Character OTS


Andante & Iracebeth

Couple OTS

Open dancing in the limelight


Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models. Yet, there are some things that are simply beautiful, so lovely that no one would ever wish to call it ugly or unattractive. One if these particular places was the region of Fell.

Set within the Holdings of Ambrosius, it was a treasure to be enjoyed by the people who lived there. However, in this day the doors were to be opened, the gates unlocked to allow for new faces to grace the Northern lands. For today, an event was being held: a party.

And it was obvious Ambrosius was prepared. The location that had been picked was crafted out of pure beauty. The entrance began at a cave entrance, wide and welcoming. As one stepped in, the cave top fell away to reveal a wonderfully lovely sky, purple and dotted with barely emerging stars; it was nearly nightfall. Lining the entrance and all down the cave were small flickering lights on both sides. At closer inspection, they were small fairy lights that floated lightly just above the ground, a warm glow lighting the path. When emerging from the path, stones shift underfoot. They are lovely, colourful and a brilliant display. Mist hangs in the air from the waterfall that roars right in front of the exit; however, as you round the corner around the waterfall and walk through a hanging of flowers, a display of pure elegance catches the eye.

In a wide circle around the area, sparkling lines of electric blue are suspended within the air, dancing upon their own accord. They are one line stacked upon the other, acting as an electric fence to allow for the boundary of the area as well as to light the edges of the dark forest that surrounds. The area within is lit with dimmed globes suspended over the light rippling, glass-like water within the middle of the area. They reflect upon the surface and seem to hang from the branches that cross overhead, creating a sense of shelter and home.

The water in the centre is a small lake of crystal clear blue. The stones that can be seen on the bottom are a beautiful array of many colours, as are the gentle and lovely fish that reside there. It is very calm and seems to contradict the splashing of the quiet waterfall nearby.

Lining the waters’ edge on one side of the clearing, laid out upon small, smooth pebbles in a semi-circle, are an arrangement of wooden tables covered in soft, lace, triangular cloth. An arrangement of greens is placed in the centre of the table. Decorating the wood is an array of foods, varying from any different kinds of apple delicacies, being that apple slices drizzled in something white, apple tarts and apple pies. Seasonal food was also placed out, including pumpkin slices decorated with aesthetic red leaves. Upon another table was a line of crystal glasses filled halfway with a joyful-looking, bubbling liquid.

To complete the party decor is a small area quite near to the lake’s edge, on the other side of the food. Large stones were placed in a circle underneath an overhanging of white wisterias to create an area for dancing. One small region of this circle has an extra long and thick amount of hangings to allow for a tent-like feeling within the area of the dance floor.

The only thing left for this party are the guests of Ambrosius. Equines from all over the Slidr Valley are welcome to come and enjoy the festivities that Ambrosius is offering. This is a time for gathering and merriment among the folk of the valley, hosted by the king and his house. May everyone have a wonderful time.

(hint: some words are links)

where they spin lies into fairydust
In Caelian’s time of reign, Ambrosius had not yet had a party, and the sovereign believed it was high time they did. And so, he decided to host a party to celebrate his coming to the throne, though in his mind, there was no need to publicly announce why Ambrosius was hosting a party. For all they knew, it could be a party of the season and he could leave it at that.

He had begun planning only a few days before the event, remembering everything he had seen and heard at the parties in Atnion, his homeland. By the time the event was carefully pieces together, he hoped for the sake of himself and everyone else that it was an enjoyable time.

After the invites had been sent via bird, Caelian had gone to wait for the arrival of his guests. He stood within the clearing of Fell, stars barely twinkling overhead as the sun slowly set. Surely, by the time everyone arrived, the sun would surely be set and the constellations would be vibrantly lit above their heads.

The king slowly swished what was in his glass with his telekinetic ability, sipping it lightly as hooded eyes watched the entrance to the party. Yes, he intended to be kindly and polite tonight, but he wondered how long he would be able to keep it up. He could already feel a sly smile playing upon his lips. What could he get away with tonight…

This thought slipped away as the first guests began to arrive. The glass he was holding zoomed away and was set gently upon a wooden stump as Caelian stood a bit straighter, the dark, velveted cloak he was wearing falling off and hanging over one shoulder. He straightened the collar as if against a wind, allowing small silver threads to show along the well-hemmed seam. This cloak was obviously made for a royal by the best hand, the silver-leaf design at the end of it was beauty beyond compare. Upon his head sat a black crown inlaid with silver gems, something he had never worn before as he tended to allow himself to be as one of his citizens. He did not like holding himself higher than his subjects; yet, hadn’t he changed? Had this part of him changed? Maybe a little, maybe not, but the crown felt heavy upon his head. However, the Ambrosius sovereign wore nothing else besides these things, staying humble in a strange sort of way.
415 WORDS FOR THE SLIDR VALLEY ― welcome to the party!
Tag: @[Caelian]


Marrow Camdene

i am dumb to tell the weather's wind

When it became clear that Ambrosius was hosting some sort of event, Marrow knew this was his chance to shine. From a life of luxury, to time spent on the road, Marrow had come to miss some aspects of his lavish lifestyles. Most especially: parties. He didn't care for hosting events as much as he loved attending. Whenever they visited other holds in the realm back when he was still of Windhold he had felt his heart fluttering in his chest with unbridled excitement. Once again, that feeling had returned.

And he relished in it.

His gilt hooves, polished for the event so that their luster was great, winked upon his approach. At his shoulders hung one of the finest cloaks he'd kept upon his escape. A deep, rich blue that was reminiscent of raw sapphires colored the bulk of the fabric with soft, sky tinted embroidery along the trimmings. Their designs were reminiscent of the markings upon his nape, just above the wither, a symbol of his old Camdene name, his only namesake. Upon his visage he wore his halter, but he'd taken the time to lather the leather so that the dirt and dullness were naught and it too held a gleam befitting of a prince. The tassels he replaced with a local woman whose arcanic abilities involved spinning thread, so their threads were new, fresh, and glossy. And for once, he let his mane and tail down straight and unplaited. His image was refined, poised, and elegant... everything you would have expected from a prince.

With his hooves clacking upon the carefully coifed stones, Marrow's bright eyes swelled with wonder at the vision of Caelian's grandeur. Stepping beneath the arch of flowers and into a world brilliant with soft, goldenrod faerie lights, a brilliant and handsome smile decorated the runaway prince's lips. "Spectacular!" he exclaimed to himself, traipsing through weightlessly into the grand sepulcher. Further that smile grew as he entered the main event: tables brimming with apple adornments with no expense spared in décor. It seemed he was early, for no one else save a handful of guards and other Ambrosius commoners milled about the tables and soft blue lit outskirts chatting amongst themselves. With a flick of his freshly laundered banner, he brought himself to one of the tables with that bright smile of his. His visage rose, casting his gaze over his shoulder and too the floral entrance. He hoped Kismet would come. He made a point to tell her it was tonight. But there was no point sitting fretting about attendees; he wasn't the host.

Turning away, he too wondered if the Lady Ianthe would also come to enjoy the festivities. Whether his friends did so or not, he knew by the effort put forth into the display the night would be one not to forget. And so, he sank his teeth into the first slice of apple for the nice, the sweet white drizzle creamy on his tongue, and took to walking the room.

TAGGED: Everyone!
WC: 502
MUSE: 5/5

OOC: None

coding © soupi
image © darkfidelity @ dA

powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.

Tag: @[Marrow]


Perhaps the world had not been kind to Tywin Traegur in retrospect. His childhood had been a myriad of events that typically produced serial killers, ne'er-do-wells, or down right miserable bags of bone. It was followed up finally with his pursuit to prove that the Traegur name, while soiled by his father's sins and his half-sister Maren's compete lack of decency or sanity, was not affiliated with the filth the rest of the world had experienced. Just as he had settled into a kingdom, slowly climbing the rungs of the ladder to a crown he'd inevitably never carry. And when poised with a new one? A pelt dark as night but painted with sapphire and eyes aflame with cerulean pain had somehow deflated his advances. At times, in the quiet of his nights where no prying eyes saw him, he was perhaps... irritated by the folly. But while fate seemed to orchestrate a different path for Tywin, he did not allow it to deter him. With his pursuits reinvigorated and equipped with powers he hadn't known he'd possessed, the First of His Name had never been more ready to tackle the world head on and prove to it, to everyone, that he was someone of note.

And while these aspirations seemed fantastical or to require bravado, Tywin had taken the quiet road, up until a three eyed raven poised itself upon a branch overhead. He had turned to the thing, curious, but his expression unimpressed. It offered an invitation from the Ambrosius House; a party was to be had, and all were invited. As the pitch corvine took to flight and left him, a small smirk lifted on Tywin's lips. A party? Why... what a moment to turn the image of his tale around. Of course, he quickly sought out the thrice-broken moon, Arête. With intense earnest, soft words, and deep gazes from across a clearing he did invite the femme. "I do hope you will join me." his low murmurs wished of her. But he did not press her for an answer - it was not the gentleman's way. Rather, he took his leave to prepare, for he must look his best.

Sparing no expense, Tywin had decided to seek whatever local was willing to clothe him. He had a vision and he would complete it. So as the sparkling night sky ushered in the awaited event, Tywin's hooves softly clacked upon the stones as he passed the great torrential pillar of crystalline water, Fell, spying the entrance. At his right shoulder, a deep, almost burgundry, red cloak hung from silver baubles, the fabric was gathered in what was best described as a sarong-esque accumulation, casting deep shadows to accentuate the color and material. Beneath, black trimmings clad themselves closing, with a pointed collar, all with similar buttons and cufflinks of silver, set with winking pearls of garnet. At his left, a leather pauldron covered the simple black vestament, metal scales of luster layered to the center of his upper-foreleg, where three straps clasped it tightly to his appendage. When he walked, the gleam of the pauldron (both decorative but also effective, for one should always be prepared) and the matte color of his cloak as it undulated along his side and over his back illustrated his sense of pride.

Perhaps for the first time, his thick forelock had been drawn from his chiseled visage, plaited tightly and intricately along his crest for one third of his nape. The rest was voluminous, obviously washed, and shown with the faintest hint of navy as light danced across it. Keeping the braid was a single silver clasp. Too his tail was braided, only the dock, collecting some of the thick banner and allowing easier management of it's volume. It too had the same simple silver clasp. No dirt was to be seen upon him tonight, for he'd taken special care in his grooming, and wanted to look his best when meeting the Ambrosius sovereign. His rather gothic aesthetic was striking against the bright floral decorations and gold ambiance, but the colors only seemed to help Tywin's ensemble pop, and draw the eye.

With care he waltzed beneath the welcoming cave mindful of his steps upon the river rock path. While he heard another gasp upon entrance, Tywin's harks simply pricked forward, and his gaze absently swallowed the intricate details of the room from the fixings to the bright blue wisps of light. Most of all he spied the dance floor with its impressive canopy, before making a sweep of the room. Some chatted in the corners, others helped themselves to the food upon the tables, but he looked intensely at the faces in the crowd. A king was always easy to spot. And it was. A speckled unicorn male had stepped forward, eager to receive guests with a watchful eye. Like a snake in the grass Tywin pushed forward, excusing himself past a beautifully dressed damsel, and came abreast the man. His cloak was of quality make, with silver leaf embroidery, and obviously he took great pride in the garment he wore. Tywin's sapphire eyes, striking against the twilight that surrounded his eyes before plunging into the glacier marks of his visage, looked to Caelian and a small, polite curl of his lip was offered. "Sophistication, grandeur, and majesty. You throw quite the ball, your grace." His usual steely monotone, both entrancing and vaguely threatening, danced tonight with appreciation. "I look forward to the festivities." Tywin's eyes left only once as someone enters, but it is not the woman he is looking for and there was a pang of displeasure. He wished to snort at himself in scoffing, but did not. Displeasure? He hardly knew the emotion. Turning back to Caelian, he offered a gentleman's half bow of his visage with an arched nape, before standing straight again. "If you'll excuse me, I am eager to experience what you've prepared for us tonight." With a tight pivot, Tywin turned away from the sovereign of the golden kingdom, passing a glance around the room once more, once telekinetically picking up an apple to examine before replacing it, but never stopping in his pacing. Perhaps he would not, who knows? But until then, that natural swagger but ease of gait carried him through the floral decor and dim lights, musing upon the mood.

W C: 1065
T A G: Arête and Caelian for mentions
M U S E: 5/5
O O C: hide yo girls, hide of wife, tywin's slaying tonight

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Tywin]

Twilight settled, bathing the party-goers in soft violet light and a floral fragrance on the night breeze. Blended chatter and laughter began drifting up to fill the air as more and more arrivals trickled in, mingling with friends and strangers alike in a rare display of non-partisanship. Even old enmities were forgotten in the face of the Ambrosius household's grandiose welcome and spectacular decorations. Whether belles of the ball dressed to the nines or just curious souls peeking in, it seemed all in attendance were intent on impressing, being impressed, or some combination of both.

Those who came to feast their eyes were not at all to be disappointed. A murmur of surprise rippled out from the entrance as a most unusual sight emerged from behind the hanging floral trellis. Higurashi Kagura, it seemed, had spared no effort in recreating the most grandiose of ceremonial garb from her faraway homeland. The foreign priestess was draped in layers upon layers of brightly-painted silk, which dripped from her flanks in an elaborately-embroidered train. Black, golds, scarlet, violet - the vibrant colors depicted beautiful autumnal motifs, flaming ginkgo and maple leaves swirling over the dark fabric to land delicately on painted lines of flowing water. Securing the whole affair around her middle was a wide belt of heavy gold brocade tied in an elegant knot, the ends trailing from her back nearly to the ground in a grand display of embroidered flowers and cranes. Unwrapped, it must have spanned several meters at least, and even trussed up in a neat tie, its sheer bulk of fabric spoke of a lavishness that could not be denied. Nor was her outfit the only marvel that drew stares and exclamations alike - the priestess's long violet mane had been drawn up into an equally ceremonial up-do, and it was adorned with combs and pins of lacquered gold, shell, and amber, dripping with fluttering silver ornaments and fresh flowers. The overall effect was one of ceremonial, decorative beauty that captivated the eye in a foreign yet unmistakably stately style.

The priestess in all her regalia seemed quite comfortable with the stares and attention, and made her unhurried way through the party with a demure smile on her lips and a spark of delight in her eye. Her heavy, tightly-tied layers of silk kept her step slow and deliberate, but she moved with the easy grace of someone quite accustomed to its restriction. This was, after all, the best imitation she could procure of the performance attire she and her fellow priestesses donned to celebrate the glory of the gods, and Higurashi had been trained to move, walk, and dance in it from a young age. The natives here had no understanding of their style of dance, she was sure, much less the meaning and tradition imbued therein, but nevertheless she was thrilled to have an occasion to once more don such an integral piece of her native home.

Politely she returned any greetings received with a gracious bow and a courteous "Good evening", but she did not linger, and her gaze continued to search the attendance for the host of the party. He was not difficult to identify, despite how simply he was dressed in comparison to herself, who drifted through the crowd like an ornamental butterfly. If not the crown upon his head, the deference with which people sought him out would betray his identity in an instant. Higurashi joined the other guests approaching the Ambrosius sovereign, and when it came her turn to come before the king, she bowed low in an elegant movement as natural as breathing. "Good evening, Ou-sama," she greeted him sweetly with a smile. "What a beautiful affair! Surely the spirits and the gods revel with us tonight." Pausing, Higurashi took a moment to study the young king, her soft smile enigmatic behind red-painted golden eyes. "I am Higurashi Kagura, a priestess of the gods. An honor to attend tonight, King of Ambrosius."

[ tags ] Caelian | Marrow | Tywin
[ words ] 660
[ ooc ] Boy did I struggle describing these clothes! For better visualization, this is what I'm imagining: (attached below)
And no, I'm not exaggerating - some people do in fact wear obi that are like, 6 meters long OTL
Ou-sama = 'king'

Credit: link | link | link

Photomanipulation: magtox
Stock: Malleni-Stock
Table and Coding: Raven
ひ ぐ ら し か ぐ ら
Tag: @[Higurashi Kagura]


she is no girl, she is lightning

He had said she should come right? So, she did. From the moment she walked into the splendid display of grandiose and mood lighting Iracebeth felt out of place. The woman who had entered before her was so lavishly dressed in silk, the sheer picture of grace despite the multitude of layers that adorned her, she paled nearly every woman in the room. And the men. One munched at the tables, dressed simply but with high quality garments, and another waltzed about with fabrics so finely sewn with lustrous floral embroidery, black collars, and blood red capes she felt as if her simple golden laurel was quite simply not enough. But the Tryggr commoner girl had nothing really to her name, her only worldly possessions her relationship both with her mother and Andante. Quickly her gilt vision cast itself around the room, eager to see her friend, but found his visage absent. Never the matter. He said he'd attend. He'd be here.

As if tip-toeing Iracebeth edged away from the shadow of the finely dressed woman, her eyes unsure where necessarily to land or what to focus on. There was just so much, so much happening. She found herself idling up towards the small pool of crystalline water and looking at her own reflection rather than that of the colorful array of fish beneath it's mirror-like surface. The laurel was small, flimsy in make, but suited her golden accent. It too was gilt - fake, not true gold - with tender ivy leaves and small, delicate buds of flowers. When Iracebeth had been invited to this ball by her king an elderly woman had overheard the rather awkward interaction, offering the simple token to the girl whom she knew was wildly unprepared. A small snort billowed from her nostrils to push away her wandering mind, clearing it so that she only saw her own reflection. Girl? She was hardly just. A young woman, really. Her height had almost ceased it's growing, and her lanky conformation from before had evened itself out well enough. Her legs were still long and trim, her silver tresses cropped but whimsical in their bounce, and her eyes bright and awe-inspiring. This faint illusion of beauty made her uncomfortable. She'd always thought herself a tom-colt, but here she was, gilt laurel about her crown and a woman's reflection staring back at her. Another small snort, and she lifts her visage to sweep her curious gaze through the crowd. The beautifully adorned woman was chatting with someone, and for a moment Iracebeth wasn't quite sure she could recall whom but knew she knew the speckled stallion.

No longer, and a smile rose on her di-colored lips. It was Caelian, but she had hardly recognized him beneath such a heavy crown and fine cloak. Had she only seen him from the peripheral he could have been someone else entirely. Leaving the water's edge, she falls to the background of Caelian's vision, waiting for his eyes to find her over the shoulder of the silken adorned mare. When she feels they had, she offers a brimming smile and dip of her head, before making herself look busy again with another scan of the room. The finely dressed man who'd been commanding the ground he traipsed was watching her, eyes honed, calculative, but twinkling with an odd amusement despite the thin smirk upon his lips. Iracebeth, immediately uncomfortable beneath his gaze. Retreating, for the party was lavish and she was so demure, Iracebeth quickly fled through the floral archway entrances and out towards the waterfall Fell. Outside, with the cold autumnal night bristling her coat, and the roaring thunder of the waterfall, a sense of safety fell over her like some of the cloaks did the lords inside.

W C: 631
T A G: Andante, Caelian, Higurashi Kagura for mention
M U S E: 2/5
O O C: this isn't great BUT
powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!
Tag: @[Iracebeth]

Another three eyed raven had landed upon his lands cawing and demanding his attention. At first he predicted that the eerie bird might have held another invitation to meet with Evandr, Warden of the wastes. But instead when the avian dropped note of a party held by Ambrosius the boy king did not know whether or not to feel sick to his stomach or giddy with glee to finally find out about the opposing house. Coming out of these thoughts he still teetered on the spectrum, even as he walked into the grandeur of the party.

Crimson split hooves eased their owner into the area as his dark visage skimmed the vividly lit décor and food laden tables. There was a moment where he eyed the food with interest but it became obvious to him that he could not enjoy any of the treats and delicacies given. Turning his ruby red gaze away he spied the arrival of a few guests already mingling with one another. They were all rather elegantly dressed. Fine silks and fancy hairstyles adorned their bodies while he himself decided to keep his appearance rather lowkey, or so he assumed.

Sitting delicately upon his face was a silver masquerade mask outlined in ebony encrusted gems. The mask itself hugged his chiseled features like a second skin, starting at the bridge of his brow and ending just above his cheek bones. Draped across broad shoulders and hanging loosely down the length of his back was an ebony cloak carved with silver embroidery. Holding it altogether was a garnet encrusted clasp. The sea of his thick wavy mane was fishtail braided back and laid over the length of his shoulder while his forelock continued to frame his face. Laced within were dazzling black beads that complimented his attire and finished off his look.

With another sweep of his eyes he spotted what he assumed to be the king, dressed in cloak and crown. It was only fitting for a king to wear such. He would make a point to speak with him soon enough. Keeping his gaze upon the man for a moment longer he dragged it away to see Iracebeth slipping out of the heat of the festivities and toward the roar of the falls. There was an initial part of him that tugged after her, wishing to follow his friend. But the other half of him reminded himself that he was not in good standing with the femme. During his moment of contemplation he caught sight of Tywin watching his friend and was mildly surprised to find the frosted stallion here.

A deep sigh escaped from his velvety nares as he finally decided to follow the gilt filly though at a careful pace. Hey... He murmured, warning the fellow tryggr of his presence before coming to stand in front of her. Outstretching his nape the boy took a moment to make himself look busy in the eyes of onlookers by adjusting the filly's laurel back to the center of her crown. All the while his voice dropped down to a whisper as he spoke to her. I don't want anyone here to know who I really am or what title I carry. If anyone asks my name is Giovanni and I'm a close right hand solider of the king. He muttered before taking a step back to look the young woman over.

His gaze flittered away from her, casting itself over her shoulder instead. Despite how simple the gunmetal girl might have been dressed he thought she looked rather dashing tonight. Trying to save face in the awkward mix of emotions he felt Andante gave a slight nod of his head as he began to step away from her. He was sure the femme probably had nothing to say to him and so he began walking past her but not without tossing back a compliment first. You look really pretty with that on.... With that said, the hellhound waltzed back into the party area his eyes skimming the area for the traegur man. Halting before him the wolf pelted boy gave a cordial nod of his visage. Good evening, Tywin. What are your thoughts on the party thus far?
000 words. tagged. Tywin Iracebeth Caelian
Tag: @[Andante]

He had caught wind that there was suppose to be a party tonight and the inky colored man had spent the majority of his day preparing for it. Nevermore had only visited such grand festivities in the realms of his master's books, imagining the lights, smells and atmosphere. Each story told of fancy attire, high class nobles and bountiful food on their delicate pages. And now he would finally have the chance to attend his very first party and experience all that the night might hold for him.

Eldritch harks flicked back and forth with a hint of impatience as he stood still for an ambrosius mare to finish detailing his lengthy mane. Normally the beast's dark waterfall locks could be seen sweeping the ground, but not tonight. The majority of his hair was done up in an elegant bun with plenty of silken black strands left out to cascade down his shoulders and chest. Laced within were a few thin silver threads to give his hair a hint of elegant color. While his forelock was left to spill endlessly over one side of his visage and frame his slightly sunken albeit charming face.

As his seamstress announced that she was done the foreboding creature stepped forward to take a glimpse of himself in the waters below. He had never seen himself without his hair down, and yet he assumed that he quite liked it as he turned his crown at different angles to admire the mare's handiwork. Moving on from that his pupiless gaze drifted to the sheer lavender silken shoulder drape with silver tassels that wrapped around his neck and hung over his side. Apart from that a single clawed limb was decorated with silver bands of jewelry as well as his leonine feathered tail. He looked nothing like the haunting image that he was before.

Thanking the woman he turned and began to head in the direction of the party now that it was well into the evening. The regent allowed his gaze to sweep across the array of lights and flickering electric arch that greeted all that attended the gathering. Next his eyes fell upon the multitude of party goers thus far and the phantom could not help but to feel a small twitch at the corner of his fanged jaws. A hint of a smile lingered there before falling away. The event was everything he had imagined and more. Caelian had truly outdone himself.

Claws and hooves clicked and clopped upon the ground of Fell until he reached his sovereign's side. Purple eyes skimmed over the ebon unicorn's attire wordlessly for a moment. He really did look like a king tonight, and commanded the attention of one. Thou hast created a marvelous event. You should be proud. The specter uttered as he turned to face the smaller male with a slow blink of his glowing eyes. His ethereal gaze then flickered toward a woman layered in fine silks of black and gold etched with autumn leaves and other lovely images. Out of all of the individuals here, he was left to think that this beautifully dressed woman and the handsomely decked out glacier stallion across the way wore the finest outfits.

Not wanting to interrupt nor intrude upon her conversation with the ambrosius king, Nevermore excused himself. Carefully the winged specter picked his way past a few guards until he reached the lengthy table holding a multitude of dishes. Forked ashen tongue flicked out of his mouth and grazed upon his teeth as he observed his options. Finally, the creature decided upon an apple tart as he carefully munched on the flaky pastry. All while simply watching the party goers off to the side. There were many strangers here tonight and he could not help but imagine if anyone he vaguely knew would show up tonight.

It was far fetched, but he wondered if any of the recent equine he helped escort through the bifrost would show. Like Esfir or the ever flamboyant and cheeky Gothika. Then his mind drifted to the fleeting thought of Eibhlin but immediately dismissed it as quick as it came. The jewel covered chestnut had run from him the moment they escaped the bifrost together with a look of absolute horror etched upon her face. There was no way she would show her face here tonight. Lowering his visage once more he took a final bite of his desert, savoring the flavor before swallowing it down.
000 words. tagged. @[caelian] Esfir Higurashi Kagura Èibhlin Gothika
Tag: @[Nevermore]


arête spyridon

"for all the things that you're alive to feel"

“I do hope you will join me.”

The words echo in her thoughts, the path her feet trace through the wooded region a familiar one since their escape from the bowels of the tree so she pays her direction no mind. Join him? At a ball? Ever the analyst, she paces throughout the day, seeking answers to unasked questions. With Tywin, in her experience, there is always something else at play under the surface. That particular trait of his, she picked up at their very first encounter in Elysium and truth be told, she appreciates his ability to wield himself so effectively. Nevertheless, a fool she is not and beyond a select few, she trusts no one. An unfortunate side-effect of a tumultuous, heartbreaking life.

On her eighth circuit of the day through underbrush, barely visible paths, and brambles filled with dying leaves, she comes to a stop next to an opening that leads to one of the rivers that empties into Sildr Lake. The question most asked to herself slips out on sigh, ”What can it harm to attend?” Pale eyes flick once between the split toward the water and the main path that will take her back to the place she shelters in. Arete turns toward the water and far too quickly for her liking, arrives on the bank and stares into the cool liquid. In the brief time since her arrival in these lands, seeing Tywin restored a tiny spark of life into a world gone grey. Is it because of that ice stained face, a familiar sight? Or perhaps simply because he serves as a reminder of a life she once cherished? With a quick toss of colorless hair, Arete brushes the thoughts from her troubled mind.

A critical eye examines every inch in the reflective surface of the water, from the tips of the four deadly horns dancing down her face to the tip of a leonine tail. Her head tilts to the left then to the right. There is no time to undo months of self-neglect and nor does she truly wish to recover so quickly; a lesson learned after the first time her soul shattered. However, the structure of beauty remains even in the tattered appearance she currently bears and she knows quite well how to give the impression of what is missing. Carefully she wades into the chilled liquid and thoroughly bathes every ragged inch before stepping back onto the shore and toward a cluster of marigold not crushed by any frost just yet. Knowledge of herbal remedies from a past too painful to explore, aids her here and the former queen prepares several small batches consisting of various ingredients. All of which will enhance her appearance enough to conceal the fatigue, malnourished state of her the entirety of the night.

For a moment, her unhurried motions pause. Why am I doing this? No one, not even her daughters, have warranted the broken queen making an effort to take care of herself. Her hesitation leaves her little in the way of answers and she dismisses it for later evaluation. Though verbally she neither confirmed nor denied her presence after Tywin’s request, she knew in the end she could not deny the man who opted for reason instead of force. A man she respects more than she will ever admit aloud.

Fully covered, thanks to her gift of telekinesis, in the mixes and remedies she concocted, Arete slips back into the water to rinse. She lingers in the water, enjoying the sensation of combed hair slipping along her neck and playing with the water as it turns from dull and lackluster, to sparkling and silken. On a rare, content sigh, she gingerly climbs back onto land and moves onto the next steps, keeping an eye on the sun’s location and how much time remains before she must depart. When did I start paying any mind to fickle time? A brief glimmer of a smile twitches the corners of her mouth. A simple though brings her armor out, encasing her body, face, and neck. She checks it over despite knowing that its unique properties ensure it is never left dirty or rusted. Pleased with its looks and the way the delicate filigree on the section that cups her cheeks shines in the river’s mirror; it is dismissed and she moves onto the final steps.

Flaring out spectral wings, she launches into the skies from a standstill and begins making her way toward the event hosted by Ambrosius.

The journey does not take her long, careful planning however, leaves her arriving freshly dried. She hovers just out of sight in the air, snapping her armor back into place. The magical armor lends her a delicately fierce appearance, the small sections of carefully carved swirls giving it a soft enough look that she knows it will pass muster. She softly snorts, I do not care either way. Landing gracefully at the entrance, she walks calmly in; her face a mask of serene neutrality. The face of a twice former queen. Eyes the color of freshly fallen snow do not dance about the room nor do they take in the merriment occurring all around, she spies her target immediately. Politics and protocol are shoved away and she walks toward the pacing man; she cares nothing for the presence of a king. The changes to his attire and hair bring a fraction, a wisp of a smile to soften the hard edges of a careful mask.

It suits him yet does not.

The thought comes unbidden from the recesses of a tired mind and that curvature grows into what the world would call a normal smile. His steps have carried him away from her, but she does not call out or pick up her pace; nor does her course alter and those who would step into her path will be merely bumped aside. Arete is not here for anyone, she is not here to mingle, admire decor, or even indulge in the subterfuge often lining courts. She is not here to gain favor with a boy-king or any of the mindless drones surrounding him. She is not here to form alliances or garner attention to raise herself into anything more than what she currently is. The broken moon’s eyes, free of both color and pupil, remain glued to her target; never wavering.

No, she is here simply because he asked.

WC: 1094
MUSE: 5/5
OOC: Arete's armor

coding © soupi
manip © clay-ish @ dA

Powerplay within reason permitted!
Tag: @[Arête]


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Though the wound from the giant spider in the depths of the impressively large tree no longer bled and in fact healed quite nicely, a phantom ache lingers each time the weather turns sour. She can hear the echoing laughter of a village matron at the way she sounds advanced of age, ”It only aches when it rains, dearie.” Eibhlin chuckles softly into the morning light, the heavy rain doing nothing to persuade her to leave the dry boughs sheltering her from the elements. Choosing to wait out the storm, her thoughts change to the unnamed man she met and consequently escaped the spider with. She counts herself lucky that chestnut cheeks do not reveal the embarrassment that would currently stain their softness. She disgraced herself by becoming bogged down in a memory and shame fills her chest each time she thinks on the event.

Why am I an idiot?

A self-deprecating smile dances its way across her face and she shakes out strawberry blonde hair. In contemplative silence, she stands watching the world wake up and the storm pass through the valley; seeing time pass but not truly paying it any mind. She wonders what she may have done to stop herself from permitting the past to overlay the present, what might have prevented her from fleeing his sight. There are no answers waiting for her though and her head dips in an unusual display of despair. Another hour passes by and the growling of her stomach will not cease but she doesn’t mind; the rain has moved on.

Nimbly picking her way to a more obviously used trail, she follows it until it splits off; straight will keep her in the woods and to the right lays a river that feeds into the lake nearby. She takes the path toward the water and distractedly hums a tune that will forever be stuck in her head. The sight of a three-eyed crow staring at her from a rock gives her a jolt and she stops dead. What in the world? She is not left to imagine answers much longer as it drops a message and takes flight. ”A party…” Her speech is quiet, fading out into silence. Her desire for companionship surges to the forefront and a gleeful laugh escapes chestnut lips.

Another few steps has her entering the cool water just long enough to properly clean herself before she returns to the edges of the river; ankle depth. Carefully, she removes the silver encased amethyst jewelry using her telekinesis and places it next to her on the bank. One section at a time is gently cleaned until she finishes with the last bracelet. As she uses the mental gift to return the items to their proper places along her body, a single pale hair catches her eye and she wonders if another equine used this same spot to prepare for the party. It brings a delighted smile to her face, one big enough to crinkle the corners of sparkling violet eyes. Soon enough, she strolls away from the river and in the direction the invitation said to go, towards a place called Fell within the kingdom of Ambrosius.

The journey takes several hours on foot, with breaks for lunch, of course, showing up with a grumbling abdomen will do nothing to secure herself a friend or two. After the crow’s proclamation she was too excited and nervous to properly nourish herself. Ahead, she sees a mare with hair the hue of the strand found by the water’s edge land and walk inside. She takes in her appearance quickly, committing it to memory in case she sees her after this event; curiosity burns bright over whether this is the same woman or not. Approaching the cavern’s entrance, she slips inside and immediately pauses to take everything in. The magnificence is not lost on her and the wonder in her eyes shines for all the world to see; yes it reminds her of the life she may have led had she accepted the betrothal, but it also reminds her of everything about her current life she absolutely loves.

Amethyst eyes widen as she takes in the courtly attire worn by those in attendance and she suddenly feels underdressed and anxious. Nerves shift her from her frozen stance in the middle of the entryway to the closest wall. Keeping her back to it, Eibhlin, scans the room for a sign that anyone has noticed her embarrassing presence. With a sigh of relief, she does not see any judgmental glances in her direction and quickly she hides to the side of the dessert area. Though a bit hungry, she refrains from indulging and instead slowly peruses the guests for anyone else dressed simply. Yes, the jewelry adorning her is quite real and lovely, but compared to the finery around, she feels rather childish and unrefined.

She cautiously makes her way from one end of the desserts to the other, thinking that perhaps a small snack will help raise her spirits enough to stroll out of here instead of slink. A sigh of relief that on one has spoken to her spills into the air only to reverse into a sharp inhalation. Violet eyes land on a familiar form, bedecked like all the rest and looking magnificently and decidedly royal. He is not looking in her direction just yet and his hair pulled back and the cloak across his shoulders do not disguise the raven stranger. She longs to flee into the night, shame flooding her cheeks; thankfully hidden by her coloring. Get a grip, Eib. You likely insulted the man.

She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, not haughtily but rather she builds courage within herself to face him. A gentle throat clearing. ”I am terribly sorry.” The words are out before she knows it and violet eyes widen a bit in embarrassed surprise. Pressing on, she dips her jeweled head, sketching a bow and keeps her eyes on the floor. ”It is not you I fled from.” Eibhlin forces her voice to remain steady and sure, she is not deceiving the man, but a wobble in her voice may detract from her sincerity. After a moment, she lifts her head, hoping to meet his purplish-blue eyes and perhaps, finally learn the raven-man’s name.

Tag: @[Èibhlin]


where they spin lies into fairydust
The crowd that passed through the floral archway was that of pure beauty and elegance. The accessories and clothing that adorned their hides was of a lovely fashion. It did not take long for a small mingling of equines to gather in the area of the party; Caelian was glad on his part that he had chosen a spacious location. At least no one was stepping on each others' hooves.

The first familiar face that passed through the flowers belonged to a stallion that the sovereign had only met once. He couldn't recall his name, but the distinctive coat that decorated his sides was an instant reminder. Caelian watched as the white stallion gazed at the splendour of the party, a small smile lifting his face. He was glad to see a fellow House member attending, but he also hoped to see some faces that he knew for certain didn't belong to Ambrosius.

And his wish was not long in waiting. The next equine that entered through the archway belonged to that of a stranger. The red cloak that fell from his frame was attractive and commanded attention; obviously, he was here to impress. Pale eyes watched as the stallion swept the room, scanning the face of all present in a search for someone. His eyes locked with Caelian's temporarily, before the king's gaze was distracted. A maiden had coming up to his left. He turned to her quickly, his eyes scanning her as she fidgeted next to him then left, having seen the red-cloaked stallion's approach. As a steely monotone reached his ears, Caelian turned back to the man as a polite expression was offered. A nod was returned to him as he gave his comments, "It is in my best interests that you enjoy yourself." The man's gaze turned away toward the entrance, but only for a moment before he excused himself and left. Show your status. Express your power, rang a small voice in Caelian's head. The smallest of frowns found his face. The battle had begun again.

The next equine to approach him was a mare, elegant dressed in fine silk. She approached him with a low, smooth bow. A tang of guilt passed momentarily through his heart, but the voice pushed it away. Petty. She should be bowing to you. A sweet smile gilded the lips of the mare, and Caelian tried to express one himself, yet it was quite small. He nodded to her as she finished her first comment, before he felt her eyes study him. Introducing herself, he made a note to remember her face as well as her name, as he usually could. "Wonderful to meet you, Higurashi Kagura. Please, enjoy yourself." He gave her a soft smile before turning his eyes towards the archway of flowers, searching, yet his gaze found someone that had snuck in unbeknownst to him.

The familiar face belonged to that of Iracebeth. Though her outfit was simple, she still looked lovely. Once their gaze connected, she offered a smile that easily touched her eyes. Caelian smiled back at her, before she busied herself once more. With another smile to the silken lady, the freckled stallion turned his gaze to the next guest.

He found a grey stallion glancing his way before turning around. As Caelian's eyes trailed the scene, he saw Iracebeth slipping back away from the party and the horned stallion following her. The freckled man quickly wondered if this was the one she'd mentioned to him very briefly before: her friend.

However, Caelian's thoughts were ended abruptly when his pale gaze found Nevermore. Almost immediately, the party became more enjoyable. He hadn't entirely disliked meeting the guests as they thanked him and praised him, but like anything, it could become boring very quickly. He was glad to see his friend here, someone who could relieve the boredom. Another mare had just thanked Caelian when the phantom came to his side, commenting on the event. "Thank you, Nevy. You should try one of the pastries, they're very good. Helga made them." He looked at his friend's attire for the night, expressing a simple compliment. "You look very nice tonight." As his best friend excused himself silently, the king's gaze came back to that of Kagura's. "May I have this dance?" A polite smile traced his lips, she seemed like a dancer to him.

Caelian turned to his side to allow her to accompany him to the dance floor if she so preferred. However, if she stayed put, he would not look awkward walking alone. He made his way through the crowd as they seemingly parted for him and picked up a glass of champagne and a small metal stick with telekinetic grasp. He raised it in the air, saying "Let the music begin."

Very suddenly and beautifully, a light sound filled the area. Harps could be heard and wooden pipes, though the source of the beautiful noise could not be seen. Elegantly, Caelian made his way to the floor and paused a moment, waiting for a few others to gather.

855 WORDS FOR EVERYONE ― caelian's fighting with himself again xD and i realise this is a trash post, my apologies
Tag: @[Caelian]


While the party was not in the same aesthetic realm of the events Tywin had always abstracted in his ideal world, it served enough purpose. Eyes were on him, from the raven male who remained mostly at the Ambrosius king's side, to other wandering gazes finding the finery of his attire entrancing. Rather than the typical taught line of an expression that usually dressed his face tonight Tywin's lips curled with the faintest curvature of a smile. Those who passed and wished him good evening he cordially returned. Some lingered in small talk whilst he traipsed, others simply offered their own gracious grins in greeting. Escaping the bustle of the room, Tywin found himself a place along the opposite wall, where the dim candelight softened and the electric blue fencing corralled him into the party's bounds. From here, he could spy everything, including the entrance of his sister.

Subconsciously his simper grew to a smirk, his cerulean vision following the youth as she wandered absently around the room looking lost and confused. For some time she paused at the pond, eyeing some that must have been quite interesting, and it was here that another familiar individual entered. His gaze finally broken from the golden girl, his unwavering stare flicking forwards the crimson haired soldier. Tywin mused why such a brooding youth, especially one concerned with impressing his king, would come to an event such as this, but the very same question could have been asked of himself. Why would a nonpartisan, without House, home, or title, come to the holds of Ambrosius to share in wine and merriment?

Why, to improve his standing.

Drawing a deep inhale, Tywin elected to look back for the gilt marked filly and found her idling across the way. She smiled at someone, but he did not investigate who, before her golden eyes found his accidentally. He held her there a moment, his gaze prying and knowing, but not telling. He was unsurprised when she ducked out of the room. His smirk lifted again before fading back towards the modest curl of a phantom smile. And perhaps it was fate that Iracebeth escaped from the heat and light of the party, for as her silver tresses disappeared another entered. Tywin could never mistake the armor nor the polish of her marble tresses. Her twin flames were not lit tonight to draw attention, but she needn't try for his eyes to find her. His glacier velvets lifted again, higher than any previous, his visage rising with a small bob, as elation toiled within.

But her image is snuffed out by the young Giovanni stepping up before him, inquiry and gentleman's banter on his lips. Tywin's left hark flicks back, the inner machinations of his mind's eye thwarted in it's turning. He'd have made towards the Lady Arête, but he was not a man without honor. "Quaint but endearing," his tone was musky but sharp, and his vision ever-so-slightly slit, but he did not deny the boy an answer. Tywin's icy gaze falls on the intricate mask the Tryggr soldier wears, noting the youth male's need to hide himself. But why? "You've dressed for the occasion, I have to say, I'm impressed." His hind cocks, adjusting his stance so that he has the ability to peer off over Giovanni's shoulder, passed his cloak, and to the approaching figure of the woman he sought. Again, his smile, dark and smoldering, lengthens. "While I know your business here is surely elsewhere, I do hope you've had a chance to talk with your king, hmmm?" Again his eyes flick up, winking with amusement as Arête grazes a gentlemen out of her way, his lips twitching with the desire to chuckle. For once, Tywin finds himself eager to disengage the boy. Ultimately, this was his chance to procure the next necessary steps to find advantage in this realm, to get him closer to Arrhule, but he found himself... incredibly distracted.

Perhaps parties, balls, galas, whatever you wish to call it, was the only place Tywin could actually break his stoic, monotone facade and be himself. Everyone else wore fake smiles as they addressed people they didn't know and dressed in order to out do everyone else (himself included), but while everyone else was playing some sort of game Tywin could react freely rather than hide his smiles. It would be mistaken for the general over exaggerations found in court, but that was half the ploy.

Allowing a gentleman's pause for the youth to answer, his harks trained forward and listening, Tywin found himself glancing away again. "I'm sorry, Giovanni, perhaps we can continue this later?" He offered another cordial grin, a dip of his head, and his midnight daggers clacked upon the stone upon his leave. Catching the once Carinae Moon's gaze with his own, the stag arched around the young male with an unhurried but deliberate gait. The filigree pattern stitched into his midnight fabric winked beneath the ambient lighting, his blood red cape consuming some of the details under shadow, but his visionaries were bright and blazing. He met her not far from the disguised Tryggr king, but currently the boy was a blur in the back recesses of the man's ever whirring mind.

There was a pause where he said nothing. Unlike others he did not take the obvious glance up and down to examine her, but rather released that smokey smile of his and intense gaze entirely on Arête's face. His nostrils twitched, catching a sweet perfume, and that smile turned into a knowing grin. "Marigold." he murmured softly, his regard strong and greedily admiring with its unmoving sight. Tywin does not move, but rather meets the mare squarely. Others bowed to each other, some brushed cheeks if they were familiar, but the eldritch hued male remained, statue-esque yet ardently welcoming, before her. His admiration was broken only when the young king, nearly as young as the soldier he'd just spoken with, called for attention. He watched the speckled youth with a hint of agitation, displeased to be interrupted, but otherwise remained as he was; cool, collected, and commanding.

Soft music began at the sovereign's word, and instantly a snort born from hilarity lost to others burst from his nostrils. Lids half mast, they found themselves back over upon the blue-black femme who had accepted his invitation, another burning smile on his glacier lips. "Can you dance?"

W C: 1073
T A G: Arête and Andante
M U S E: 5/5
O O C: ...

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Tywin]

They awake that morn with kind smiles and softly spoken words, and Aerglo, feeling less weighted down by the giant questionmark that lingered over the well-being of the gypsies, was quick to suggest they break-their-fast together.

Glad to have met Esfir, a mysterious young woman with pastel green eyes that twinkled whenever his playful tone drew a laugh from black lips, he knew he had to thank her for the obvious effort that she’d put into cheering him back up. So, with a boyish grin known only to him, he swept forward with the promise of a tasty treat. But of course, his thoughtfulness nearly ended in disaster when the treasure trove of berry bushes he’d led her to proved poisonous.

Thankfully, Esfir knew right from wrong and was able to caution him away from the juniper tree. Thinking that he’d thoroughly made a fool of himself, however, he tried to apologize, but she only smiled and proceeded to list out all the different toxic plants and their otherwise harmless appearances.

They were quite the team, he thought with a sweet smile. A star enthused gypsy and the far-from-home, wandering botanist. What adventures might they get up to?

Making their way back to the lake, they were soon interrupted by a peculiar looking raven with three eyes. Arlo, who had seen the same creature on several different occasions, offered the filly helpful information when she asked what it was and it’s purpose here.

Once its message had been successfully delivered, the thing was quick to take flight again, moving across the Slidr Lake swiftly, probably on its way to hunt down another recipient.

”Ambrosius is throwing a party it would seem. Would you care to go?” He asked her hopefully; never one to turn down an offer of celebration. As much excited as she was confused, Esfir did agree, and together they hurried along to make themselves ready.

It was dusk by the time they arrived, the dim light of the moon catching their piebald coats in a marvelous way. Aerglo’s mane, tightly plaited along the arch of his neck, creates a swirl of color that’s perfectly accented by the faerie lights that were so thoughtfully set out. He’s wearing a finely threaded sapphire cloak that comes to life with a flare when caught at the right angles as it spills over slim shoulders.

With Esfir by his side, draped in leather and furs, he emerges from the wall of flowers. They’ve entered the room just as there’s a call for dancers, and before he’s even taken the chance to admire the grandiose decorations, he’s already turning back to his companion, grin in place. ”Won’t you dance with me?“ Her eyes lit up at his soft question, but she seemed hesitant to accept. Leaning forward to assure her, he whispered into her ear, ”Don’t worry, Dove’s Wing, just do as I do and you’ll be fine. I promise.” A moment later and he was leading her off to the dance floor. Stones shifting beneath blush colored hooves as he went, he gracefully took command of the floor as no one else had yet to join them.

Normally, he wouldn’t bother with any pretenses, but they were in a formal setting and he wanted to give Esfir the whole experience if he could. Bowing low to the ground, one leg curling beneath him as his head tucked into the soft pebbles below, he stilled, but only long enough to be considered acceptable by present company. Rising with a charming smile, he waited for the filly to settle before starting with an easy three-beat step that consisted of mainly his forelegs. They moved fluidly, bouncing along to the music from one side to the other, legs crossing in a mesmerizing fashion. His crown rising and falling with the changeup, he nodded at her to follow along.

Aerglo’s mane | Aerglo’s cloak

Art by I-MI & Table by fiftyblackroses

Permission to powerplay Esfir granted by Flurry <3
Tag: @[Aerglo]

Many sought the young king's audience, as was to be expected at such a grandiose affair. Ever the tactful socializer, Higurashi politely stepped back to grant Caelian and his next audiences their space, content for the moment to simply observe his interactions with the other guests. While the gracious host smiled and nodded at many attendees, one in particular stood out as a special friend of the king's, a black-winged wraith he affectionately called Nevy. For a moment the priestess considered removing herself to allow the king a more private conversation with his friend, but just as quickly Nevy was gone, his attention commanded by a lady splendidly bedecked in amethyst jewels. When Caelian turned back to Higurashi and asked for a dance, his inquiry was met with a smile that was as charming and enigmatic as unspoken promises. "More than gladly, Ou-sama," she accepted readily. With practiced ease, the lady stepped to his side in a swirl of colorful silk and flashing silver hair ornaments. Even more stares and privately exchanged comments passed among the attendees from the sight of the rather outlandishly dressed priestess accompanying the Ambrosius king, but if Higurashi noticed or was bothered by it, it didn't show on that eternally serene visage. She stood silent and dignified beside him in her ceremonial brocade as the king ordered music to play, and briefly she closed her eyes as the first notes floated through the air, internalizing the beat and rhythm of the unfamiliar song.

When those piercingly golden eyes opened again, they immediately and unerringly sought Caelian's blinding blue gaze. Higurashi took up the lady's position in front of her partner, face to face and close enough to see the minute variations of blue in his eyes, which she studied as though reading from them the secrets of the universe. Not a trace of fear or hesitation to be read from her, she rather exuded an air of quiet, unassuming confidence, and the smile that touched her lips seemed to always walk the line between beatific and slyly mischievous. "I do not remember a time when I did not dance," she murmured softly to him, her words meant for his ears only, "but never with such a handsome partner, and much less with a king. Though your style of dance is unfamiliar to me, I have hope that you lead your dance partner as well as you do a kingdom."

All around them, guests were taking the lead of the host and his lady and filling up the dance floor, though Higurashi did not break her eye contact with Caelian to pay them any heed. She waited for and followed his lead only, taking up when he did the smooth, elegant step that seemed so popular in this part of the world. Her radiant, though restrictive, raiment prevented any movement that was too vigorous or violent, but the courtly dance that so suited Caelian's choice of music was just subdued and elegant enough. As Kagura settled into the three-beat step, she breathed in his scent, a curious note of woodsy moss and lavender, together with the more nuanced aroma of his emotions. "For attending such a splendid soirée," she remarked lightly, still with her winsome smile, "Ou-sama seems rather tense. What weighs heavy on your mind tonight? For matters of the heart, my spiritual knowledge may perhaps prove helpful."

[ tags ] Caelian | @Everyone
[ words ] 563
[ ooc ] She's picking up on Caelian's emotional turmoil from her arcana, but to anyone else it just seems like she's unusually intuitive (which she also is!). Also I assumed that he's dancing too, hope that bit of powerplay is alright here!
I'm imagining something like a waltz, but my brain is too tired to describe it in better detail orz

Photomanipulation: magtox
Stock: Malleni-Stock
Table and Coding: Raven
ひ ぐ ら し か ぐ ら
Tag: @[Higurashi Kagura]


she is no girl, she is lightning

The cool twilight air on her pelt caused the already lengthening hairs to prickle along her spine. A gentle breeze tussled her silver tresses so that their freshly laundered threads winked in the moon and starlight. For a moment her gaze rose and she stared off into the millions of hot, burning lights in the sky that none of them would ever have the chance to see up close. Reflected in her eyes, she contented herself to grow lost in their brilliance, and the perfection of the clear night. Despite her earlier embarrassment or trepidation, a small grin broke on her lips and the girl's audits twitched with the upward turn of her velveteens.

Not alone for lone, she turned to the rustle of the floral entrance, and watched as Andante manifested beneath their ivory cream petals, a dark and gothic figure in comparison. Iracebeth couldn't help but swallow, suddenly remembering their minor altercation and how rude she'd been to him after his and her dam's return to Berg-Risi. Somehow, tho, she did not let her gaze falter away, but watched the masked friend approach with slight confusion. A mask? Why such a thing for a king rather than a crown like Caelian's own? But her mind succumbed to blankness as the king-colt reached out and adjusted her laurel - apparently askew. Iracebeth hadn't realized she had held her breath until after he'd leaned back to examine the fix, explaining not only his curious choice of garments. She couldn't help but immediately wish to retort but she couldn't find a single thing to say. Questioning him wasn't necessarily the appropriate thing to do, especially after she'd all but insulted his abilities days earlier. So she offered him a nod, affirming that she understood and would do her best to keep his identity privy.

As his attention was drawn back to the other party goers, she too looked after the lavishly dressed attendees with less envy than previous. Caelian was working the room, the silken clad woman at his side, heading towards the incredible canopy of flowers. She supposed something was about to happen. Briefly she turned to Andante - Giovanni - again, harks pricked forward as he took his first step to leave. Unprepared for the compliment on her lips, Iracebeth faltered yet again. "Thank you..." she finally muttered as he disappeared back into the festivities. Warmth on her cheeks, a grin broke across her di-colored lips as she cast her vision one final time to the starlit night above. Perhaps the night would end well afterall.

Mustering the courage to return inside, the gilted filly tip-toed back inside, ducking her visage beneath the length of the floral decor overhead, just as a soft and beautiful melody strummed to life. Her grin broadened to  smile, wondering how many other events like this she'd see in her life time, and wondering if she may ever have the chance to orchestrate something so... beautiful. Once her gaze flicks back across the expanse in search of Andante in the dim lighting, finding him speaking with that strange man who'd been staring at her earlier. They seemed enraptured in conversation, so she thought it best not to interrupt. But as quickly as they had been caught in conversation, the elder male had broken away from Andante, and approached another. Iracebeth could not help the gasp - it was the queen she'd met back in Elysium when she'd finally found her wayward path back home. Here? Of all places? Eyes darting back towards her now lonely friend, her lithe legs carried her in a hurry through the crowd towards the masqueraded king. Slinking besides him, she was obvious in her eyeing of the elder male and armored woman. "I know her," she whispered to Andante. "Well, I mean... I know others too, but she was a queen back in Elysium. I wonder how she came to be here?" she mused aloud, apparently no longer deterred to speak to her dearest friend. Her gilt gaze snapped to the dance floor, where the first attendees began their waltz, then back to Andante. "The Ambrosius King, his name is Caelian. He's the one I met in the North. I didn't know then that's the title he carried."

W C: 709
T A G: Andante directly, Arête for mention
M U S E: 4/5
O O C: ...
powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!
Tag: @[Iracebeth]

Lady of The Lake
Oh yes, she had heard the chatter. The land of Ambrosius was abuzz with the idea of a party. A party! The idea almost made the pretty pale mare laugh. It had been so long since such a spectacle had been held that many had forgotten what they even were. Even Ianthe had almost forgotten. Life in Ambrosius had been rather somber before the new king had come and taken the throne. But he was giving them a reason to celebrate, to laugh, to enjoy life - which served as a slight bonus towards her impressions about the rather young lad who had become the Ambrosius King.

A strange mix of joy and anticipation bubbled in Ianthe's chest. She fell into the frenzy with other partygoers, flitting about and preparing for the party. The court was full of an energy the soft lilac lady couldn't place but knew it was good.

She took meticulous care with her appearance for the event. Her long, soft lilac hair hung in heavy sheets of silk; parts of her mane carefully pulled and twisted into an elaborate bun along her slender neck. Strands of pearls hung from her silky mane, while individual pearls dotted the lilac strands. Heavy strands of pearls hung low around her neck as well. Even if Ianthe though it was a touch too much, they had been her mother's. Surely there was no better event to wear them to than a party her mother would have adored to be a part of. A veil draped over Ianthe's delicate face, obscuring her pretty features from view and was held in place by strategic pearl pins into her mane. A gauzy white, shimmering material was carefully draped about Ianthe's slender frame with great care and twisted in ways to keep the delicate material from snagging on the ground or obscuring her frame too much. The material was tucked underneath her tail, allowing the silky lilac locks to flow freely behind Ianthe like a grand courtly train. While she wouldn't sparkle and shine like most other ladies who would arrive, Ianthe certainly shimmered underneath the light. It was understated and classic, and very much Ianthe.

Stepping out from beneath the arch of flowers, the lilac mare's brows rose slightly at the grand display before her. The king, who she had yet to actually meet, and clearly not held back when it came for decorating for his event. Rose pink eyes took in the decorations and displays as she glided through the room, greeting familiar faces along the way. Though she might not be a true lady of the court anymore, many still saw her as one. She mingled with a group of similarly disgraced nobles for a brief moment, though moved away with a gentle smile and promises of dances later. Others continued to file in, emerging from underneath the archway in their best outfits. Many were unknown to Ianthe, drawing her interest. As her gaze danced from one unknown face to the next, she wondered if she would know any of these outside partygoers.

Not that she was looking for anyone. Certainly not!

tagged: Everyone! (and obvious Marrow to spice things up -eyebrow waggle-)
notes: n/a
"Ianthe speech!" Ianthe thoughts!
Tag: @[Ianthe]