ALWAYS OPEN NO SIGNUPS REQUIRED The King's Ball ♛ IC

[Fluffy]

[[Click here for the OOC thread]]​

On this day, one of the Vallan Kings is hosting a stylish and fun event for all to attend. This event is a celebration of Valla and another kingdom, Aluray, joining together in harmony. This was made possible through the marriage of two princesses who go by the names of Fifi and Halia. Now is the time to honor their togetherness and wish them a happy life. It is also the time to make new friends and embrace these new beginnings. May this day of merrymaking be jovial and memorable. May Valla and Aluray's futures be prosperous. May we go down in history as one of the strongest alliances to ever be.

---

Bright sunbeams shined through the tall windows of a royal ballroom. It was quite a pretty sight to see as the beams touched the gold embellishments complementing all the white pillars and walls. The area practically glowed in the light, making it look like pure magic. That magic reflected on the magnificent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and gently touched the faces of the statues standing proud at every side of the room. Everywhere you looked, there was something exquisite to see. Even the flooring was a golden color that lightly sparkled under your feet. How the builders and decorators managed such a lovely setup was a mystery, but no one was complaining. This was easily one of the most gorgeous places in the castle.

Soft, beautiful music floated through the ballroom as people slowly filled the space. Everyone was dressed in their best today. Outfits of every color could be found in this mixed crowd of party-goers. Many from Aluray traveled all this way to dance at the ball and watch some outdoor activities with the Vallans. There would be jousting and there would be horse racing. Everyone attending should be thoroughly entertained in one way or another.

Outside, individuals of every type organized themselves for the competitions. Armor was shined, lances were prepared, and horses were given the special treatment they needed. This was all just for fun, but of course, everybody wanted to win, so they showed up today completely focused. The weather was just right for the occasion, too. It provided plenty of sunshine and a nice breeze periodically. It was as if nature itself wanted to offer a gift to the brides.

Speaking of the brides, they had yet to make their appearance. The party was only just beginning, though. It wouldn't be too much longer now…

---

In one of the many rooms of the castle, Halia was being prettified by a small group of women. They smoothed out her flowy, blue dress embroidered with gold, and they brushed every tangle out of her long, white hair. Normally, she'd wear it in a braid, but today she would be wearing it down. The ladies insisted that she looked irresistible this way. Halia never used to care about such things. This time she did, though. She dearly wanted Fifi to be impressed with her. She wanted them to make a connection of some kind and be able to get along. Otherwise, this arranged marriage was going to spiral into misery. Halia was willing to do this, don't get her wrong, but she wanted to be happy, too. Which shouldn't be the priority, she supposed… She reminded herself that duty came first, and happiness came second. No matter what, she must do this for the good people of Valla.

The final things the women did for Halia were to add some color to her light tan face and decorate her with jewelry. Rings were slid onto her fingers and a necklace was clasped around her neck. Red was painted onto her lips and blue was brushed onto her eyelids. By the end of it all, Halia looked beautiful. She almost couldn't recognize herself when she looked into the mirror, but she didn't hate the look, either. In fact, she might admit that she loved it. This was a side of her she was excited to show off.

Once she was done looking at her reflection, Halia turned to leave the room. It was almost time for her name to be announced to the ballroom full of guests. Picking up the skirt of her dress, she headed to the top of the stairway, where she would wait until she heard her name. The whole way there, her heart hammered against her chest. She was nervous beyond belief. But she was as ready as she'd ever be.

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Charlotte Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

Charlotte stood at the edge of the ballroom, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of her. Her posture was the perfect image of poise, her face composed, revealing nothing of the storm that raged beneath. The scent of candle wax and floral perfume mixed in the air, yet it did little to mask the thick tension of political games at play.
She had heard the whispers. The hushed conversations about the Valorian princess—Halia—who was to be her betrothed. A woman she had never met, from a kingdom that had been at odds with Eldoria for decades. And now, she was meant to stand at her side? To play the role of a dutiful future queen? The very thought made her jaw clench.
Her dark gaze lifted toward the grand staircase just as movement stirred at the top. Halia.
Draped in blue and gold, she looked like something out of a painting—graceful, delicate, every bit the noblewoman Charlotte herself refused to be molded into. The white waves of her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the cold rigidity of the moment. The hall quieted ever so slightly as anticipation hummed through the crowd, waiting for her to descend.
Charlotte remained still. Reserved. Watching. Calculating.
She knew the rules of the court well enough—this was meant to be a spectacle, a display of unity, of two kingdoms binding together for the sake of peace. But peace was a fragile thing, easily broken. And Charlotte was not one to be tamed so easily.
Would Halia be?
The corner of her mouth threatened to curl into something sharp, but she suppressed it, stepping forward just enough to be seen. If the princess was expecting a warm welcome, she would be sorely disappointed.
Charlotte tilted her chin ever so slightly, her voice smooth, controlled. "Let us hope the crown rests lightly upon your head, Princess."
It was neither an insult nor a compliment. Simply a truth wrapped in steel. The first move in a game neither of them could afford to lose.


Kane Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

Kane stood at the far end of the ballroom, his broad shoulders squared beneath the weight of ceremonial armor, though the polished steel felt heavier than usual tonight. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword—a weapon of duty, not diplomacy. He had spent his life training to defend his kingdom, to stand at Charlotte's side as her sworn knight, her shield against those who sought to use her.
And now, he was expected to welcome a Valorian princess?
His dark eyes flickered toward the grand staircase as movement stirred at the top. Halia.
She was draped in blue and gold, her white hair spilling in soft waves, and she held herself with carefully practiced grace. But Kane was no fool. He could see the tension in her posture, the way her fingers trembled slightly against the fabric of her gown before she steadied them. She was nervous. Good. It meant she wasn't naive enough to believe this marriage was built on trust.
Kane inhaled slowly, forcing his expression to remain unreadable. This was a game of strategy, and he would not play his hand too soon. His role was to protect Charlotte, to ensure that this alliance did not become a noose around her throat. Halia may have been raised a princess, but he was raised a knight. If she meant to take the crown beside his sister, she would need to prove she was worthy of it.
Stepping forward, his deep voice cut through the quiet hum of the ballroom. "You look the part, Princess." His words were measured, unreadable, a test wrapped in something polite. "Let us see if you can play it."
His dark gaze met hers, unreadable yet unwavering. He would watch. He would wait. And should she prove a threat to his sister's throne, he would act.

 

[sele]

What was there to do at a ball but to dance? Maxim had been the gentleman thus far, and spun through two dances now with one lady to the next. The half-human (as his elven kin preferred to call him) listened to their stories with such patient grace. He also eavesdropped on the flavors of different conversations from other pairings swirling nearby, too. What was the general mood about this royal union they were all to celebrate?

Now, if Maxim were asked for his opinion on the brides and what their future meant for the future of all, he'd speak polite, brief honey to the topic. His true opinion? When was the last time he actually had his own to truly keep? He wasn't here for himself. He was there at all to collect information.

Not all birds fly with nefarious intent - Maxim was 'winged' in muted mossy colors with gold trim about his coat and pants, and his only purpose was to gather a mood on the whole affair. If he found kernels of special intrigue, he could bring those back to his keepers, too.

Be lovely, be adoring, and hear everything. Yes, yes, he inwardly huffed at his assignment. Maxim didn't mind his task. He actually enjoyed floating about elegant events like this. He also enjoyed a touch of private haughtiness to balance against all of this social catering.

He'd soon have to find new frilly things to dance away with - perhaps someone at the other side of the room for a new sampling of couples to eavesdrop on.

|| Tag: Anyone EVERYONE HELLOoOoo ||​

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Princess Charlotte Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

Charlotte remained unmoving, her expression carved from the same unyielding stone as the pillars that lined the ballroom. Around her, the music swelled, laughter tinkled like glass, and nobles exchanged honeyed words with hidden barbs. It was all a carefully rehearsed performance—one she had no interest in playing along with.

She was aware of the eyes on her, watching, weighing, waiting for some indication of how she would react to this union. A political match. A necessity. A duty. The words had been thrown at her like shackles, meant to bind her into obedience. But Charlotte Greene of Valla had never been one to bow so easily.

Her gaze flickered across the ballroom, noting the movement of one particular guest. Maxim.

The half-elf moved with the ease of someone who belonged yet held himself apart. A shadow dressed in finery, slipping between conversations with effortless charm. He was not here for himself—no, she had known men like him before. He was here to listen, to gather, to dissect the undercurrents of the evening without letting a single ripple touch him.

Charlotte's lips curled—not in amusement, but in understanding.

He had likely already collected whispers about her and Halia, about Eldoria and Valla, about the precarious balancing act the kingdoms now found themselves in. But information was a weapon. And Charlotte did not intend to let hers fall into the hands of an outsider without knowing exactly what he intended to do with it.

She did not dance. Not tonight. But she moved through the room with the same precision as a blade sliding into place, weaving through clusters of nobles until she came to a stop beside Maxim.

"Enjoying the festivities?" she asked, her voice smooth as velvet but laced with something sharper beneath. A test. A challenge.

She did not expect a true answer. Men like Maxim did not deal in truth unless it suited them.

But that was fine.

Charlotte could play the game, too.


Kane Greene Of The Valla Kingdom


Kane remained unmoving, a sentinel of steel and silence amidst the swirl of music and murmured conversation. The weight of the evening pressed against his shoulders, heavier than his armor, heavier than the responsibility that had been carved into his bones since birth. His gaze swept the ballroom, noting the carefully curated expressions, the artful arrangement of nobility, and the ever-present hum of politics disguised as pleasantries.

He caught sight of Maxim, flitting from one dance partner to the next with effortless charm, his presence a stark contrast to Kane's own. The half-elf had always been adept at slipping between conversations like a shadow in candlelight, weaving his way through the court with an ease Kane had never possessed nor desired. Kane did not have the luxury of being a spectator. He did not dance, nor did he entertain with hollow words. He watched. He waited. And he guarded.

Maxim's presence at the ball was not coincidence—Kane knew that well enough. He was listening, gathering whispers like a net cast into deep waters. And Kane would ensure that those whispers did not become daggers pointed at Charlotte's back.

His fingers flexed slightly against the hilt of his sword as he observed the slow undercurrents of the court. There were eyes on Halia and Charlotte, but also on him. Assessing. Calculating. Waiting. Some sought to measure his temperament, others his loyalty. He met their glances with cold indifference, unmoved by their scrutiny.

At the heart of it all, this was a game—one that had begun long before this ball, before this so-called union. But Kane had no intention of playing along. If the Valorian princess thought she could step into Eldoria and claim a throne without proving her worth, she was mistaken.

And if those in attendance believed that Kane would stand idly by as his sister was bound to a stranger, they did not know him at all.

 

[Lyrikai]

Today was the day she had long been awaiting. This was a day that so many always waited for, always dreamed of. It was a day for a union unlike any other, a marriage between two princesses to unite two lands that were so vastly different from one another and yet, for that, they also complemented one another. Valla was known for its vast farmlands and lush forests while Aluray sustained a heavy fishing industry and crafted so many beautiful boats which sailed the seas. They were from such vastly different worlds, but they had a lot they could teach one another.

Fifi had always considered herself a strong leader, a strong warrior, and just a strong woman in general. She did not shy away from danger and she would not shy away from this union... And yet... she found herself to be nervous this day. Her hands were shaking and her beaths were unsteady. This was so strange. She never got this nervous before in front of anyone! Not in front of a foe three times her size! Why was the idea of a marriage getting her so scared now? She so hated feeling this way, but could only hope and pray her courage would win out and she would be able to make it through this day in one piece without letting herself look like a fool.

She had never left the tropics of Aluray before. She was used to the heat and humidity and she was used to the cold, crystal clear waters of the reefs and the warm, sandy beaches. She was so used to seeing ocean waves as far as the eye could see. She was used to feeling that ocean breeze on her skin, smelling the salt in the air. Here, all she could see was long stretched of grassland and a seas of wheat and corn and crops. Here, the air smelled like herbs and flowers and other things she could not identify. There were sights and smells that she had never experienced before in her life. Even the grand castle which held this beautiful ballroom was not what she was used to. Carved from stones much darker than the white stone cliffs back home. Every little detail was a stranger to her, but she could get used to this. She'd have to learn how.

Preparing herself to enter the ballroom, her entourage led the way, ready to announce her arrival. She adjusted her dress, scowling at the sight of it. She would have much rather been in far fewer layers, not used to be covered in so much fluff and silk. The tropical heat of the fishing lands called for less layers, thinner cloth that could breathe, that dried easily when it got wet and did not weigh a person down as they swam through the waters. She hated dresses, hated the way she could not move around in this. Still, she needed to make a good impression, right?

Bowing her head as the ballroom doors opened, she heard the call of her name. "Please welcome Lady Fifi of Aluray!"

"Thank you," she said quietly, bowing her head once more before stepping all the way into the ballroom proper. This was it then. This was her moment to shine and to impress. Would she be able to fit into this land so strange or would she flounder and drown?

 

[DANAsaur]

Playfair Display Cardo [font=][/font]

Widowed Duchess of Aargat Verico

The newly widowed Duchess of Aargat Verico sipped her wine quietly, trying to ignore the demeaning rumors circling about her from the ladies of high society. It looked like the ladies did not care for her presence as they continued to talk for her to hear.

"I heard the Duchess spends most of her time with a general even before the death of her husband." one of the women murmured behind a gloved hand.

"Perhaps that is why she never bore a child for the late Duke." another replied with mock sympathy.

"Or worse," a third added, lowering her tone just enough to feign secrecy, "I heard she had something to do with the late Duke' death. It would explain everything, would it not? A barren wife, a secret lover, and the sudden death of the Duke."

It was not the first time The Duchess heard the rumors—that she had betrayed the late Duke, that her womb had been barren by design, and that she had orchestrated his untimely demise.

The Duchess took another sip of her wine, listening to the scandals surrounding her. She had endured worse than whispered gossip but, that does not mean she is not hurt.

They are rather chatty in my presence. Was it because I had finally returned?

The Duchess took another sip, suppressing a bitter chuckle. It was almost amusing how she had nearly forgotten how ruthless and cutthroat these women could be.

Even before the Duke's death, her attendance at gatherings and tea parties had been minimal. Her husband does not care for idle socializing, nor encourage her to engage in the relentless politics and gossip of high society. She had played the role of the dutiful and submissive wife, keeping to herself and rarely stepping into the tangled web of noble affairs.

But in the months since his passing, the Duchess had withdrawn even further. Aside from the occasional summons from the palace—appearances she could not refuse—she had remained within the borders of her domain.

And yet, it seemed absence had not made high society forget her. If anything, it had only made their tongues sharper.

The weight of their whispers did not merely scratch at old wounds—it threatened to tear them open.

I cannot allow it. If they wished to speak of me so boldly, then I would give them something worth whispering about.

Her eyes scanned the crowd. Who should she approach? Her verdant green eyes glanced on a male wearing muted mossy colors with gold trim before moving to what she suspected was the Princess of Valla. A few meters away from the princess was the famous knight.

The duchess knew better not to intrude to their conversation. It is not the right time. Gods, is there anyone else?

As if the gods had answered her silent call, the herald's voice rang out through the grand ballroom.

"Please welcome Lady Fifi of Aluray!"

With practiced grace, the Duchess placed her wine glass down before adjusting the lace of her glove and stepping forward, the rustling of her black gown silencing some of the gossipmongers around her. She would not cower in the shadows of their judgment.

The Duchess then clasped her gloved hands together as she moved through the crowd: her back straight and her green eyes steeled with quiet determination. Her heels clicked against the ballroom floor in a measured, deliberate rhythm, parting the sea of silks and jewels as she walked.

When she reached the newly arrived guest, she lowered herself into a graceful curtsy, her voice smooth as velvet.

"Greetings, Lady Fifi," she said, rising elegantly. "I am Duchess Niamh of Aargat Verico. Would you like to chat and have a drink with me?"

​

 

[TheDoorMan]

Diego Hawkonen, Heir Of The Wingblade.

"Shit, I'm late!"

Diego slips on a lightly formal outfit, pulling himself together in moments.


He grabs what looks like two shoddily reforged blades on the way out of the house, wrapped lightly in leather to create a makeshift grip. He strung them both on his back. On his waist he mounts what looks like just the handle of an ornate dagger, slipping plated metal gauntlets with dark sigils carved into them. Into his bag, he slipped a scroll noting his Noble status, and a strange mask, seemingly pulsing with magic.



He puts a fur coat on top of everything, hops on a horse, and gets on his way.
------------------------------

He arrives at the gate of the party, hopping off his horse as it disappears seemingly into nothingness. He makes his way towards the party door, stopped by the guards.

"Name?"

"Diego."

"There's no Diego on here, sir."

He rolls his eyes
"Diogenes?"

The guard reads through the list again, his eyes widening a bit.

"R-right this way, Ser Hawkonen!" The guard steps to the side, allowing Diego to pass. He flips the man a coin and heads into the party, checking his weapons and coat at the door. He stands near the corner, grabbing a glass of champagne, and waiting for people to approach him.

 

[TheDoorMan]

His Royal Majesty King Erdominus Morgana The Greater, Lord of Greater Aluray, and Her Highness Princess Kauri Morgana, The Oak Rose
In a grand carriage, pulled by two mighty steeds, rides the lord of Greater Aluray.

He sits smiling lightly, almost mystically calm. To his right sits his daughter, the light of his life, her hand lightly glowing with magical light. AT his request, she's putting a light spell on her father, one suppressing his more...rage-prone interests. His garbs are decadent, laced with finely woven gold in patterns portraying the conquests of his youth. On his waist lies the remains of a mighty sword, one originally much larger than himself, now carried as a mantle of his devotion to peace as opposed to his desire for conquest. He breathes deeply as the spell finishes.

"Are you sure about this, father?" Kauri grabs her father's hand and finalizes the spell, creating a blue sigil on his hand.


"Yes dear. We cannot risk that form appearing yet again at another formal event."

"But what if they believe it's a curse? Or a controlling hex of some kind?"

"Then they will believe that, and we will prove them wrong with our action." Erdominus slips a glove over his hand, a faint glow still popping off the sigil

"Ehrm, M'lord, Your Highness, we're here." says the driver, the horses suddenly stopping. Both royals leave their carriage and head inside, escorted by half a dozen guards in fine plate. They cross into the ballroom, checking their coats and finding their seats, directly beside the seats of the Vallan royals. Their names are announced as they sit. Kauri's fine dress, traditionally worn by Wood Elven royalty such as her to events of great honor, flows as she takes her sweet, magically shifting into a cushion of sorts upon the chair. She puts down her head covering, only done as an act of respect, and takes a sip of her wine, taking a deep breath and scanning the room.

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Hope you can excuse any errors //

Princess Charlotte Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

The grand halls of Valla's royal palace shimmered under the glow of gilded chandeliers, casting a golden light over the sea of nobles gathered for the evening's festivities. The air was rich with the scent of perfumed roses and spiced wine, an intoxicating blend of power and luxury.


Princess Charlotte Greene of the Valla Kingdom stood poised beside her brother, Prince Kane Greene, the kingdom's esteemed knight. Dressed in an emerald gown embroidered with gold, Charlotte carried herself with effortless grace, her head held high and her expression unreadable. Her brother, clad in a dark green doublet adorned with silver insignias, stood as her silent guardian, his sharp gaze ever-watchful of the gathering nobles.


The evening was one of diplomacy, a careful dance of pleasantries and power, and tonight, their focus was on the arrival of Diego Hawkonen, Heir of the Wingblade.


The Wingblade, a formidable warrior house known for its mastery of aerial combat and swift military tactics, had long been both ally and rival to the Valla Kingdom. Their presence in court meant negotiations of great importance, and Diego's presence signaled an unspoken challenge—a test of words, wits, and intentions.


As whispers spread throughout the space, Charlotte's eyes darted across to see that Diego entered the hall, his dark eyes surveyed the crowd with quiet calculation. She felt his presence was striking; he wore the dark blues and silver of his house, a cloak of feathered silk draping over one shoulder, an emblem of his bloodline's mastery of the skies. His posture was that of a man who knew his worth, yet one who measured his surroundings with the sharpness of a warrior. She couldn't help but gaze in awe.


Charlotte, ever the composed diplomat, took a step forward, her emerald eyes meeting Diego's with careful curiosity. "Welcome to Valla, Heir Hawkonen," she greeted, her voice smooth and unwavering. "I trust your journey was pleasant?"


Charlotte watched Diego intently, calculating whether he'd respond or ignore her presence. She was silent and patient before adjusting her gown and presenting an elegant curtsy towards him, lowering her head. She'd raise her head and stood gracefully in front of the gentleman.


A ghost of a smile played on Charlotte's lips. "I hope Valla proves to be an engaging host."


The exchange was formal, each word laced with underlying meaning. The dance of diplomacy had begun, but beneath the polished civility, the air crackled with something unspoken. Charlotte knew well the weight of such encounters, the balancing act between duty and personal instinct.


Kane, ever the protector, observed with an unreadable expression, his presence a reminder that while the court was a place of words, it was also one of hidden blades. He'd give his farewells to his sister before walking off to greet more Royals.


As the night stretched on, the game of courtly exchanges continued, but for Charlotte, this meeting was the first of many with Diego Hawkonen—a man whose presence promised both possibility and peril. Only time would tell which would win out in the end.



Added an extra random character.. hope that's okay //

Prince and Knight Kane Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

The grand hall of Valla's palace was alive with the murmurs of noble tongues, the shimmer of gilded finery, and the weight of political expectations woven into every exchanged glance. The evening was one of calculated diplomacy, a gathering of the most powerful bloodlines across the kingdoms, and it was Kane Greene's duty—both as a prince and a knight—to navigate it with measured poise.


Standing tall in his dark, intricately embroidered doublet, the silver crest of Valla gleaming at his shoulder, Kane moved through the sea of nobility with the quiet confidence of a man who knew his station. His armor, though absent tonight in favor of royal attire, was still etched into the way he carried himself—a warrior, a guardian, a son of Valla who knew the price of power.


His younger sister, Charlotte, was across the hall, locked in her own obligatory greetings, her expression schooled into something akin to polite indifference. He did not need to watch over her; she was sharp, her instincts as honed as her blade. But still, his gaze flickered toward her now and then—habit, perhaps, or a silent assurance that neither of them was alone in this court of wolves.


Turning his attention back to the figures before him, Kane inclined his head respectfully as he was approached by Duke Alden Marquette of Rhenfall, a man as cunning as he was aged, his silver hair tied back into a low queue. The duke's sharp eyes held the calculating glint of a strategist, though his voice carried the warmth of familiarity.


"Prince Kane," Alden greeted, his tone smooth as silk. "It is always a pleasure to see the future of Valla so… disciplined."


Kane allowed a small, tight-lipped smile. "Duke Marquette," he returned evenly. "Valla stands strong, as does Rhenfall, I presume?"


"As ever," the duke assured, though his smile was laced with something unreadable. Kane had sparred with men like him before—not with swords, but with words, where one misstep could be a blade to the back.


Their conversation drifted toward matters of trade routes and border security, a necessary exchange before pleasantries could be abandoned in favor of true discussions behind closed doors. Kane handled it with the practiced ease of a royal accustomed to politics, his mind ever aware of the greater game being played.


As he moved on, more figures demanded his time. Countess Lirien of Ebra, her velvet-clad form swaying as she spoke of cultural alliances. Lord Everett of the Frostlands, whose kingdom teetered on the edge of war and sought reassurances he knew he could not yet give. Each greeting was a dance of its own, a game of controlled words, veiled truths, and unspoken negotiations.


Across the chamber, Charlotte was similarly engaged, her demeanor poised yet edged with that defiant fire that never fully faded from her. He saw it in the way she tilted her chin, in the way her fingers flexed subtly as though longing for a weapon's hilt instead of a courtly handshake.


Kane allowed himself a small breath before moving toward his next introduction. Duty called, and the night was far from over.

 

[TheDoorMan]

Diego looked inquisitively as Charlotte approached him, taking a sip of his drink
"Welcome to Valla, Heir Hawkonen, I trust your journey was pleasant?"

He calculated in his head, trying to figure out his next move carefully. She curtsied, he bowed, and finally let words leave his lips

"Please, Your Highness, call me Diego. My ride was quite pleasant."

"I hope Valla proves to be an engaging host."

"As do I"

Diego raises his glass as both begin to drift away, finishing his drink before grabbing another from a servant. In a moment, he stood face to face with Kane, a man of a similar status of himself. This man was a fellow diplomat, yes, but a warrior at his heart. Both men were bored by politics, and sought instead to solve their problems on the field. They were like two predators on neutral ground, no prey in sight, but a tension in the air. They sized each other up. He noticed the hidden blade beneath his royal garb, the top of the handle barely making an imprint beneath his chest. He shot him a knowing head nod and continued onwards. No words were exchanged, yet the two men came to a consensus: "You draw, I draw."

Their eyes quickly met and became fierce, before snapping away from one another and making their way away.

Diego was a newcomer to the world of noble politics, but his father had trained him well. The same traits that make him a keen hunter present themselves in the courtroom.

He notices the noble heiress to his right is wearing too much perfume, and that her shoe was recently mended, creating a slightly different noise. Her noble house recently had their supply lines raided, causing an economic downturn.

One proud duke smells of blood and pipe smoke, small yet barely noticeable stitches in a jagged pattern on his jacket. Recently, no less than 12 hours ago, he hunted in his royal garb, presumably successfully but with issue.

He continued walking through the ballroom, his steps careful and quiet. As he approached the window, a new sense overloaded him. Not his nose, or eyes, or anything he could touch or hear, but some strange mystical sense in the back of his mind. He turned towards its origin, Princess Kauri in his line of sight. He was stunned for a moment by her presence, but soon regathered himself, and turned back to the window, taking a long sip of his drink.

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Princess Charlotte Greene Of The Valla Kingdom (Charlotte's POV)

Charlotte observed Diego with a careful, trained eye as he moved through the grand ballroom, analyzing the room with a hunter's precision. She had expected no less from the Heir of the Wingblade; his reputation as a keen observer preceded him. As he raised his glass, responding to her greeting with that easy confidence, she allowed herself a small, polite smile—one that did not quite reach her eyes.


The grand chandeliers above bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating the delicate tapestries that hung from the marble walls, each thread woven with Valla's long and proud history. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spiced wine, freshly polished silver, and the cloying perfumes of nobles eager to impress. It was a familiar setting, one she had mastered long ago. Yet tonight, amidst the carefully curated pleasantries and whispered deals, she found herself more intrigued than usual.


As Diego drifted away, his silent exchange with Kane did not escape her notice. Charlotte had seen her brother in battle, had sparred with him countless times in their youth—she knew the way his muscles tensed when he was gauging an opponent. The silent understanding that passed between the two warriors was unspoken yet tangible, a language all their own.


You draw, I draw.


Charlotte took a slow breath, filing the interaction away in the depths of her mind. Politics was often compared to a battlefield, and in many ways, she found that to be true. But here, the weapons were words, gestures, and well-placed silences. And tonight, the pieces were already shifting across the board.


Her gaze flickered back to Diego as he moved through the crowd with an ease that suggested he belonged—yet his calculated scrutiny of the room told her he did not trust it. He took in the details that most would overlook: the barely perceptible flaws in a noble's attire, the lingering scent of blood on a duke's coat. He was hunting, but for what, she could not yet say.


And then, he faltered.


It was only a second—barely noticeable—but Charlotte caught it. His steps slowed, his focus drawn to something unseen. Following his gaze, she found the source.


Another Princess.


Charlotte's lips pressed together slightly, her expression unreadable as she observed the momentary flicker in Diego's demeanor. Interest? Surprise? It was difficult to tell. But it was enough. Enough for her to know that the Heir of the Wingblade was not as unshakable as he might pretend to be.


Fascinating.


With the grace expected of her, Charlotte turned away, lifting a glass of her own from a passing servant. She swirled the deep red liquid once before taking a measured sip, her mind already working. The game had only just begun.



Prince and Knight Kane Greene Of The Valla Kingdom (Kane's POV)


Kane had been watching Diego Hawkonen long before the man had turned to face him. He didn't need introductions to know who the Heir of the Wingblade was—his reputation had preceded him. A tactician on the battlefield, a hunter by nature, and a man raised with a warrior's instincts. Kane understood that kind of man well. He had fought beside—and against—men like him.


As Diego moved toward him, Kane remained still, his stance relaxed yet firm, feet planted with the kind of steadiness that came naturally to one who had spent his life wielding a sword. His royal garb, though elegant, was tailored to accommodate movement, and beneath the embroidered fabric, his armor lay hidden—a reminder that, while this was a ballroom, it was no less dangerous than the battlefield.


For a brief moment, neither spoke.


Two men of similar make, measuring the other with nothing but a glance. Kane caught the flicker of Diego's gaze dipping to the slight imprint of his hidden blade, just as he had noticed the subtle shift in Diego's posture—a silent acknowledgment of preparedness, a recognition that neither would be caught off guard.


A silent nod was exchanged.


You draw, I draw.


It was not a challenge, not yet. But an understanding. A predator recognizing another predator. A warrior giving silent respect to a fellow warrior.


Kane's lips barely twitched upward before he stepped past Diego, moving deeper into the sea of nobles, yet keeping the man in his peripheral. He had no love for these gatherings, where words were the preferred weapons and alliances were spun with veiled smiles. He was not his sister; Charlotte thrived in these settings, reading people as though they were mere pages in a book. Kane, however, was far more straightforward. He trusted steel over speech. Actions over pleasantries.


But that did not mean he was blind to the game being played around him.


His eyes scanned the room, taking in details others would miss. The slight hesitation in a noble's step, the clenching of a gloved hand, the twitch of a concealed dagger beneath a sleeve. He did not need to know their names to know their intentions. A soldier trained for war knew how to recognize battlefields, and tonight, the battlefield was this ballroom.


His gaze drifted back toward Diego, catching the momentary flicker of something unusual in the man's demeanor. A shift, brief yet distinct. Kane followed his line of sight.


Princess Kauri.


Something about her presence had unsettled Diego, if only for a heartbeat. Kane took note of it, though he said nothing. Everyone had their weaknesses. It was simply a matter of knowing when—and how—to use them.


With a slow breath, Kane adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, exhaling lightly through his nose. This night had only begun, and already the pieces were shifting.


The game was in motion.

 

[TheDoorMan]

Diego took a deep sigh. He knew he just revealed a piece of his hand, but he started scheming on how he could weaponize this. He made his way to his table, the head table, directly besides Kauri

Shit.

Diego waved hello and placed his shoulder-cape upon the chair, rolling his sleeves up revealing his pseudo-gauntlets. They look like decorative pieces, but are far from them. Not many would know of their danger, but it was an active threat of sorts. Diego knew they weren't offensive pieces of kit, but instead glorified mystical shields, or at least that's all he knows how to do with them.

He knows Kauri knows this, and knows the rest of the table almost definitely doesn't. He sat back in his chair, confident, waiting for others to arrive, taking another sip of his champagne

"Heir Hawkonen! I have heard much about you!"

Diego nearly spits out his drink. For some reason, he didn't expect her to speak to him.

"H-Hi!"

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Princess Charlotte Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

Charlotte observed the interaction unfold with quiet amusement, her trained gaze catching every flicker of emotion that crossed Diego's face. His confidence, carefully constructed and exuded so naturally upon his entrance, had been momentarily fractured. A miscalculation, if only for a second.


She had seen his type before—men who prided themselves on control, on reading the room before the room could read them. Yet, here he was, blindsided by Kauri's sudden engagement.


Diego recovered quickly, but not before the damage had been done. Charlotte caught the way his fingers subtly twitched near his glass, the near imperceptible shift in his posture. The man was skilled at maintaining his composure, but a trained eye could see past the exterior.


Kauri, on the other hand, was a force unto herself. She carried a presence that was difficult to ignore, not simply because of her status but because of the unspoken weight that seemed to surround her. Charlotte had always found her fascinating in that regard. The princess had an effortless way of commanding attention, a quiet yet undeniable authority woven into her very existence.


Charlotte remained at a measured distance, close enough to observe, yet far enough to not be directly involved—for now. She sipped from her own glass, letting the cool taste of champagne settle on her tongue, her thoughts idly drifting as she assessed the situation.


Diego's pseudo-gauntlets had not gone unnoticed. They were a curiosity, something that did not quite fit with the usual extravagance of noble attire. Charlotte's mind worked swiftly, recalling the stories surrounding Wingblade's craftsmanship, the way their artifacts were as functional as they were ornate. His choice to reveal them now was deliberate, she was sure of it, but to whom was the message intended?


Her gaze flickered toward Kauri once more, watching as she held Diego's attention effortlessly. The way Diego was reacting to her was intriguing. Was it simply surprise? Or was there something deeper at play? Charlotte filed away every detail for later use.


Still, she could not allow the evening to pass without making her own presence known. A game was unfolding, and Charlotte was not one to remain on the sidelines.


With effortless grace, she stepped closer to the table, her emerald gown catching the light as she moved. She placed her glass down gently, ensuring Diego would notice before she spoke.


"Well," she mused, her voice carrying the perfect balance of warmth and amusement. "It seems Heir Hawkonen has been caught off guard. That is a rarity, is it not?"


She tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile curving her lips as her sharp gaze met his. It was a subtle challenge, wrapped in the silken threads of courtly charm.


"Tell me, Diego," she continued smoothly, the deliberate use of his name a small assertion of familiarity. "Did you expect Valla's court to be so… engaging?"


She let the words settle, knowing full well that this conversation had only just begun.



Prince and Knight Kane Greene Of The Valla Kingdom

Kane Greene moved through the grand hall with an air of composed authority, his steps measured, his presence steady. He had always been more comfortable on the battlefield than within the gilded walls of nobility, yet tonight, as Prince and Knight of Valla, he played his role with practiced ease. These gatherings were necessary, if not particularly enjoyable. Politics, after all, were just another kind of war, and Kane knew better than most how to navigate both.


His sharp blue eyes swept across the room, cataloging every noble, every warrior, every whisper exchanged between lips that held too many secrets. The air was thick with the scent of perfumed silks, aged wine, and the ever-present undercurrent of tension that accompanied a room full of power-hungry elites.


The first to approach him was Duke Alistair Vrenholt of the Northern Reaches, a man as well-fed as he was well-connected. The duke's heavy robes dragged slightly as he walked, his many rings clinking together as he extended a hand in greeting.


"Prince Kane, a pleasure as always," Alistair said, his voice rich with forced familiarity. "Valla stands strong, I trust?"


Kane clasped the duke's hand with a firm grip, offering a nod of acknowledgment. "Stronger than ever, Your Grace. The Northern Reaches fare well, I hope?"


"As well as can be expected," Alistair replied, though Kane noted the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. There was something he wasn't saying, something he was calculating whether or not to share. But Kane wouldn't press—yet.


The exchange was brief, but meaningful. Kane knew that men like Alistair rarely spoke without an ulterior motive. If the Northern Reaches were struggling, that would be useful information in the days to come.


Moving on, Kane found himself greeted by Lady Elira Montclair, a widow of considerable influence. Dressed in midnight blue with silver embroidery that shimmered under the candlelight, she was the very image of elegance. Yet her eyes were sharp, keenly aware of every movement in the room.


"Prince Kane," she greeted with a knowing smile. "I trust you're keeping your sister safe from the wolves of court?"


Kane smirked slightly, understanding her meaning. "Charlotte can handle herself. Though I appreciate the concern, Lady Montclair."


Elira chuckled, swirling her wine. "Of course. But even the fiercest of warriors know when to guard their flanks. This evening will be... enlightening, I think."


Kane inclined his head, storing away the implication in her words. It seemed everyone in the room was anticipating something—whether it be alliances, betrayals, or power plays yet unseen.


As he continued greeting others—noblemen, ambassadors, knights of foreign courts—his mind remained sharp, ever assessing. The pleasantries exchanged were never just that; every smile masked an intention, every glance carried weight.


Kane moved with the ease of a soldier who had long accepted that war never truly ended, even in times of peace. It simply changed its form.


He was here not just as a prince, not just as a knight, but as a sentinel of Valla. Watching. Waiting. Ready.

 

[TheDoorMan]

Diego chuckles at Charlotte's actions, shooting a quick glare to Kauri, almost as if to say "help me" before turning to Charlotte

"Has happened twice, once now, and once before when I fought a pack of direwolves, their runt snuck up from behind, got this scar on my wrist, see?"

He shows Charlotte the underside of his gauntlets, revealing dozens and dozens of magical runes, each with functions Diego barely knows, but he knows they are dangerous.

"And yes, the court has been quite engaging. The fine drink is quite good."

He raises his chin at Charlotte, almost as if to say "Silence," before turning forward and trying to collect himself.

 

[Someonewholoveslove]

Princess Charlotte Greene of The Valla Kingdom

Charlotte's expression didn't shift as she regarded Diego with a sharp, appraising gaze. His attempt at nonchalance, the casual way he displayed his scars and the cryptic runes etched into his gauntlets, didn't go unnoticed. He was performing, masking, playing a game of controlled perception—one she had seen played countless times within the halls of Valla's court.


She did not flinch at the sight of the runes. Instead, her gaze flickered over them with calculated curiosity, taking in the intricate markings, the faint glow of untapped power lying beneath the surface. A weapon half-understood was as dangerous to its wielder as to its enemies. Whether Diego truly grasped the weight of the magic bound to him was another matter entirely.


"Direwolves are not known for their mercy," she said coolly, tilting her head slightly. "Unfortunate that the runt was the one to leave a mark."


There was no mockery in her tone, only the ghost of amusement, veiled beneath an air of composed detachment. She had been raised among wolves—true wolves, not the monstrous kind twisted by magic—but she understood them better than most nobles who only saw them as threats to be culled. A runt who had the cunning to land a blow spoke volumes of its survival instincts.


Her lips pressed into a faint, knowing line as Diego raised his chin, the unspoken command hanging in the air between them. She did not submit to it, nor did she challenge it outright. Instead, she let the silence settle, cool and measured, watching as he turned away in an attempt to compose himself.


The court had been engaging, had it?


Charlotte allowed a slow blink, her fingers lightly brushing the stem of the untouched glass at her place. Diego was rattled, even if he tried to mask it beneath his bravado. The weight of expectations, of scrutiny, pressed down on him in ways he was still learning to navigate.


She had no intention of making his night easier.


"Then I suggest you drink more, Heir Hawkonen," she said at last, her voice smooth as silk, yet edged with something unreadable. "If nothing else, it may steel you for the rest of the evening."


With that, she reached for her own glass, lifting it with unhurried grace. The game of courtly interaction was always a dance—one of careful steps, measured breaths, and subtle battles waged beneath the veneer of civility.


And Charlotte Greene had never been one to lose her footing.


Prince and Knight Kane Greene of The Valla Kingdom
Kane had been silent, watching the exchange between his sister and Heir Hawkonen with a measured gaze. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting on the table, the other loosely gripping the stem of his glass. But his presence, though seemingly at ease, was anything but passive. He studied Diego with the keen observation of a warrior—not the scrutiny of a noble entertaining courtly games, but the quiet assessment of a man who had stood on battlefields and knew how to read an opponent.


When Diego displayed his scars, speaking of direwolves and their runt, Kane's lips pressed into something close to amusement—subtle, but there. A runt who managed to land a hit? Either Diego underestimated it, or the runt was far more capable than expected. Kane knew firsthand that wolves, even the smallest of them, did not give their lives away so easily.


His sharp gaze flickered briefly to the magical runes along Diego's gauntlets. That was more interesting. Magic was a fickle thing, and though Kane was not a mage, he had fought beside—and against—many who wielded it. He recognized power when he saw it. But recognition was not the same as trust. Diego wore his magic like armor, but Kane wondered how much of it he actually understood. A weapon without mastery was a liability, no matter how strong.


When Diego lifted his chin at Charlotte, issuing an unspoken command for silence, Kane's fingers curled slightly against the glass in his hand.


A bold move. A foolish one.


His gaze darkened, though he kept his expression neutral. No one—no matter their status—held that kind of authority over his sister. Charlotte was more than capable of handling herself, but Kane did not take lightly to those who thought they could dictate her words or actions. His instincts, both as her brother and as a knight of Valla, stirred with quiet disapproval.


The moment stretched, the tension barely perceptible beneath the polite facade of noble conversation. Then, Kane exhaled through his nose, tilting his glass slightly in his hand before finally speaking.


"A direwolf's bite is not something to dismiss," he remarked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "Even a runt is still a wolf, and wolves do not waste their fangs on the unworthy."


His words were deliberate, his meaning layered. Was he acknowledging Diego's strength, or was he suggesting that Diego had earned the wound through miscalculation? He did not clarify.


Setting his glass down with quiet finality, Kane leaned back slightly, his tone smooth yet laced with something pointed.


"As for courtly affairs, I imagine you'll find they demand more than just a fine drink to navigate." He let the words settle, his expression unreadable before adding, "Though I suppose you'll learn that soon enough."


His gaze met Diego's then—not aggressive, but assessing. A silent reminder that Kane was watching, that he was weighing the measure of the man before him. And in this game of politics and power, one thing was clear—Kane Greene did not play lightly.

 

[AnimeQueenVAVR]

ROSEBREEZE FAMILY

image

"I have come to announce...the arrival of the royal family of Sydan: King Diablo, Queen Miracle, Prince Draco, and Princess Stella!" The head butler announced to everyone in the ballroom. Then, the maids opened the double door, revealing the Rosebreeze family, walking into the ballroom.
{Author's Note: Here are what the Rosebreeze family is wearing!
(Diablo)
↓

(Miracle)
↓

(Draco)
↓

(Stella)
↓

Okie now back to the IC post!}
Everyone stared at the Rosebreeze family as Diablo, Draco, and Stella went up to their respective seats. Miracle, however, went up to the holy podium and started to get ready for the wedding. Diablo smiled warmly at his wife. He was extremely proud of her for being selected as the preacher for this wedding.

credits

 

[TheDoorMan]

Princess Charlotte Greene of The Valla Kingdom

Charlotte's expression didn't shift as she regarded Diego with a sharp, appraising gaze. His attempt at nonchalance, the casual way he displayed his scars and the cryptic runes etched into his gauntlets, didn't go unnoticed. He was performing, masking, playing a game of controlled perception—one she had seen played countless times within the halls of Valla's court.


She did not flinch at the sight of the runes. Instead, her gaze flickered over them with calculated curiosity, taking in the intricate markings, the faint glow of untapped power lying beneath the surface. A weapon half-understood was as dangerous to its wielder as to its enemies. Whether Diego truly grasped the weight of the magic bound to him was another matter entirely.


"Direwolves are not known for their mercy," she said coolly, tilting her head slightly. "Unfortunate that the runt was the one to leave a mark."


There was no mockery in her tone, only the ghost of amusement, veiled beneath an air of composed detachment. She had been raised among wolves—true wolves, not the monstrous kind twisted by magic—but she understood them better than most nobles who only saw them as threats to be culled. A runt who had the cunning to land a blow spoke volumes of its survival instincts.


Her lips pressed into a faint, knowing line as Diego raised his chin, the unspoken command hanging in the air between them. She did not submit to it, nor did she challenge it outright. Instead, she let the silence settle, cool and measured, watching as he turned away in an attempt to compose himself.


The court had been engaging, had it?


Charlotte allowed a slow blink, her fingers lightly brushing the stem of the untouched glass at her place. Diego was rattled, even if he tried to mask it beneath his bravado. The weight of expectations, of scrutiny, pressed down on him in ways he was still learning to navigate.


She had no intention of making his night easier.


"Then I suggest you drink more, Heir Hawkonen," she said at last, her voice smooth as silk, yet edged with something unreadable. "If nothing else, it may steel you for the rest of the evening."


With that, she reached for her own glass, lifting it with unhurried grace. The game of courtly interaction was always a dance—one of careful steps, measured breaths, and subtle battles waged beneath the veneer of civility.


And Charlotte Greene had never been one to lose her footing.


Prince and Knight Kane Greene of The Valla Kingdom
Kane had been silent, watching the exchange between his sister and Heir Hawkonen with a measured gaze. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting on the table, the other loosely gripping the stem of his glass. But his presence, though seemingly at ease, was anything but passive. He studied Diego with the keen observation of a warrior—not the scrutiny of a noble entertaining courtly games, but the quiet assessment of a man who had stood on battlefields and knew how to read an opponent.


When Diego displayed his scars, speaking of direwolves and their runt, Kane's lips pressed into something close to amusement—subtle, but there. A runt who managed to land a hit? Either Diego underestimated it, or the runt was far more capable than expected. Kane knew firsthand that wolves, even the smallest of them, did not give their lives away so easily.


His sharp gaze flickered briefly to the magical runes along Diego's gauntlets. That was more interesting. Magic was a fickle thing, and though Kane was not a mage, he had fought beside—and against—many who wielded it. He recognized power when he saw it. But recognition was not the same as trust. Diego wore his magic like armor, but Kane wondered how much of it he actually understood. A weapon without mastery was a liability, no matter how strong.


When Diego lifted his chin at Charlotte, issuing an unspoken command for silence, Kane's fingers curled slightly against the glass in his hand.


A bold move. A foolish one.


His gaze darkened, though he kept his expression neutral. No one—no matter their status—held that kind of authority over his sister. Charlotte was more than capable of handling herself, but Kane did not take lightly to those who thought they could dictate her words or actions. His instincts, both as her brother and as a knight of Valla, stirred with quiet disapproval.


The moment stretched, the tension barely perceptible beneath the polite facade of noble conversation. Then, Kane exhaled through his nose, tilting his glass slightly in his hand before finally speaking.


"A direwolf's bite is not something to dismiss," he remarked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "Even a runt is still a wolf, and wolves do not waste their fangs on the unworthy."


His words were deliberate, his meaning layered. Was he acknowledging Diego's strength, or was he suggesting that Diego had earned the wound through miscalculation? He did not clarify.


Setting his glass down with quiet finality, Kane leaned back slightly, his tone smooth yet laced with something pointed.


"As for courtly affairs, I imagine you'll find they demand more than just a fine drink to navigate." He let the words settle, his expression unreadable before adding, "Though I suppose you'll learn that soon enough."


His gaze met Diego's then—not aggressive, but assessing. A silent reminder that Kane was watching, that he was weighing the measure of the man before him. And in this game of politics and power, one thing was clear—Kane Greene did not play lightly.

Diego let out a light chuckle before finishing his second glass.
"Wolves are not known for their mercy, yes, and neither am I. These wolves were domesticated, trained, sent after me by the Cult of Necropis itself. Their hunting dogs are quite fierce, their hunters doubly so."

His drink was refilled, as he took a second sip, raising his chin.

"Then I suggest you drink more, Heir Hawkonen, as it may steel you"

"Oh, quite the opposite, actually!" he jests as he takes another drink. He knows that alcohol does not make him firmer, it makes him more brash. He knows that an unpredictable variable is what truly upsets this game they are playing. He knows he has lost his footing, and now intends to make others slip.

As Kane approached, Diego let out another chuckle. He knew his stunt with his gauntlets would upset the prince as his plan came into motion.
"I am aware a that the bite of a direwolf is not as plane as it seems. It's magic gets all twisted in whoever was bitten, unless they can pass it to another with a bite of their own, or if a sufficient mage, in the form of a simple sugary treat, removing the poison and turning it into food."

Diego then flips a small red petal-like candy into his hand, before performing a slight hand trick, making it vanish. At that moment, a servant came over with a dish covered in the same time of candy, a plate of Alurainian Delight, all shaped the same way as the one in his hand.

"I know it requires more than a drink to navigate this court of ours, it requires food!"

He takes a piece and pops it into his mouth before leaning back in his chair. Kauri chuckles lightly at this. Her father lightly nudges her to stop.

"As the common folk say, dig in."

 

[AnimeQueenVAVR]

ROSEBREEZE FAMILY

image

Stella, the crown heir/holy saintess-in-training, would be seen bored out of her mind. Both her father and older brother were talking with some of their friends here. She would then notice three people chatting among themselves. She didn't knew any of them. And yet, Stella, the curious and wholesome and innocent little bean that she is, decides to go and say hi to them. As she gets off of her chair, she starts running towards them. Her right foot gets stuck in her dress, causing her to trip and fall face first to the hard marble floor. She got up with tears in her eyes as she starts whimpering. She had struck her forehead a bit too hard, causing some severe brusing. She started sobbing softly, but was loud enough for three certain people that was a couple of feet away from her to hear her crying.

credits

 

[Lyrikai]

As Fifi entered into the ballroom, she could already see many other lords and ladies gathering together. It was good to see them all socializing and getting along. Some of these kingdoms weren't always exactly friends and tensions could run so high at events like these. Sour feelings could get stirred up between old rivals and ancient enemies. Hopefully this marriage between two nations would ease some of the tensions and hopefully the later games would help people work out their frustrations and their energies safely with jousts and races and sanctioned arena battles. Plus, they would simply be entertaining to watch and would please the crowds.

There were many faces that she recognized and many others she was certain she had not the chance to meet before. Through the crowds and the faces, she gave her best attempt to pinpoint who she knew already and who she'd need to meet with and give her introductions to. She was, of course, also keeping her eyes peeled for her soon to be. Keeping a look out for one princess in particular, the lovely, the beautiful, Halia...

...Hopefully she did not lose herself to her nerves before she was able to officially meet Halia. Then again, was that a good idea? Was it bad luck in Valla to see a bride before the wedding? Fifi did not believe in such superstitions, but maybe the people of this curious land did.

For now, she did not let these fears and feelings and questions weigh her down as she nodded her head and allowed herself to properly meet and greet with others.

Duchess Niamh. What a beautiful name for a beautiful face. Touching a hand to her chest, Fifi bowed her head low in greeting. "It is an honor to meet you, Duchess. And I would be honored even more to take a seat. I am quite out of my element here and a friendly face giving me the rundown might be just what I need to shake off some of these nerves." Still, she hoped that the shaking in her hands went unnoticed and prayed there was no waver in her voice. It was difficult to say, though she thought she was holding herself well. As well as she could be anyhow.

Interactions: @DANAsaur

 

[TheDoorMan]

ROSEBREEZE FAMILY

image

Stella, the crown heir/holy saintess-in-training, would be seen bored out of her mind. Both her father and older brother were talking with some of their friends here. She would then notice three people chatting among themselves. She didn't knew any of them. And yet, Stella, the curious and wholesome and innocent little bean that she is, decides to go and say hi to them. As she gets off of her chair, she starts running towards them. Her right foot gets stuck in her dress, causing her to trip and fall face first to the hard marble floor. She got up with tears in her eyes as she starts whimpering. She had struck her forehead a bit too hard, causing some severe brusing. She started sobbing softly, but was loud enough for three certain people that was a couple of feet away from her to hear her crying.

credits

Diego hears the crying and raises a finger in the air, gesturing to both Charlotte and Kane to be quiet

"Excuse me for a moment"

He rises from his chair and walks over to Stella, just to see what's happening

"Oh? Are you alright?"

He squats down closer to her level