Realistic or Modern The Devil's Throne - IC (Open)

[Misty Gray]

The Devil's Throne - IC

Chapters
Chapter 1: The Gallows
Chapter 2 - The Ball


Currently Active Cast: Misty Gray Melanin-Gxdess Violetti Peckinou MinTea FireMaiden Songbird500
​

 

[Misty Gray]

Chapter 1: The Gallows

The August day had been a warm and sunny one, drawing attention to the beautiful gardens and sculptures around the palace grounds. It was difficult to think of the darkness that clouded the palace and the barbaric punishments that had taken place a relative short distance away at the gallows. Thankfully, the princesses were shielded from such harsh politics and were kept away from brutal practices such as the executions.

As the afternoon approached its end, the royal family would be aware dinner was approaching. There was still some time left to enjoy what remained of the sunshine, but they would need to ensure they were dressed and ready in time for dinner. King Robert didn't like people being late for meals. But for now, enjoy the sunshine before what's bound to be a less than pleasant time around the royal dinner table.
​

Christopher Ravenswood​

It had only been a little over a week since Margaret's execution and the King had already ordered Christopher to oversee the hangings of three more criminals. The three men in question were guilty and no doubt deserved punishment more than the young maid had, but yet another public execution was simply tiresome. He didn't care about those three men and any families they might have left behind. They knew what they were doing when they broke the laws of the land and that the king would punish them accordingly. Christopher simply found it tedious that he had to waste his time overseeing the circus whilst the public stood and watched, having nothing better to do with their own insignificant lives. On the plus side, his disinterest for today's spectacle was preferable to the previous week, where he'd had no choice but to stand by whilst an innocent girl was hanged. After the torture she'd suffered through, he felt there was no choice but to hand a death sentence to the maid. Margaret had been left in a terrible state and were she to speak up of the barbaric treatment, it wouldn't have gone down well with the public. Christopher wasn't about to claim he'd spared the girl from the suffering of her wounds, but the torture she had endured had left the maid in great pain. Whilst he knew similar pain, he'd been forced to learn to take it, but Margaret had lost her will and her mind had been destroyed by her suffering. He believed her execution had released her from her own inner turmoil.

Christopher had wasted little time in returning to the palace once the show at the gallows was over, not even bothering to address Wesley who'd had to escorted the three men to their deaths. He'd seen enough of the guard already that morning, as the pair had trained together. Wesley had been training the princes since they were old enough, and though Christopher believed himself to be competent he was sure there was much more he could learn. Today he'd learned not to spar with the better swordsman when he was distracted by his own anger. Now standing in front of the mirror in his lavish bedroom, he was reminded of why it was important not to become distracted. He peeled off the dressing from the wound on his arm and set about cleaning the bloodied cut that had been inflicted by Wesley's sword. Pride had prevented Christopher from doing anything but taking the injury in his stride. Besides which, Wesley had been around long enough and done enough for the King for Christopher to even attempt demanding the guard's punishment for his own slip up. As he redressed the fresh wound, he reminded himself it had been his own fault for losing concentration, unlike the many scars on his back which had been inflicted purely by the king's cruelty.

Once dressed for dinner, Christopher decided to take a walk through the palace grounds and ensure everything was running smoothly before it was time to join the family for their meal. The whole family being around one table was often an uncomfortable and dramatic affair. Given that the eldest prince was in a terrible mood wasn't likely to help make the meal more tolerable.

****************

Wesley Lancaster​

The crowds had quickly left the grounds surrounding the gallows once the 'show' was over. Prince Christopher had wasted little time before returning to the palace too. Wesley perched himself on the steps that lead up to the wooden gallows. As the men behind him cut down the three deceased criminals from the ropes they'd been hanged from, the Head of Security closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for the three souls. He'd been the man to let the three criminals out of their cells in the castle dungeon and then lead them to their public deaths. It never got easier and it was without a doubt one of the worst parts of his job. With it being so soon after Margaret's death, Wesley had tried to get King Robert to see reason and delay the day's hangings, but the man was in no mood to listen and it had left the guard with little choice but to lead another execution. Despite the fresh corpses of the latest condemned souls being mere feet away, it was Margaret that still weighed heavy on Wesley's mind. She was a rare light within the darkness of the palace and he'd been forced to walk the poor girl to her death.

With the removal of the deceased all in hand, Wesley eventually excused himself from the gallows and headed back towards the palace. He reminded himself of his purpose to protect the royal family and of the goodness that always kept him motivated. He'd known all six of the royal children since they were born and he felt it was his duty to remain a good, stable figure in their lives. Even to the Dark Prince who was no doubt still irritated with him following their training that morning. Even Christoper he believed had a little good still in him, but it was locked far too deep for Wesley to coax out and he suspected would remain that way for as long as the King was encouraging such evil. Whilst Wesley and Robert tended to be on friendly terms, where the guard was at times permitted to speak openly to his king, he didn't stop worrying about the Queen. He remembered Arielle as a young and vibrant woman, before she married Robert. Ever since, Wesley and Arielle had become good friends, which meant he could never leave the palace and abandon the woman he held with such high esteem. It was the very family that deeply burdened him that also filled him with purpose and admiration. Whether he liked it or not, he was bound to the palace and was sure his only escape from it would be through death.

Wesley took a shortcut through the hedge maze, knowing every intricacy of the labyrinth by now, and soon emerged near to the large main entrance of the extravagant palace. He then proceeded to walk the grounds to make sure everything was running smoothly and securely before he would soon stand guard outside the family's private dining hall. He also liked to remind the more free-spirited of the royal children not to be late for dinner. Robert and Christopher were both in foul moods, so he'd hate for any of the princes or princesses to feel their wrath today.

Misty Gray Melanin-Gxdess RayPurchase Violetti Mqueserasera deer Peckinou MinTea FireMaiden Stardust Galaxy Songbird500 Cosmo Tjek persimmon NUSKI

OOC: Feel free to interact with either of my characters or each others. I've intentionally left them open. Alternatively, post your characters introduction and I'll see what I can throw your way!​

 

[RayPurchase]

Sir James Rorchester
Prime Minister

​

“And so the Prime Minister would have us sit here, placating to the French and their every whim like a cuckolded wife we shall be the laughing stock of Europe, nay the world Sir. On top of the ignominy of the planned Spanish match, which would see the Prince, and future King, married to not just a Spaniard, but a Catholic!”


There were several roars of ‘shame’ from the opposition benches. Sir Christopher Paige, the nominal leader of the opposition, and spokesman of the Tory MPs smiled, smelling blood in the water.

“Perhaps the time is coming for a change of course, lest we allow the nation to be brought to her knees by the Prime Minister. I say not on my watch,”

The Opposition benches erupted into cheers, and it took a full minute for the Speaker to bring the chamber back under heel. Sir James arose from the benches. Smoothing his black coat down as he took a step forward to the dispatch box. Pulling himself up to his full height, he was not a particularly tall or physically striking standing at 5”10. His once black mane of hair was beginning to recede, and greys were beginning to show, and the frown lines on his forehead were near permanent now. But after 6 years serving as the King’s Prime Minister and head of his government, those were perhaps a small price to pay. He leant his right forearm on the box, looking from his own party members, to the Speaker, before resting his gaze on Sir Christopher.


“Bold words indeed from the Leader of the Opposition. From what I gather he would see Europe alight in the flames of war, and both France and Spain at our throats. I thank God, that for the Nation’s sake that he occupies the benches opposite me, if it was up to him the very benches we sit upon would be torn up to fuel the fires of war that he so boldly wishes to kindle and to see burn without control or caution!”

His fellow Whig politicians behind him brayed their approval as he parried and countered with the Opposition.

“He would put his own personal pride before the good of the nation? Mr Speaker I declare that the Leader of the Opposition is little more than a war hawk, looking for conflict where there is nothing to be gained. Or perhaps a Peacock would be a more apt description? I’m sure that whilst he would be most willing to spend blood and treasure on such pointless endeavours, the thought of bloodying his own hands has not even crossed his mind. Preferring the safety of his Westminster town house to the realities of war. Whilst I still hold the confidence of this House of Commons, I shall continue to make it my mission to maintain peace on the continent, and thus continued prosperity and stability of Albion,"

His fist came down on the box, his signet ring cracking against solid oak. The cheers from the Government benches rang out, drowning out any such reply from the opposition. He did not smile as he slumped back onto the green leather bench. France, Spain, Catholicism. All easy and popular targets, and Sir Christopher had them ammunition for them all. For now MPs confidence was still with the government, but Paige could whittle away at that with the easy targets. There was something else as well. Not mention out in public events such as these, such a thing would be political suicide. But whispered in the dark corners of the bars and galleries that MPs and men in similar positions of power frequented. Of goings on within the royal court, dark whispers and rumours, such a place was a breeding ground for such things. But at the heart of each rumour was a kernel of truth, and from such a kernel discord and chaos can grow if it is not properly investigated and pruned away. Most worryingly of all, the 2 figures at the heart of such rumours were not simply courtiers or advisors, who could easily be cut away and secluded. No. When such rumours concern the King and the Crown Prince, that is an altogether more dangerous, and worrying situation. It was this that had held back Sir James' smile, and that which had caused many a restless night for him, devoid of rest and with dreams filled with anarchy and woe.

Later that day

Sir James let out a grumble as the carriage jolted, the wooden frame and wheels offering next to nothing in suspension or ability to soften the blow. The paved and cobbled streets of London already seemed like a distant dream. The carriage itself was modest inside, the top crammed with luggage, with a team of 2 horses and 2 drivers, both armed of course, these were dangerous times after all. He finally gave up with the stack of papers he had been steadily digesting.

"There are two things that one can guarantee in life my dear, paperwork and death. And seeing as how the good lord has decided that I shall have my good health, he has decided to bless me with the constant presence of a truly barbaric amount of the former,"

He allowed himself to relax back into the seat. His eyes closed momentarily, despite the bumpiness of the ride, the combination of the plush seats and exhaustion were almost enough of a combination to allow him to slip off. He forced his eyes back open however, and smiled at the young lady opposite him. His only daughter Emily was sharing the ride to Sandringham with him. Since the passing of her mother some 7 years previous, she was the only thing individual left that he truly cared about.

"Perhaps it shall be good to get out of London, if even for a few days for myself. Even if it means taking ourselves to the piper's lair. It gives me no pleasure leaving you there. I know you can handle yourself but…"

He stared out the window at the passing countryside. That quintessential slice of England, her green and pleasant lands. Hiding the rot within.

"... if rumours are to be believed, the Royal Court is perhaps the most dangerous place to be. And here I am taking us both to it,"

(interaction: Misty Gray Emily Rorchester)

 

[Tjek]

"OI OFF THE BLOODY GATES!", Patty screamed at the crowd of protestors and rioters. Patty didn't really understand what it was lately that was causing the people to act like this. Normally when hanging happened the crowd loved them and saw them like they were a show at the theatre but lately everything was different. This had been the second time in a month that a large crowd of angry people marched up to the pallace and attempted to get through the gates.

"Charlie!", Patty called over to one of the other guards and a young boy about eighteen years old rushed over to him.

"Aye Sergeant?", The boy looked at Patty as more guards rushed over to the gate to help keep the protestors off of the palace grounds.

"Listen well lad. I need ya to let Wesley know that we got a wee bit of a problem", Patty told the young guard. The boy nodded his head yes and sprinted off towards the palace.

Patty turned back to the large crowd and sighed, this was going to be a long day. He grabbed his rifle and approached the gates with the other guards.

"Hold fast lads, we're going to be here a while".

 

[Cosmo]

It was a warm sunny august day free of both the oncoming fall chill and, even more astonishing, of rain. Some servants whispered that the union may truly be God's will if they were being spared the rain on such an important dinner others that not even God had yet to grasp the fact that the Crown Prince was going to be marrying a Spaniard. In but a short while, the sun would be roosting casting its fading orange rays upon the palace and the royal dinner would take place, something no one truly looked forward to but only royalty could turn even simple meals into grand posturing displays that would snuffle any hint of family bond or love... but perhaps that was just because a father eating with his children was a rare occurrence in all of nobility and maybe it would be more common if children weren't pawned off to nannies and governess to stay out of sight and mind until they are needed. The world of nobility was shinny, clean but cold, frozen by layers of propriety and tradition, perhaps one could feel pity for such dolled up birds within their gilded cages but it was hard to when they were such lovely cages.

The patrolling pair's boots echoed down the stone corridor but out of tune, one pair's boots were embroiled leather that made a crisp clap as the heel met rock while the other's was a much harsher clank as the steel encased sabaton ground into it. The two men were likewise out of tune, the man on the left was handsome with a stylish mustache, a large cavalier hat tilted to the side and a goose feather poking out. His tunic was a soft cotton under a beautifully stitched coat. On his hip hung both a pistol and a smallsword with gold inlay, a delicate form of a rapier that was favored among many of the nobility, especially the French, a duelist weapon. It was only the emblem of the crown upon the coat that let his designation as a palace guard be known, but the man appeared more like a ballroom rake ready to terrify mothers and be the bane of young debutantes then any guard. The man to the right was the opposite, taller and broader, his face was encased in a helm, the closed visor taking away what humanity might have been glimpsed from within, a large breastplate engulfed his chest and plates ran down his arms and legs, the tabard over it marked his position as a palace guard, at his waist he also had a pistol but on the other was a kriegsmesser, a long single edged warblade that was comparatively simple in design but the handle was well worn and showed signs of age and use. It was an interesting and confusing mix, but truth of the matter was, the uniform of the palace guard was much laxer compared to the guards of the gate and walls. The man to the right wore the traditional garb while the man to the left wore the newer garb favored by such people as the Head of Security.

"Did you hear, Barley?" The rakish guard said as he swaggered down the hall, his hand resting comfortably upon his small sword, "The Lady Whitley is holding a ball tomorrow night, nothing to impressive, of course, just a little something for the fall season and to give people a reprieve from the... well, you know," he finished as he played with the edge of his mustache.

"I heard," the armored man, Barley, responded, his voice harsher, distorted from the helm and with the slight hint of a Prussian accent making it seem more aggressive then it would otherwise sound, "What of it?" he asked as he turned his head to check the passing corridor, but that was something he always seemed to be moving. His head was constantly rotating, the eyes within jumping around to person to person, surface to surface, as they examined, weighed, assigned and dismissed.

"No need to be grumpy, Barley," the rake said, his voice rolling and smooth with the slight scent of aged cognac on his breath, "Just that I shall be attending to fill out the numbers, done by my father, you understand."

Barley flicked his eyes over to the rakish guard, Tobias Cranford, third son of the Baron Cranford of Lonsdale. The second son had joined the clergy which left the youngest to join the military as was tradition, but his father, Baron Cransford, had pulled some strings and got the younger man assigned to the royal guard, a position close to court with a noble lineage that would allow him to attend the balls and parities of nobility and perhaps woo a daughter with a dowry. It was neither unique nor uncommon among the guard although Tobias held himself with a certain swagger that was even more annoying to Barley but the young man was a renown duelist having fought a number in the few years he had been on the guard, a scandalous amount from what the rumors have said. With the smallsword, there were few in the guard who could match him in an unarmored duel.

"I have my eye on a plump little thing from the country," Tobias continued as the man did love the sound of his own voice.

"Rosalie, Vicar's daughter?" Barley replied dryly as he turned to let a mousy servant squeeze past, Rosalie was from some small town or another and had recently arrived for her debut likely only for a season. Barley did not recall much about the small woman that drew attention and it seemed she would likely be a wallflower, which suited Barley fine, young noble chits with their heads full of themselves tended to make his job more difficult then it needed to be even if the children loved the stories.

"I trust you will be keeping your eyes to yourself, old chap," Tobias said, his voice holding a sharper edge to it then before, "Not that you would do anything about it, would you Sir Barley."

The pair came to a stop and Barley turned towards the smaller man, his hand came up to rest on the hilt of his own blade as they stared at one another as Tobias tried in vain to catch Barley's eyes from within the darkness of the helm. Silence descended on the empty stone hall, but it was a stare Barley was destined to win and was exactly why he preferred the older armor. The helm had a dehumanizing and intimidating effect that made it impossible for the other guards to attempt to intimidate or find vulnerabilities, vulnerabilities they would jump on like jackals. It was a useful wall and buffer between himself and these people.

The stare continued for a few more seconds before the power of the visor made itself known and Tobias gave a hearty laugh as he pushed it aside, "Of course you wouldn't, and I wouldn't want to be taken before that stickler Lancaster, like our dear friend, hm?"

"Dragged," Barley corrected as he resumed his patrol leaving his fellow guard in his wake, "I would do my best to not enjoy it, Old Chap."

Mentioned: Wesley Lancaster Misty Gray

 

[MinTea]

Princess Anelissa

Location: Wandering the castle
Interaction: Open
It had been one week since the execution of the maid Margaret, yet Anelissa still mourned. She showed disagreement with the final outcome by wearing heavily black clothes or those of which were worn by her deceased ancestors; it was obvious these clothes were chosen to show support for the maid, as they were displayed during her appearance on the day of the execution and the week following. Although this act was used to flex the discontent she had with her brothers actions, those who knew less about the situation at hand would most likely assume she supported atheism and was against the English Church. She did not care, nor why should she, it was about her brother acknowledging the fact he had done her and the kind-hearted maid wrong. It made her look fierce and feisty to appear to be combating the princes dystopian ways; this was not how she really felt.

The week had been long and hard for her, the poor girl had been in and out of crying fits, behind closed doors. Only those close to her really saw what this had done to her; they don't know why it had affected her so much however. She was fresh friends with the maid, nothing like a lifelong companionship or a deep-rooted, childhood friendship connected them. It puzzled people. Out of worry for her friend, she had snuck off to the execution. The girl hadn't really thought about what she would witness once she got there; it wasn't like she hadn't realised people died, she just didn't expect it to be so gruesome. The mental image of her friends head slowly turning purple as she gripped and clawed at her neck clung to her thoughts like a snake to a tree. The original drop hadn't snapped her neck, so they just let her hang and suffocate. To know that this happens to not only just her friend, but the poor people of England, enraged her! Mentally, this had cut a deep wound, but how it was received by her was that it only made her opinions stronger and her voice louder.

The princess brushed down her black dress, removing any creases that may be plaguing the fine silk. Tonight was the family dinner, a perfect time to show off the dress and express her voice on the matter. Anelissa hoped that some of her siblings may back her up on the matter, as they may be valued more than her at the table. She was the youngest, so it is always assumed her to be the least experienced and 'wise'. The girl knew it was a matter of time, chance and opportunity to bring up maid Margaret; it was the right time to bring it up as it had been a week. The opportunity would be beneficial as well as many people would be there, meaning her brother couldn't run off. She just need a chance to somehow mention it at the dinner table. She had to intricately plan this for it to be a success. Now, the woman began to advance around the castle, in an attempt to talk to her brother early on about the situation.

The Autumn air kept the palace cool against the soon setting sun, it would start becoming cold and the fires would need to be ablaze after dark soon. It made walking through the halls more enjoyable however, compared to the height of Summer or the dead of Winter. It was neither hot nor cold, it was more like a comforting middle. Comforting as it could try to be in the court. Oranges and auburn's would be seen in all sorts of places during the colder seasons. The crackling fires, the deep, desolate woods and the court fashion. Everything had begun to get colder and less welcoming, the greens changing to orange more like a warning than something to be awed at. It was a time for everything to start dying... like her friend. The world was becoming a dangerous place for those not born in the high ranks of society; the cold would nip at their fingers and death would knock at their door.

mentioned: Misty Gray

 

[FireMaiden]

Location: Wondering the Castle
Interaction: Open
Mentioned: Misty Gray (Christopher) NUSKI (Tomas)
"Thank you, Sophia, I can take it from here," Elvira smiled sweetly, watching the young maid hang the dresses Elvira decided against for dinner. The air in the castle had been tense since she arrived, just a few days before that poor girl Margaret was executed. Elvira felt bad for the girl, and absolutely gutted for Anelissa. The princess seemed close to her. In any case, it hadn't been a great first impression of her future husband. Elvira had been made aware of any rumors and every single detail her mother could get her claws on, but this wasn't something she was prepared for. His entire family had been accommodating, her room was gorgeous, all the small details she could use to be sent home were airtight. Someone even set up an easel in her room so she could paint. In fact, she was working on something now, the new from the window it was sitting next to; the Gardens.

Sitting down at her vanity, Elvira grabbed her hairbrush. Silver, soft bristles, a painted rose on the back; the brush was a going away gift from Isabella. The bristles glided through her hair like they had three times already. Over and over, subconsciously falling into mindless brushing because she simply didn't want to get dressed yet. Nerves were tied in the pit of her stomach, but she knew she couldn't just hide in her room, she had duties. She had to just suck it up and get dressed. So, finally pushing herself off the small chair, she turned to her bed where the dress was laid out. A soft, dark dyed silk, only double layered with silver accents. It was one of her favorites. Briefly, she turned back to the mirror, trying to think of something else she could do, but her hair was styled, simple but pretty. Elvira couldn't put it off anymore.

Once she was dressed, Elvira snuck out of her room, knowing Tomas would be somewhere nearby but he could find her when he did. Slowly, she began walking in the general direction of the dining hall, hands folded in front of her, Elvira was still a bit tense. And so eager to no be the first to arrive, she let her attention be taken by something outside. A small bird was sitting on the wall, eating something it probably stole from the kitchen. It was adorable, honestly, and Elvira decided that even if it was nothing too special, she was going to stand there for a few minutes and watch.

 

[NUSKI]

TOMAS HERRERA
I: FireMaiden (Elvira Tavares) M: Misty Gray (Christopher Ravenswood)
------------------------------------------------

An ear-splitting yell sounded from behind him as the canons fired.
Muddy boots and bloody uniforms could be seen in all directions.
Frightened, abandoned horses trampled the corpses of the enemy.​

Tomas's eyes shot wide open as water dripped from his face. Looking into the mirror in front of him, the edges of lips turned downward as to suggest he was disappointed with his appearance. He had been having surreal nightmares for the past three nights, resembling his time fighting against the Prussian and English forces. It had been several years since he regularly had nightmares and concluded that his arrival in the United Kingdom was the cause of nighttime terrors. Even now during the day, his mind was plagued with thoughts of war. He wasn't planning on telling Elvira about it, in fear she may recommend him to take a step back from his duties. He had been praying about it and hoped that the nightmares would leave him.

Tomas splashed some more water in his face before stepping back before staring at his reflection for a few more seconds. Quickly drying his face off with a towel, Tomas reminded himself that he had a job to do which did not include daydreaming. His thoughts then shifted to Lady Elvira, who had most likely taken his disappearance as a chance to sneak away. Tomas cleared his throat and thoroughly rubbed his face, making sure it was fully dry and placed his right hand on the hilt of his blade as he left the restroom and headed towards the dining hall. This evening would be the first of many, many royal dinners. In some ways, he was disappointed that things had changed so rapidly... especially with all the tension in the air. It did not take long after Lady Elvira arrived that he was told he should always keep his weapon sheathed. The tension between the United Kingdom and Spain seemed to be so trivial when comparing it to the recent execution of a common maid. It hadn't even been a full month and Tomas already knew he hated the palace and the potential secrets that filled it. Then there was the matter of the actual soon-to-be king (and Elvira's husband), Christopher Ravenswood. Tomas had yet to meet him, but he was worried for Elvira on the few things he had heard about the man. Executing a maid over what he considered superstition seemed foolish and unnecessarily cruel, but he wasn't going to say that out loud; he would soon be marrying one of the few important people in his life. Tomas raised his head, focusing more on locating Lady Elvira. He knocked on her room door several times and was met with no response which hadn't surprised him. She most likely had already left and Tomas picked up the speed as he headed towards the dining hall.

After a few wrong turns, Tomas was nearly there and slowed his pace as he saw his charge in the distance. He took a deep breath in when he saw what she was wearing and nodded to himself as he came to a sudden stop beside the woman, his hands behind his back. He had seen her nearly everyday for the past five years but there was something about today that made her... stand out.

"You should have waited for me. This isn't Spain, I don't think you should roam the palace alone." Tomas started as his eyes focused on the small bird she seemed to have been fixated on. He couldn't help but grin as he knew this wasn't the last time he would be having this conversation. "I know we have talked about it before, but it all really begins today. How do you feel? Nervous?"

 

[Misty Gray]

Wesley Lancaster​

As he contined partolling the palace grounds, Wesley was soon approached by a teenage guard. Having made it a point to learn as much about the security staff as he could, he was aware the man's name was Charlie. He sent the young man an acknowledging nod before receiving the update. It seemed like the crowd at the gates had yet to leave completely and a few were instead there to kick up a fuss. He was unsure which he'd rather not have: the protesters or those who attended the execution for entertainment. He'd prefer to have neither.

In his swift, focused and long strides, Wesley soon approached the gates in question. It was not close enough to disturb the King or the peacefulness of the palace gardens, but a disturbance, nonetheless. The Head of Security walked alongside the high walls, observing all of the guards as he did, ensuring they were in their assigned positions and appropriately armed and dressed. By now, he could hear the rowdy crowd at the other side of the upcoming tall gates, but his initial inclination was there was a lot of noise coming from fewer people than he'd anticipated. If it was like the last time, they'd be too distracted to hear Wesley's voice over their own.

"Having trouble here?" Wesley asked Patrick, as he'd been the one to request his presence. Now with the crowd in view, Wesley estimated just over a couple of dozen protesters. He knew better than to underestimate anyone, but the odds stacked up in the palace's favour on this one. "Everyone will maintain their positions and do as they've been trained. No unauthorised man will pass through these gates. Do you understand?" he firmly ordered those standing closest.

Wesley brushed past a distracted looking guard and swiped the man's firearm with ease, raising it into the air and firing a single shot to gain the crowd's attention. He turned to the guard in question and glared at him as he handed the weapon back to him. "That was too easy. You should not lose sight or control of your weapon. You will train again, at sunrise," he quietly lectured the man in a whispered voice. He then walked into sight of the crowd, who were now much quieter having been startled by the gunshot. Wesley stood directly opposite the crowd, paying special attention to the man in the front centre of the crowd; the one who seemed most vocal yet somewhat informed. Presumably, Partick would remain alongside Wesley or at least at his stationed position. After asking one of the crowd members to confirm their issues, Wesley nodded along to the answer about their issues with public executions. It was a subject Wesley was far too familiar with.

"Gentlemen, I hear your concerns and I will be sure to communicate them to--" Even with the guard's commanding voice filling the area, the man he was directly addressing still tried to interrupt him. Wesley was a patient and diplomatic man, though he still found himself wishing the silver-tongued, adviser to the King and Queen was present. Stephen was much better with this kind of thing. "No. I am not trying to buy you with empty words. Three of you will return here on our next Monday. I will be here. Early morning. Then your concerns will be listened to and discussed with in a more productive environment than the present one."

Tjek (Patrick)

 

[Tjek]

PATTY

Patty watched on quietly as Sir Wesley gave his speech to the crowd. Everybody in the guard respected Wesley and held him to high esteem. The man had never treated any of guardsmen wrong or in a disrespectful way unless they acted out in a manner that brought dishonor to the guard or royal family. Simply put, Wesley was a great leader of the guard and the men loved him.

"Oi over here", Patty called the guard who's weapon was left unattended over to him.

"Yes Sergeant?", The man asked with a voice that was full of fear. Patty lowered his brow and grabbed the man by his collar. Now the guardsmen at the palace were renowned for the professionalism, but Patty was a soldier long before he was a guardsman so he made it his mission to correct his lads even if it people could see him do it.

"Listen good boy because It won't happen again", Patty shoved the man against the guard's shack and his eyes seemed to turn a shade darker in color.

"Patty!", The other guard tried to free himself from Patty's grasp, but the veteran soldier was far more stronger.

"If you ever leave your bloody weapon laying around again I drive your skull into the castle walls until I feel nothing but the soft mush of your brain in my hands. Do I make myself clear?", Patty glared at the man with the intensity of a Summer's sun. The other guard gulped in once before answering with a simple yes.

"Good, now get you rifle and watch the gate", Patty let the other guard go and the man sprinted over to recover his rifle from Sir Wesley.

 

[Mqueserasera]

Jeremiah Ravenswood
the third prince

mentioned: Christopher Ravenswood Misty Gray ; Luca Ravenswood Violetti ; Genevieve Ravenswood deer ; Merliva Ravenswood Peckinou ; Anelissa Ravenswood MinTea

Interaction(s): Christopher Ravenswood Misty Gray / open​

As his pleasant dream came to an end, the third prince of England cracked open his eyes to greet the last lingering sun rays. It dawned on him quickly that the sun was not rising, but setting, and yet little guilt could be found in his healthy yawn. In lazy rolls, His Highness edged himself to the end of his prince-size bed, which was fairly big even by royalty standard. He had two reasons to have made such a bed, one for his beauty sleep, another for the late-night guests, whose visits increasing by the number of birthdays he got accumulated.

The moment the velvet drapes parted away, a maid eagerly burst into the room like a knight set free to joust the opponent off his horse. With Jeremiah’s first step down the stool by his giant bed, his nightwear had already been in the maid’s deft hands. Then within minutes, the young prince was admiring his fully clothed self in a golden mirror. His face swept right, then left, until the dark coloured hair was brushed silky smooth as a horse’s mane, but still retained enough wildness of a lion.

“How do I look?” he granted himself one more feast on his beauty.

“Marvelous, my Prince!” said the maid almost immediately.

“Spare me the pleasantries, Maria,” said Jeremiah in his most humbleness, “I would never get mad over a bad hair day.”

“Oh my Prince, never since the great Lionheart had there been a man so…”

“Ah, if you insist,” he cut the maid off with a dismissive wave of hands, although a smile did visibly bloom on his pretty face.

The door opened at the sound of Jeremiah’s first step towards it. There stood a man more or less at his prince’s age, but with slick back hair, an emotionless face and a firm posture. The corner of the servant’s mouth twisted into a smile as he said good afternoon to the third prince.

They made their way through the palace’s many corridors. The third prince took long strides, but with occasionally halts and loitering around. The servant, meanwhile, matched his prince’s pace perfectly while going on informing the prince of what he had missed in his half-day slumber.

On the just now finished executions, Jeremiah was not saddened for having missed it. When you have seen one dangling pair of feet you have seen them all. The many forms of anger, tears and hollowness only served to make him uneasy, as if he himself was on the death row. At first, he thought they would display more valor, glory fully boasted as their lives draw short, just like the heroes in epic poems. Those men and women were instead simply pathetic. Jeremiah preferred not to think about them at all, lest his chest feels funny.

“Ah, before I forget,” said Jeremiah in the middle of admiring dying sunlight through a colored glass window, somewhere along one of the longest halls, “you still remember the young maiden at the party last night? Oh fair Olivia, or was it Cecillia? how bad I am with names,” his eyes turned dreamy, “yet just as badly I want to meet her again. Her oceanic eyes captured me so, and the ample bosom also. Right, Levan, jot it down, jot it down now. Remind me tonight when I’m left with no entertainment, I can hardly wait.”

“The family dinner, my prince, you shouldn’t miss it,” said Levan without missing a beat.

Jeremiah turned away in a sudden burst of annoyance, his mood turned foul and voice irritated.

“Yes! Nagging me on! Don’t I know well how I must this and must that,” he said with his feet childishly planted on the ground, “Lord knows, I would rather dine with a hungry lion than with His Highness the king, but alas, fate would have me sit by the scarier one. Just,… leave me the peace of mind for how long it could last!”

The thought of facing the king and his boring family was full of dread indeed. “How can I ease my mind before this ordeal?” Jeremiah pondered, “How lovely would it be to lend my ears to the sweet voice of dear Eve, but (and this is a big but), sister may find wrongs in me to nag, tirelessly so. And I have received quite enough nagging for this week in whole. Anelissa then? I may stir up a big enough flame to set the dinner alight…No, that won’t do! Her sense of fashion is a black plague to the eyes recently, she would need plenty of sun rays in her blackness wardrobe first and foremost! And the others – my brothers and Merlivia - need me in their sights even less than I find them joyous companies. Am I truly cursed to be the only flower in this forest of steel?”

His great ponder was cut short. Sounds of footsteps coming, clearly to the young prince’s nice ears, it was those of the second most important man in this palace, His Highness the future king – the eldest royal child.

“Why are you hiding, my prince?” Levan whispered the question.

“To not be found,” answered Jeremiah, “now, scatter!”

At his command, the servant disappeared after Jeremiah wandered his glance elsewhere and back.

And so Jeremiah hid alone behind a flower vase, completely disregarded the fact that he was no master spy. Staying as still as he could without holding his breath, Jeremiah waited. In his imagination, Christopher would pass by, oblivious of his existence, and absolutely no one else would notice a prince in flashy garments behind a vase.

 

[FireMaiden]

Location: Wondering the Castle
Interaction: NUSKI (Tomas)
Mentioned: Misty Gray (Christopher)
"I'm more than aware this isn't Spain, " Elvira replied, her eyes not leaving the bird perched outside. "If anyone is so brave to attack me in broad daylight, then they are obviously not that bright." She fell silent, spinning the ornate ring that sat on her thumb. He had a point, England and Spain were not on the best terms, Elvira could always feel the eyes boring into the back of her skull when she was in a room with any English noble. The Frenchmen weren't much better, and if it weren't for Tomas, Elvira would constantly feel the need to look over her shoulder. The woman sighed, finally turning away from the window to look at Tomas. She trusted him more than anyone else, especially here, but she didn't know if she could tell him how she felt. "I'm...of course I'm nervous."

She turned so her back was to the wall, leaning back slightly as she closely crossed her arms, Elvira could feel the cool stone through the back of her dress. "I've been kept at arm's length since the moment I arrived, I'm a stranger in these halls, and I have apparently arrived at the worst possible time. The poor maid... And how am I supposed to act around Christopher at dinner?" She asked, sighing as she looked down the hall, then back to Tomas, "As you said, it all really starts tonight." Pushing herself off the wall, she straightened out the dress, and then herself. She shouldn't be worrying about something she couldn't control, the royal family wouldn't be trying to kill her. They needed her to be happy in order to keep their planned alliance intact. "In any case, I'd say we can avoid dinner a little while longer, yes?"

 

[Violetti]

[class=Notes] // Forward slashes are comments and do no show up in the final design, these are to help you find everything easily and explain some code as well. These comments must be with in a class or script tags in order to be hidden, from what I know// // Long URls are images # followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes or color codes.// // This code does not show breaks unless is shows the
code When typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press enter it will not show that you did. You'll have to use the
tags// [/class] [class=Lines] border-top:2px SOLID #680b0a; margin-bottom:8px; margin-Top:5px; margin-Left:12px; //This is the line dividers in the code, the tiny ones.// [/class]

[class=Notes] //Above is the background color and main border// //below are the two borders around the image// [/class]

Luca | Interacting: Anelissa MinTea | Mentioned: Christopher Misty Gray | Location: Castle halls
[div class="Lines"]

Serenity. It was a feeling that coursed through Luca's veins as his graphite pencil danced gracefully over the parchment before him. The Iberian Lynx. He had the luxury of seeing one in person once at a scientific event. How captivated he was by the creature. Its eyes held a fierceness unbeknownst to his own cat, Tabitha. She was just as fluffy on the inside as she was on the outside. As if on cue, Tabitha nuzzled her head against Luca's leg. The corner of Luca's mouth curled into a smile. "Tabitha, must you cling so closely? My art requires focus." He ran his fingers through her white and grey fur, warranting soft purrs in return. Lifting her up into his lap, Luca continued to sketch in his notebook. The sun would soon be fading, along with any peace left in this house. He had to savor this moment while it lasted.

. . .​

Luca was never late to anything. Being quite OCD, he desperately wished he wasn't so anal about time management. If the Gods are listening to my prayers, strike me ill this very moment and save me from the torment that is to burden my soul. He drew an invisible cross over his chest before leaving his room. Taking one of the longer routes to the dining room, he caught a glimpse of dark fabric turning a corner. It must be Princess Anelissa. She's still overcome with grief for her friend. The hanging last week hadn't bided well with Luca, but what was he to do? The executive decision had been made. To retaliate against the king would be treason. Who would look after Tabitha if he were somehow sentenced to death?? One of the other maids? They weren't him. His youngest sister had confined her wardrobe to the dullest of shades since then, protesting silently in her own, unique way. Although, her confident strides told Luca that tonight she would not be so silent.

Catching up to his sister, Luca would waltz just a few steps behind her. "Anelissa, my dear sister, you will mind your words at dinner tonight, won't you?" The tone of his voice lacked any stern qualities. He knew she would do just as she pleased. And, she was the youngest after-all. She could get away with it, probably. "It's not yet winter, but the air tonight will feel as such. It's rumored that Christopher is not in the brightest of moods." Feeling as though his words wouldn't be enough to dissuade her from her mission, Luca released a small sigh. "If you truly plan on speaking freely, at least run your speech by me on the way, so that I may prepare." Luca despised surprises. If he could plan for every outcome in a scenario, his anxiety would be lifted. Of course, he would have her back even if it placed him in an unfavorable predicament. [div class="Lines"][/div] Original Code by AgWordSmith [/div]

 

[Misty Gray]

Emily Rorchester​

Emily's wardrobe was often full of colour and elegance, much of it down to her own skilled handiwork. Today was a different day, as she'd opted for a fitted back trouser suit and knee-high boots, choosing to be comfortable during her journey to the palace and not wanting to risk dirtying the flowing dresses she tended to wear around the royal grounds. Still, her long, wavy blonde hair was perfectly styled and shone beneath any light that fell upon it. She had to make a good impression all around, especially when often in such close proximity to the royals. Still, it would be nice to truly dress down and muck in at the stables or have a shot at sparring on the training grounds with the guards.

Emily's attention was brought to Sir James as he grumbled at the bumpiness of the carriage ride. A subtle smirk crossed her features as she knew politics were on his mind and it would only get more intense once he was in the presence of the King. "At the rate things are going, it may well be death by paperwork," she lightly teased in response to his words. "I suspect there is some part of you that deep down enjoys the thrill of trawling through rules and legislation. Just like there's a masochistic part of me that enjoys listening to men exaggerate their conquests in battle, whilst I must keep my amusement to myself."

It was nice to spend the journey in the presence of her father. Not only was he the only family she had since her mother had passed away, but he was also the only person she could be her true self with. Once she entered the palace grounds, she would have to play down her aspirations and intelligence. Dress pretty, giggle along with the patronising comments from the noblemen, and altogether behave as society deemed a lady should. "Bite your tongue and hold your opinions," she mentally reminded herself.

James made it clear he didn't like leaving her at the palace and reminded her of how dangerous it was. "That's those masochistic tendencies of ours, again," she said, letting out a short laugh. "But you mustn't worry about me. I can handle myself and it's my choice to be there. There is much darkness and danger within those grounds, but I find it's significantly outweighed by its many charms. Queen Arielle and the princesses are a pleasure to be around," she told him. "Not to mention there is no other place I have been that houses a piano as grand as the one in the ballroom, nor a hedge maze as intricately designed. Besides which, if I spend too much time away from the palace, I might find myself replaced." She crossed her legs and briefly glanced out of the carriage windows to the countryside surrounding them. "Father, you mustn't worry. I can handle this and if things gets too much... then there's always alcohol!"

RayPurchase (Mr Prime Minister)

 

[NUSKI]

TOMAS HERRERA
I: FireMaiden (Elvira Tavares) M: Misty Gray (Christopher Ravenswood)
------------------------------------------------​

"Whatever the lady says," Tomas said with a small smile hidden under his beard. While he would never say so out loud, he would prefer if Elvira never had to enter the dining hall. Things had already changed so much in the past few weeks and after she would be married, his place in her life would be unknown. The palace had countless guards to watch over her, and he definitely had no place in the Spanish government. In the back of his mind, he knew that the older he got his life options would be limited to remaining in England with Elvira or returning to the military. Even if he wanted to stay, it wouldn't be up to him. His original contract states that he serves the Tavares family, not Elvira. If her parents suddenly decide that he must return to Spain, he would have no choice.

"Well..." Tomas started, extending his right arm as to suggest Elvira should walk ahead of him. "I know very little of marriages, royal dinners, and political intrigue. I do know you however, and I can confidently say you are the bravest woman I know." While he truly believed that, they were simply empty words to delay the inevitable main topic: Christopher Ravenswood. Even before they entered England, Tomas heard that Christopher was not the kindest man. The execution of the maid only proved that and made Tomas wondered if the potential truce between the United Kingdom and Spain would even be possible if the man was already in power. There were also the other members of the royal family who he had yet to hear much about. It was hard to think that one day in the near future, these people would be considered Elvira's family.

"The looks are irrelevant. Our two countries have barely just stopped attacking each other so I am positive the looks will go away in time. To the people in this palace, you are an oddity; they don't know how to react, so they stare and whisper. That is why, while I am not particularly excited about it myself, the dinner is important. Aside from the food and wine, the royal family will take this time to find out who you are. Either way, the nobles will be forced to except you after the marriage" Tomas said, stopping in his tracks to face Elvira directly. "The... situation with the maid is upsetting and unfortunate, but it won't affect anything here. If anything, your arrival has probably distracted them from it. You use that. You play the role of the smiling noblewoman... for now at least. You never know, the prince could be the man of your dreams," Tomas ended, immediately regretting it.

It was not his place to suggest such things, and even if it was, Elvira's marriage was arranged; no matter what happens she won't have a choice. He liked to think he could always read the young lady's mind but to be in a situation such as this was out of his realm. Tomas frowned and lowered his head, the shame and guilt already bothering him. "That is only what I would do. I know whatever you choose to do will be the best option."

 

[MinTea]

Princess Anelissa Ravenswood

Location: The Castle Corridors
Interaction: Violetti (Luca Ravenswood)
Mentioned: Misty Gray (Christopher Ravenswood)

Anelissa had been wandering the castle in the hopes of bumping into Christopher. To no avail however, she could not find him and realized that he was probably busy ruining somebody else's life. Her only other option was to confront him at dinner and ravage him for his barbaric ways. It's not that she wanted to create a scene, the girl just wanted to know why her brother had been so cruel and callous in his decision making. What was his thought process when he decided the execution of an innocent girl was okay? Does he have any regrets over it? Would he apologize? Her head was teeming with ideas on what he might say in defense of himself; she was thinking of good retorts to match against him.

As the princess marched along the decorated palace halls, the calm, cool air brushed up against her face, as if in attempt to cool the lava that bubbled under the surface. It was definitely the Autumn season as the air was crisp to the lungs. It smelt of that of the food being made in the kitchen. You could practically taste all of the delicious meals that would be served tonight, such succulent food like this could even make those of the kind like Marie Antoinette jealous! Anelissa did feel slightly guilty though, some families in England would go to bed hungry tonight, whilst they ate lobster thermidor and chocolate truffles. She could only hope that this winter wouldn't be to hard on them; hopefully the harvest was plentiful enough and the people wouldn't suffer.

Winter was the time were the rulers mercy, leadership and kindness was tested. This is why she was curious to watch her brother Christopher. He had been gaining influence in England and now was his first winter with almost unlimited decision making. If the peasants were to run out of food, would he let them starve? Or would he help them, like a merciful man would? What about when fathers and children begin to steal food because they have none; the third princess could only hope it wouldn't come down to such a scenario, as he would probably hang them all. And finally, with the leadership, how would he act during the bitterness of winter? Anelissas' guess would be that he would huddle up in the warmth, at one of the castle estates whilst the hardworking population froze.

The girl was deep i thought when she heard a voice just behind her, startling her by the sudden surprise. Taking a quick glance and recognizing the lax voice, it wasn't long before the realization that it was her brother Luca kicked in. "Oh my beautiful brother, I will try and manage my words carefully, but there are circumstances that we need to have a discussion about!" The girl replied, openly declaring her mission for tonight. She didn't see a reason to keep quiet about it, he would be there when the 'situation' would hopefully become the forefront of conversation. "Hah! Not in a good mood, when is he ever? When he smiles I will know I have finally gone crazy!" She expressed, believing that Christopher had nothing to him besides seriousness and sternness. "And if it puts your mind at ease, I shall tell you. Stand with me," Anelissa stopped dead in her tracks and faced her brother, looking him dead in the eye, "Not only do I plan on questioning why he executed my friend, I plan on berating him for doing so..." She smiled with a sly, half smile, eager to see what her brothers thoughts would be on the situation.

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Queen Arielle Ravenswood

Arielle hadn't attended the execution, finding it to be quite distasteful. People standing around to watch someone die, whether they were guilty or innocent shouldn't have been found amusing or interesting. So while everyone else was attending, she would stay indoors for a while and work on the floral arrangements for dinner. To keep up with the morbid mood, there would be a dark floral arrangement set in the middle of the table. If they thought they were going to get something light and bright they were wrong. When Arielle made her floral arrangements she never did the same one twice and she would make them according to how the day was feeling to her. Since there were just hangings, that is what the arrangements would be; deathly yet pleasing to the eye. It took her a good amount of time, trying to decide what to add and what to take away. In the end, she added more than she took away and slid it to the middle of the table. Dusting her hands off from the dirt and leaves, she gave her work one last glance before finally leaving the dining room in search of her own chambers.

After her first child was born, Arielle had taken up writing in journals her days during her downtime. Since she had no grievances to listen to until the next day, there wasn't much for her to do. She wanted her legacy to be remembered and if ever the day came she lost her own memory, this would help her. She would even be able to pass this down to the next Queen so she would understand and to help guide her. However, because she didn't want people knowing certain secrets, she kept them out of her works. You never know who could be lurking about and she wasn't going to try and figure it out. It was late in the afternoon, she noticed when she had stopped writing the newest 10 pages. As she set for them to dry, she decided she would get ready for her family dinner. While she loved her family very much, they were like a pack of restless dogs. She only hoped Elvira would be able to stand it tonight. The older woman saw something in the younger that reminded her of herself. She wanted nothing but to help her find her way through the mess that was her family and make sure she could do it well.

Once she was set and dressed, Arielle set out to find her husband. She definitely wasn't going to go into the diner room without him or she wouldn't hear the end of it. They were a unit, she knew this from the many times it was told to her during the first few years of their marriage. It was drilled into her so much that she stopped doing most things without him; such as going to dinner. Besides, she had been alone for most of her day and missed some sort of human contact. Her children would have sufficed, but she figured they were out doing whatever it was the Ravenswood children did. Once she did locate Robert, she smiled and reached her hands out for him to grab on to. "Darling, there you are. You weren't in our chambers when I woke up this morning. Everything alright?"

​

Robert( Misty Gray )

 

[Misty Gray]

Christopher Ravenswood​

As he walked along the corridor, Christopher suddenly stopped in his tracks as something about one of the wooden cabinets caught his attention. The ornaments that stood atop the surface were perfectly placed and as they should be. It was something else that caught his eye. He ran his gloved index finger along the top of the cupboard before looking to his fingertip to see the white dust contrasted against the black leather. The Prince was a known perfectionist, with a strong dislike for dirt and mess. The state of the cupboard was simply unacceptable, as far as he was concerned. As it happened, one of the housemaids was making her way towards him. Unlucky for her.

"You!" Christopher addressed the blonde maid. The woman rushed towards the Prince and stopped directly opposite him. Though there was only five years difference in age, the height difference was striking as the maid had to look up to meet the man's cold stare. "This is unacceptable," he began, drawing her attention to the dusty surface. "How could it be that this much dust has been allowed to gather here? What do we employ people like you for?"

"Your Highness, my duties are in the kitchen and dining hall. I'm not assigned to this area of the--" the maid quietly began but Christopher raised his hand, pointing his index finger upwards to signal for her to stop speaking.

"I wasn't enquiring as to where you are stationed. I was questioning how it could be that this dust has been permitted to gather over time when people like yourself are employed to prevent such filth from accumulating." Christopher shook his head and clasped his hands together behind his back. "You will ensure this is cleaned immediately. I will inspect your work following my evening meal."


Christopher continued on his way glancing to the male servant, Levan, as the younger man passed by him. As the Prince continued, something briefly caught his eye, but he chose not to address it right away. Instead, he stopped by the window and peered out onto the gardens. His gaze rested on the beautiful flowers down below, having always admired the work of the gardeners. It was a much prettier sight than his earlier stint at the gallows. It was as though the sun shone on only half of the grounds, whilst abandoning the unpleasant areas of the palace.

"You know," Christopher began to speak. To anyone who could have passed by in the moment, it might seem like the eldest prince had lost his mind and was talking to himself. "For a man who admires his reflection so much, you seem desperate to hide that pretty face of yours from being seen." Christopher turned halfway on the spot, his back now facing the window. He looked to the vase Jeremiah was foolishly attempting to hide behind. "Albeit, you're making a terrible effort at concealing yourself... Brother, do step forward and cease acting like a child. What has gotten into you, today?" he asked. Christopher liked his youngest brother, but Jeremiah's tendency to avoid responsibility and do as he pleased could be quite exhausting.


Mqueserasera (Jeremiah)

 

[deer]

location: horseback riding - rose garden | with: open for interactions | mentions: Anelissa [ MinTea ] , Christopher [ Misty Gray ]
Jeremiah [ Mqueserasera ] , Luca [ Violetti ] , Merliva [ Peckinou ] , King [ Misty Gray ] , Queen [ Melanin-Gxdess ]​

W

hen she rose promptly bright and early this August day, the eldest princess longed for a gradual change of scenery. Seeing the princess's distress, the observant handmaiden naturally suggested that she went for a ride. With brightened eyes, the eldest princess thanked the handmaiden and felt as if she regained her sense of purpose. Without wasting any time, the adolescent woman changed into her riding gear and hastily headed towards the stables, yearning for fresh air. The recent week had been undoubtedly trying on her stimulated nerves, so she eagerly embraced the opportunity. Once she was atop her noble horse, the eldest princess took off without looking back.

The slight breeze gently caressed her flowing hair as her glittering eyes brightened. Small, elated laughter escaped from her rosy lips as her horse ran through the verdant field. Oh, she instantly felt as if she was flying!

Mannerism and politeness aside, the eldest princess smiled widely without any reservations. Flashes of vibrant colors filled her vision as she took in a breath, holding it in her chest as she tried committing the scenic image to memory. The palace's recent executions saturated the atmosphere with darkness and gloominess - an environment that the eldest princess couldn't bear to continue living in without any outlet. However, as freely as the eldest princess thought when she was outside the palace, the more guilty she felt.

Her youngest sister Anelissa distresses her the most. Genevieve didn't fear Anelissa's thoughts but rather her actions and the hardships and chaos that could surround her ideals. Anelissa was brilliant though quite rebellious. Nonetheless, Genevieve noted that most of her siblings in one way or another take after each other. However, her siblings would disagree, especially if she also included their eldest brother Christopher. Regardless, Genevieve loved them all just the same. She appreciated Jeremiah’s eye for beauty, Luca’s intelligence, and Merliva’s skill in weaponry. Genevieve wholly felt immense pride when it came to her siblings but also a concern. The King and Queen had their sternness and standards, but, it was never enough.

A slight frown crossed her lips before a thin smile formed while she furrowed her brows in thought. The expectations of all the royal children were relentless in court and out of court. However, it was only on rare occasions did nobles ever speak of what the people of England required aside from scheduled times. Regardless, Genevieve sought her best to act appropriately and discreetly attained her information. Nevertheless, as quick as her thoughts came about the palace, the fleeting ideas left when her attention drew elsewhere.

Far-off screams and laughter echoed as she recalled forlorn memories in her head. A slight tear threatened to fall down her cheeks while she stared-off in a daze. Various hues of orange and pink painted across the sky. Time flew by and Genevieve took one last glance of the view below her. Her noble horse took her atop a steep hill to have a birds-eye view of the world. It never ceases to astonish her how nature sparks and rejuvenated her energy. But, with reminiscing of her past relations with her siblings, Genevieve promptly sighed softly. It was bittersweet the recollections she holds closest to her heart.

“We should get going, Sylva. The Gallows should have cleared, and I would not want to cause a stir since I did not tell Father or Christopher of our outing.” Genevieve whispered, gently caressing Sylva’s coat.

A soft neigh was heard before Sylva shook her head and tapped her hooves against the ground. Giggling, Genevieve clicked her tongue quietly before leaning forward, cooing softly. "Oh, come now, Sylva, I promise I will not make you wait too long again to stretch your legs. But, we must make haste." She finished quietly before Sylva let out a snort. Stubborn horse, you. But, without warning, Sylva moved ahead, playfully trudging Genevieve forward.

Gasping lightly, Genevieve quickly took the reigns, maneuvering herself atop of Sylva before she went full-speed ahead, galloping back to the palace.

Once Genevieve and Sylva made their way out of the make-shift pathway in the forest through the courtyard with its magnificent glow and freshly cut bushes, three figured stood near the stable waiting for their return. Not waiting a moment longer, the stable boy Noah went towards them, steadying Skyla's gait as Genevieve's handmaiden Abigail assisted her down the horse.

"Your Highness, how was your ride today?" Abigail asked politely, bowing her head as she helped straighten Genevieve's riding outfit.

With a kind nod, Genevieve addressed Abigail first, "Oh, it was quite lovely, Abigail. But, I must ask, how have things been here? Have you seen Father or Brother?" She finished before observing Noah as he began to bring Sylva back in the stable, "Will you make sure she is well-fed and warm?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Noah responded before courteously leaving.

"Princess Genevieve," Abigail called towards her, "The executions have just ended. However, it is almost time for the royal dinner. You mustn't keep His Majesty and His Royal Highness waiting. It has been a long day for both."

At hearing 'royal dinner', Genevieve's eyes lit up as her small smile widened across her features. "A royal dinner? Is it that time of day?" She inquired rhetorically before walking, adding pep to her step. "There is a lot to do before the family gathering then! Oh!" Genevieve exclaimed, clasping her hand together, turning to face Abigail. "My roses!"

"Quickly, Your Highness. We also have to get you out of those garments and freshen you up. His -"

"Abigail," Genevieve started, "Please, do not fret. It will be perfect. Trust me."

Although Abigail was cautious and troubled, Genevieve didn't have the luxury to worry, instead, she remained optimistic in hopes dinner would go smoothly. Nevertheless, she still has one more item on her to-do list: her roses in the garden. As Genevieve made her way towards her rose bushes, a soft lullaby escaped from her lips.

The roses were blooming wonderfully but when autumn fades and winter comes, Genevieve wondered if her roses and the plants in the garden would survive the change in temperature. The gardeners have kept their appearances well-groomed and appealing to the eyes of others, however, Genevieve kept a soft heart for the small potted plated roses near her. It was a gift and she treasured it. Nevertheless, as she tended to her roses, gently smelling the sweet scent of the flowers before trimming any necessities, Genevieve sang to the blooming flora.

War leaves its trail
In moonlight so pale
Its shadows they flow
In rivers, in rivers
So put on my mask
I'll go where they ask
So I might once again see the
Roses of May - Erutan​

 

[Songbird500]

Clara had been struggling to get her mind off recent events and today’s executions had done nothing to alleviate the stress. She’d been dancing a great deal and hadn’t realised how late in the day it had become until a slither of sunlight set on her face. The dinner would be soon, and she knew the importance of making a good impression, especially with all the inner turmoil of the court. Clara still hadn't written her regular letter home and was having an increasingly hard time deciding what to say. It had been easy enough when she had first arrived at the English court, but a great many things had changed since then and a great many people with them. She’d never written her true thoughts in said letters, one could never be too careful if they were being monitored or not, but since Margaret’s execution Clara’s letters back home were written with a caution that made it difficult to discern anything of note. The dancing had left her a little dishevelled and she called for a bath to be made. She had decided on a black dress in support of both Margaret and Anelissa. Hers, however, was not as dramatic as Anelissa's. They were both playing a dangerous game challenging Christopher like this, but unlike Anelissa, who had the support of a royal title, Clara was still left at the whims of the heir apparent and had to more calculated if she wished to prosper.

Walking slowly to the windows that overlooked the gardens, reds, oranges and pinks cascaded across the skyline and the birds looked like they were performing their own dance. France and England were so similar and yet Clara often felt so out of place in the English court. She had been very lucky in finding Anelissa and despite the obvious, the royal family had been very welcoming. But it was still strange to Clara that this was her life now and a life in which the rest of her family couldn’t be apart of. Her father, being an ambitious man, had decided that his children were destined for greatness and that they should be spread across all of Europe. While his eldest son would marry a French girl, Clara would marry in England and her other brothers and sisters should be sent to Spain, Prussia and Austria. Clara had managed to bring over two of her own maids and she not only thought of them fondly, but they also reminded her of home, especially in times like now when she needed that strength the most.

After bathing and dressing Clara was trying to decide if she had time for a walk in the garden to mentally fortify herself and be battle ready for the dinner ahead. After some consideration she was resolved to take a quick turn in the rose gardens before heading towards the dinner hall. She felt It would be good for her to take some fresh air and while the King didn’t like tardiness it never took Clara too long to prepare herself. Clara had also mused on the fact she'd spent most of the day inside and she needed the feel of the that last remaining light on her face to raise her spirits. Upon her walk through the halls, Clara came across Prince Christopher and froze immediately in her tracks. At first glance it appeared as though he might be talking to himself but through further inspection it seemed he was in conversation with one of his brothers. One of the first, but assuredly not the last, quick decisions Clara would have to make today was facing her right now. There was another route to the rose gardens, but it could equally be a good opportunity to gauge the mood of a couple of princes. And so, the decision was made. Clara patted down her dress and approached Prince Christopher with as much gusto and grace as she could muster. Curtsying, Clara also lowered and rose her eyes to match his level before noticing that Prince Jeremiah was the mysterious prince his brother had been conversing with. Repeating the curtsy again, Clara smiled before turning back to Prince Christopher. “Apologies, I seem to have interrupted something Your Highnesses?”

Misty Gray Mqueserasera

 

[Peckinou]

Merliva Ravenswood
Interaction: MinTea (Anelissa Ravenswood) Violetti (Luca Ravenswood)
Merliva was quite calm to say the least the executions were not really bothering her as much and she mostly chose to ignore the matter for now, she has heard it was better to be fear than loved to say the least and if her brother was going to real with fear it would be a bit concerning to say the least and she was a bit worried that his fury may one day turn to them for stepping out of line. Although she cared for her siblings Christophers actions have been concerning her a bit lately especially with all the cruelty which wasn't going to win favor points and the fact that it bothered even her with the fact he is no longer caring about evidence before conviction. Although these thoughts plagued her mind she decided to leave the matter to rest for now and wore her usual attire so as such for something that should be a normal day although knowing her siblings she doubted this would turn into a pleasant evening considering dinner would be served soon and if the rumors are correct then the two Lions are in a foul mood and their was a likely chance that they would roar if someone set them off.

After a bit of contemplating she decided to get out of her room and get a little fresh air, her maid dared not to say a word as she took from her chair near her fire place and moved towards the door in which her maid opened for her. She decided it would be best if she just wandered around the halls to clear her head and get her feet moving after sitting for quite some time. Although she wanted to spend a bit of time practicing sword techniques she just didn't have the time since she would be attending dinner soon and attending with tattered clothing was just asking for trouble. She wondered around the halls for a good few minutes passing by servants and occasionally stopping to take a look at the paintings before continuing. Although it didn't take long before she encountered something that made her wish she didn't come to the area.

As Merliva appeared behind Anelissa she practically knew that it was her, she didn't even need to look at her face to know for only she would have the audacity to wear such clothing on a day such as this one. And by seeing that her brother was right in front of her, likely trying to talk some sense into it only did nothing but completely confirm that it was indeed Anelissa. Merliva rubbed her temples sighing a bit "Anelissa what are you doing, you know what i'm pretty sure i already know, Im just going to assume that Luca tried to at least talk some sense into you." As she finished her last sentence she eye Luca in order to see his reaction to all this before continuing. "Anelissa i don't think that this is the right time for your antics and i would highly suggest you change clothing before dinner." Although her voice was calm the last part was said a bit louder to put her emphasis on it.​

 

[FireMaiden]

Location: Wondering the Castle - Small Courtyard
Interaction: NUSKI (Tomas)
Mentioned: Misty Gray (Christopher) Songbird500 (Clara) Mqueserasera (Jeremiah)
She smiled, chuckling softly. Tom's knew exactly how to calm her nerves, it was a wonder. Then again, they had known each other for years now, Elvira didn't know what she would down without him. Once she was married, she was going to ask if Tomas could stay as her personal guard still. Her parents wouldn't object, but who knows what the King and Queen would say. If he wasn't here, if it was anybody else, she would be acting like that silly 17-year-old again. "I'm glad you're here Tomas. Someone to help keep me sane," Elvira said, once again chuckling. Her voice was as soft as a rabbit's pelt, tone low. If anyone heard them speaking so freely to one another, what would happen? Back home, she watched her mother cut the hand off a boy who held her sister's books. They were nothing but friends, but as her mother warned, 'Rumors can ruin lives.' Looking up, she met his gaze, a smile painted on her face, nerves seemingly under control thanks to his words of encouragement.

"It is a tragedia about that poor maid, but surely, everyone can be civil. Well, as civil as Englanders can be." She chuckled to herself, a joke. "Would you please walk with me? There is still a few minutes before my presence would be necessary, and I passed a courtyard earlier. There were some gorgeous rose bushes, and honestly, I believe both of us deserve a few moments of fresh air, yes?" Elvira would wait a moment, allowing Tomas to gather anything he needed to, or if he had anything left to say before she was leading him through the halls. Truth be told, she didn't care too much if he followed her or not, but knowing him, Tomas wouldn't feel right about leaving her alone and follow anyway. She's grateful for that despite anything she may say, his paranoia of her coming to harm was in no way, just stuck to him.

After a few turns, she came across the hall the entrance was connected to, but voices caused her to pause at the corner. She recognized all of them. Yes, all two of them. Clara, another foreigner in the castle, at least that's the conclusion Elvira came to and Christopher. Muttering a small curse under her breath, she took a slight breath and turned the corner. Her eyes quickly fell upon Jeremiah, hiding behind a vase. Elvira was...going to ignore him, her eyes quickly turning to the door leading to the courtyard. Bingo. Elegant strides carried her to halfway point of the hallway, quietly questioning Clara's choice of dress. Of course, her own was dyed dark, but it was blue, her entire family favored dark colors; so, her attire wasn't a statement like she assumed Clara's was. Tonight's dinner would be interesting. In any case, as she got closer to the door, her eyes fell upon Christopher. He was...he looked a bit angry, but every time she's encountered him he looked angry. Well dressed, standing tall, her eyes met him for a moment before she came to a stop.

Elvira had reached the door, after a walk that seemed to take forever, she turned slightly to the other's there in the hall and curtsied; one hand falling on the cool iron door handle as she did. With a gentle pull, she opened it, then slipped outside, painfully aware of the people who could maybe see her from inside, which means she couldn't act like a little kid, excited to see at least one of the flowers she saw all the time in Spain, the woman sighed. She could at least enjoy the air.

 

[Mqueserasera]

Jeremiah Ravenswood
the third prince
mentioned: Anelissa Ravenswood MinTea
interaction(s): Christopher Ravenswood Misty Gray ; Clara Ashwood Songbird500​

Jeremiah remained silent. He was adapting himself to the beauty that of immortal statues, and in the midst of his immersion, chose to ignore his brother. But upon addressed directly, he showed a fair amount of displeasure for a man who wouldn’t be able to stand still for much longer. He stepped out, cleared his throat full of embarrassment, and voiced his wounded pride without pretence.

“If you must know,” said Jeremiah, now stood facing the garden, away from his brother, “your heavy steps spell trouble in the shade of a darkening mood. Your brother then thought briefly but hard of the coming encounter, and found it undesirable. No offense,” he added thoughtfully “you asked for my reason to hide.”

“So,” he went on, this time turned away from the garden. Before Jeremiah, the pretty flower vase was now darkened by the shadow his brother cast on as he stood with his back against the world outside. “What is your problem?” he said, then snickered, “Ah, I jest, I have no intention to hear, for I already slept the whole day away and have no need for more. But since we are here anyway, let us hear my problem instead.”

“Won’t you do something about Anelissa?” he began “these days she parades around the palace in Grim Reaper’s favorite cloth, and bears in her eyes his emptiness and murderous intent also. Our dear sister may get over it in the span of weeks, but I may not! By day, my wit would tremble at the sound of her footsteps, and by night her fashion distaste would haunt my worst nightmares. Hear me now, brother, women are delicate creatures, as am I, you need but to treat them with care, else they dress in black and bore into you with a skull carver. Now,” he cocked his head and swept his hand as if bestowing wisdom onto a stubborn child, “Even if Anelissa is in the wrong, though I don’t claim so, as I take no side in this, would you be so kind to go give her the much required apologize? and, perhaps, a nice mare or some thoughtful gifts to lift her mood all the quicker.”

Having said that, the third prince leapt away from his brother as the sound of another pair of feet sounded near.

“If it isn’t my walking, talking shackles.” Jeremiah looked at the girl – his unwanted fiancee. His weary expression said it all, how he saw her as symbolized the worst attempt so far to get him in line - a world away from his joyous freedom. Clara was a fine beauty, in herself she was, but the problem lay in that she was only one beauty, not many. It wasn’t unlike devoting oneself to eating one single cake for the rest of your life, even if the cake was pretty decent on its own.
Wearing those exact thoughts on his face, he said bitterly:

“Why, whose grant idea was it to have my brother, my shackles and myself walk together into the family dinner? If I didn’t know you better, my brother, I would have suspected you of authoring this aesthetical metaphor with me at your leash end.”

 

[Misty Gray]

Christopher Ravenswood​

Christopher stood tall on the spot, not a single glimpse of a slouch or threat of laziness in his posture. As alert and focused as ever, it was difficult to break through that stance when dealing with his own family. A posture that had been practically beaten into him until he learned to be as close to perfect as was possible. So, when Jeremiah criticised how his looming presence had the effect of darkening the mood, it was something he was beyond taking personally or deeming as criticism. Instead, a crooked smirk was adopted by his mouth. "Well, I do appreciate being included in your game of hide and seek. Not everyone was quite as fortunate as you were; to have a childhood of games and ineffectual hobbies."

When asked what his problem was, Christopher couldn't help but let out a dark chuckle. As it happened, Jeremiah went on to express his disinterest at hearing the heir's problem, which saved Christopher from declining to answer anyway. It was then asked that he did ask something about their youngest sister, who was taking the maid's execution badly. The eldest couldn't avoid picturing the state the young woman had been in after all of the questioning and the torture. The blood, the wounds, the unhinged and hysterical cries. Before seeing her in that state, the maid's existence had barely registered in his mind, other than the fact his sister had chosen to be friends with someone as insignificant a low member of palace staff. He expected she'd grow out of the friendship when royal duties were forced into controlling her life. He hadn't even known of the maid's name until he was burdened into making a decision over the woman's fate. Christopher had his reasons for the decision he made, though he doubted anyone would try to understand.

Pushing back his memories, Christopher once again smiled at Jeremiah's words. "I happen to quite like the clothing our youngest sister has been wearing recently. I've always been quite fond of black myself. It agrees with the atmosphere of these walls." When it was suggested he apologised to Anelissa, Christopher frowned and didn't hesitate to shake his head. "No, I will not be apologising for the execution. Even if I were inclined to, apologising for the act would weaken our power and future command over this kingdom. Not only that, I would be directly challenging and bringing into question the very orders of King Robert. You might have been permitted to sleep away your days and live a life of irresponsibility, but you would do better to avoid bringing your idleness to the King's attention. Perhaps you should take time to consider how you would cope were you to be stripped of your freedom and to lose those good looks that fickle women seem to lap up."

When Clara's presence became known, Jeremiah's remark about her being his shackles drew a genuine chuckle from Christopher. "You have my sympathy, Jeremiah," he quietly muttered. Regardless of the brief moment of kindness towards his brother, Christopher turned to Clara with a bright, large smile on his face. "You've only interrupted conversation of trivial matters," he brushed off her apology. "Though I believe Jeremiah was concerned as to the whereabouts of his radiant fiancee." Christopher outstretched his arms, one to Jeremiah and one to Clara. "I am quite aware when three is a crowd. Jeremiah, you must escort Clara to the dining hall. I will be there shortly behind you both - I'm sure you have much to talk about and it would please the King's mood to see you taking care of your future wife."


Mqueserasera (Jeremiah) Songbird500 (Clara)

 

[Misty Gray]

King Robert Ravenswood​

The King had spent much of the afternoon alone in his private study as the guards stood outside the door to prevent anyone from interrupting him. As he was gradually putting more onto his eldest son's shoulders, it gave him an opportunity to take a few hours to himself some days to read the letters he'd received or even some of the many books that filled his personal library. Although he was happy to have Christopher doing increasingly more of his duties, Robert wasn't willing to be out of the loop and made sure to have eyes around the place to feed back to him everything that was going on. The execution had gone without hitch, despite some tension on the outside of the gates, so Robert couldn't find fault in how his son had overseen that whole affair. What was grating on the King was the ongoing aftermath of Margaret's execution. The maid had been a bad influence on the youngest princess and those who questioned God had no place in his daughter's ear. Liberals and Atheists were a poison that couldn't be left to infect his home. The fact there was still complaining and Anelissa's mood hadn't been dealt with was doing plenty to sour the King's mood. If Christopher couldn't control an emotional young woman, then how could he rule a kingdom?

Robert had been about to open up another letter, but the light-headed feeling that overcame him caused him to decide he'd been reading enough. He placed the letter back on the pile and instead sat back in his chair, taking a moment to regain his composure. He was forced to conclude he'd spent too long in his study and the lack of food was causing him to feel weak. Aware that dinner was looming, he decided it was time to locate Arielle and be the first to the dining room.

As luck would have it, the Queen was approaching his study as Robert opened the door to leave. He took her hands and listened as she addressed him. "Everything is well," he assured her. The change of scenery was helping him to get his head back into shape and brush off the weakness he'd just been feeling. "My dear, I'm beyond ready for our meal," he admitted. He let go of her hands and motioned for them to walk side by side to the dining hall in question. They weren't out in public, so he felt no need to put on a public display along with his wife, so instead clasped his hands together behind his back as they walked. "Arielle, I am growing impatient with our daughter. If Christopher doesn't deal with it, how would you suggest dealing with her? I cannot see this situation through delicate, female eyes, after all."


Melanin-Gxdess (Queenie)

Wesley Lancaster​

Once he was satisfied the protest was dying out and the men he'd addressed were content to return a few days later to discuss their grievances, Wesley felt he could leave the gates to attend to the palace where the King expected his presence. However, he couldn't leave too hastily as he was aware he needed to make another arrangement outside. He beckoned both Patrick and Sigismund towards him so he could instruct them. "Things seem to be calming down out here, however, I am expecting the arrival of the Prime Minister and his daughter. Please can you ensure their entry into the palace grounds is smooth and they are not pestered by any lingering protesters. They will then need to be escorted to the guest lounge so they can be offered refreshments from their journey. You should then eat before taking up your posts inside the palace," he instructed them, referring to the rooms close to the family dining hall. Though he was often giving out orders, Wesley spoke to the guards in a respectful tone. Although he held much authority over them, he believed in treating people fairly. As long as he wasn't disappointed and they hadn't let him down, Wesley maintained the attitude. Strict but fair.

Wesley continued his security checks which soon led him to the large kitchen, where he briefly entered to make sure the guards were all in their places keeping watch. He then stopped by the doorway of the dining room, peering inside to realise the room was presently empty. He stepped inside and slowly walked towards the window at the back of the room, checking over the room's security along the way. As he walked alongside the table, he briefly halted, gently running his gloved fingertips over one of the flowers belonging to the arrangement that had been placed as a central decorative piece. There was little doubt in the Head of Security's mind that it was Arielle's signature handiwork. Wesley continued walking towards the window and stood by it for a short while, enjoying the view of the garden below in what was left of the day's light. He knew the room he was stationed to guard the doorway of wouldn't be peaceful for long, not once the whole dysfunctional family was seated.

As he enjoyed the only few minutes' break he'd had since sunrise, Wesley heard two sets of footsteps approaching from down the hallway. He focused on the sounds for a short time, deducing the first set belonged to a female and being as familiar as he was with the family, he believed the woman in question was Arielle. The second set of footsteps needed no thought, as the King's heavy steps and prompt pace were unmistakable to Wesley's trained ears. The King was never late. It always seemed like the man made a point of being early so he could take pleasure in berating those who couldn't make it on time.

Wesley turned to face the door and once they entered the room, he bowed his head to them. "Your Majesty..." he spoke respectfully. The King often invited Wesley to eat with the family, as though he still owed the man for saving his life from the assassination attempt 12 years ago. As far as Wesley was concerned, he was simply carrying out his duty and it simply wouldn't feel right to dine with the royal family. Besides, he felt safer standing by the door during family dinners...

Cosmo (Sigismund) Tjek (Patrick)
Mentioned: RayPurchase (Sir James)