curious



OUTFIT

x x






LOCATION

peacehall.




TAGS

n/a













coded by xayah.ღ
 














mpiady tejara



T
he invitation arrives, and dread fills them. Tejara had returned from the crumbled graves with a disinterest in continuing on as a representative. Nightmares, for the first time since arriving, had crawled back into the crevices of his mind and he had not slept in forty-eight hours. Now, they would be awake for seventy-two, knowing their hosts had questionable motives. He senses the sisters were not unlike his queen, and if they are like his queen, then he would do best to proceed with caution. Their time with Xan of Bandiama in the graveyard, where there lay a mausoleum that appeared to be just for them, was a warning that there were fiercer things than monsters.

I am no good at this sort of war. He finds his face refracted off of the tiny mirrors embroidered onto one of his many pillows. The spiral tattoo on their chin, the mark indicative of a deserter, only makes them all the more homesick. Tejara knows exactly what they should wear into the den of mind-hunters, thinking I can play their games on my terms.

A knock pounds on the ornately molded door jam. Tejara looks up from the invitation, reminded once again how unsettling it is to be in such an enclosed space. It was a servant, Vasilia, who holds out a neatly-folded, rainbow set of cloths. “Are these the things you requested from your luggage?”

Tejara smiles grimly and holds out a hand to finger the tenderly woven fabrics. He thanks Vasilia and takes the clump of clothes and lays them out delicately against his bedspread. A gold set of embroidered pants that had been given to him by Fehizoro, a well-respected sewist and Menaran elder. A lamba weaved by Fehizoro’s wife, Iloaina, with colors that shined against Teja’s skin.

Underneath the clothes he would wear to the night’s sleepover, it appears Vasilia had brought an extra piece. It is half-finished, consisting of similar gold tones as his pants. This comes as no surprise as it is likely the case that they were fashioned from the same spool of tumeric-dyed thread. They fiddle with the frayed ends. Tojo had told them once, touching the traditional tapestry in a similar fashion, that Tejara would be much like the figure of the Tompondrano he was etching out of silken threads, pasted together by the strings of ancestry and the souls of Sebaja. You are a story, Tojo said with his soft, sand-bleached curls swirling in the wind and his deft hands working the weaver. And I am your Storyteller.

A clearing of a throat breaks his mesmerized state.

“Sir,” Vasilia interrupts. “Your Queen has also requested you wear these to tonight’s Peacehall event. She has attached instructions on how to wear your other garments as well.”

Tejara turns to find a box and a mannequin’s head with a decadent headdress. It is the sort of thing that nobles wear, and it is the sort of thing that undercuts the homeliness that they had hoped to bring to such a serrated affair.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, thinking once again I do not know how to win this war.

Vasilia adds, “She also asks that you arrive with the Princess Kalala.”



There is something reminiscent of home by attending to the Princess. She is, afterall, a fairly ever-present figure in his new Sebajan lifestyle, and she would be one of the brighter, albeit thornier elements to being a knight. He even thought to arrive early, thinking they could squeeze in a game of strategy because there is no such thing as mind-games and mind-deaths with Kalala. If anything, their game of checkers or chess would end in the pieces becoming strewn about because the Princess grew tired or frustrated. They could feel the twitch in their ear that would come with the sound of her voice. A smile formed on his lips.

Tejara gave a tepid knock against her door and prepared themself for the typical abundance of starlight and vibrant, golden energy. “Princesa? It’s your Mpiady.”







MOOD

homesick



OUTFIT

in disc






LOCATION

Kalala’s room




TAGS

Pepsionne Pepsionne













coded by xayah.ღ
 














anita illeva



T
he hosts of Pax Royalis seemed to have one mission, and it was keeping their guests busy. And unconventional meetings, although after the last surprise, Anita thought she’d handle anything else they’d throw at her.

Anita slipped into the dark green of her robe, and didn’t hold back from surveying her outfit in the mirror on her wall. It wasn’t quite accurate to how she’d been sleeping on the island, but there would only be one other at the event who would be able to expose that. She wasn’t quite sure whether that was something she wanted.

A wooden fox’s jaw found its place locked atop her own, completing her preparations. The woman looking back at her across the mirror’s glass would not have stood out back home, would have been at place in a bedroom of dark wooden walls and heavy fur blankets. Here, however, the story-painted walls were pale and delicate, and the room was cool but in a summer way, and Anita couldn’t give enough of herself away to feel a part of it. So the mask stayed, and her hair was pulled up, and the staircase sang when she made her way out.

​

The Peacehall was decorated flawlessly, as it had been each time Anita had entered. The decor was soft, comforting in a way that had Anita almost stifling a yawn. The crowd was still filling in, faces largely unfamiliar save for the occasional glimpse she’d caught after the masks had shattered.

Anita, of course, wasn’t looking for just anyone. She desperately didn’t want the features of her first assigned partner to fade from memory, even though she’d had only a brief moment to study them. Perhaps worse, they’d left her without a name, which she found herself wanting like a nefarious creature from an old story. She found, however, that she’d arrived before any of the familiar faces she was on the lookout for.

And after one she hadn’t. Devana was dressed in black, and her face was as always masked, but despite their meetings back home having been infrequent at best, Anita knew she could not have mistaken her.

​

Anita had been taught to hunt while she was still a young girl. Her mother, who had no interest in the sport, still wanted her to pursue it, and so had handed her off to other nobility to take her along. Anita had not taken quickly to it, but kept at the challenge placed in front of her as if it was her lifeline. She liked the company, one of very few encouraged departures from home, and she liked having a horse underneath her, reading each of her movements like a command.

She was not Leksei. The act for her presented a mere hobby, one she was not bad at but not exceptional either, and never a serious fight or adventure. Still, as she continued into her life, she enjoyed more and more having a bow in her hand.

Two days before her invitation would arrive, Anita’s arrow found home in the flesh of a deer. The weather had been favorable, as much as it could be, and Anita was riding in the midst of a group of nobility. No one she was particularly close to, but people she knew, and some connections she’d much wanted to keep positive. Everyone was dressed in expensive fabrics, and everyone had on a mask of some fashion. When the group had convened, they were one more in number, but he had excused himself, vaguely mentioning needing to be home. It had raised eyebrows, but not questions.

Whenever Anita was in the woods, she always looked for something more in them. Shadows moving in ways foreign to trees or animals, something she’d encountered so rarely she may as well have dreamed it, but something she heard and retold stories of. Mother Sevyershina, perhaps knowing too well the events to come, did not care to bring Anita much excitement.

They found some game, but the forest was emptier than expected. The skies began to darken before it quite seemed time to, and the wind started to carry a quiet sound, a buzz not unlike that of flies around a carcass. Anita had felt it, a call that had made her want to command her horse into a gallop, or leave it behind and run off alone entirely. She no longer had the freedom to follow it. The group felt no such interest as they called it a night, and she rode with them home.

​

Devana had always appeared striking, and this encounter was no different, despite the relaxed air of the evening and nightgown on her. Perhaps even especially because of it. She seemed even further outside the element Anita tended to think of her in. Anita held endless curiosities about the other noblewoman, the stories surrounding her estate, though after growing past childhood hadn’t been forward enough to ask.

“Lady Devana?” Anita took a seat beside her and lowered her head in a polite nod, “It’s a welcome surprise to see you here. Far from home for us both. How have you been?” Her mask hid the extent of her smile, but the motion reached through to her eyes, and her tone was light and easy as ever, tinged with the excitement of re-encountering an old companion. The sentiment was true; the event had just become much more interesting.







MOOD

curious, thinking



OUTFIT

discord!






LOCATION

the peacehall




TAGS

erzulie erzulie













coded by xayah.ღ
 
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hisoki of tsusaye






T
hree to guilded halls, several to iron-forged grounds, two dispersed among the villages between.

Fingers pinched in silver and sweat at the bridge of his nose, angry half-moon markings evidence of the repeated behavior.

Two, no, four to coastal lands.

Black tresses of hair pooled against the comforter of the bed, held away from the sweating nausea of an owner only by glittering clips. Skin lay bare beneath the silks, the piercing glow of lamps and fire only doing further work on the canvas scrawled with ink and scars. Hisoki shuddered in a chill all the same, smoothing the same pinching hand down to wipe along his upper lip and smear away the drops of crimson.

"Shit." He regretted wearing fineries, an inhale marking defeat as much as his annoyance. In serpentine writhing the shadows of his body coiled from the walls of the room back to their place on his flesh, smoldering over sweat-slicked skin and gooseflesh.

Another curse stumbled from his mouth as he lifted his head from where it had rested on the bed. Again since the arrival on the island he had experienced failure.

To his feet he rose, a birth-covered fawn in the tottering steps to chairs and a table topped with a checkerboard pattern. Ivory pieces waited for their master's command, loyal soldiers each tossed to the ground in a swipe of a hand that gripped to the wooden table as much as it shook. Every ounce of effort he had expelled since arriving had gone without bearing fruit. Tendrils of shade ventured under doors and down halls, seeping into marble and mazes only to return to their weary master, empty.

Communication, it seemed, had wholly been cut off from the island to the world beyond.

Hisoki's skin seethed at the predicament.

What had happened since departing Tsusaye?

His feet wished to pace but his body denied it in a tremble.

Had it fallen apart?

Nausea boiled along his throat in waves at the thought of losing his carefully constructed control. Silver chains blushed against the light of the fireplace the closer he edged to it, a frown deepening itself on his face. Back on the soil of his home there had never been a need to be afraid of the unknown. It was a life duty to keep knowledge of every happening, every trade of coin between hands and darkness.

Back there it hadn't been unknown. He was beginning to feel more ill the longer he remained on the island, cut off the wealth of information he felt parched to drink from.

A requested reminder knock on the door broke the crackling stillness. Hisoki turned grey eyes to the weathered wood for only a moment before the frown replaced itself with a serene pucker. Blood had dried on his upper lip and without care was wiped by a cloth then casually folded beside the checkerboard. Ivory pieces wobbled, quivering in their magical sentience in time to watch their own straighten the shining silver clips of his hair and whisk himself away from the star-dotted room.


Hisoki made his way down the halls as much a topic of conversation as he was a whisper. Softened blues faded into whites, embroidered in pastels and floral imagery. Silks rustled against one another with each step, accented only by the glitter of silver accents dotting loose hair and tucked along the fingers that quietly fussed at his appearance. He looked far more put together than he felt, stopping before a grandeur hallway mirror long enough to place an indifferent expression on his face.

Shoulders loose, hands still.

Fingers clasped themselves over his waist as they had so often up the dragging stairs of a shrine back home. Grey stared into a reflection and mused on the etched words that spelled as much a prayer as it did a law. Twitching was where the memory left his mouth, a turn away from the mirror resuming the ghostly walk towards the Peacehall and further thoughts of the evening.

It had only been through whispers and shadows he learned of the arrival of another Tsusaye representative. As much a pain as it was to think he has lost the connection of the past in Junghoon it was more reliving to think he had been wrong instead and rather spared the dull drivel of a court ribbon monkey.

Time still begged to tell, however, a thought as much as an almost plead to the moonlight path directing towards the Peacehall.

Let it be someone tolerable, if not someone unknown.

A cloud responded to the clasped hands and wandered over the moon.


There had been an invitation as much as a command down to dinner, another event strung from flesh spinnerets pulling them all together, dolls and puppets alike. Hisoki was strongly aware of the strings that pulled at his own shoulders, cross-hatched around a taut neck. Fingers reached up in a gentle swipe along the sliver of exposed skin in time for his unassuming entrance to the dining laden hall.

Softness accompanied the air of formality, rules of eating set in an uncanny neatness beside the airs of childhood and whispering under a poorly constructed shelter.

Eyes kept to themselves as much as the space before him, focused less on crystalline details and more still on the troubles of his head. Representatives seemed to have only just begun filtering into the room, a masked black dahlia standing in mystery beside a lily of the valley.

You should interact with them.

A hand fell from the skin on his neck as he skirted in a berth away from the women.

Hisoki bit his own lip at the slight he committed.

A limp smile made its way onto his face after he passed, stiff and practiced in hardly a nod of his head as fingers gripped the back of a chair and swiftly pulled it out for himself. It felt unseemly to twiddle about and wait for a fiasco similar to the masquerade. He made himself a creature of habit by sitting down with as much silence as his entrance, folding his hands over his lap in a stiffness that threatened the chair of its role.

It would work to still his mind, if nothing else; waiting as a statue felt familiar if not comforting. Hisoki's face fell to the serene expression from before, picking a finger along the edge of a tablecloth in time for a face to turn and look almost expectantly at the entrance to the room.

Waiting.























MOOD


be the chair.






OUTFIT


discord.












LOCATION


a seat








TAGS


perhaps?


























coded by xayah.ღ
 
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devana acindius



L

ady Anita Illeva was a woman whom she knew of but did not know. Yes, they had interactions around one another but never with each other. It was always as though the two of them existed on similar but different planes of existence. The one thing that kept them only a tad bit tethered to one another was not in the room currently. Curiosity was what kept her attention on her fellow countryman now. Devana wondered if she still remembered that night at the Starvalor family estate all those years ago.

In the moment something dawned on the infamous dark maiden. The tilt of her head was slight and the silence stretched. Had she never truly taken in Lady Anita until now. Expensive clothing and precious jewelry were the first things that came to mind when thinking of her. The Illeva family’s wealth reached as far as her home. “Have you always been this lovely, Lady Anita?” Again the silence stretched for a beat before Devana spoke again, “I was quite surprised myself but I am honored to be here. It’s quite different here. And how have you been? Have you enjoyed your stay thus far?”

Her attention was stolen swiftly by the appearance of another representative. Or who she assumed was one. Devana watched silently and could not help but wonder what was wrong. The smile aimed at them and the movements reminded her of something she called a snatcher at home. From her window one dark night, she had witnessed one take the form of a human. The being had been practicing it’s movements and facial expressions. Behind her mask a smile formed in her lips. “Hello there…who are you?”








MOOD

calm/curious



OUTFIT

x x






LOCATION

peacehall.




TAGS

ravensunset ravensunset , cavitea cavitea













coded by xayah.ღ
 














melusina toussaint



W
ayward gusts swept the ocean's salty fragrance up through the vented eaves of the accessory building behind the whispering garden. Loose decorations rattled against the sturdy frame of the well-loved room Melusina now occupied. A sideways glance confirmed that the host's gift did not sway too badly on its golden perch, but there could be no peace of mind while that table yet wobbled. Perhaps she might find a moment to mend its slant. Precious little time remained, though, each moment dragging out and breaking under the weight of her duty to herself, her family, to succeed on Mirror Isle. Today, that meant chipping away at her wardrobe until an outfit remained which neither shouted poverty nor decadence.

Another glance at the host's gift stand. Even if it was gilt, there lied as much gold as she currently possessed in jewelry. Melusina clenched skirts through fists and smoothed them once, then again. Comfortable displays of wealth. Tasteful. No necklaces. Bracelets? Hair ornaments. She balanced fine clips and pins in her coiffure. Fine for a farm-girl, she clicked her tongue in vexation. It would have been a wonder to own so much finery not too long ago, but her father had bled the stone dry and sold it afterwards to afford such luxury.

She knelt to glare balefully at a chip taken out of a stonework finish as if it were really its own fault for having captured her attention. She rose from the floor but did not need to scrub sediment from her nightgown; it slid off like rain on oilpaper. Silk the hue of azaleas with lace accentuations and neat little bows. It was hardly sumptuous, but… She had not met anyone on the Isle beyond its mysterious hosts. What lengths had her peers gone through to display their lavishness?

The question hammered away underneath a cool exterior as Melusina traveled from the whispering garden to the Peacehall. Obsidian exterior, she noted. Its workability rivaled soft sandstones for most inconvenient to work into structures. Its interior was starkly different, however, with its bas-reliefs and gilt-veined marble. Marvelous craftmanship punctuated by the equally eye-catching attendees adorned in unfamiliar styles.

Melusina allowed her gaze to pass over a group of masked women, catching on a nearby Tsusayen whose demeanor belied a taught bowstring demanding release jolting. Did we both forget masks? I didn’t see that in my invitation. The man directed his attention her way as if he knew her thoughts, and heat rose in Melusina’s cheeks. Speaking your thoughts aloud among nobility was as good as a long walk off a short pier if you lacked wherewithal to keep your mouth shut. “With a knife in the ribs for good measure,” she mumbled grimly. Perhaps he would be grateful for the interruption and smooth things over for her. Windchimes only became beautiful after the wind disturbed their peace.

Plucked from her shawl, Melusina snapped her fan open under her nose—a depiction of prophetess Godeliève saving the Aurichians from wicked outlanders—and stole glances at the masked women. One dressed in stark contrast: the impassive moon glutted on starlight in an empty night sky where nothing could shine brighter; the other deigned only to cover her lower face. Ambitious eyes scintillated with equal parts mischief and humor—just as likely to let Melusina make a fool of herself as to share wine. Melusina had nary an idea which woman she preferred, but the regretful truth of it was that she had blundered by giving voice to her thoughts, potentially slighting them both.

What a fine jest it would be if this blunder marked the pebble that would grow to a mountain between potential allies, or even more, on this odd island. Fine, my foot, she nearly shook her head in resignation. But it would not do to dwell on it further, so Melusina centered herself on the moment in the same way her father taught her to hew stone. She was the obelisk, and every discarded slab hewn from the mass were her thoughts and emotions. Only in their absence could she be the lady she had devoted so many restless moments to creating. Composed, but not stoic, Melusina folded the fan and accepted her role as the prophetess, embracing hardship to uplift her cherished family from doom. Stone did not crumble, silk did not grow on trees, and she did not despair so readily.







MOOD

turbulent, uncertain



OUTFIT

discord!






LOCATION

Peacehall




TAGS

erzulie erzulie
ravensunset ravensunset
cavitea cavitea













coded by xayah.ღ
 
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xan ahn



I
t would have been expected, almost encouraged, after the experience he and Tejara had shared that Xan would spend his freely allotted time enjoying a well deserved rest.

He wanted nothing more than to drop boneless onto his mattress, heavy limbs tangled with the soft fur of his companions as their warmth melted through the chill of the crypt that he had yet to rid from his pores. Truly, he did--so why were his muscles still coiled tight at some unknown threat? It seemed he was unable to escape the tattered graveyard without dragging a few ghosts along behind him.

Xan had paced around his spacious room within Marblewish Mansion. Soft firelight flickered over Mali and Vikal’s glossy coats as they lay soundlessly before the grand fireplace. Their yellow eyes followed his movements as the ex noble paced back and forth, back and forth. The talk of his past--when had Xan ever allowed himself to circle anywhere near the subject, let alone speak of it directly? And speak of it to a complete stranger?

Tejara’s stoic countenance flashed in his mind briefly. He couldn’t consider them a stranger anymore, no matter how violently he recoiled from the notion. If the hosts had planned on forcing secrets from their hands, then the event had most certainly failed. But an unspoken truth rang loud in Xan’s ears when he thought back to the skittish reticence present in both parties when confronted with the notion of their pasts.

Tejara and Xan had something in common. The hosts knew that. A shared trauma? A shared mistake? He didn’t want to think of it further. The idea that his fate could link to someone despite his attempts to cut all ties was nauseating. No matter how menial the connection. He had thought himself broken, a cracked link that would bleed out whatever he tried to pool together within his fingers.

Xan clicked his tongue, calling his companions over to his side. “Let’s go for a hunt,” He said. There would be no rest for him tonight, not like this. The two large cats rose from their positions obediently, soft yawns torn from their jowls. Fur twitched at the stretching of limbs, their predatory gait leading them to the balcony Xan had already exited to. The night air was thick--heavy with the noise of insects in their nightly chorus.

With Xan’s magic, three feline shadows slipped through the mansion landscape like memories. He paused at the edge of the grounds to take one glance back at the mansion. Cream fangs bared at the extravagance of its facade. Mali let out a throaty growl of impatience to beckon Xan forward, and three disappeared into the surrounding forest.

---

The call of birds and the persistent, high pitched whine of zipping insects were the first noises to rouse Xan from the heavy waters of sleep. He was human again, pooled together with Mali and Vikal in the middle of a clearing, gods knew where in the forest. He sat up, eyes adjusted to the searing light pouring down upon them. By the position of the sun it had to have been--what? About noon? Time had slipped away from them, night melting into day then back into night again, too engrossed in prowling the forest until he could rid himself of any human feeling.

Xan nudged the soft, sleep laden bodies of his companions around him, earning frustrated grunts in protest. “Come on,” He yawned, stretching lean arms above his head. The idea of skipping the next event altogether teased him, but Xan shied away from pursuing it further. Although he had burned through his day of rest running from what the hosts and Tejara had managed to stir up within him, they had nearly been crushed to death in the last event. Who was to say what kind of punishment would entail from skipping one altogether?

So against the cries of frustration bubbling their way up his throat, Xan made his way back to the grounds of the mansion. He was greeted by a perfectly penned invitation waiting at the foot of his bed. The cream paper was thick and rich between his pinched fingers, black ink penning his doom within its elegant strokes.

His dark eyes skimmed the contents, drinking in only three full words before he tossed the letter back onto the bed. A dinner party. If that’s all this was, it was something he could handle. Stuffy conversation, everyone barely enjoying their meals for the sake of appearing proper. His mind wandered to the irony of the animalistic indulgence of his latest meal with Mali and Vikal. His fangs tearing through fresh flesh, fur matted thickly with crimson. How many of the attending nobility would have balked at the sight?

He let such a brief amusement distract him from the chore of cleaning up, scraping a day's worth of dirt and dried blood from himself and the fur of his companions, transforming them into tame and noble representatives. Black and white silk draped loosely from a lean figure, exposing more skin than it truly covered.

The halls were silent when Xan padded through them with his companions, eyes sharp for the sight of any attending nobles. He had not been to the peacehall before. The grandeur of the space was not lost on him, the ex noble swallowing down the instinct of awe from passing through him more than a moment. The large room was swathed in white fabrics, glowing softly like clouds pierced by the yellow light of the moon.

Dark eyes were brisk and observant to take in the current attendees around the table. Many, if not all, he had never seen before. He was the first of Bandiama, and he dreaded the attendance of the remaining. Tejara was also absent, an observation Xan bit himself for stumbling over for more than a moment.

Deciding it rude to occupy a seat at the opposite end the current nobility had gathered, Xan shifted languidly to a seat a few spaces away from a man wrapped nearly head to toe in silk fabric. He gave a small bow to those already seated before claiming one as his own. Xan’s posture immediately melted deep into the seat, limbs angled open and relaxed as he scanned the polished dinnerware. Mali and Vikal slipped under their owner’s seat, weaving themselves through his legs and around the chair.








MOOD

reluctant



OUTFIT

discord






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS













coded by xayah.ღ
 




























anastius goswami






T
he life of one the most respected figure heads within an entire country can be of two different worlds— one filled with meaning, responsible and honor, a position that many would dream of upholding. people waiting to hear what they had to say, what they ordered and what was needed to be done… it was an important position within a world of holy religion. and yet, at the same time it can be the most lonely thing you could experience. a place where you are split in ten separate pieces, stripped of your own privacy and needs… left with your own thoughts in a crowded room. an existence of constant responsibilities, shoulders unable to carry the weight all alone and yet pillars are set in place to keep them from topping over— they felt the most alone within this world and no one seemed to notice.

sometimes they wished they were never born, never shouldered the responsibilities that of their father when they became of age. they looked at their life and often wondered what it would have been like to never exist at all, never have had to deal with the traumas of their life— a constant beast hiding in the corner just waiting for the perfect time to strike, to sink it’s teeth into their neck and leave the holiest of people dead. anastius never felt at peace, eyes watching from every corner, soft whispers all throughout the halls. twisted stories of who they may or may not be, whether they were truly who they say they were or if anastius had tricked their gods, that they tricked the people of Wandkur to believe they are filled with pure intentions. but let’s face it, are we all truly filled with constant pure energy? have we all not slipped into a rage we cannot pull ourselves out of at least once? it is as though they scream in a padded room, their shattered heart left all over the floor as people walk through it. eyes filled with sorrow and despair, a constant frown plastered across their face as they walk the holiest of halls.

however there was a time where anastius was once filled with the rays of a sun, eyes filled with more love then their goddess of love. a near constant smile of purely whites could be seen, their songs filled with pure vanilla and honey— a time in which they had found their true happiness. they had finally found someone that completed their puzzle, someone they’d walk through fire for— someone they’d spread the word of their goddess until their vocal cords were shredded. it was a time long ago where they felt the most happy, they no longer felt alone in a world that hated them— for once they felt at peace with their life.

they spent every day together, a younger individual that just graduated from being an apprentice and now a priest. it had been their smile and constant ray of kindness that sparked their interest, someone that normally would have made them feel sick made them feel warm. knots in their stomach and butterflies in their chest, soft hues of pink dusted their face whenever they spoke to them. it took time before anastius began to accept their feelings and even longer for them to reach out to the other— longing glances in the halls, eyes filled with impure intention. it was all so new for the high priest and yet they forced themselves into the deep end, throwing themselves in without a life vest— never in their life had they been so unprepared and yet their feelings were matched with even more intensity. a prayer they never once uttered and yet it seemed it had been answered, a promise of undying love and devotion they now became dependent on. oh how blissful their life was now, how for once they felt right with the world.

years had past since that day and that love had never once dwindled— it simply aged like fine wine. every day they looked at their lover they often thought how lucky they had become, how they were blessed with such a perfect soul. that their years of grief and hardship had finally been over and yet that couldn’t have been further from the truth. not even a day after their 10 year mark, their lover had succumbed to a deathly illness that took them quicker then they had ever seen. they spent their last days stuck in a bed, unable to lift themselves as the sickness stole all their strength. skin paper thin, bones sticking through as if wanting to break free, a cough filled with phlegm and blood. eyes blood shot and constant nose bleeds, they looked like a shell of their former self and yet the softness within their eyes never changed. anastius had never felt such a pain in their chest, a near constant rain storm in their eyes— they spent nights in a row sobbing, their voice hoarse and scratchy with their eyes red like rubies. they spent hours trying to find some cure, spent a fortune on the best herbs and found the best doctors within their country to help solve this mystery illness and yet to no prevail.

their lover died within their home, two weeks after their 10 year mark. and it was in that moment that they were once again alone and this time it was harder then it’s ever been— before they meet them they were comfortable with their lonely existence as they had no one to care and rely on. they had grown to love the aura of another person, they had grown comfortable with the beating heart of another person. their heart had grown to love another, to believe that with them in their life that they could do anything. and now they were all alone once again without them, without their other half. how they no longer could hear the patter of their feet on the hardwood floor, how clumsy they would be when trying to be quite to keep their lover from waking up. the scent of burnt almond milk when they let it get to hot, their sweet noises when they laid in bed together. the pig like snort when they laughed to hard, their scent of oranges and lilies that would fill the house. oh how they would miss the messes they made within the kitchen, then leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor. they were not left alone in their home with bitter sweet memories that they no longer can live to remember, they were once again alone in a world that hated them.. the one person that loved them with all their faults and unconventional ways— they were back to a world without a safe place to come home too. now once again left with the constant pressures of their world, how could they leave them? why did they have to go when they needed them most?

journey entry:
You were my first everything,
my first love,
my first time,
my first kiss.
how stupid was i to love you?
how was i so easily fooled my locks of gold and words soft like dough..
i would have loved you til the end of time, until the very last star burnt out and left us to die in each others arms.
you were my life,
was i stupid to love you?
why was i so easily fooled with your lies.

what did they do to deserve this? did the goddess like to play sick jokes on her followers? did anastius not believe in her enough, were their past transgressions too great that they didn’t deserve happiness? did they not pray hard enough… are they at bad of a person that the universe take the life of a pure soul just to spite them? they never understood and it’s what made them even more bitter, even more sour and crude. their chest now empty, whatever’s left resembles nothing of what it once was, now small and feeble.

Journal Entry
i know i have abandoned you, all mother
that i am no child worth redemption
but i plead to you only once again.
all mother, please help me be-rid this holy priest i once called love.
be-rid them from my heart, from my skin, from my mind.
all mother, please help me forget such a beautiful soul as i fear my mind will be lost without your help.
please, i beg of you… help me forget.

there was nothing left for them to do, all they could do was try and move forward. to try and forget the past 10 years they had spent together, it was the only way they could survive. if they had it there way they would take their own life in order to escape this constant state of misery and yet they didn’t.
anastius knew better and they knew their love wouldn’t have wanted them to end their life too short— anastius needed to keep moving, if not for themselves but for their love.


it’s all they had left.
——
soft shades of yellow and gold looked back in the mirror, a robe that was snug around their curves that left you yearning to see what was underneath. the robe wasn’t adorned with anything fancy, just a plain silk rob with white lilies embroidered throughout it. they wore simple black slippers, a few pieces of jewelry that wrapped around their wrist and hung on their neck— anastius was never not seen without some sort of jewelry, even if it was to be a simple ‘sleepover’ style party, they felt naked without them. a gentle sigh came past their lips as they walked away from the mirror, giving his attention to sharmila who was loudly snoring on their pillow. a smile growing on their face, they gave the creature a soft pet before leaving her to her treasure filled dream.

they wondered if they should even leave to this party, it was as though they felt out of place here— but they had promised to make somewhat of an effort and they weren’t the type to break a promise. running a hand through their nicely brushed out hair, anastius made their way to the door, reaching out for the golden doorknob. turning the knob and pulling the door open, upon their surprise they saw a servant standing right outside. it seemed they were there to escort them to where the party resided— did they really need? anastius could figure out where it was on their own, but they were not going to be rude. simply giving the other a nod, anastius shut the door behind them and proceeded to follow.

as they reached the hall, it appeared that the others had begun to arrive or had already been there for a little bit. without saying anything, anastius gave the servant a little bow of their head before making their way into the belly of the beast, taking a quick glance at the people that were there. they said nothing as they had nothing to say to anyone, unsure how to feel about this party. inching closer to the table, anastius choice a chair that was furthest from everyone, but still close enough where he would have been noticed— not as though they were hard to miss, their golden silk robe adorned with lilies spoke enough volume. they sat within the chair with pure grace, giving slight bows of the head to those that gave them a passing glance.














MOOD


here






OUTFIT


here












LOCATION


here








TAGS


here


























coded by xayah.ღ
 
LOCATION: Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit

INTERACTIONS:
shell's call
an event.
The first trickles of activity have sprung up over the hall.

Those that recognize each other gather by sweet wine, and those that are still strangers hope for an opportunity to join. What a sight - all the finest titles of the known world, gathered in one humble hall. Generations gone by would stop and wonder at this, these enemies in blood and steel talking with smiles on their lips. Though, one must wonder; where is the line drawn between friendship and greed?

It was not too busy yet, with plenty of space left to fill. A girl, no more than twenty, trotted around the established groups like a child left unwatched by a parent. Her steps are unsure, hesitant; she raises a brittle voice to join a conversation here and there, but it brings her no more than a swift, distracted glance. The nobles and crowned royalty seem not to hear her at all, as if she was a ghost - or, if they do hear her, they wisely decide not to. After a minute of trying to make awkward talk, the young girl has by all signs given up - in silence, she falls into the background. No one notices.

She is En Malisian, by the style of her dress; a soft, scandalously simple fabric, the color of sea wind. Mute greyish pearls have been stitched around the neckline and gentle chiffon is gathered at her shoulder, though it is aged like rocks exposed to salt. Her hair is gathered at her neck in great brownish curls, a few stray hairs escaping the loose clips. Her smile is small, resigned; she is obviously out of place on the small chair she is sitting, far too stumbling and stuttering to be a princess.

Still, she looks on towards the passerbys with a muted sort of hope - perhaps she would be glad for some company.

code by valen t.
 














miyu of tsuyaye



A
sleepless night awaited her when she returned from their unplanned vacation. She could not elaborate on the reasons for her insomnia— perhaps there were just too many— but she could thank the hosts, at least, for a connection to nurture in the coming days. It allowed her to be less miffed when the invitation to yet another event came.

Were the hosts bent on not allowing their guests to catch a breath?

When the servant comes to her door, Miyu is dressed obediently in not-quite-pajamas. Try as she might, she could not find it in her to turn up in something Tsuyayen elders might die an death to see her in. Granted, the fine robe that just hid bare shoulders might have them turn their nose up, but that she could stomach— she would be a sorry excuse for a "revolutionary" otherwise.

The walk to the grand hall is spent observing her surroundings. It is her first time exploring the mansion properly, given the circumstances, and it is everything she expects; walls and floors weaved of marble and gold, curtains certainly worth more than her most precious sword. It is pristine, luxurious, and glaringly unfamiliar to one accustomed to the austere lands of her birthplace.

She cannot find it in her, either, to pass judgment on which she prefers.

The quiet groan of the hall's wide doors signal the end of her tour, and she bids the servant farewell with a polite nod. She is not the first to arrive (she had taken care not to be), and sharp eyes dart around from guest to guest. Two in masks, more without, but all wearing muted expressions so characteristic of blue blood. Her gaze narrows when it finds a familiar face, one that incited a deadly mix of affection and distrust. Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, she had hoped Xiaoran had been wrong.

Their eyes meet, and Miyu calls out to him in her mind.

And then she looks away and pretends as if she had not seen him.

It was not yet time for their reunion. Later, when fewer eyes were watching; when whispers would not betray the cracks she could not yet mend.
"Your Highness,"
She offers a courteous bow in greeting as she passes him, the silk of her sleeve brushing against his chair before she makes, instead, for a seat just a distance away. Close enough that she may keep him in her periphery, but too far for him to speak without drawing looks.

She finds herself, then, seated beside a man melted into his chair. He bears dark hair and darker eyes, but it is a familiar but faint, metallic scent that piques her interest. A snake-like shadow motion against her legs breaks her focus, and surprise flashes across her features as her gaze shifts downward. The black beasts are coloured the same shade as their owner, with rippling fur that catches and reflects the slivers of light that sneak past the tablecloth.

Despite herself, a murmur tinted in admiration slips from her lips,
"Oh!"


They were majestic, were they not? A sight usually reserved for paintings taken physical form beneath her feet. They were unlike anything she had ever seen— she wondered how their fur felt.

"May I ask,"
she begins, her voice low,
"what sort of cats are they?"


"I have never seen such beautiful ones before,"
she adds, after a moment's thought,
"Nor of such size. Not in the forests of my homeland, at least."








MOOD

omg



OUTFIT

discord :3c






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS

Pepsionne Pepsionne













coded by xayah.ღ
 

...












valen de malisio


Crack!

Silence.

A huff of frustration followed by a seashell being tossed out of the open window onto the sand below.

This had been going on for hours. Unable to sleep due to nightmares, Valen had decided to make some more necklaces, but it wasn’t going so well. Whether it was from complete exhaustion, or the fact that the shells here weren’t as strong and durable as they were back home and therefore cracked in half if he didn’t poke in exactly the right spot, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he only had half of a single necklace made when usually, he’d have ten completed by now.

Dropping the necklace onto the stone windowsill he was sitting on with a tired sigh, Valen got to his feet and shuffled over to his bed. Given how bone-tired he was, maybe he wouldn’t have a nightmare this time, maybe he’d sleep until midday without a single bad dream. That thought in mind, he collapsed face first onto the bed as soon as his shins hit the mattress, slipped under the covers and was out like a light.

◉ ◉ ◉​

A foul, putrid stench invaded his senses, one of rot and decay. A shadow of something giant crossed over him, blocking the rays of the sun from cascading warmth onto his figure.

Mandibles opened wider, descending down upon an unknown male and seizing him within the sharp jaws.

And Valen was forced to watch it all, mouth open in a silent scream of terror, unable to help—

◉ ◉ ◉​

“No!” His own scream had awoken him from his nightmare, the prince scrambling around under the bedclothes until he was sitting upright against the pillows. Panting, heart-racing, completely drenched in sweat, he looked over to the open window and saw that the sun was shining brightly overhead, no spiders in sight. “Just a dream Valen,” he whispered to himself, “it was just a dream. You’re okay, he’s okay.” Whoever 'he' was.

It was for this particular reason that he hadn’t been able to sleep, this particular nightmare. Every time he went to sleep, he’d be sucked into a petrifying nightmare in which the stranger in his dream was consumed by the tower-sized arachnid. Over and over was he forced to watch this, over and over was he woken by his own scream, until he gave up sleep entirely and made shell necklaces.

He wondered how Cesar was doing. Was he too having nightmares of an unknown person getting eaten by a spider they faced a few days ago? Possibly. Cesar had been injured by the spider during their quest, and while Valen activated his healer mode and stitched him up the best he could, the whole thing was incredibly traumatizing and definitely nightmare inducing. So there was a good chance he was having them as well. They hadn’t seen each other since escaping from the spider and healing wounds, Valen having yet to leave the confines of his room since returning from the "adventure", so he didn’t have a chance to ask about the nightmares.

Unlike the day after the opening event, this time he wasn’t trying to avoid the other. Well, not really; it was just that he didn't know what to say. Starting a conversation with the person you survived a frightening ordeal with with the opening line of “I keep having a nightmare in which I watched a stranger get eaten by the spider we escaped from” didn’t sound like the greatest idea. He had yet to come up with another starter, and until he did, would remain where he was.

Or not. A knock on his door derailed that plan. Puzzled, Valen rose from his bed, crossed over to the door and opened it. A minute later, the door was shut and he was back in his bed. A sleepover. With everyone. In the same room. No thank you.

The first problem was that he wasn’t great at interacting with people he didn't know, and he hardly knew anyone here. The second issue was that at a sleepover, eventually everyone will fall asleep, and he really didn’t want to be the one to wake complete strangers up at four in the morning screaming bloody murder about a man-eating spider. Wasn’t the best way to make new friends.

He had half a mind to skip altogether, but had a feeling he’d be dragged there if he didn’t attend. With a sigh, Valen crossed to his wardrobe and then paused. What does one even wear to a sleepover? He'd never been to one. Since the word 'sleep' was a major part of the word 'sleepover', sleep clothes were the obvious choice (except for the fact he rarely wore clothes to sleep in). After staring at his clothes for longer than necessary, he pulled on a clean pair of linen pants and an open fringed poncho, deciding to forgo a shirt and shoes entirely. A forlorn look was cast toward the abandoned necklace on the window sill and then he was out the door.

◉ ◉ ◉​

“Are you okay, mister?”

What was unmistakably the voice of a child caused Valen to freeze where he was. There were kids in this castle? His head slowly turned, dark brown eyes meeting the gaze of a boy who was probably around nine or ten years old. The slight opaqueness of the boy’s figure gave away that he was a ghost and Valen felt a pang of sorrow go through him. Why was this child a ghost?

“Yes, I’m okay,” Lie. “Why do you ask?”

“You just look sad. And there are also bags under your eyes.”

“I—” Did he really want to unload all of this on a ghost, a ghost of a child, no less? “I keep having the same nightmare, so I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

The ghost boy gave a nod of understanding, but before he could ask questions, Valen continued on “Say, do you want to come to a sleepover with me?” At least he'd be able to go with a friend, even if the friend was at least ten years younger, a ghost, and no one else could see or hear said friend. The ghost’s face instantly lit up at the question. “Follow me then.”

◉ ◉ ◉​

Voices were heard inside the hall, meaning guests were already there. Valen paused just before the threshold of the door and turned to the boy. “Now, I can’t talk to you during the sleepover since most people will end up thinking I’m talking to myself, but you can ask me questions and I’ll nod to say yes or shake my head to say no. Okay?”

Ghost boy grinned and nodded and together, they walked in. Most of the people here seemed to be already engaged in conversation with one another and, having no desire to interrupt or introduce himself to others who weren't talking to someone, he took a seat towards the edge of the table, watching as ghost-boy took a seat in the chair beside him. Now what?

A bottle of something rested on the table before him, something alcoholic, no doubt. He didn’t particularly enjoy alcohol, but if it would get him through this evening and maybe help him fall asleep and stay asleep without waking the entire castle with his screaming, he’d chug the whole bottle. Without waiting to be served, Valen reached forward, opened the bottle and poured a hefty amount into his glass. He set the bottle down, raised the glass to his lips, and drank all of it in one go.

Disgusting. But the bubbly sensation felt nice in his tummy, so maybe it wasn’t that disgusting. So, that thought in mind, Valen poured himself a second glass. That went down the same as the first. Then it was onto the third.








MOOD

ooo bubbles



OUTFIT

this.






LOCATION

the hall




TAGS

n/a













coded by xayah.ღ
 














xan ahn



“I
’d be quite surprised if you had managed to see them anywhere. They’re beasts of the jungle,” Xan smirked. His eyes flickered over the soft features of the woman beside him. Her light hair ignited into a cream glow under the lights of the hall. He was unused to seeing such delicacy in another’s visage, like an elusive memory from his dreams, and Xan adjusted his gaze back down to the cats at his feet with a clearing of his throat. “I’d imagine they’d feel quite out of place anywhere else.”

He clicked his tongue, and Mali’s head popped up from under the table, nose twitching as she took in the newcomer’s scent. He nodded his head with a subtle turn, gesturing for her to place her chin upon the woman’s seat. The large cat bumped her nose into the woman’s hand, beckoning the noble to run her hands through her soft coat.

“Mali is a tiger,” He said, voice dipping low as his attention shifted to an ostracized Vikal, the cat having set his large paws onto Xan’s legs as he shoved his body up halfway to demand attention. His inky coat, thanks to Xan’s vigorous grooming the hour prior, reflected back the flicker of candle light in a magnificent dance. “And Vikal here is a panther,” He scratched behind Vikal’s ears. “Go ahead, they don’t bite. They’re quite fond of humans, actually.”

A deft hand maneuvered around Vikal’s lean figure to take hold of a wine glass, the thick liquid inside swirling gently from Xan’s movements. Upon taking a sip, he eyed the woman from his peripheral. She was a Tsusayen representative, he was sure of that. But Xan had been out of proper society for longer than he could remember, truly. The memories readily available to him were only those of the jungle and the isolation he had opted himself into. Names--noble or not, slipped from his mind in silk ribbons. Tangible--but only for a second, the memory of its touch lasting longer than any physicality of it.

“Xan Ahn of Bandiama,” He said, gently pushing Vikal back onto the floor. The panther let out a low groan in annoyance before shoving his way in next to Mali to compete for the woman’s attention. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He leaned his head onto the backrest of his chair, black hair ruffling against the fabric. “Have you been on the island long? I imagine it’s quite different from the forests of Tsusaye, no?” Xan turned his head slightly to address the woman. His gaze was focused and sharp, a contrast to the soft lighting of peace hall.








MOOD

curious



OUTFIT

discord






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS
Uxie Uxie













coded by xayah.ღ
 













Peng Zhi Kui



T
here was a near ear-to-ear grin splitting across Zhi Kui’s face, tempered only by the fact that they had nothing to show of their harrowing experience: no dinner companion, either magical blossom or magical man (and what intriguing magic it was! Perhaps they could have provided Hisoki with one of their many contraptions, perhaps a puzzle so that he may have been able to demonstrate his mastery). A pity! To be facing down gnashing teeth and glimmering limbs and to find themselves with, well, less than what they set out with, their shoes still missing and shoulders free of their jacket. Ah, well, they thought as they sauntered over to one of their suitcases, cracking it open, perhaps another chance will come upon us.

Within this suitcase were an amalgamation of wooden boxes of different sizes and finishes, polished to a sheen and with gilded edges, hammered into place by skilled hands. Zhi Kui plucked one from between its brethren, one that fit in the palm of their hand easily as a cube. They cracked it open to reveal what lay within— a closed bud with golden cogs and wheels that made up the petals, seated atop a base that appeared to be melted brass and copper and silver. The idea was that a simple turn of this base would cause the bud to blossom, that the petals would spin and reveal themselves to the world for mere moments before closing again. Alas, they had not been able to get it to work, not perfectly, as the closing of the flower always seemed to catch one of its petals off guard, grinding the whole process to an end.

They settled against the cushions on the ground, turning the bud clockwise in their palm, watching it carefully as it unraveled to display its beauty; a glittering red gem that acted as the stigma. With bated breath, they watched as it started to wind itself close, each petal slotting into place with a small click, until—

“Fuck,”
they exhaled. It seemed that it was not yet their lucky day, as the process had indeed been halted when one of the cogs jerked a second too late, now caught between others and unable to move.

Determination lined their brow as they plucked at the part that had broken the sequence, maneuvered it with deft fingers to slot back into place and permit the sequence to start up again.

The grin returned to their lips as the bud closed, returning to its original state, and they resolved to present the delicate flower to the man who seemed anything but, perhaps over dinner.

- ♢ -​

A knock on the door awoke them from the nap that they had decided to take, the flower spinning idly shut finally, its petals bowing to one another in the correct order, on the correct rhythm. They blinked awake, nearly knocking the item that had caused them to obtain so little sleep over as their limbs jerked in surprise at the interruption, causing a string of curses in creative combinations to spill from their lips.

Once the disaster had been averted, they stood up and hurried to the door, covering their yawn with a hand as they were faced with a servant who instructed them on the next instance where they might be able to come across their fellow leaf-fueled warrior.

“A sleepover,”
Zhi Kui declared in a gasp that would seem exaggerated on anyone else, but was earnest on them,
“scandalous.”
The servant only offered an owlish blink, apparently useless now that the message had been portrayed.

Quickly, they packed up the flower, placing it in the box as gently as possible, patting the top as if putting it to bed before closing the lid and turning to face the issue of what to wear, which was now much more difficult than before. As someone who deeply resented the grating scratch of clothing, they slept in the nude, something that would certainly scandalize anyone from Tsusaye— and probably their siblings as well, if they were to cross paths. As such, they needed to straddle the fine line of being clothed while also being comfortable— a line so fine, it might as well be nonexistent. Complicating matters was that they had no clothes that were specifically designed as sleep clothes, so formalwear was unfortunately the only option.

Comfortable fabrics were a must, obviously— silk, perhaps. Delicate and breathable, though the blouse had a set of buttons all the way up to their neck, with ruffles just to add another sprinkle of irritation. No matter— perhaps as the group headed to genuine sleep, they could unbutton themselves piece by piece without too much question. Next came the pants— where their options were far more limited, and a pair of cotton trousers was unfortunately all that they could locate. The compromise was no socks, their feet restrained only by leather shoes and nothing else as they pocketed the wooden box and made their way down the halls.

It would seem that Zhi Kui’s agony over having to cobble together pajamas had caused them to be a tad late— Hisoki seemed to be otherwise occupied, a crowd having formed around the other man (one was solitary, two was a couple, three was a party, and four a crowd). There was a brief pout on their expression, a jut of a bottom lip that was quickly retracted as they found their gaze unmet amongst the other figures that had already found positions around the other man. Determined not to permit the night to waste, their eyes quickly left the conglomerate and roved over the others sprinkled about, landing on a pair of—

“Cats!”
bubbled from their lips as they strode forward, knees bent to lower themselves to the ground, arms outstretched as if hoping one of the creatures might jump into their embrace.
“You are both so beautiful, are you not? The most beautiful things in this room!”
they declared happily, the words spilling forth with obvious lilts of joy. They arrived by the two creatures just as introductions were being made, hands still open, palm up, eager to see if they would accept a scratch underneath their chins from them.

The sound of voices did pull their attention away, eyes glancing between the two figures that they had barely glimpsed before the animals had pulled them in. One from Bandiama, and one from Tsusaye— why, it would seem that, as always, they had found the right path.

“Forgive me for the loud intrusion,”
they said without an ounce of shame in their voice, glittering eyes and cheerful tone a direct contrast to the genuine sincerity one should offer an apology with.
“Zhi Kui, of Vexira,”
they offered in lieu of this, offering one upturned palm to the woman to place her hand in,
“it is an honor and a blessing to meet you both— in a near proper scenario,”
they added, tongue-in-cheek and grinning still.
“I myself arrived rather late to this whole affair— time gets away from me more often than not. Tell me, have you seen much of the others? Know much about them?”
A pointed question— if they were arriving paired with two squabbling siblings, they suspected that the others had to have relatives amongst the mingling guests. Perhaps there were boiling resentments they could poke at there, too.








MOOD

scheming



OUTFIT

description






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS

Pepsionne Pepsionne , Uxie Uxie













coded by xayah.ღ
 




























hisoki of tsusaye






P
iano chords struck in an andante pace, an arpeggio of steps taken and the fabric of wealth pulling itself along the floor expectantly. Hisoki was keenly aware of the way each tooth in his mouth seemed to rattle in discomfort, a slickening of skin making the loose tresses of hair a suffocating untied noose.

Masks turned at his seat and a rose petal, sprayed with seltzer and expectations fluttered her fan as if the coy glance between covered faces and his own had brought blush and shame. Briefly it was humorous to think of, a wilting smile forming on his face and breaching the air before the fan.

He sank into his seat as the curiosity of the stranger directed itself towards him and demanded a tug upward, demanded he end the charade that he could melt away from the experience and return to the room he now craved the privacy of.

A mouth opened, lips splitting in uselessness as bodies filtered in and knowing eyes met around the corners of lavish fabrics and fanned emotions. An interruption came more swiftly than his words, striking down the pitiful excuses he could have spoken in shaded silk and moon-loved hair.

Miyu, a burning star and equal misfortune that barely afforded a brief moment to the man before her eyes diverted and reminded them both of the conversations blocked by the animosity of the court. Too confidently she bowed before him, moonlit strands dipping in a dance he was not prepared to partner. Lips offered a title he wished to toss away, grating syllables that spoke more to grandeur than he was willing to offer.

It was the only greeting that either could allow themselves in a space so limited, so observed and for that he felt pitiful of their situation. Twilight hours would have to bring together the questions that spidered themselves in sticky webs, strands trailing behind her departing form before Hisoki afforded himself the ability to return his attention to pressing expectations.

"Deepest apologies for my rudeness, it is my duty to attend to the blood of my land when I can." Desert words dried themselves up before the question that lingered still, a rise of silks taking him away from the cage of his chair before his own head tilted downwards. "While your name is surely more intriguing you may refer to me as Hisoki, of Tsusaye."

Fingers curled beside silk before they lifted and offered in an apple of Eris before the women. Hisoki did not care for who took the greeting personally, a head rising in a vague direction with the practiced smile of before. "I am afraid I have not had quite the pleasure of knowing you all on a level deserved of your status." Briefly he met masks of two kinds, wearers that breached on both distant familiarity and striking mystery.

A fan closed and prompted another glance at the desperate attempts towards luxury scented of guilded halls and a penchant for upturned noses. "It seems I found myself too eager to seat, perhaps conversation might make this spectacle of an event worthwhile."

He spoke and somewhere touched too close to the nerves of Fate, eyes dragging themselves from masked features to the high apples of cheeks before a whispering shadow, far too small for the adults pacing about pulled in a playful tug. Fitting then for the child that eyes cornered themselves at, an adventurous flick towards the waiting form disguised as a blink.

It seemed uncanny for such a youth to be there without anyone to take notice or claim to her, a pitiful song she played herself into sitting in such complacent defeat. Something tickled at the back of his neck, a bishop piece that moved before him and asked for action that seemed all too decisive to be innocent. She sat unassuming and unnoticed, a maw decorated in patient eyes unbefitting of her age.

A knuckle curled in a gentle pop that snapped forward as much an idea as an offering.

"Or perhaps any of you would care to accompany me in an appreciation of such lavish decor while this room has yet to meet its quota of occupants?" Fingers flicked behind his back as he spoke in wildflower honey tone, dripping ink curling off the hand onto silver fineries woven into silk. The ripping sound of stitches were covered by his question, the metal bends of petals concealed in the smokey bubble that formed and slithered along the floor. The trail moved past unobservant feet and conversations, ducking through the impatient legs of chairs and servants pressed flush to walls in observation.

Somewhere it detoured, passing over paws and around the sock-free ankles of someone Hisoki knew he'd eventually have to return borrowed fabric to, reminisce or the like on the harrowing experience of rabbits and leaves.

Turning his attention away from the distractions he flicked his fingers again and felt a warmth to his heart as shadow wrapped silver soon tapped up the wood of a seat occupied and settled itself casually on the weathered skirts of the girl. Hisoki turned his head under the guise of adjusting an invisible strand of hair, taking the moment to let grey eyes settled on the child's resigned smile before he copied it with his own. "If any of you will then," He spoke again towards the women, a piano keyed voice playing a nearly prideful staccato.























MOOD


be anywhere but here.






OUTFIT


discord.












LOCATION


surrounded.








TAGS


myl myl , ravensunset ravensunset , erzulie erzulie , briefly miyu.


























coded by xayah.ღ
 
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melusina toussaint



I
f Hisoki of Tsusaye's smooth features could be said to be the serene stillness of a pond, his fellow Tsusayen was the very presence of the moon. Gossamer spun into human form, wreathed with empyrean grace. By Hisoki, she bowed, but lingered for a moment. A short moment, precise and deliberate so as to be as innocuous as possible. Melusina would have doubted her intuition on the matter if not for the way Hisoki gawked. It was as one of her mother's sayings: 'You could wring silver from sandstone before you could make a man anything other than a man.' Better to save subtlety for someone who could appreciate it.

Melusina introduced herself to Hisoki, placed her hand in his and gave a slight curtsey befitting of her attire. She wondered if Hisoki might kiss her hand. The moon could not become jealous, but perhaps its child could. Foolish thoughts, more appropriate for a girl many years younger than herself. The scandal of it was all the more enticing. The longer it steeped, the more delicious the idea became. Very, very foolish, child, chided her a memory of her mother. But her mother was not here, and Melusina did not bother to hide the smile that came with the imaginative ways that she could take advantage of that. A slow horse attracts no prospectors.

"How could I refuse?" She tore away from his inviting gaze, and chanced upon a forgotten corner of the hall where a shade slunk. A woman not so many years younger than Melusina appeared utterly lost in the crowd of ostentatious behavior. Without half as much thought given for how it made her look, Melusina beckoned the woman to join them. Angst put aside, the confidence to entreat her masked peers.

"Would you two grace us with your presence as well? I should be so honored to make all of your acquaintances all at once. On my first outing in the isle, no less. I suppose you all must have the most wonderful stories to tell about this place already." It was an open-ended sort of question, intended to hold both of their attention as she directed the entourage toward the door. Melusina had not the opportunity to often walk around at night in the rookery that had been called home for so many years. Broken windows and the flush of inebriation on every wakeful wanderer in the dark streets of Auriche made poor companions.

"Where do all of you stay? My room in the Marblewish mansion is quite proximal to the seaside. The waves break against the shore, and the wildflowers bloom in profusion at Whispering Gardens. Although, I had not realized they allowed wild cats to menace guests on this isle. One of you might visit me there." She directed the invitation towards nothing and no one in particular. Melusina directed her gaze towards a scintillation in the Peace Hall's veins, and tried to become absorbed by fascination. Anything to hold her attention instead of the tiger who was one sneeze away from biting the beautiful Tsusayen woman's head off. Its presence made her stomach churn, even when she did not look directly at it. Whosoever accepted her invitation contributed to Melusina's designs for Mirror Isle, and that was sufficient to tug the corners of her mouth into a smile, albeit a tight one.







MOOD

eager, reckless



OUTFIT

discord!






LOCATION

Peacehall, gardens?




TAGS

erzulie erzulie
ravensunset ravensunset
cavitea cavitea
Briefly: Uxie Uxie













coded by xayah.ღ
 














Beatrice DuVall



M
etal and salt danced in her mouth, unwelcome guests sullying her tongue yet determined to start the evening with the bitter flavor of blood and ocean breeze. Perhaps those flavors were harbingers of fate, foreboding a certain end to the evening, unsavory to all. Lithe fingers reached up, smearing the crimson stream that stained tanned skin. Delicate silk absorbed the plentiful liquid, coloring the smooth fabric a pinky-red, the color reminiscent of a scarlet sunset. Foreboding? Certainly. But red skies at night brought ease to sailors for the morning to come. Beatrice DuVall felt a sense of ease at the sight of her own blood, all caused by the pesterous and inconvenient nosebleeds she often experienced. The dark fabric of her nightgown was saved, excluding a small spot of lace on her collar.

Removing the glove, the woman patted at her face, deftly removing any remains of blood on her face. The taste lingered in her mouth, rusty metal on the tip of her tongue reminding her of home. She’d never liked the taste of blood; it haunted her mouth as a reminder of each time she bit her tongue as a child. The Mirror Isle wasn’t home, though. Although the woman knew not what classification to give the strange island full of strange people she’d yet to meet since her arrival to the lush place, she was certain the minutes were ticking by with each moment she spent contemplating on the plush bed which threatened to pull her in. Considering how late she was already, sleep tugging at her eyes and form, every second she stayed sinking into the bed was wasted. There were representatives to meet, judgements to be made, and plans to be followed. Beatrice certainly didn’t come to the Mirror Isle to be lured into sleep the night of her first big outting.

The dim evening light caught the crusted jewels of the overly ornate spoons which rested upon her drawers. It was a strange gift, admittedly, one she wasn’t sure she could appreciate very well. As an Aurichean, of course, she could admire the beauty in such delicate handcrafted gifts, but to Beatrice it was a useless frivolity that got her no closer to the other guests on the Mirror Isle. Still, they puzzled her. Could she find use for them on the island?

Pushing herself from the plush bed, the woman sauntered to the dresser. Nimble fingers hovered above the beautiful gift, daring to carry them with her, daring not to part with the peculiar show of hospitality. She stalled, a touch away from scooping them in silk and tucking them away in her robe but a second of hesitation compelled her to retire her hand to her pocket and observe her face in the mirror.

Dark waves cascaded loosely down her back and shoulders, delicately tucked behind her ears in simple braids. Gold jewelry hung from her ears and neck, decadent yet simple. And the dark nightwear she wore strayed from her usual color palette, dark red like a deep pomegranate, ripe and fresh. This wasn’t the state she expected to meet the others in, but she wondered if the lack of formality would encourage a sense of comfort and familiarity between the strangers and herself.

A sleepover? Beatrice couldn’t even fathom how the night would turn.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘​

Steady steps carried the daughter of DuVall to her final destination. The Peacehall. Idle conversation buzzed from outside, not pleasant and warm but certainly not hostile. This environment would be conducive to meeting the many individuals she’d come to the island to fraternize yet as she approached to enter, her feet felt filled with lead, weighing her down heavier and heavier with each step. Steading herself with a quick breath and a smile, the Aurichian steeled herself for the hours to come. Sleep was the last thing on her mind at this sleepover.

Hungry eyes drank in the forms of the Representatives present in the Peacehall, studying their form, their garb, their expression. They were a sight for sore eyes. While the company of the servants was well enough, the days spent since arriving on the island had been bleak and wanting. The splashes of color, the choice of nightwear, the pairings of the various Representatives… It was the visual and mental interest Beatrice had been vying for since she arrived.

The Peacehall was filled with faces and forms of all different kinds. The boy from En Malis appeared more interested in downing a fourth glass of whatever filled the bottle he greedily poured from. The masked woman admittedly unsettled Beatrice, filling the Aurichian with a sense of dread and doubt often unfound in the sensible woman.

Browsing the Representatives, a familiar face appeared in the crowd. Simple, lowly, and a shock to see amidst the likes of such highly respected and revered individuals. A Toussiant. Strange a girl like that found her way into the open doors of the Mirror Isle. Had she found a way to infiltrate a ship and sneak passage to the island? Surely not. Something to keep an eye on certainly.

Twisting her way through the bodies in the Peacehall, Beatrice acquired a tall, thin glass of sparkling liquid. One tiny sip later and the Auriche Representative was back on task, meandering through the ornately room like a feather in the wind, floating about wherever the breeze took her until she settled in the corner of the room eyeing those engulfed in conversation– and those like herself who cornered themselves away from the buzz of conversation.







MOOD

watching and waiting



OUTFIT

discord!






LOCATION

peacehall.




TAGS
myl myl erzulie erzulie iridescent. iridescent. mother of sorrows mother of sorrows













coded by xayah.ღ
 
Last edited:














anita illeva



M
ore and more attendees flickered through the doors, and Anita wondered whether she had sat down too soon, whether she should have mingled for some time instead. Devana’s voice came like a disembodied song underneath the depth of her mask, but Anita didn’t have time to answer before another guest was caught in the conversation.

Anita recognized neither the dark haired, elegantly robed man nor the blonde woman whose youth shone through her features; though Anita had admittedly met a very small percentage of Mirror Island’s current occupants. She smiled at them, making sure the wrinkles showed across her eyes in place of it being visible on her lips, a gesture well recognized back home that she could only hope would be caught just as easily here. She let out a laugh at the blonde’s first comment, not having quite expected the opener.

“Anita of Sevyershina,” She followed Hisoki’s introduction, giving a small nod of her head along with it. He’d downplayed his introduction, something Anita noted but couldn’t yet counter. “That sounds like a lovely idea. I have to say meeting you all here has already made it plenty worthwhile.” Her tone was kept light, friendly and not too close to being serious. She stood to join the pair, and gave a glance around the room. A man had brought what seemed like two large cats to the dinner, and was showing them to those next to him, and Anita made a note to approach him when she would have the chance. No familiar face appeared yet among the scattering of guests at seats, although a nearby girl had caught Melusina’s attention, and Anita seconded the motion of beckoning her to them. The En Malisian garb could was interesting, at very least; she wondered if she'd be familiar with the others the way Anita knew those from her own home.

“I’m in Marblewish as well. I’ve heard it’s the better one,” Her voice dropped low with the second sentence, as though sharing a secret, even though she had heard no such thing. “I got the chance to visit the Gardens the other day, they’re truly beautiful. Perhaps we could visit each other,” Anita caught Melusina’s eyes at her offer, unsure of how to judge her; the words were once again ones she hadn’t seen coming.

“Did you have a pleasant journey? When I had nearly arrived at Mirror Isle, my boat was nearly capsized. Giant sea creature, glimmering scales, twice the size of our ship. I’m admittedly not an experienced sea-farer, so you can imagine what that was like. That is to say, I’m not surprised they don’t seem to restrict pet selections.” Anita’s voice was filled with laughter as she poked at Melusina’s comment of the large cats. Anita surveyed the decor and architecture as they walked, just as Hisoki had suggested, but she’d have days of studying the seemingly endless beauty of the buildings– her primary focus was on the group of companions she’d found herself with, both unknown and not, yet all deeply curious. If there was anything she’d learned from the previous nights, it was not to take any interaction right at face value.







MOOD

strolling along



OUTFIT

discord!






LOCATION

the peacehall




TAGS
erzulie erzulie myl myl cavitea cavitea mother of sorrows mother of sorrows













coded by xayah.ღ
 
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devana acindius



L

Her introduction was swallowed by the pleasant chatter of her current companions. Though she found that she did not mind. It was quite easy to fall into the background as she often did, Devana would even go as far as to say it was second nature by now. Though she had no verbal response for Hisoki’s invitation, she joined them all the same. She had been prepared to wander the halls all by her lonesome at a later time, perhaps scaring a servant or two when they caught a glimpse of her form slinking about. If she were honest, she was more interested in her fellow attendees than in the interior.

There was something so…new about them. Having never ventured from her motherland, she could admit that she was interested in learning more about what lay beyond the snow covered Sevyershina. She trailed slightly behind, presence looming and eyes trained on the three walking before her. They stood out against the shadows, ethereal in the way that the singing women within the forest glowed in the moonlight, beckoning foolish souls to come forth.

From behind, her voice crept up on the trio. “I find that Heartmoor is rather isolating, like I’ve stepped into nature and sleeping amongst the elements. It’s a sweet illusion. Familiar and unfamiliar in the way that leaves me on edge and comforted. I wonder…could it be the same feeling that madness sometimes drives humans to escape to better places?” There was a slight tilt to her head then, as though she was truly pondering. Seeing as Anita and Melusina were engaged in conversation, her eyes focused on Hisoki. “And how has your stay been?”








MOOD

calm/curious



OUTFIT

x x






LOCATION

strolling.




TAGS

ravensunset ravensunset , cavitea cavitea myl myl













coded by xayah.ღ
 














miyu of tsuyaye



H
e speaks in a relaxed, lackadaisical manner, reminiscent of a clear stream tucked away within the woods. "I'd be quite surprised if you had managed to see them anywhere. They’re beasts of the jungle. I’d imagine they’d feel quite out of place anywhere else."

They seem rightfully comfortable here. Miyu's gaze drifts from his face as a snout bumps against her hand, and she hesitates, just briefly, before she accepts the invitation. Surely, the sort of beasts that may maul you on command, but she cannot help but treat the tiger preciously; fingers dance lightly across soft fur, then glide with as her confidence builds. Mali seems to rumble, and she marvels at the warmth against her fingertips.

"You take good care of them."
she states, stoic expression betrayed by the softest of smiles playing upon her lips.

"Xan Ahn of Bandiama. It's a pleasure to meet you." Once more, she returns her attention to him, and offers a small nod. Bandiama. A beautiful country, or so she has heard, built upon bloody battles of years past— where the crown had outgrown its need to be replaced by much-valued wisdom. She would not have matched it to his languid demeanour just moments before, but Miyu would be a fool not to realise there is more to him than meets the eye.

"Fujihara, Miyu; from Tsuyaye,"
A hand reaches for the panther, now propped on its paws against her chair.
"And it is quite different indeed. It has been but a little over a day—"


Her words were interrupted by a gleeful exclamation in their vicinity, and a guest bounded towards the cats with unabashed joy. Miyu studies them for a moment, and an eyebrow lifts as they finally catch notice of the two already seated.

"Forgive me for the loud intrusion." They offer her their palm, and she pauses— stares— before swiftly giving them her hand. They plant a kiss courteously upon the back of her hand with the flash of a dimpled smile, and she returns with a polite one of her own as her hands quickly retreat to her lap. Tucked within her sleeves and safely out of view, her thumb rubs discreetly against where their lips had touched her skin. Satisfied, her hands reach out again for Mali as they continue.

"Zhi Kui, of Vexira." Her mind flashes to Xiaoran— they might have passed for siblings, perhaps, though she seems to recall Vexiran nobility did not often concern themselves with birthright. "It is an honor and a blessing to meet you both— in a near proper scenario." She offers a light laugh at his quip, though it sounds a bit too courteous than she'd hoped. "Tell me, have you seen much of the others? Know much about them?"

Her eyes flash knowingly, though the rest of her expression remains unchanging. It is in their nature, she supposes.

Miyu's gaze darts briefly to Xan, as if weighing his response before she speaks.
"Alas, I arrived late too, so I have caught but glimpses of the others. He is my second-made acquaintance, and you, my third."
What kind of reaction would they give— Would wide shoulders slump at the anti-climactic answer? Maybe a pout would be too outlandish? She may offer but a crumb more, at least. Out of goodwill.
"I had the pleasure of meeting another Vexiran yesterday, though."


She eyes Zhi Kui and adds,
"She made quite the impression."








MOOD

hmm



OUTFIT

discord :3c






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS

Pepsionne Pepsionne













coded by xayah.ღ
 
Last edited:

...












fae'an de malisio


Soft feathers parted under his fingers as Lora cooed, extracting herself gingerly from the crook of his elbow. Fae'an ran a gentle hand down her beak, an apology for disturbing her slumber. The peace of the moment was welcome but delicate, and part of him knew it was soon to be broken.

The chaos of that decaying village may be long past him, but chaos itself never felt too out of reach on this island of wonders.

Well, he supposed a terrible experience was an experience nonetheless — in that way, the hosts were doing their job brilliantly. In fact, now that they were no longer clawing at him, Fae'an could even venture to say he remembered those feral children quite fondly.

And so this next invitation needed not be held with too much apprehension. Yes, no doubt, it would not end as a simple gathering in the hall. It might not even end in the hall, if the transportation magic of the previous day was anything to go by. But, at least — his gaze landed on the shadow darkening outside his door — it would be anything but a bore.

Silver eyes saw silver linings perhaps a little too keenly, but that was how one kept somewhat sane on beautiful, malicious islands. Sarcasm danced across his smile, a wandering passerby or a loose prisoner. Just like home. Staying up in the dark all night under a bright clear sky, in a dichotomy of optimism and paranoia.

Fae'an glanced up at the ever-shifting ceiling, white clouds swirling around the chandeliers, his lips parting in a quiet whistle. Karu landed swiftly and lithely on his shoulder, just as the muffled knock came. He stood, his reflection on the sparkling floor made less alone by the feathered figures, and answered the servant's call.

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.​

The walk through the dimly lit corridors was uneventful, its silence only broken by the muffled traces of conversation seeping slowly into the air as they approached. Fae'an guessed himself to be fashionably late and, as his view of the glimmering hall came into focus, he found he was right. Grand as before, but the decor was softer tonight, fabrics draped over long banquet stands and pastel flowers lining his sight.

The people, as well, looked mellower than they had at the masquerade. Still fascinating, not much so guarded. Draped in a sleek cerulean cloak and adorned with hawks, Fae'an figured he stood out just enough to fit in with this eclectic group. Less dressed, perhaps. But quality over quantity was what they say, wasn't it?

His gaze wandered over the room, each attendee carrying varying degrees of familiarity, searching for nothing in particular as he strolled inside. There was no scarlet princess to be found, he noted, which was a shame for how her secret still lingered in the edge of his mind. But there were others. Faces he caught at the end of the ball, figures he'd seen as they flitted across the mansion... a woman with a fox's jaw and eyes that he knew. But his gaze eventually came to a rest in an oddly empty corner of the hall, where a girl in muted blue sat ignored.

From En Malis? Clearly so. But though there was a vague image in his memory, he was certain they had never spoken before. Her dress and manner seemed awfully out of place in this sea of glamour, yet that felt not to be the reason she seemed so divorced from the crowd, her image blurred by some incoporeal mist.

Their eyes met, and he returned her timid smile with an affable one of his own.

"Good evening."


Gladness and a hint of recognition flickered across her expression; her feelings seemed less a mystery than her presence. She fell into an easy bow, as natural as the sea receding from a beloved coast.
''Good evening, prince Fae'an.''
Her voice was brittle, soft. She looked at him through a polite lowering of her chin, though nothing in her face betrayed anxiety.

He raised a brow, leaning slightly against the table but not taking a seat.
"Have we met?"


She smiled at that, giving the tiniest of nods.
''Only briefly, prince Ranhe-"


His eyes narrowed in the slightest way only his feathered companions could see. A younger self might have braved a quick glance around the room in caution, searching for those who might have understood. His current self knew well enough already that nobody was within close enough proximity. A thing to be glad about.

The rise and fall of her tone was one to raise questions, after all, to those fluent in Malisian. Those who knew of Ranhe, as in high, noble, his hometown title. And Ranhe, as in first, as in crown.

They would have the same questions he had now, of whether this was the hint of an allegiance, a simple mistake, or the unravelling of a foreigner feigning familiarity with their tongue.

"-though we never exchanged words. Your competition at the Eurybia draws endless attention, and I had the honor of seeing you sail.''


For every lie passed off as the truth, there was a truth that sounded too strongly like a lie. As Fae'an began to piece together why, that sense of odd familiarity he couldn't quite place slowly wandered to where it belonged. He looked across the hall to where he had last spotted Valen, but found the boy too occupied with his drink in the moment to cast a glance this way. Perhaps another thing to be glad about. Some knowledge was more powerful held alone.

"A shame we hadn't introduced ourselves sooner, then,"
he remarked, lifting a crystal glass with his free hand before meeting her gaze once more.
"You could have followed us here on my ships."
If there was mirth in his voice it was swallowed by the sip of wine he took.

The girl gave another bow, either out of a sincere admiration or saccharine flattery.
''You are as courteous as the rumors say, prince. I would have been glad to do so, but I had my own travel arrangements organized.''


"Yes, well. It was good to see someone from home-"
He paused, the space for a name left for her to fill. But she kept smiling shyly, apparently not noticing, and Fae'an did not apprise her.

"Sadly, I must pass you on to different company, my brother awaits,"
he said, knowing well any presence Valen felt lacking was not his. The intrigue of the girl failed to outweigh his preference to observe first from afar. Or, rather, his understanding of her encouraged it.

‘’Of course. Thank you for stopping by, prince.’’
Something, then, flashed over her expression; features absent, curious like a cat.
‘’I hope to meet you on the island again.’’


"I imagine soon we will,"
Fae'an gave an easy grin, the weight of his words difficult to measure, and a shallow nod in final greeting before he parted her side. Leaving her, he sauntered towards the boy she had reminded him of.

Valen sat, absent of company and conversation, at the very end of the main table — a sight of him that wasn't too uncommon. The beverage of choice had changed but the boy hadn't. Fae'an never pinned the crown prince for the sort that alcohol made merry; evidently he was right. They had hardly spoken since the docks, and another day spent with their backs turned would be detrimental for the appearance of getting along.

"It's a party, Valen, why are you alone?"
Fae'an opened, with words he must've said before in the same, amiably chiding facade of an older sibling. He made for the empty seat beside the younger prince, but just as he reached for it, he saw Valen flinch, a crease in his brow growing that seemed almost like concern. Fae'an paused, before letting Lora fly & perch on the back of the chair across the table instead.

Rumors said that Valen saw things. That he talked to them. That it's why he is the way he is. Fae'an only half-believed them. Still he issued a fleeting, quiet apology to the air, gaze staying trained on Valen as he moved to his new choice of seat.

Quietly, he placed his glass of wine on the pearl-colored tablecloth, careful to avoid Karu making his hopping way onto the arm of the chair.
"It looks like the week has been hard on you."
A small laugh. With an elbow propped on the table and his cheek resting lightly on a loosely folded fist, his figure leaned in.
"Any new tales to tell?"









MOOD

sus, but sociable.



OUTFIT

[discord]






LOCATION

peacehall




TAGS

mother of sorrows mother of sorrows iridescent. iridescent.













coded by xayah.ღ
 

...












fae'an & anita - pt. I


Have any stories?
A familiar question. The quiet hum of the river and the sound of her voice were softly intertwined, silk threads woven into the breeze. His gaze flickered from empty clay cupboards to her face, her features blurred by the glow of morning sun and the glinting specks of silver dust. There was an ironic sense of normalcy to the moment; an intrusive sense, in fact, like serenity had slunk its way into their steps.

Hurricanes fought?
His smile grew a touch more wry. Her questions, he thought, were at least far more subtle than her stares.

"Oh, yes,"
Fae'an answered after a beat, letting her steer them both towards one of the larger — though, still definitively decrepit — buildings along the dirt road.
"Many. Each of my ships are named after a hurricane we conquered, you see."
As he stepped past the boundary of the crumbling structure, he turned again towards her, properly this time. Lips parted in a playful grin, as he generously delivered the hint she was searching for,
"The Gray Ghosts, they call them."


"Each of your ships?"
Anita repeated, glancing up at him. Her eyebrows were just barely raised, lips playing a satisfied smile.
"Isn't that a little... well, I suppose it provides a tale to every passenger. It sounds incredible."
She kept her tone in its usual — or so he had come to notice — teasing manner, yet her gaze had never strayed since he'd started talking, as though the landscape ahead were entirely forgotten. If the innocent party was not such an amusing role to play, he might have matched her boldness.

"It would be, wouldn't it?"
Fae'an laughed, instead, tearing his eyes away from her to wander their surroundings, the cracks in the wood and clay. He wondered for a passing moment if, should this structure come crumbling, it would make for a thunderous fall, or if the decay was so deep, it would simply sound like a final gasp.

"But, alas, Anita, it's never quite so enthralling a tale,"
he admitted, just as they walked through the left-behind arc of a fallen door, into what remained of someone's chambers.
"When the clouds come..."
— his words trailed off as his eyes caught onto something beside the rusted frame of a bed; an antique chest —
"...men can only run."


Gently, he untangled their fingers, taking a step alone towards the worn-out trunk. He pulled himself down to a squat, though there was little there to study. Its lock had long forgotten its purpose, sparse metal hanging off of rusted hinges, a tragedy in faded bronze. The wood itself was rotting away, enough that a strong fist could crash its way through. Barely a second of hesitation passed before he reached out, one hand holding the chest steady while the other pushed it open, the bolts coming off along with the lid before landing beside him with a sad clink. There, through the flurry of dust that erupted and that he had to swipe away like bugs, he saw it.

A book. Or, rather, what vaguely resembled one.

"Huh,"
he finally spoke again, letting out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle,
"aren't you glad you're with a pirate?"
Gingerly, he picked the frail artifact up, turning its first page as he brought himself back to full height. A frown flickered across his features as he skimmed the scrawls of ink, and he glanced back at Anita, holding their loot out for her evaluation.
"Would you like to do the honours?"


Anita took the letter offered to her, holding it in front of them both. Her lips traced the shape of the words as she read, and she gave a light chuckle with the last sentence. She meet Fae'an's eyes once she was done, lips just barely parted. Her look seemed to be no longer on him but somewhere further behind as she tried to make sense of what they had found.

“The hosts sure know what they’re doing, don’t they?”
She settled on. The book was undeniably ancient, the writing undeniably that of a child. And yet, just as undeniably, it was a clue placed for them. Anita’s mission shifted from the man with her to the puzzle in front. The question posed was clear, the same one asked at the ball: will you play along with our games and riddles, no explanation, no end goal in sight? Anita’s answer to it was clear as well.

Stepping back out into the unshielded morning air, Anita considered the two buildings surrounding them.
“One of the words there was unknown to me. I believe a farmhouse might contain more unfamiliar structures? Although, if this is a treasure hunt, perhaps you should take the lead.”
She stated, poking gently at the descriptor he had used, the word leaving her with questions she could not ask.

Fae'an seemed to consider her opinion for a long second; her reasoning was sound, of course, but the choice didn't feel so simple. In fact, it felt oddly quite final. His eyes lingered on the desolate mansion, before they turned back to her.
"I wouldn't be so sure about treasures,"
he denied, though his lips quirked at her jab,
"but I'm certain we'll discover something."
Another pause and then a decisive:
"The farmhouse will do. Shall we?"


Despite the question, he had already begun to walk towards where they first entered, hand naturally reaching again for hers.

The farmhouse seems to watch them back; its windows have long shattered and they gape at them like the unsure eyes of an orphan. A quiet, sad air hangs over the building, with some of the wooden walls folding into themselves and the door hanging off its hinges. Vines ascend their lazy climb to the roof. That must be where the attic lies - glimpses of murky darkness split red, cracked roof tiles. Adjacent to the house proper is a neglected barn, though much more stable than the farmhouse.

Anita’s hand took his as though it was a move as ingrained into it as stitching fabric or drawing a bowstring or merely existing. The breeze pushed towards her decision, tingling on the back of her neck. The old building possessed everything Anita had seen in the village; its air quiet, sad, left behind, and her fingers tightened around his as she met its empty eyes, and found herself longing for it.

The barn beside it seemed entirely forgettable. And still, Anita allowed only an instant of hesitation before she continued walking, leading them both towards it. Not far into her chosen path, however, there was a tug on their entangled hands, and their steps slowed. Narrowed silver eyes lingered on the melancholic main building, as Fae'an spoke,
"That house… doesn't it feel like it's watching?"


A pause, his smile brightening again like the tint of paranoia had been simply swallowed into some abyss,
"We shouldn't leave it unturned, when it's staring at us so rudely, don't you think?"


“By Alamisa's house,”
Anita quoted the diary entry as explanation. Fae’an was right, of course he was, the house stared at them just as he’d said. It tugged away at her.
“It is... It does seem worth exploring,”
She allowed, slowing alongside him,
“If we find the ball, we’ll have time to return to it. Do you believe in that? The house being able to watch?”
Anita turned to face him, eyes as focused on his expression as they were on the farmhouse a moment before, and then turned back to continue their path.

Fae'an hummed his agreement, though her final question went unanswered for what seemed like it might be forever. A second passed, and then two, as their shadows were swallowed by the shade of the barn. It was only when they were about to step in, that he spoke:
"I believe men can do many things with magic, yes. And that there are many eyes that stare which we cannot see."
He hadn't quite touched the essence of what she had asked — and he seemed to know it — though perhaps that was the answer in itself. If he meant to continue, she would never know, for their conversation was defeated before could advance.

The barn is filled with shadows. Not much more, they notice, the walls closing in like empty ribs over a chest empty of air. Packed dirt presses under their feet, deep lines carved into the aeons-old floor towards the door. It is empty of everything except long rotten barrels and strings of rope - though, above them, a large hayloft creaks. There is an intact ladder resting on the edge.

Anita nodded, but offered no other response as they stepped into the barn. It felt barely large enough to hold the two of them, and nearly barren. Had she made the wrong decision? Anita ran her fingers across a wall, turning up only dust, before taking a few steps forward. She shot Fae’an a quizzical, wordless look as they stepped towards the ladder. It must have been as old as everything else around them, as the crumbling walls or rotten barrels, but she still placed her hand on a rung, checking its solidity.

"It looks stable,"
Fae'an commented, not seeming completely pleased by the fact. "Does it feel stable?" A question made rhetorical when he reached out to touch the ladder himself. His fingers tapped on the wooden rung, once, twice, thinking. "I'll go up first," he announced, gaze trailing the path up to the dark loft.
"You should step back, Anita,"
he warned her, with perhaps too blasé a tone, before taking his first step upwards,
"lest I come crashing down."


Before he could climb halfway up, the ladder shook in place. Not like it was about to collapse - it still held its position, stable, but it was as if a great draft suddenly ran through the room. Like a kick to the chest, something throws Fae'an off the ladder, violent and invisible. From the hayloft, a tiny voice starts…

"Stay down there. Boys aren't allowed up."


It is impossible to tell if the voice is male or female, loud or near, if it is even human; though it sounds distinctly like a child hiding for a prank that has is now greatly offended at being found.








MOOD

surprisingly calm



OUTFIT

[discord]






LOCATION

unknown village




TAGS

mother of sorrows mother of sorrows ravensunset ravensunset













coded by xayah.ღ
 








The day, like all things, draws to a close.

Like curtains over a darkened stage, the clouds draw themselves over the purpling sky. Day is stifled under evening's great, star-sprinkled coat and night waits patiently for its turn on the throne. The stifling heat died down to a slow sizzle, but its throbbing headache echoes through the halls. It has done the most damage to Leksei, used more to tooth-sharp mountains and winter than any temperature higher than a light breeze - the prince has rolled up his sleeves as far as he dared, and his face had a thin sheen of flush. The strict, grave dignity of his wardrobe has melted into a shirt that has never been left alone without three layers on top.

There - his friend, dressed in deep purple throes and waterfall of fabric, surrounded by her own pristine expression and no one else. Xiaoran, the shoulders on which her country rests, features set like a death cast.

He dips into a bow before her, his smile inconsequential and bright. ''Ran,'' All titles, all icy politeness melts away at her name, and he offers an arm for her to take. ''May we walk together?''

Xiaoran’s stone expression cracks a little, brittled pieces falling from walled defenses that counted more years than it did not. Beneath all that stone and ice, a rare source of warmth flickered softly, as if just awakened from a thousand year slumber. There was something uncharacteristically fragile about it, looking like it could vanish even easier than it could exist, but it was genuine and true— perhaps more than her soul could continuously endure.

A smile for her oldest and only friend; her hand grasps his arm in silent acceptance before any words reach him.

“It’s good to see you, Leksei. I take it that you are residing in the other mansion, given I’ve had the pleasure of meeting dear Anita again but not yet you.”

And then, the rarest glimmer in otherwise glacial eyes; something half-teasing slips through, both in expression as conversation.

“Or have you been hiding as usual?”

Leksei's eyes flicker away, aghast at being caught. "I haven't been hiding." He protests, very well aware that he has. "You know I don't like parties." Ran weaves through the social circles like a needle stitching fabric, holding no love or hate for the ones that fall to her feet; his own lands haven't prepared Leksei for social graces like hers. She was molded by society that runs on steam.

The man begins an easy walk, matching her step. "But at least we meet now. What do you think of your stay here?"

A flash of moonflower meeting, a secret and a lie pressed against both skulls; parasite crawling through smoke while a girl emerges as woman from ashen memories; a dress stained with tea and a nightgown still wet with slimy tears— Xiaoran’s eyes narrows in involuntary remembrance.

“It’s been interesting…” a citadel of a statement, brimming of meanings outsiders could only wish to unravel. She would usually leave it at that, unwilling to throw bones where hungry wolves may lie. But this is Leksei, and Xiaoran knows better now than to think of him a feral beast. “I have met two Tsusayen representatives; mystery wears them well, almost too well one could think.” a pause, lips pursing in further thought. She then shakes her head, letting go whatever echoes in the mind. She has enough things haunting her.

“What about you? How has prince Leksei fared these two days?”

‘’I’ve been well.’’ Leksei muses, eyes finding the shells detailed into the floor. ‘’All things considered.’’

He says nothing more for a breeze. He has seen Ran grow from a mean-tongued, thin girl with fear of the world to a woman who’s retreated into her own chamber inside an ice fortress. The world has not been kind to her, and Ran’s head would be next on the chopping block if she dared be soft. And yet, years down the line, even through all the boarding school jokes and sometimes deadly pranks, Leksei found he could not think of a single thing to say.

It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ran.

He wants to beg her for forgiveness she could not give.. He does not. Instead, he takes a flute of champagne and offers it to her, silently.

It is then that a bump comes to his side (or if another witness were to see this, he bumped into someone’s side) and Leksei turns, instantly irritated at the contact. A cold beauty, blood-letting red and oddly stuck between unapproachable and polite. He does not recognize her - perhaps she is just distracted, but different as they are, Leksei has inherited his mother’s bitter pride. No ferocious temper came, only the conviction that she’s just done him some kind of insult. The man raised an eyebrow at her, obviously not pleased at her general presence; under his stormy gaze there is the tiniest sneer, the face of a king witnessing a servant's infractions.

He did not care to apologize first, and so he did not.

‘’You can watch where you’re going. It won’t hurt you.’’








the crown prince



Leksei.








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 














mpiady tejara



K
alala holds herself close to Tejara, and despite his eye-roll and woflish puff of air, he smiles something tiny. They glide from her quarters to the Peace Hall. The building is already lit up, and there is a small din of noise rolling out from the doors. They know was lies beyond the door, and while their chest stiffens, they give a little ruffle of Kalala's hair in attempt of distraction. The stand in front of the stairs. "Ready?" he asks la Princesa.

The begin their trek upward. A guard stands tall at the doors. Teja gives an imperceptible nod, which the guard returns, and suddenly they're inside. They'd attempted to keep Kalala distracted for as long as possible — asking her to play a round of chess, pondering a random object in her quarters, or attempting to rope her into their usual shenanigans. But the princess was excited for the evening's affair. Meanwhile, Tejara feared what they will find when looking upon Xan's eyes. But they couldn't explain this to Kalala.

The Hall was dripping in decadent sage greens and satin finery. The table was set, and there were canopies and tents set up for the slumber party set to occur once the dinner had finished. Tejara looked at the ceiling, wishing for a true sky to lie up there. It was not that he were an animal, much to the chagrin of his Queen. They preferred sleeping outside from habit. When attempting sleep inside, he worried about what crawled along the walls or in the corridors on a dark night. Night would crowd around them on the desert plains, with the fire serving as the only beacon of light. But if the moon shone, there were pockets where no creature could hide, and all Teja had to do was run to and fro from what crept in the dark. Their quarters in Sebaja and here on the Isle were suffocating for such reasons. Before he left his bed every morning, they checked the floor for scorpions and rats. A habit.

Nightmares were also a habit. Incoherent mumblings. The names of all those they loved murmured out, over and over.

And now the entire world's wealth of power would know the that Tompondrano could not sleep indoors for fear of phantom pests.

They patted Kalala's hand and attempted to forget about this. "I suppose this is where we should part ways, Princesa?"

The princess submerged into the party, and Tejara still stood on the perimeter. Their dark eyes ran over the crowd. They spotted Xan in conversation with a series of newcomers: an austere woman dressed in nightmarish black, a girl of golden-spun hair, a brutish, yet lithe figure, and a woman of glossy and ermine grace. Tejara tried to place their faces against the material the Queen forced them to memorize. His Moon, as well, stood amongst them.

A war waged within them, and they consider walking over despite the awkwardness that is sure to blossom between them. Their job mattered most. It was the very reason they have ran through crypts with nobility and sleeping in Peace Halls where anyone could slit their throat. This is your duty. The Queen's voice, intermixed with Tojo's and Delilàh. They were all talking over each other in a string of memories that had no discernible connection other than a singular feeling: shame.

Off to the side, in her lonesomeness, sat a woman who looked like a side of a rockface. Split open and exposed to the elements, Tejara wondered if her face were a cave, and if treasure was held inside. They took a sip of their drink, adjusted their lamba, and approached her.

"Hello," he extended with a small bow. "Mpiady Tejara. You seemed in need of company, and I never quite know who to talk to at these things. Who are you?"







MOOD

nervous



OUTFIT

in disc






LOCATION

the hall




TAGS

mother of sorrows mother of sorrows ; mentions a lil bit of almost everyone













coded by xayah.ღ
 














xan ahn



X
an’s intense gaze slid from Miyu’s and over to the Vexiran noble that presented themselves suddenly. “They love the attention, don’t worry,” He smirked in affirmation to Zhi Kui, gesturing with a smooth nod of his head in the direction of the cats. His eyes slid across Zhi Kui’s figure, assessing the open and jovial body language they displayed.

Xan couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a noble so open about their joy. He had thought it nearly impossible to remove the stiff mask of indifference for the sake of formality. His mother’s words, carved into the soft flesh of his youth, scolded him for the boyish smile and innocent naivete that would shine brightly in his eyes. He cleared his throat to rid of the memory.

With his expression hidden behind the wine glass tilted to his lips and peripheral vision obscuring the glint in his eyes, Xan observed Miyu place her hand within the newcomer’s own. There was a tremor of hesitance laced within her actions--possibly, and Xan chalked it up to uncertainty at each country's idea of formality.

A subtle twitch of his features indicated his response to the chaste kiss placed upon the Tsusaye representative's smooth skin. Once her hand slid from Zhi Kui’s and back to her lap, Xan diverted his attention instead to the nobles chatting cordially throughout the room. Glassware and impossibly polished silverware glinted in an opulent splendor under the lights A sight for dreams, surely, but it turned Xan’s stomach sour. Another heavy sip of wine before he was reaching for the bottle set on the small side table separating him from the Tsusaye noble in his company, red liquid filling his glass with a sticky sweet aroma.

Further into the room, another noble seemed to be reaching for a refill at the same time. Xan’s eyebrows inched upward ever so slightly, the flash of amusement in his eyes brief enough to seem imagined. He didn’t recognize him, nor his attire as fitting any nation readily available at the forefront of his mind. The flush heavy across the noble’s cheeks, however, was a resounding clue that he must’ve been unused to drinking such an amount. Xan’s eyes fell back to the heavy glass tilted in his hand, the wine inside threatening to spill crimson against the silk of his attire.

Mali chuffed at Miyu’s feet, flopping down onto the cold tile of the floor beneath them. Her tail swished through the air in a playful arc before the tigress exposed the cream fur of her underbelly, basking in the attention.

Xan offered the woman a soft smile, one that failed to penetrate the heavy blackness of his eyes. His gaze was intense, bottomless as he addressed her once more. “Quite the impression,” he drawled, repeating back each word as if he was turning them over, inspecting them thoroughly and assessing the sound they made once vibrating through the air. “It’s fortunate indeed to meet someone with such a talent, no?” He averted his gaze downward once more, gaze locked on the movement of his thumb streaking a small arc across the surface of his wine glass. “After a certain amount of formal events, it gets quite hard to meet someone able to evoke such a feeling.” A brief glance took in Miyu’s features once more, recounting the momentary feeling her person had sparked within him.







MOOD

curious



OUTFIT

discord






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS
Uxie Uxie
FloatingAroundSpace FloatingAroundSpace
(mentions valen briefly)













coded by xayah.ღ
 













Peng Zhi Kui



Z
hi Kui’s eyes did not flicker to the man seated besides Miyu and instead, their entire head turned to gaze upon Xan Ahn of Bandiama in an affable manner, bobbing up and down subtly as if to nod in agreement that she had chosen a suitable individual to become acquainted with. A thought worth speaking aloud, worth reaching a hand out in a similar manner, even though Xan Ahn seemed more occupied with the wine in hand— and perhaps was less interested in Zhi Kui’s own for reasons that may have had to do with the kiss bestowed on the resident of Tsuyaye.

“I suppose that makes a well assembled cast, no?”
they said pleasantly, a casual smile slipping across their lips, settling into its space with ease.
“You will be my second and third acquaintances as well, a perfectly matching set.”


The hand retreated from its offer once Miyu spoke again, remarking upon the presence of their partial sister, Xiaoran. The smile seemed to sink even deeper into their face, as if settling into its position even further.
“Ah, my sister,”
they remarked, their thumbs disappearing into the waistband of their trousers, the rest of their fingers splaying out forward to avoid flexing them into a closed fist. Their head tilted and inclined towards Miyu to acknowledge her assessment, her declaration that she made an impression, and it soon turned to Xan Ahn as he piled on the praise, the implications towards their sibling— rival, annoyance, pest, nuisance, whatever. Two of them were lingering about in the halls somewhere— even here, so far away from home! Still, that was far fewer hands to smack away or seize depending on their mood, fewer footsteps to listen for, fewer scrunched features and heaved breaths in exasperation or frustration that they had ignore or provide reason for, a constant game of teeth bared in grins of malice and blood that ran thin.

“Runs in the family,”
they offered cordially, their tone dropping a bit deeper, rumbling through their chest and out into the open, the enthusiasm more coy now, as if teasing or offering a joke that the parties before them were meant to get. They glanced down at the oversized creatures that they had declared as cats, the way their eyes blinked slowly and openly at them. Given Miyu had pet them without issue, they saw no reason, especially after the accepted hand, why they would find problem with them and indeed, an outstretched hand was sniffed tentatively before it was permitted to rub against the fur and flesh.

The smile returned to its beaming grin, their attention seemingly on the creatures, when they offered their own assessment;
“I met someone from Tsuyaye, actually. I have heard tales of your land’s prowess in strategy even after all these years.”
Here they glanced up, the grin perhaps a bit wider than natural.
“He gave quite the impression, as well. A good establishment of what I ought to expect.”








MOOD

lil shit



OUTFIT

description






LOCATION

peace hall




TAGS

Pepsionne Pepsionne , Uxie Uxie













coded by xayah.ღ
 
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