IC CLOSED ANACHRONISTIC Orion's Court || IC

[rissa]

SORENA

Malachai was a fine dancer— Sorena had to admit. Fine looking as well, though the sickness radiating through his veins was quite a disappointment. She yearned to heal him, if only so he wouldn't stench up the castle during his indefinite stay. Perhaps she'd bring it up later— the tempo of the song increased and she waited for him to falter, to break pace —but he didn't and in fact, ended with a flourish that she approved of, dipping her low to the ground as the crescendo flared and raising her up for one final twirl.

The predatory look in her eyes faltered for just a moment.

He was new to Cervia, a Neu Kingdom resident, so he had little way of knowing that dancing was perhaps one of the only normal activities that made her heart flutter. Not as much as tearing out throats, but there's a time and place for everything.

"Is it not the duty of a princess to introduce newcomers to her kingdom?" Sorena replied after a long delay, her smile and tone dripping with venomous pleasantry. "You and your parents are important guests here— in Cervia and Castle Black."

As music began to wind up once more, Sorena gave him the option of continuing or seeking after the refreshments Aileen had brought to his parents.

@wren. @Lulunopia

 

[wren.]

hh

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GALEN

Like a loyal dog, Galen relaxes immediately at Julian's reassurance, smiling softly in acknowledgment. Julian means what he says; he has no intention of marrying, much less of leaving him. Still, if it were necessary for the country's welfare, would he choose him? He's not sure if he would want him to. They have both worked so hard for far too long and have been through far too much horror to give up on their ambitions.

Julian's returned flirtations are a nice distraction for now. Despite how much time they had spent together on their mission and how often their circumstances brought them to share the same tent, they were too busy strategizing and nursing each other's wounds to make love. There was also their reputations to consider. While their relationship is not exactly a secret to, well, anyone, Julian cannot be too obvious with his favoritism, or it could cause some unrest among their soldiers.

After so many weeks without getting to hold him so intimately, just feeling his lover's warm breath ghost his skin is enough to make him quiver. His exhale shakes at Julian's suggestion, embarrassingly aroused at the mere suggestion of spending the night together, the corners of his lips turning up. It wasn't that long ago that Julian was inept at matters of seduction, his wife's cruelty and his insecurities leaving him repressed and impotent to a heartbreaking degree. There was a certain charm to his clumsy (albeit successful, ultimately) attempts at wooing him, but the confidence he's gained in himself and his desirability leaves Galen occasionally choked up with pride. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," he agrees.

As quickly as Julian ignited a fire in him, he tempers it with his innocent plea. "Lead the way, my prince," he smiles, wanting more than anything to take his soft hand in his calloused one and pull him through the crowd, into the gardens, beyond the estate, away from all of their responsibilities. But he can't do any of those things. Not now, at least. One day, though, decades or centuries down the line. They do have eternity, after all, and he will love him through it all.

"We could go to your room and save us a trip," he suggests with feigned innocence. "Unless you have somewhere specific in mind?"

「 @MaryGold 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[wren.]

hh

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MALACHI

Princess Sorena is surprised at his dancing prowess, that much is clear on her face, and it brings a self-satisfied smirk to his own. It's not often that he gets to impress people, being rather inept at most things in life. If nothing else, he's a good dancer and a good musician. He's well-read, too, though not in the areas his father deems worthy of studying. In her surprise, the princess actually looks like a person rather than a snake trying to figure out how to wrap around his throat. It's a charming look on her, and her momentary happiness highlights how young she is.

When she speaks, though, her tone drips with well-practiced diplomacy. Important guests? She would likely say that about any of the invited families, but they aren't dancing with her. An eerie feeling crawls down his back, a familiar sense that he's being left out of something important, that he's about to find out something he won't like. His parents must be doing business with the Blackes tonight, which isn't unusual, but they would normally brief him on their dealings on the way to the ball. What are they planning?

"That is very kind of you. Most people are not so gracious as to offer a dance." It's true, but Sorena will no doubt pick up on his hint that he's suspicious of her motives.

The music swells again to signal the start of a new dance, and Sorena offers him a chance to escape, though he hesitates. If he leaves, then he'll be at the mercy of his parents' nitpicking or stood pathetically in a corner. "One more dance, perhaps? Unless there are other gentlemen you hope to dance with tonight," he suggests, realizing too late that his words could be taken as flirtation. "I am not a fan of crowds," he clarifies, somewhat embarrassed. "Nor of my parents."

「 @rissa 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[rissa]

SORENA

Sorena was not a kind person, nor a sympathetic one— she latched onto weaknesses and exploited them, turned them in her favor, all for the majesty of House Blacke. Little did Malachai know that those two little insignificant comments were already working their way into Sorena's repertoire of potential misdeeds, and though she gave him a sympathetic glance (that looked much too full of pity to truly be called sympathetic), said little else as she led them to the center of the ballroom floor.

The music was lifting, the chords calling out to the old vampiric gods and as if Orion himself had leaned over and whispered in her ear, Sorena was struck with a marvelous idea.

"Let's make the crowd ours," Sorena said with a mischievous smile, one that was meant for him alone. She raised a brow, subtly, as if to gauge his response, and then tacked on, "and your parents a fan of you."


@wren.

 

[MaryGold]

Deux

It was with the amplified clinking of his gold spoon against his glass that King Orion once again gathered the attention of his subjects. The man had the presence and appearance that could steal and command a room within a second, and it did, but now with the use of magic, he could do so loudly. There was never a being nor a single soul around that missed him or his voice. All eyes would turn to find him at the same balcony that he had stood before, the flowers that lined it changed in color to favor the red, black, gold, and blues that were the colors of their magnificent and growing country.

The music stopped instantly when the king commanded it with just a gentle wave of his hand. The smile on his face widened, resembling the danger of a lion but keeping all the charm of a monarch as he peered down at the audience beneath him. His eyes searched the crowd until he found each of his children. He was glowing with pride... And something else. Something lurking beneath his surface, something unidentifiable, just yet.

"You all have been doing well to enjoy the festivities of the night. A glorious win for our nation and my very arms." He tilted his glass to his prized sons, eyes fixated on Cain a beat longer. The glow dimmed just slightly as he carried on his speech. "These radicals that call themselves rebels are nothing more than criminals with a false sense of justice. They claim that the turnout of the war was a flop. That we did not earn this country. They would have you believe they are fighting for the good of the nation, for a mock-up idea of parity. But the truth is they would not be pleased unless we were in silver chains," he balled his free fist tightly as his audience nodded and muttered curses about these beasts who dared to defy their ruler. Who dared to imagine such horrific punishments for them?

"They would have us kneel at their feet and be thrown into the chaos of their own control! They demean us and the glory we've created from the ashes of this land! But when we fight against these lycanthropic insurgents, we are fighting for our very way of life, the order we have fought so many years to establish."

Deeply, he breathed, loosening his fist and looking into his rousing crowd with a gaze so piercing every single one of them would have the impression he was looking at them, directing his words to them, any person, instead of a collective crowd. "There shall be no sympathy and no mercy for the fools who dare to threaten the society we've built together under our immortal moon. It must be shown to all and everyone. Therefore, a sennight from now, post meridian, when the sun has traversed zenith and illuminates the world so there are no shadows, I invite you all to the public execution of these criminals. They will see that we are not ones to hide in the shadows but walk out into the day if it so calls for it. No lives will be spared and all shall bear witness to the strength of our country." There was not a moment of silent of silence as he raised his fist and the crowd roared with cheers and claps.

A smile so wide and proud spread on his face, as he let his subjects praise the fine decision. This was not just a play of strength to those who rebelled, but to the vampir covens who desired his alliance or sought to destroy him overseas. The Blacke's were not weak. They were predators.

"Now, as promised, I have a surprise for you all my esteemed guests." He announced laughingly.

One moment the king was standing on the balcony, and the next he was in front of the open large glass doors to the garden, clinking his glass again to gather his guests' eyes on him. He moved in the blink of an eye, leaving his movement a mystery to all. However, every eye followed him as he walked over to an ethereal appearing woman, one that anyone who watched the king earlier would know he'd been chatting with most of the night, the fortunate lady who had gathered his attention for the night when many others had tried. He extended his arm to her and walked them back in front of the crowd and into the garden.

"Only the finest for my guest."

The sky lit up with the cracking and roaring fireworks. There were not ones built simply by the conventions of man, but magi. Large, glorious, moving shapes took over the skies, wowing the audience that filed into the garden, many standing, others taking seats on stone benches or the grass floor. A few of the images flew dangerously close so that groups of guests would have to duck, laughing when they stood back up and found harmless sparks descending onto them.

The music started again, louder than before, but remained a backdrop ambiance to the fireworks and those who continued to hold each other and dance beneath the lights.

 

[Dusk]

Nasir Izadi

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
{ N/A }

---

​

Nasir hated it there. He hated it with every drop of his blood. He hated the sickening grandeur of their opulence as they stood on the backs of those beneath them. Nasir could taste the bile it forced into his mouth. Given the chance, he'd rip the throats out of every disgusting vampir — he'd turn their laces and ruffles red. He hated it there, and he wanted to make every vampir and every conspirator choke on their own blood. But instead of killing them, Nasir was their servant — cleaning their shit, opening their doors, and doing whatever other menial task was required of him. He could barely tolerate it, even for Aria. He fantasized about hurting all of them, to whatever degree he could, even knowing the kind of death it would earn him.

The were stood, teeth grit, listening to Orion praise his foul sons. Cervia was shit, and Nasir would celebrate nothing about it. Julian could dress himself up pretty, but he was no better than Cain, and Cain was a loathsome creature who'd spent the last six months killing those Nasir would've readily joined. Neither was as bad as the father, however, that monstrous pretender who claimed himself a king.

Orion called the attention of the room again, and Nasir could've been sick. Every word out of his fucking mouth was poison. Every syllable a curse. Nasir could hear the scrape of his teeth against each other as he listened to that man berate the rebels. He dug his nail into his finger to ground himself, but no matter how hard he pushed, it didn't help. He was still in that sickening ballroom, still angry. Putting the vampir in silver chains was one of the nicer fates Nasir imagined for them. He would've settled for dead, but the feline wanted Orion to suffer.

Nasir glared as Orion continued on, pronouncing the execution of those who dared to resist him. The vampir spared no sympathy because he had none, and he delighted in the suffering of those he considered beneath him. None of that surprised Nasir, bristled as he was. What did surprise him was Orion's claim that the execution would occur during the daylight — that the vampir would walk in the sunlight. It was stupid to weaken themselves like that, but for everything Nasir thought about Orion, he did not think the vampir an idiot. That didn't stop him from hoping Orion would drop dead. But whatever foul game he was playing, he had some sort of trick in mind.

And tricks were what he had in mind for his guests, too. Orion had magi light the sky with fireworks as his surprise. Nasir hated surprises at the best of times, and this was not that. He hated to see how the fireworks suffocated out the stars.

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[TerraBooma]

So far, sitting at the edge of the ball and making small conversations had gone excellently. Cain had managed to go at least the introductory section of the night without causing any kind of scandals or outrage, and if everything progressed at this pace, he would be on track to another happy landing and a celebration well celebrated (without him breaking and decorum and without offering political advantage to any rivals or opponents) which he considered to be quite excellent. It was a quiet night so far, or at least until Alistair found him. His manservant was as laissez-faire as ever, and not to mention disobeying strict orders to arrive. The Darkling arrived in his little corner of the room, inquiring about how he was seemingly not comfortable with performing his role as a prince. The Prince huffs, crossing his arms and looking very displeased at his disobedient servant.

"I handle these events just fine, thank you very much. Not that anyone asked for your opinion. You shouldn't even be here, you've been ordered to strict bedrest until the doctors have cleared you, and I received no such notice," While he was displeased that his follower had decided to come to this ball anyway. He was glad that Alistair was looking better. His servant looked good, and not just in the usual appearance sense. Cain was enough of a soldier to know a bad hit when he saw one, that was why he had been concerned for Alistair's wellbeing. No other reasons, of course.

"Besides, you haven't missed anything. I have been doing exceptionally well. I am observing the political landscape. Seeing the people dance and getting a feel for how things have been since I left for my mission. It is political reconnaissance and so far has moved exceptionally smoothly." He seemed proud about that, probably more proud than he should be, but he was treating it as if he had seemingly hacked how to succeed at court politicking.

Just when he was about to order Alistair back to bed, his father commanded the room and gave his speech. A speech about the power and promise that his forces had shown, that they had crushed those damned rebels. That the prisoners Cain himself had brought home were to be publically executed. Cain's attention was strictly on his father's form, and the vampiric prince watched the rest of the world fall away. His father looked at him, and he swelled with pride. He would not let him down, he would crush these damned rebels wherever they popped up. The fireworks continued his elation, and Cain was seemingly riding one hell of a high. For a prince whose plan was to watch pretty people from the back of the room, he seemed to be thriving on the attention of this particular moment.

Mood shifted quite drastically by the attention of his father, Cain turned to his assistant as the applause finished and the music returned. "You may stay, but if you break any stitches, you are to go back to the infirmary. Do you understand?" There is a small pause. "Do you know who my father's guest is, Alistair?"

@wren.

 

[Dusk]

Hector Penrose

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
{ @Lulunopia }

---

​

Hector was eager to leave his spot at the wall behind to go search for Vanessa, but before he had a chance he was joined by a different one of his siblings — his royal half-sister, Octavia Blacke. The two women were close in age, but Hector had a wildly different relationship with each of them. After dealing with his mother, Hector didn't particularly feel like dealing with Octavia. She wasn't the worst, but she could be frustrating. The woman leaned against the wall beside him, and Hector huffed quietly and crossed his arms.

"Princess Octavia," he said through practised politeness. As little as he felt like dealing with her, and as much as he wanted to shrug her off and walk away, this was a public event. He'd manage. His brows furrowed at her secondary comment. "And I was enjoying it," he said, which wasn't true. Hector had been sulking even before his mother had come to harass him. "I hoped nobody would bother me here," he added with a pointed glance in his half-sister's direction.

The music stopped abruptly as King Orion commanded the attention of the room once again. Hector focused on his father, his arms dropping to his sides as he straightened his back. Whatever his father had to say, Hector was eager to hear it, but he couldn't suppress the frown that crossed his lips when the king raised his glass to his sons, the ones who got everything. His father denounced the traitors, he addressed their crimes with eloquent words. Hector cursed along with the crowd. The war was over, it had been over for decades, the vampir had won and nothing was going to change that.

Hector blinked when King Orion said the execution would occur in daylight, that the vampir would stand beneath the sun to prove their strength. He was sure whatever his father had in mind would be impressive, but the young vampir did not dwell on it long, and as quickly as it had begun the speech was over.

Hector took a step toward the courtyard as the night sky lit up, an unrestrained smile on his face. It was beautiful, the way the colours twisted through the stars. He needed to get a better view.

"That's amazing," Hector murmured quietly. He took two more steps toward the grand doors. "We should get a closer look," he said, distractedly. Whether Octavia came with him or not, Hector was going to go outside.

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[Dusk]

Oskar Abendroth

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
{ @MaryGold }

---

​

The two men stepped out into the night of the courtyard, putting them beneath a sea of stars. Oskar took a moment to admire the sky before returning his attention to his companion. Judas was succinct in his answer, he kept much of how he felt to himself, and the silver-haired vampir wondered about the things he did not say. Wondered, yet did not ask.

"I am glad to hear that," he said with a small smile, and he was. He was not a man who revelled in misfortune, even of those he disliked, and Judas was far from someone he disliked, misguided as he found the young vampir. Nevertheless, Oskar's smile dipped at the mention of the king. He hated to hear Judas speak of reward for his cruel deeds. And while he did not know the depths of Judas' transgression, he knew Judas had bloodied his hands to quash the rebellion.

"And what kind of reward are you hoping to receive?" he asked, doubtful.

Oskar hesitated a moment at Judas' question. He had every reason to be well, and yet, his heart sunk more with every passing day. He could not shake the feeling that the world they were headed toward was a grim one. Although, perhaps he was just an old man, one who was not made for changes of this scale. Oskar pondered on his response before offering it.

"I find myself well. These are fortunate times for someone in my position," he said, his cadence measured. Judas did not have time to offer a reply, as King Orion once again gathered the attention of the room. Oskar eyed the sovereign warily as the king roused the crowd. The silver-haired vampir placed a finger to his lip in contemplation, and waited to see what the king would say.

"No sympathy, no mercy," Orion said. Oskar could offer the were no mercy, however, they had his sympathy, for as little as they wanted it. He did not disagree with the were, despite the vampir's advantages, Oskar agreed that his kin had gotten lucky. There were a thousand different ways the war might have ended, and the vampir could not have won in every one of them. Perhaps there was a world where he was the servant, and a were the king. In this world, however, his was a cushy position, and he could not say he would have preferred to swap places. The true mistake was that the war occurred at all.

And then King Orion announced the spectacle of the execution. It was not enough for the rebels to die, the king wanted everyone to witness it. And in daylight, no less. Orion was no ordinary vampir, and Oskar would not have considered himself surprised to learn the man capable of withstanding sunlight. However, the same did not apply to his court. It was a bold statement, yet it was one Oskar was sure Orion could uphold. Oskar did not join in the cheers and praises of the king's cruelty, no matter what was promised. Instead, he stood still and quiet, eyes fixated on the man. He could not celebrate such things, never again, no matter the wrapping.

The monumental statement out of the way, King Orion returned to the topic of his surprise. In a second, he left the balcony behind, placing himself at the doors to the courtyard, not far from where Oskar and Judas stood. The King offered his arm to a woman who had kept his attention throughout the night, and the two proceeded into the garden. Oskar had only a moment to observe them before a myriad of colours lit the sky, casting the world below in various hues. He stood with his hands locked loosely in front of him as he watched the lights dance in the night for several seconds. Grotesque as the announcement prior had been, it was a nice surprise. Oskar looked over to Judas, and offered a smile.

"Impressive, is it not?" Despite the words, his voice was tinged with sadness.

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[MaryGold]

Julian Blacke

Julian was barely able to stifle the grin that tugged at his lips. It would be improper to bite down on his bottom lip or pinch them tight. None of those things were the mannerisms that a prince would display in a public setting, but his body naturally wanted to do so when his lover was so clearly propositioning him. And Julian wanted to accept his advances. The time in which he had felt his skin against his own, damp and slick had been too long.

But he did want to dance, so Gale would have to do a little bit more than sneakily lead him to his bed. Not that he would have to do much at all. Even now, his body gravitated toward him.

The music suddenly stopped and like all else in the room, Julian's eyes moved to land on his father and his magnificence. The presence of which he wielded and commanded a room with was only what Julian could only hope to have a fracture of. Charming as he may act, he was nothing but a piece of coal at the side of his father, an ever-shining star. Even when he spoke words that invoked violence, they sounded almost musical and easy to agree to.

But Julian had lived with his father long enough to not only learn the strategy of the tongue and its dangers, but understand when it and when it was being used. The spell Orion cast on his people did not fall on him. He was not excited by the promise of a public execution, but concerned. Concerned for the families of the rebels who would serve as the next example, concerned for the hate that it would grow in the slices, for both Vampir and every other species alike.

The clapping and excited noises of the crowd increased the worry he felt all the more. And though he could understand his father's intentions behind his plans, he was still puzzled by the comment made about walking into the sun. What did he have up his sleeve?

Boom!

His breath stilled and his blood ran cold.

"Canon fire! Down!

Why was no one dropping? Where was the canon fire coming from? The laughter and awes of the castle guests began to warp and mix, sounding no longer like joy but horror, the voices of a nightmarish creature. They were slow and sluggish with his blurring vision. Soon all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.

Boom! Crack!

Julian jolted, finally remembering to breathe, more aware of himself and his surroundings than he had been a second before. His eyes drifted toward the open doors and caught sight of the flashing lights. It was canon fodder. It was fireworks. They weren't under attack. So why was it that he couldn't shake the feeling? Why was it that he was remembering the terrible sights of a war that happened years ago?

He didn't care if anyone saw them or if his father would be livid with him for doing so in public when he had just told Julian to meet the noblewomen, Julian grabbed onto Gale's hand and held on for his life. He needed an anchor - no, not an anchor, but his anchor. "Let's go," he said to his lover, his words barely above a whisper.

There was no wait for an answer, he pulled him along, eyes shut as he walked across the hall and into the corridors he had spent so many years navigating through. He could find his way to his room blind, and he was doing a damn good job of it now, focusing on the sound of his own breathing and the insistent hard beating of his heart. The organ was determined to bang harder against his ribcage with every boom it heard until the sound of the fireworks became muffled and distant and they were standing alone in a dimly lit hallway.

He had taken a wrong turn. They were still a little off from his room.

Julian exhaled, releasing Gale's hand to run his fingers through his hair. "I just need a moment." What was he saying this for? Of course, Gale knew, they were connected in more ways than one. His pain was Gale's and vice versa. It made it impossible to hide things from him.

@wren.​

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[peach]

Euphemia

"Homesick already?"

The low, velvety voice drew her from the storm brewing in her mind, but only for a second. Her gaze didn't lift from the fireworks, but she replied almost too quickly.

"Yes." It tasted like a lie but it did feel like the truth, as she often found herself missing things she had never known.

It was hard to feel at home with people who groomed you for perfection with clear intentions to sell you off to the highest bidder. A beautiful sow, plump and delicious, served on a silver platter. Every little girl's dream.

Euphemia could see her future before her just as vividly as the colorful, glittering pops of light decorating the skies above. A lonesome self-fulfilling tragedy. There was no Prince Charming coming to whisk her away to safety. Her only hope in life was to get married off to someone with a gentle hand and to have as many children as her heart had room for. Half a dozen fluffy little dogs, a big, mean old cat and as many children as she could manage. Then everything would be worth it.

The disgusting, vile lessons she had with Dr. Halgen, the slender stick that left puffy red welts on her skin, the corset training, never eating enough, and never having time to be a person… Just a doll.

There was no mistaking how many other suitresses had come to compete for Julian's hand. But Euphemia was unable to identify a threat amongst them. There were two distinct differences between her and any suitor that was against her. One, she had no choice but to succeed. And two… She was truly ruthless, no matter how hard she wanted to kill that part of herself. It lingered.

「 anyone! 」

Code by Jenamos

 

[PavellumPendulum]

ROSARY

Lycanthropic insurgents, criminals with a false sense of justice. Rosary rehearsed the words in his head, mimicking his father's tone, his emphasis and expression inwardly. He wondered who to share this with. He wondered who would be the most interested in such information, who he could perhaps inform of a meeting between such lycanthropic insurgents, who he could save and who he could not. In truth, it meant very little to him who won or lost this war. Perhaps he would prefer that his family did, since he was indeed used to a certain standard of luxury, but oh, he was humble, was he not? A wayward shrine and tears of joy shed for his presence, a lifetime of devotion, that would sate him.

The ballroom, like a corpse full of maggots, swelled with activity, bloated by all the finery and indulgence. Rosary smiled demurely at those who made eye contact with him, the pretty little baby of the royal family, so innocent and cowardly. How he'd avoided military work altogether was a miracle at this point, but he was certain that this was by design. He could see how his halo dripped with blood above him, how his wings jostled those who peered in too close to look at his glossy exterior.

His fingers slipped down his lacy chemise, finding no resistance against the fabric, besides his fingers having to raise slightly when sliding over the tiny inlaid pearls. In his white hair, they shimmered in the light, held by nearly imperceptible string, made to look as though he'd been born with them. He too, was a maggot in the mass of bodies, hungry for something to destroy, to digest and be made whole through consumption.

Rosary's eyes found Lycus' mop of hair through a parting of the crowd. Another miracle.

He licked over the space where his fangs emerged when he bared them, grey eyes settling. It was only when he was beside him that he tilted his body so that he was in Lycus' personal space, meant to look as though they were having a secret conversation. Lycanthropic insurgent indeed. As though anyone was supposed to look at him and not see a puppy on its back, seeing the knife in your hand and thinking it was meant for tummy scritches.

"What have you busied with yourself this time, hm?" his voice was sweet, almost faintly adoring, before falling into something more purposefully vulnerable, "I'm meant to play for the crowd soon. I'm feeling a bit anxious." His eyes slid over to the harp stationed towards the edge of the room, waiting for him.

「 @MaryGold 」

Code by wren.

 

[rissa]

FRESH MEAT

Collab with @PavellumPendulum


Nights like this made her half-life worth living. Mable's eyes brimmed with tears as she adjusted Santino's miniature silk bow and the embroidered ribbons in Concetta's dark hair. They resembled her first pair of charges with their striking eyes and noble features, though there were minor differences here and there. They fussed and pouted, tiny fists clenched in uncomfortable rage at the unfamiliar finery they wore, but Mable cooed softly and embraced both of them. They clung to her as she stood, and so she wrapped an arm beneath each, sashaying a bit to release the wrinkles in the soft pleated gown Urania had gifted her.

I'll be the finest maid in the nursery, Mable said with a small blush, thankful she'd already combed and styled her hair. With one final look in the hammered silver mirror (and a kiss to each fussy twin) Mable opened the door to their live-in suite and came face to face with Lady Urania.

"Oh!" It was all she could say for the moment, glancing up and down and taking in the dark radiance that was her former student. "You needn't have waited, my lady; Santi was being a bit fussy over his bow, but we'd have caught up before you past the nursery and into the Grand Hall!"

Where Mable saw a future in the still soft heads and whiny cries of Urania's twins, she herself saw nothing more than the festering corpse of the life she once led. Her disdain was inevitable, built deep within the foundations of her bloodstream: nothing in the entire world resembled her and Alessio more than Santino and Concetta. They were irritating little runts now, likely to become even more grating on the nerves as they sprouted larger, like weeds. Urania barely looked at them when Mable opened the door, but even when they were in her peripherals, squirming and grasping at fistfuls of her dress, she could not dismiss the thoughts of the De Luca household from her childhood.

Mable was homely compared to her, a motherly glow in her reanimated skin, her mousy freckles lending to her inviting face. The dress she'd provided her suited her well. Urania was all sharp edges in her heavily layered dress, lashes straight and fanned out thick, hair sliced razor thin and nails ground down to intense points.

She only clicked her tongue at Mabel's statement, red mouth pressed thin. "Better to make a point of arriving as the De Luca's rather than separately." Though her patience was near non-existent for her children, she did diligently use them for the sake of bolstering the public unity of her family name.

"Come now."

Mable curtsied and let out a gentle, "As you wish," before following in her stead down the elaborately decorated halls of Castle Black. It still surprised her, the opulent decor and construction, the never-ending halls and hidden parts that seemed to always change. For a castle of vampires, it sure did reek of magic.

"Do you have a suitor for the evening, Lady Urania?" Mable asked softly, worried that she'd be spending the entire night alone- or worse -only in the company of Princess Sorena.

The court astrologer's scoff was indignant, but in a way that barely used any energy on her part. If she took offense to the question, it was a slight so insignificant that she barely had the patience to address it, her steps echoing against the intricately carved flagstones beneath them.

"What use would I have for one?" she responded blandly, a full step ahead of Mable at all times. The sounds of the festivities soon started to wash over them as they approached, drowning out the pitiful sniveling of her infant children behind her. "We make an appearance, as needed, then we leave." Urania stated, clearly dictating Mable's schedule for the rest of the evening.

The staccato rhythm of Urania's heels was a comfortable one, nostalgic and warm, especially backdropped by the elaborate harps and cellos emanating from the Great Hall. She nodded at the given itinerary, despite being in tow, and kissed each fussy twin to placate their growing angst. There was a sadness in Mabel's response, "What use?"

She thought about her phrasing for a moment, to ensure she neither offended nor assumed too much.

"Fun, I suppose. Everyone will be celebrating the Prince's victories— I only wish you'd have time to do so as well."

Mable's response received no response from Urania, who stared calmly ahead. If she had heard, she had decided that the conversation was over. She'd never had any need for a man. Not her father, not her brother and certainly not any suitor in the palace at the current moment. What she needed eclipsed what any of them could possibly think to give her.

When they finally arrived at the nursery, where the incessant babbling of children and soft cooing of overworked nursemaids overtook even the most prominent ballroom music, Urania waited at the doorway for Mable to leave Santino and Concetta behind. She did not move past the doorway, as though the sight of all the children alone was enough to repel her, her eyes turned towards the direction of the great hall.

While normally, she did not take Mable with her to events, showing her attendant's face every once in a while was a necessity, a reminder that she did not operate with her eyes and hands alone.

Upon Mable's return, free of the twins groping at her dress, Urania's eyes caught the miniscule spot of dribble upon the other woman's chest: a parting gift. Urania clicked her tongue, spun on her heels and walked until they were through the hall doors, finding themselves within the mix of spectators who witnessed the King's grand speech.

Though a flush crept upon Mable like she'd just taken a cold plunge into the sea, the physical reaction wasn't visible. Her half-life came with many drawbacks, but there were a few things she considered a blessing. Though Urania could plainly see her wince, no scarlet dappling marred her face as they entered the great hall and began to mingle (though to ensure the imperfection was invisible, Mable asked her loaned familiar for a favor and the spider, languidly, as if she couldn't be bothered, perched atop the dribble like a broach upon her chest) with the crowd. It seemed like only a moment before the King's speech ended with a threatening gravitas and the crowd was dispersed into the twinkling gardens.

Mable was envious of the magi who crafted the fireworks lighting the evening sky. She picked at her nails as she gazed up, wondering if she could make something similar with alchemical reactions. It was an inquiry for another day, perhaps, as Mable glanced over at her lady, dead eyes lit by the thousand tiny explosions. "They're beautiful." Mable admitted, though she itched to broaden the spectrum of colors represented in the enchanted display. She retrieved a glass of wine from a passing waiter and offered it to Urania with a soft question, "Will we be attending the execution in the morning, my lady?"

Urania took the glass with the minimum amount of interest needed to not drop it, though she did not sip from it. Holding it between her fingertips, letting the liquid lap up at the sides, she muttered, "Of course. We'll be needing their leftovers, after all."

Fresh meat always worked best.

 

[MaryGold]

Judas Morningstar

He was well. Though Lord Abrendroth's tone indicated he was not particularly happy, he was well. And that was all Judas could ask for at this moment. There was always going to be a part of him that ached, desiring for his happiness along with his health. However, he was well aware that he may have been one the many causes for his displeasure, seeing how he had become something he hated. But he didn't hate Judas, he was upset for him, and as poisonous as it was, Judas still warmed to know he mattered enough to him to cause him any displeasure. If he had to be the one thorn in his heart to build him a better world to walk, he'd do it. A world that maybe one day he could walk alongside him.

Judas didn't fool himself in knowing that he was selfish. Even when he wanted to be nothing but selfless for Lord Abendroth, he still wanted. He was greedy and he knew it.

He was slow in answering the older vampir, taking his time to admire his facial features as he mused over the question. Vampir were beautiful, but Red Bloods were ethereal, and his Lord was no exception. In the shadows of the night garden, his pale skin shone like the light of the moon, nearly the same shade. Judas swallowed and cast his eyes down les he stare anymore without blinking. He would drink in every detail; of the man until he was drowning and be happy for it.

"Land perhaps. Or money to buy land." A place near his estate, somewhere he could call his own. "Or a better rank…" Though that was hopeful thinking. There was so much more to do before he could gather a new title. The king didn't even know of his existence yet, not truly. He was a gentleman, but he was no aristocrat. More stairs needed to be climbed, but he would get there no matter who he had to shove on his way.

The king's voice captured his attention the moment he heard it booming out of the doors of the hall. Even as he spoked harsh words and invoked anger and disgust, he was merry and pleased. Like the rest, Judas clapped his gloved, hands, though softly as to not disturb the duke.

When he opened his mouth again, the sky suddenly caught fire. Blue orbs reflected the many lights that sounded off above them, and his breath caught. He nearly stumbled before his brain remembered the illustrations in the books he read. "Magic.." his whispered to himself. But it wasn't all magic, humans had made this before the touch of their predecessors. "I've never seen them before."

He heard them before when he was a child, sitting on the dirtied cellar floor among the rats that chewed at his clothes. He heard them just as he heard them now, with the sound of laughter and squeals from the guest. All delighted. It was an odd sound to remember when it wasn't at his expense or ignoring his pain.

He ripped his eyes away from the sight and to Duke Abendroth. The lights of red and flashing greens shone on his face causing Judas to find his smile once more. What an odd thing. "Are you fond of these lights, my lord?"

@Dusk​

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[MaryGold]

Lycus Cale

Lycanthropic insurgents. Lycanthropic radicals, not rebels. Weres were causeless, they were violent, they were criminals with long snouts, sharp fangs and razor claws. They were monsters in the stories humans once told their young. Careful of the wolves. Careful of those black dogs that lurk in the shadows. They were animals, nothing without a sense of control and deserved no mercy. They deserved to be humiliated by their hands being chopped off their shoulders in front of all to see.

These were the thoughts of so many of these Vampir that claimed that all was fair and good. The Vampir who looked waltzed passed him with venom in their eyes as they wrinkled their noses and licked their fangs at the sight of his frame, at the smell of his scent. He was their natural enemy, was he not? One bite from him was fatal to their being, but with every look casted at him, at Lycus, he rescinded further into himself.

He was no longer the boy dressed in rags, fighting in cages for his life, or piggybacking their children, eating from a bowl when they demanded. No, the king's staff, his servants, dressed him in the fine palace uniform. As a servant of the palace, he was a reflection of the king himself. Though they may have looked at him as lesser, perhaps, it meant the king didn't think the same.

Lycus was a quick study, he knew to smile despite his heart's beat slowing. There was no pounding, but it was quiet and hardly felt present as he offered glasses of wine and fresh blood to the noble guests. Few approached him, which relieved him, but his body was still stiff and jagged. Did they think he was a radical? Or did they just hate the smell of Were, fearing it would rub off on them?

"What have you busied with yourself this time, hm?"

A voice sweeter than fresh morning dew called for his attention. Lycus turned to face the young royal, his face quickly warming for not having sensed him sooner. But now that he was facing him, his senses were flooded by his presence, smell, sight, sound, and taste as well. As somehow in his presence, the air itself tasted sweeter and cooler in his lungs.

His first instinct was to avert his eyes, who was he, a lowly servant, took him in the eye? He was the lowly servant that Prince Rosary permitted with a kindness that was unfamiliar from everyone else but him. Lycus would lose himself if he didn't properly bow even with a platter in his hand.

"Your highness," He greeted the angel Vampir with a grin so wide, he wasn't sure when his face began changing or his feet felt lighter. "Would you like a drink? Perhaps it would relax you." Lycus offered, checking the glasses on his platter, looking for the best glass to serve his highness. When he found it, he set the platter down on a nearby standing table and plucking the drink to offer his prince.

"If it may also help, I can accompany you."

@PavellumPendulum​

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[MaryGold]

Moss Tavaris

"My BALLS!" Moss screeched and watched in horror as his balls of many, bell balls, soft balls, rubber balls, and all, flew from his hands the second he was pushed by a guest. The second they hit the marble floor, they would roll and bounce away in every direction beneath the feet and gowns of the many waltzing and walking around the hall. They would be lost until the cleaning staff swept through the following day, and knowing their practices, the balls would be thrown out or stashed away without being returned to its rightful owner. Such were the unspoken laws of the Palace staff.

Moss didn't have the finances to purchase a new set of well-made and entertaining balls. Not after he lost the old ones in a horrid trick gone wrong (juggling them next to the pond in the gardens). And what was an entertainer without their balls? A failure.

Horrified he was, but frozen, he was not. A skill any professional entertainer new was improvisation. The show must go on. The actors should adapt and work around every situation, including one where an audience member took offense to a joke about their ill put together makeup looking worse than the entertainer's own exaggerated jester makeup and shoving them with the force of a Vampir. Moss almost flew across the room, but just as his balls did, he took flight, spreading his wings and raising a foot off the ground.

Moss was fast, fast on his feet and even faster flying through the air. He dashed to catch each ball with as much finesse he could manage while in the air, mimicking the moving paintings on the walls as he grabbed his tools with his hands and tail both. He did a flip that was practically unnecessary, but detrimental for engagement, and floated back to the floor with a wide grin. His audience clapped with merriment as he bowed.

His grin was especially pointed at the woman with the overcooked makeup and twisted face, red with anger. "Please, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the firework show." He gestured to the open doors where, already, many stood outside watching the light show. Moss's own show as done for now. With the fireworks and soon Prince Rosary's own performance, who needed his pretty painted face and hilarious jokes, anymore?

He walked backwards, his body still bowed to his merry audience, until he was gone from their sight and other moving bodies hid him safely. Just as he turned, however, he bumped into another figure, head crashing onto theirs with a thump that rattled his skull. His only consolation was the other person had to be more hurt as Moss was a Gargoyle, and though a week one, his body was still stronger and harder. That didn't mean he was not a whiner, because he whined more than needed. Exaggeration was reflex.

"Oww, ow, ow, owww," Moss cried, rubbing his forehead. "My poor thinker. Good sir, this pretty head is property of his majesty's! If he-" His tongue froze when he peeled his eyes opened and found himself face to face with a certain fae.

There was a moment of surprise, his eyes raising high and then joy when a brilliant grin resurfaced onto his face. "My dearest, Azzie!" he bumped the man again with his head, though it was a more gentle and familiar nudge, but he was careful not to have his horns get in the way. It helped they were covered by his belled cap. "I'm so very happy to see you. Hold these."

Without warning, he shoved his balls into the fae's hands. Had it been any other aristocrat he came across, he would have never transgressed as a lower class citizen. But he knew those silver eyes when they were smaller and shaking with worry and fear. And he knew, despite how hard they had become with age, they would never glower at him.

"I need a drink. The only break I've had is whenever there was a popular song for dancing played or the king spoke. Luckily, his majesty loves to hear the sound of his own voice." Moss sighed as he raised his arms into the air and rocked forward onto his toes into a long stretch. When he was down, he fell back onto his heels and grinned at his friend. "Now the fireworks are here, so I am off for the night. Which ones, I can finally lose all senses." He reached out a hand and grabbed a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant.

With a smirk, he threw the drink back and immediately opened his mouth to let it drip out. "That's blood." he clicked his tongue. "Very… salty."

He took another swig. It dribbled down his chain again. "And metallic." He clicked his tongue. "Would you like a sip?"

@Dusk​

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[MaryGold]

Thomasin Orval

When one spent too much time hunched over in their bed, with their nurse rubbing their aching back and applying hot bottles of water wrapped in wet towels, they tended to be late. The spells of random pain were rare, but when they struck it was not only enough to have tears pricking his eyes, but to arrive at the most inconvenient time. The moment he felt anything close to himself again, his hands were clenched tight with the fabric of his duvet wrinkling in his grip while his hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his face pale face.

The hour he spent wrenching in his bed was followed by an hour of laying in his bathtub, where he nearly fell asleep in the tub of warm rose petaled water, dressing and styling. The preparation process was a rushed one, but his servant and nurse alike new better than to let him leave his quarters without looking not just his best but the best. Whereas not long ago he was wet with sweat, his skin clammy and white as a ghost, he was garbed in blue embroidered clothing suiting a man of his class. He smelled lightly of floral perfumes and skin was lively again, expressing those rose undertones and clear skin.

"Shall I get the chair?" Alain, his nurse, asked, already reaching for the wheelchair in question. It was perhaps the most lavish looking chair, made of rich, dark wood, and painted with the same flowers his coat was embroidered with. A gift from his long gone sister.

"No, my cane." Thomasin said, from his seat at his vanity, staring past his reflection and at the chair. The cane was also a gift from his sister, and just as extravagant. When he looked back at himself, he could see just how well put together he was. Not only did he look better, but he felt better. With a deep breath, he rose from his seat and took the extended cane from Alain.

"There will be so many people, and dancing. I won't stay long anyway, the ball is nearly over." The duke straightened his back and slammed his cane against the floor before he walked out with his head held properly high.

The way to the hall was not as difficult as his nurse presumed it would be. Every step of the way there, the man stuck close to his side, hands ready to catch him should he fall or tire out. Has Thomasin not experienced an episode of pain earlier, he wouldn't have been nearly as tiresome in his concerns. He worried about him, but no one knew Thomasin's body better than he did. And by the time they entered the hall, new life was breathed into as he took in the lights, sound of music, laughter, chatter, and fireworks.

Thomasin did frequent parties and functions, but it didn't mean he didn't enjoy them and the joy they brought. Like many others, he enjoyed the company and dance, he loved the finger foods and the sparkling wines. Most of all, at that moment, he loved the fireworks. From his place in the back, it was near impossible to see them. But when he saw the wave of lights in the form of a dragon hover close to the guests standing at the door, his eyes lit up.

"Come, Alain," Thomasin nudged his nurse with his elbow. "I haven't seen fireworks in years. And never the magical kind."

The man held onto Thomasin's arm as he walked quickly to the door. He had to shake the urge to pull away and fuss at him, he was no child. And if he was ever to find a bed partner for the night, his clinging would make it difficult, though, not impossible. Thomasin was too charming for most to resist in many forms.

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