IC CLOSED ANACHRONISTIC Orion's Court || IC

[MaryGold]

Ouvrir

Autumn Dreams

Candles lit the palace ballroom alongside pure balls of light hovering around the air like sprites. Their light illuminated the grandest aspects of the room, during the day the ballroom appeared differently with darker and deeper colors, paintings of the old vampiric gods and those of humans. That night, however, the walls were a spotless white with the purest gold accents and paintings of the beauty and ugliness of the world, paintings that moved and looked back. The right side of the room had windows large enough to be walls, two of which were doors that opened to a courtyard with those sprite-like lights dancing around the natural beauty of flowers and the benches they surrounded.

The sun may have been set, but the palace was alight, bright with life, joy, and magic. The room with a magnitude to fit a thousand and more soldiers was filled with guests. Guests that came from far and wide. Courtiers, nobles for Cervia and overseas, and soldiers of high and standard rank, all laughed, ate, and danced around the shining doors that reflected the lights of the gold chandeliers and the ceiling art. Those who did not stand at standing tables in conversation or danced on the floor to the booming music of the orchestra stood on the balconies above, watching, ladies waved their fans at suitors and lovers hid behind the curtains to embrace. And servants remained vigilant, swooping in to replace refreshments, keeping the banquet buffet full, cleaning any mess, and answering any requests.

After all, it was an important night, one that was celebrating the accomplishments of the King's sons, Julian and Cain, and therefore the magnificence of Cervia and its monarch. Just months prior there had been dangerous talk of an uprising growing in their country. And now they were clinking glasses to the news of Prince Cain succumbing it in what seemed like less time than it had grown. With less than a hundred soldiers, he tracked the group and their leaders down south to the wasteland of their country. It was there that the final battle took place, those who unsheathed their swords and resisted arrest were killed. And when their most fierce leaders fell, the rest fled, and those who could not be taken captive.

The news was more than pleasing to the king who kept the prisoners in his very dungeons. The entire ordeal was spread to his citizens as a cause for celebration "how the treacherous were dealt justice!" and as a not-so-hidden reminder that those who dared to oppose the throne would end up very similarly as the ragtag group of Were traitors whose blood has been spilled.

The success of the throne continued with the crown prince who rarely stayed long in the palace. With his dragoons and recruited help, he played a large role in aiding the building of stable municipalities in their broken land, making changes to help the fae folk who were not familiar with living near others let alone other species, and the merfolk who had to adjust to land living. Most importantly, his security helped in stopping bandits and criminal groups alike that took advantage of the still somewhat shaky country of Cervia. His presence had made it more stable than ever though.

They were thriving. Trial after trial, the Blackes succeeded. And finally, his two boys had returned home after nearly a year. Half in Cain's case.

The king stood at the top of the staircase, opposite of the entrance, it was decorated with flowers weaving around the gold railing, with a landing that was the perfect stage for royalty. However, Orion stood out the most, separate and enchanting, poisonous and lovely. He had a face that was unforgettable even without the crown that rested atop his dark and grey locks or the glorious robe over his shoulders. His eyes drew the gaze of most almost appearing to glow hazily from where he stood with a pleased smirk on his lips.

Orion held his glass high and the second he was noticed, the crowd fell quiet as he spoke. His voice was loud and clear to every ear, with a charm that was as alluring as it was dangerous. "Tonight we celebrate the return of my sons!" His eyes easily found their faces in the crowd. "We celebrate our wins, our labor, our country! To Cervia!" He cheered and the crowd followed suit, clapping and yelling joyously without missing a beat. "Dine, drink, dance until you can do no more. Enjoy yourselves to the fullest, and later there is a surprise for all of you, my loyal subjects." he tipped his glass toward the people and downed his drink, indicating the end of his very short speech that was met with loud claps and the music growing louder as the party continued.

Finally, the real drinks arrived. Young men and women dressed appropriately but not as glamourously as the guests lined the wall with straight faces. Their clothes had the insignia of the finest Blood House in Black City, making note of their organization. And the owner seemed to have picked the prettiest faces to send to the ball tonight.

There were no reservations for tonight's events. It was a celebration yes, but a sign to their enemies to show how unbothered and strong they were. As well as a sign to their potential allies from overseas to see their strength and value. Allies who could very well be friends and family.

"Sorena," Orion caught his daughter in a sea of people. His hand rested against her shoulder blades. "Look there," the man gestured toward perhaps their most special guests of the night. The Fishers. "That is Malachai Fisher and his parents. They will be staying with us for .. an indefinite period of time. I would like you to befriend him. They're important to us." It was as much a request as it was a command before he kissed the top of her head and moved on to his other guests.

Connections must be maintained even amidst drinks and dances.

GM NOTES​

• All characters should be attending the ball as a guest or a worker. Have them interact with who you please, totally free start here.

 

[rissa]

SORENA

The youngest princess was on her best behavior. Not that she had to be told; her spirits were simply lifted by the success of her brothers, her father's marvelous speech, and the promise of traitorous flesh down below. The thought made her smile and she drank deep from her chalice of blood. It was a glorious occasion when all the Blacke's were in attendance, almost as sweet and savory as a magi's blood, as a dark etherealness radiated across the castle that one simply couldn't deny. Though perhaps the ambiance was aided by the touch of magic— the muted illumination of fey-lights captured the dying rays of the sun and lit the castle ablaze along with the dancing light of a thousand candled braziers and chandeliers.

Tonight will truly be glorious.

A monumental occasion for her father's rule— for the Blacke dynasty as a whole.

The swish and sway of a thousand bodies wasn't as ill-fated as she'd been dreaming either; in fact, outside of the cloying stench, it was quite picturesque, like something a painter would sprawl across a canvas in a hurried frenzy in attempt to capture every last minute detail. It was decidedly more beautiful when she ignited her blood-flow vision, however, and for but a moment she felt her fangs tingle, felt the Blood Moon rise up inside her.

She caught the scent of her father before it's claws could dig too deep and she turned to greet him with a small curtsy and wide, loving eyes. Her gaze followed his and she nodded, chest puffed slightly in admiration and the determination to fulfill his wishes. Ever the one to impress, Sorena stalked forward and around, searching the crowd for her blood nurse before making introductions. When her eyes did not find Aileen, she closed them and sought her out by scent. Rarely did she wish for a power not her own, as she fully believed she was born perfect, as the old vampiric gods had sought to create her— but in times like this, a telepathic command could work wonders.

After a moment she caught her, not too far away, mingling about just as she had been urged to. Sorena stood behind her and waited with a small, dangerous smile, until the few she was mingling with bowed and took their business elsewhere.

"Follow me after a fashion," Sorena told Aileen once her attention was hers alone, "And bring refreshments of blood. I've an important introduction to make— father's command —and I wish to be ever the hostess. A minute or so will suffice, and be sure to bring only the finest of blood."

With that, she strode forward, half a predator, until she was in front of the Fisher's. They were of noble stock, that she could tell at a glance, but what she hadn't expected was the ripe scent of illness radiating off Malachai. What is that? Anemia? She caught the snort of derision in her throat and managed to keep the flare of disgust from her nose and instead curtsied nice and low. The precious stone embedded upon the circlet she wore matched the faint red glow of her eyes and Sorena Nova Blacke truly looked the part of royalty.

"Welcome to Cervia, honored guests." She beamed at the Fishers', mother and father and son, and acknowledged each with a small bow of her head. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to Black City.

"Refreshments of the finest variety will be here momentarily— but I do hope it is not too bold of me to ask for a dance?"

@Lulunopia @wren.

 

[MaryGold]

Julian Blacke

The scent of orange flowers and cinnamons still clung to his skin, now smoother than glass and softer than freshly risen dough. Entirely unlike how it had been before, weathered with the ever-changing, but continuously coarse, environment he marched across during his months of stacking blocks, slashing pillagers, and conversing with folks who had no idea what coal was and how it was beneficial. The life of a traveling soldier was not an easy one, but it was one that made a difference in what one could witness. The marks of the life did show in habit and on skin both, but the rough scrubbing and pulling of servants in baths with too many ingredients for his nose to pick up what ingredients were thrown in made sure he appeared untouched. As if he had not spent months away from the palace in dirt and broken homes.

He would always be the honored crown prince of Cervia, but now that he was standing there with his red hair luscious and shiny, perfectly done, and adorned in layers of fine clothing of deep black and clean white, made of cotton and silks and embroidered with colors or gold, grey, and red. And the thinly tweeded crown of gold on top of his head drew the attention and the respect of all who passed him by. Ladies with deep curties and coy smiles, the man with their bows, and noses in the air. The respect in the palace came from rank and not accomplishments. Though the latter certainly helped, especially him.

He did not miss it, but he did miss his children. The longer he was away, the more they grew, forgetting the details of his likeness though he'd never forget theirs. Even as he was praised and adored by his subjects, he wished nothing more than to be in his bed, reading the tales of Lazarus the vampire Knight, and wrapping them in their blankets once they slept. He missed wiping away their snot with a handkerchief, pushing the on the swings of the garden, and hearing them repeat their adventures with their governess for the day.

They were the first people he wanted to see upon his return, but it was politics and duties as usual. All of which were commanded by his father. There was no turning it down.

Julian swirled the wine in his glass, the color was a dark red, like that of blood. No doubt the blood they'd be serving for the night would come from Magi folk. The finest was served when the king was hosting.

"Julian," and speak of the devil, his smile was wide with lips red as the blood he sipped on. "My son." He kissed his forehead and placed a hand on his son's back.

The affection was welcomed. They may have strongly differing opinions on almost everything, but there was an unmistakable love between them in all the tangled vines. And Julian loved Orion, even if his stomach had twisted when he saw the plotting look in the vampir's eyes.

"Father," Julian said softly, "I am happy to see you in such a merry mood, and more so that I could contribute some part in that."

"You've always made me proud. So, obedient." He sipped from his glass as the redhead's mouth twitched. Obedient. "You're mother would be proud of you too. You and Cain."

Do as he says, do what the court wants. And when you are king, you can do as you like. I promise you that. The late queen's words haunted him now. He wondered if his father had heard what she said, and was reminding him of it now.

"Thank you," Julian answered even as his voice fell quieter.

"The room is full of lovely young women from high families. Noble women." He gave him a pointed look, his blue eyes piercing him. And then those blue eyes shifted, very briefly, to his companion, his protector, and his friend. "You should marry again."

The suggestion of it made his mouth sour. However, that was not a command. "I have told you before, father. I don't think it right or necessary."

"If not for you, then your children. They are without a mother. And for the last few months, a father."

It was cruel to use his children against him, but not one word he said was untrue. Julian gripped his glass harder and looked away into the sea of dancing men and women. He said nothing as his father's hand moved to caress the side of his neck, a meant to be affectionate gesture, but the tightening of his hold felt more suffocating.

"Take time to think about it. Seriously." He said quietly, his voice sweet and sharp. He released his grip on him and left into the crowd. Presumably to find a more suitable company to entertain.

Julian released a breath he hadn't known he was holding and looked back to his partner. The way his father ignored his existence, almost, entirely would have made anyone think he was a ghost. Julian was always ever aware of his being.

"Well… that gives me a few weeks. Maybe more time if he actually gets to confirm an engagement with a family from overseas with one of my siblings." He sighed. "It is so lovely to be back."

@wren.​

credits

 

[MaryGold]

Judas Morningstar

They were monkeys in dressing too exceptional for their likes, eyes following the fairer sex like animals who had never seen what a woman looked like. And some of them followed the same sex with a gaze that was just as easily read and pathetic. Their gait and behavior were all the evidence one needed that most of them did not come from a family or with class. And Judas wanted nothing more than to separate himself from them before he was associated with them.

They may have shared barracks, bathed in the same running water of the land, served the same honorable royal family, and cut open the traitorous citizens of the country together. But Judas was not one of them and not only did he make that clear, but they did as well. All in the way they pushed him out, and ostracized every given opportunity, though he was no longer hazed. A sword pointed at their necks or a dagger tilted under a ribcage, cutting skin, was a lesson to teach them that would not be acceptable.

He didn't mind the loneliness, he welcomed it. And he wanted nothing more than to be left alone now. The colors of their formal uniforms unfortunately clumped together as one. That and the accomplishments of their prince whom they accompanied on the six-month journey. He seemed to gather most of the praises in regard to the successful mission they had been on, but his soldiers were there to enjoy the festivities for their service as well. A truly rare occasion. Only the noble knights were ever invited. Not the low ones, such as himself.

"Excuse me, you might be the loveliest woman I have seen here tonight." A voice that itself far too charming and suave said, dripping with confidence and foolishness.

And so the circus act began with the soldier boys. Judas decided then and there it was his turn to take his leave before he was pushed together with the likes of them. Even if he was thought of as decoration of the ball, he would take it over the jester.

The blond moved around the room, avoiding the twirling and laughing bodies of the guests. He stopped once to grab a glass of what he assumed to be blood and downed half its contents in one sip. Without a doubt, it was the sweetest and richest blood that had ever touched his tongue. The reason why became quite clear when he noticed a magi with the insignia of the Blood Bank he was employed. To have such quality of blood was perhaps the best reward that they were given. Even better than the bonus pay, but not yet being invited to the ball. That had extra features he was hoping that were yet to be revealed.

Any eyes that followed him might have assumed he was wandering, but the craning of his neck and the turning of left and right made it clearer that he was searching for someone. It was difficult to do between so many moving bodies and numerous conversations taking place with laughter made it harder to listen out for him. But it did not stop him from trying until he was hit with much too large a group of people to squeeze through.

He pinched his lips, frustrated but he did his best not to let the signs show. Again, he sipped from his glass, letting the sweetness of the warm blood relax his shoulders and loosen his grip on the glass. There was no point in feeling anything akin to anger or stress, tonight was meant to be the opposite of all that.

Judas raised his glass to his lips, but as his eyes lifted, they finally caught the man he had been looking for all along.

Snow white hair, sleek and tamed, framing that all too familiar face. A face he had gone without seeing for years, but still remembered every detail, though his smile the most, and the softness in his grey eyes. It was a wonder how he didn't capture the entire room when the mere glimpse of him turned Judas to stone like Medusa's head. Though a soldier, there was a weakness that began to sip into his body.

A heart that shook with anticipation and fear, lungs that forgot to expel air, and eyes that did not blink. A state he had forgotten he could ever return to. Years of training and fighting had hardened him, but he now he was jelly boned and nervous. Completely out of control, though he had just learned how to take control.

The servant who asked for his glass helped him return to himself as he handed it off to him. He wiped at his mouth and straightened his clothes, pulling on the hems of sleeves and tugging the bottom of his waistcoat. He swallowed the growing saliva in his mouth and marched towards the man before he could take notice of him first.

For years he had thought of what he would say to the Duke the day he met with him again. A speech about how his meeting had changed the course of his life, the desire he felt to grow closer to him with time, and how his dedication was stronger for him than anyone else. The second he was standing close enough to him, none of it seemed appropriate. Instead, he greeted him with a rare smile, small and soft. "My lord," Judas's voice came out more delicately than intended. "It is lovely seeing you again after all this time."

Of all things, all people, the foolish soldiers he ditched seemed to influence the lines. Though, he was the loveliest person he had seen in the ball all night. And he would stand by that, though he could not use it now.

@Dusk​

credits

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

MALACHI

There is no place Malachi Fisher would rather be less than this palace across the sea, rubbing elbows with vicious, power-hungry royals for his parents' ambitions. Unfortunately, that's the hand you've been dealt when you're the firstborn son in a noble family. Perhaps if he'd always been next in line for his father's position, these responsibilities wouldn't make him so nauseous. Perhaps he'd be more adept at navigating these social politics instead of bumbling through mindless chitchat and conversation so laced with entendre and manipulation that it gives him headaches trying to decode it all. Silvertongues are practically a genetic trait among the Fisher line, why did it skip him?

It must have gone to his brother, sharing a womb as they did. Magnus got all of the good bits, it seemed, leaving Malachi sick and inadequate. Incomplete. At least there was freedom in it — the spotlight being on his brother meant he could get away with anything so long as he was well-behaved (which he always was). He studied what he wanted and he was free to pursue a life of education rather than dukedom. He could have married who he wanted so long as they were of a respectable class. Then Magnus had to go and get killed.

He's being cruel, of course; his brother hadn't sought out that hunter. He'd never been particularly cruel to him, either, though kindness was not a genetic Fisher trait. Then again, his parents hadn't been especially cruel either, only hardening with Magnus's death. Whether that is due to grief or resentment of Malachi's comparative incompetence is still unclear.

Regardless, here he is, standing in the middle of The Imperial Palace of Cervia's candlelit ballroom, dressed in his finest at his parents' request. He'd opted for a cream shirt and pants beneath a crimson waistcoat detailed with intricately swirling black embroidery. Over top, he's worn his favorite navy tailcoat jacket with a crimson underside, the white cravat and the lace of his sleeves poking out laying stark against the darker colors. His favorite piece is the black and iridescent cape around his shoulders, custom-made to shift between red, blue, and purple depending on the light. Faint specks of white dot the color-changing underside like the constellations he's charted over and over throughout his life. While he's never been one for the spotlight, he's always been weak to pretty things.

Thankfully, there are plenty of equally well-dressed individuals around them as well as a handful that are even more gaudily decorated, meaning he's able to slip through the crowd largely unnoticed. Not that he's doing much slipping, moving more like a tired dog as his parents command him to come and heel as they move from one group to the next, making their introductions and attempting to charm their way into their good favor.

He nurses glass after glass of wine, its exquisitely rich taste revealing its excellent vintage, though it's not particularly superior to what his parents keep at home. He's drunk enough for his depression to have taken a backseat to a numb buzzing in his veins by the time King Orion makes his speech from an upper balcony, acknowledging his two sons and their efforts in preserving Cervia's prosperity. Even from several meters away, the pride in the king's visage and voice is palpable. If only he could be such a perfect son as these princes appear to be.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by an unfamiliar, feminine voice, and he turns to find Princess Sorena Blacke curtsying beside him. He's never spoken to her before, but he's seen her portrait. He hadn't expected her eyes to really be that red. She's intimidating, somehow, despite her smaller stature and her friendly grin. He's heard rumors about her cruel nature; supposedly, she has killed every suitor who has attempted to court her.

But rumors are rumors, and he has no proof of their validity. He has no justification for why this woman's gaze makes him so uneasy like a prey animal being watched by a predator waiting to strike. As much as he might want to, he can't reject her offer to dance. Not just because of social decorum, but because his parents might actually kill him for not seizing the opportunity.

"Princess Sorena, what an unexpected pleasure," he breathes, bowing politely, putting on a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It would be my honor." He turns to hand his empty glass to his father who takes it with an approving smile of his own. He extends that hand to the princess, leading them both toward the throngs of dancing partygoers. From there, it's just a matter of repeating the steps he's completed a million times before, beat into him by the crack of a teacher's pointing stick.

"I assume you know who I am since you approached me so boldly," he begins, because dancing in silence is certainly worse than making conversation in this instance. "May I ask why you've sought me out?"

「 @rissa 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

credits

 

[wren.]

hh

hh

GALEN

Is it more painful to love unrequitedly or to love and be loved but with little opportunity to express it? Gael can't tell anymore. He'd suffered deeply when he'd first realized his love for his prince, bound by his lack of status and concern that Julian would never feel the same for him. A part of him had resented his feelings, blaming it on their shared connection as sire and sired, like some disturbing biological survival mechanism to make him love the one that turned him. A part of him worried that was true.

He'd watched Julian suffer at the hands of his cruel wife, unable to do anything but hold him as he cried, wishing that he could do more for him, be more for him, make it all go away, and kiss every aching place on him until his convalescence was over. He'd known that, no matter how Julian felt about him, he would gratefully die for his sake. When the man finally gave him the opportunity to hold him as he wished, it had been the most euphoric moment of his life.

Knowing that Julian is his still makes his heart race in his chest every time he thinks about it. Having permission to kiss him at any moment, to touch him without guilt or shame, to flirt and be flirted with in turn, still has him feeling high after all these years. But while he might have Julian's permission, he certainly doesn't have King Orion's. Regardless of how they feel for each other, they'll never be allowed to marry. As much as he wishes he could shout his love for his prince to the world, he can't. Instead, they're resigned to shadowed hallways and empty rooms, forced to keep their voices down and their gazes over each other's shoulders.

The past year or so, as they tracked down a fledgling terrorist group, served as a relief for him. Fighting on the field is always where he is most useful, and getting to fight by his lover's side to protect the country he's building is the highest honor he can imagine. It also gives them a level of privacy they don't always get at the palace, their only worries being soldiers who would know better than to speak up about any desperate fumbling they overhear in their general's tent. Even though he's spent decades enjoying the luxuries of palace life by Julian's side, his body has never entirely forgotten the rough conditions he'd endured as a human, so sleeping on rough palettes or even on cold, stony ground doesn't bother him the way it might his dear prince.

But now they're back, forced to stand before a swarm of sycophants under the scrutinizing gaze of the king. He keeps his hands clasped behind his ramrod-straight back, positioning himself beside Julian but a few steps behind so as not to invite suspicion. His uniform has been scrubbed of bloodstains and his hair tidied, leaving him a perfect little soldier, dignified but entirely forgettable where he's eclipsed by Julian's radiance.

While there's a special charm in seeing Julian roughed up and covered in blood, pride and fury in his eyes, cutting down those who dare to challenge him, it's nice to see him relaxed and comfortable again. Well, as relaxed and comfortable as he can be around his less-than-pleasant family members. Now that he isn't coated in a fine layer of dust, his hair shines like fire, and his skin no longer looks cracked and calloused. The urge to run his hands over every bare bit of skin poking through the infuriatingly numerous layers he's wearing is almost irresistible, but he manages.

King Orion suddenly appears as though summoned by his lust to extinguish it, and the easy affection he gives Julian feels almost like he's mocking his inability to do so. Especially when he glances at him so pointedly while he hurls commands thinly veiled as well-intentioned suggestions at Julian to find a new wife.

He stares holes into the man's head, hoping he can feel his hatred burning like acid through his skull. Not that it will change anything. He grits his teeth at the possessive and threatening way that Orion grips Julian's neck, resisting the urge to tear it from his wrist with his teeth. Especially when Julian's body language closes off even more, all tension and averted gazes.

Once he finally leaves them to find someone else to intimidate, he grants himself a hand on Julian's shoulder, forgetting his own anger in the face of his lover's discomfort. "I'll be here regardless," he promises softly. "You know that." It will break his heart to see Julian with someone else, even if it's under false pretenses, but he'll survive. He had to experience it once before, he can do it again.

Of course, Julian had hated his wife. If he were to actually fall in love with his next one... Better not to think about that. "I suppose we'll just have to make the most of these next few weeks while we have them. I've missed your bed." He allows himself a devious smirk, hand traveling briefly down the other man's back as he draws it back to himself.

「 @MaryGold 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

credits

 

[Dusk]

Oskar Abendroth

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
{ @MaryGold }

---

​

Beautiful, elegant people filled the hall, dressed in their finest of fashions. Oskar could not entirely protest the event, regardless of the cause they gathered under. King Orion spoke to the grandeur of his sons' achievements, both of which were tinged in violence. More so for Cain, who carried a bloody banner. It was a celebration of subjugation, and Oskar had little desire to partake. Less so to see whatever surprise the king had to offer, as anything that delighted him was sure to be grotesque.

The lights danced around enchanting orchestral music. Dressed in rich fabrics of silvers and reds, Oskar moved deliberately around the hall, paying great attention to his fellow guests. He saw the busy servants and watched the spiders who weaved their sinister webs. He charmed courtiers who approached him with obvious intent, a great many of whom were so very young. They were born into a world impossibly different from his, and he had no interest in them beyond the brevity of pleasant conversation. Oskar smiled at them and shared pretty words, and then he politely excused himself a dozen times.

Oskar had little taste for blood drawn from the houses, no matter how beautiful the face. The procedure was an aberration to which he found himself unable to adjust. It was the option provided, however, and so he took the embellished glass of dark blood when it was offered to him. He thanked the servant, who hurried away with only a quick acknowledgement, leaving behind only the click of her heels. Glass in hand, Oskar took residence near the windows as he contemplated leaving. A fleeting fancy of a thought, as he was not keen to commit such a slight. Instead, he focused on the orchestra and observed the crowd. He was in such a state when he was approached by one of the many familiar faces he'd seen that night. This one, however, he had not seen in a long time.

The pale-haired man handed off his glass to a servant, who accepted his thanks more readily than the previous, as the man with fair hair and icy eyes approached. Judas. Their last meeting had been brief, and far from the most positive. Oskar disapproved of Judas' decision, however, it was not his place to do anything more than discourage it and Judas remained resolute. It appeared his path had carried him far. The old vampire was pleased to see he hadn't gone and gotten himself killed. Judas felt older even before he spoke. A logical conclusion as he had been little more than a child when they had last met, and the younger was now near thrice that.

"As it is to see you, Judas," Oskar returned with a reserved smile. The weight of their last meeting weighed heavily on his heart, as he wondered what the young man had done since then. "Forgive me, it is Sir Judas now." His smile did not dissipate despite fading. The monochrome vampir gestured a hand toward the doors. "Shall we step into the courtyard?" He took a step in that direction yet waited to see if Judas would follow before he carried on.

"Tell me, how have you been?" He truly hoped the answer was only good things, however, Oskar feared that would not be true.

credits

 

[PavellumPendulum]

ZULEIKA

As a child, nothing more a runt of a kitten, Zuleika had dreamed of fairy tales like these. Moon white walls and precious gold ornaments, elegant ladies and gentlemen in lavish dresses and suits, seemingly limitless food on offer, piping hot and infusing the air with mouthwatering scents. She'd even been bold enough to imagine herself at the centre of it all, skin plush and glassy from honey and milk baths, fiery hair adorned with jewels and careful plaits. Time had simmered away the fat of these dreams, trimming away the excesses as they became less and less appealing to her with age, but even in her simplest desires, she could find their reflections. Beauty. Comfort. Safety. Affection.

She'd found many of these things upon her arrival in Orion's court, though they never came free. She loved her work, loved these extravagant balls, loved the people that she toiled away in the kitchens with, but even then, all she could do was try to live in ignorant bliss of the shadowy fingers that left prints on every surface of the palace, in every nook and cranny. The vampir who revelled in the subjugation of her people consumed fear in the same way that they toyed with the carefully crafted bite sized appetizers being handed out by servants, as though they could taste your blood through the mere contact of your skin against the food.

Weaving her way through the crowd, she carried the tin platter with ease and care in one hand, offering up canapés, delectable puff pastries with savoury toppings. She'd snuck a few into her mouth over the course of the night, since she was certain that no one would notice regardless. Her other hand held her cane, keeping her walking at a decent pace.

The crowd lived and breathed like a single organism around her and in the blink of an eye, she felt resistance at the bottom of her cane. Alarmed, her eyes fluttered down. A foot.

She pulled up her cane to move it away immediately, flustered. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

「 anyone! 」

Code by wren.

 

[Lyrikai]

Raph

The hall was filled with such beautiful music. It was an excellent gathering, a grand party as it could ever be. They always were though, weren't they? Especially on an occasion such as this. It was a celebration of dear Julian and Cain and their continuous hard work, a decisive and swift victory. It was difficult to tell who among the guests were truly proud of the accomplishments and who was here because it was a party and because it was polite.

Not much of a fan of huge gatherings, Raphael was one of the latter for sure. He was here because it was polite and expected of him. It would have been a big question mark over many heads if he did not show up and linger and mingle, no matter how much he wanted to escape into a quiet hole with a cozy book or a warm drink. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't proud. He was immensely proud and he would show it when and however he could, but it also didn't change the fact that there were too many people here and he was easily overwhelmed. Sipping from a glass of wine, if he got a taste of alcohol into his system, it might help calm his nerves.

Hovering off to a side, leaning against a wall, he watched the ballroom. He enjoyed the dancing, the music, and the beautiful atmosphere of flickering candles as the light illuminated the grandeur of this gathering. Maybe, if he had any complaints, there were a few too many candles and the room was a little too bright, but not uncomfortably so. He could appreciate that, at least, and he definitely appreciated it. Should the right song come along, he supposed he wouldn't have been opposed to a dance or two.

Maybe it was the wine or maybe he was gradually beginning to loosen up as he slowly began to sway along with the music, eyes half lidded and enjoying himself as well as he could in this moment.

「 himself and anyone 」

code by wren.

 

[Dusk]

Hector Penrose

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS
{ N/A }

---

​

The young Vampir pressed his back into a pillar. He wore a soured expression and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Hector had dressed himself in fine clothes. He wore the colours of House Penrose — cream, blue, and burgundy trimmed in silver. His clothes were neat, but far from the intricate embroideries and laces of other guests. If he wanted to adorn himself like them, he easily could have. His mother would've spent her last penny to see him done up in an attempt to catch the king's eye. She would do anything for that. She'd even attempted dolling him up in the past, to no avail.

King Orion boasted his children's campaigns, and Hector wished he was up there with Julian and Prince Cain. However, he knew he never would be, even though Hector had been with Julian the entire time — he was never good enough. The young Vampir would've done anything to earn King Orion's favour, but it was never enough. It left him in a foul mood that not even the pretty faces in their fine clothes could bolster. But Hector had no intention of leaving. He expected his mood might improve as the night went on, especially as he sampled various liquors. But even if he was absolutely miserable, Hector wouldn't have left. That would've been rude and disrespectful. And tonight was a rare opportunity for him to try to catch King Orion's attention.

"Hector darling, where have you been?" Hector tensed immediately at the sound of his mother's voice. He straightened. The man leaned off the column and dropped his arms to rest by his sides.

"Right here, mother," he replied softly. She closed the gap between them with a hasty step, face bright and cheeks flushed. Immediately, she began fussing over him, adjusting his collar and removing a stray hair.

"I'm fine," he said, gently grabbing her hands and holding them to prevent her from messing with him. She smiled sweetly.

"Oh, I know, dear, it's just…" Her eyes trailed from his face to his hands. "You're not wearing your ring. The one I gave you." Her expression sunk, and his stomach with it. "Did you… Not like it?" He could feel the crack in her saccharine facade.

"No, I like it fine it. It— it didn't match!" Hector blurted out the second part. Immediately, he cringed, which he desperately hoped was less pronounced than it felt.

"What?"

Hector bit the inside of his lip. He was such an idiot. Of course a ring made in blue and silver matched the Penrose colours. They were the same colours. Intentionally the same.

"You don't like it," his mother lamented. "You said you liked it. Why did you lie?"

"I— I didn't lie. I forgot to put it on, is all." That wasn't quite true, either. He direly hoped she would focus on his new excuse.

"Did you?" She chuckled mirthlessly. There was not a shred of belief in her voice. She gazed intensely into his face. "That you forgot such an important thing… It would've looked perfect. You would've looked perfect. And you forgot to wear it…"

"Yes, mother."

"You'll wear it next time, of course, darling."

"Of course," he responded grimly. She perked up at that, although suspicion lingered in her eyes. Hector deflated.

"You'll look perfect. Truly perfect." Her attention shifted from him to something in the distance. She stepped back, finally relinquishing his hands. "Oh! Count Chapland, I must greet him. Promise you'll wear it?"

"Yes, mother." She smiled brightly at that.

"Alright, darling!" She moved away with a swirl of her skirt. Hector meant it. He'd wear the ring. If he could find it. Idiot that he was, he'd lost it. It had been missing for weeks, and he was fairly sure he'd never see it again. But his mother always made such a fuss whenever he misplaced or lost anything — chastising and berating him, anything less than perfect wasn't good enough for her.

Hector closed his eyes and inhaled. He straightened himself and tried to relax. It was a party, after all. The young man considered going over to congratulate Julian but found he couldn't tolerate the idea. Instead, he decided to seek out Vanessa. Spending time with his sister did wonders for improving his mood. At the very least, he could help her swat away the many eager suitors she had no interest in.

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[TerraBooma]

Adjusting the last touches of his uniform. Prince Cain Adam Blacke strut into the ball with all of the oomph and grandiose that was expected of him. He presented an iron mask. A stone face that evaluated and analyzed everything it saw for the good of the Blacke name. Having recently completed his assignment, it was only natural to return to the capital and celebrate a job well done. Nobility and Royalty alike stood together, and everything was proceeding smoothly. To those that were unfamiliar with him, Cain Blacke presented a no-nonsense attitude of an accomplished military commander. He had just put down a local rebellion, and brought a prisoner back to boot. He seemingly took no joy in this; simply executing the task that he was assigned with a stone faced precision befitting the royal line of this nation. With the head cut off, the rebellion had withered away in just a few days. Word was that he would simply stay in the capital under another uprising needed putting down, and he would take to the field of war once more. An infinitely sharp and endlessly proud general of effective and swift military action. Emotionless and cold hearted. Steel personified.

Internally however, Cain was riding a high that few vampires would know the sensation of. Because not only had he successfully lead a military operation. Not only had he crushed rebels under his boot and returned the world to the status quo that it belonged to. But Cain had completed the task that his father personally assigned him, and by all accounts that the prince could tell his father was pleased with his accomplishments. Having entered the ballroom Cain sought out a drink. Looking for something that would be respectful and dignified. He would let others come to him; the last thing he wanted to do was shift the court by playing favorites after all.

So Cain entered the room, drew a bunch of attention doing it, and immediately walked closer to a corner of the room. He always had been something of a wallflower when it came to these kind of occasions...

 

[wren.]

hh

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ALISTAIR

Okay, so he was stabbed in the abdomen, but that's not going to stop him from attending this "welcome home" party for Prince Julian and Cain. Not even because he wants to go to the damned thing, but because Cain specifically said he couldn't.

Now, technically, he should be doing what his prince orders, but their relationship has always been much... friendlier than it should be. It's easy to forget that Cain is his prince and superior when he's also struggling to tie his own shoes in defiance over Alistair insisting he can't function without him. He's in a particularly good position to act in defiance of the man's orders, especially when it's for Cain's benefit. Because, really, how would he function without him?

Besides, it's already been about three weeks since the ambush on Cain's encampment. He's more fatigued than usual, and a bit achey, but it's nothing he can't deal with. Cain had been quick to order medical treatment for him and sent him back to the palace as soon as it was possible to move him without aggravating the wound too much, so the wound has healed up nicely. All the fretting is unnecessary. Perhaps Cain feels some misplaced sense of obligation since he'd gotten wounded protecting him, but that's part of his job. As his personal attendant, it is perhaps more his job than any soldier.

So, he's elected to ignore Cain's pity and guilt and attend the party. Parties are the best times to be attention-grabbing, so he's worn his favorite lacy, chestless blouse with black breeches and his cleanest stockings. For his overcoat, he's gone with a high-collared periwinkle one that reaches down to his knees. People already suspect him of being a slut, so what's the harm in playing into that?

It takes longer than usual to dress given how careful he has to be so the wound doesn't re-open up. He gets through with minimal wincing, though, so that's a victory. After slipping on his shoes, he stalks through the halls, hands clasped behind his back, nosy eyes and ears following the routes and conversations of the people around him as they flitter to and from the ballroom.

The room is quite crowded when he arrives, with Julian at the center of it all, but with no obvious sight of Cain. Hm. Knowing him, he's probably secluded himself into some corner, foolishly thinking he can escape being the center of attention despite the ball being thrown (partially) in his honor.

Scanning his eyes along the walls, he finds him doing just that. He snorts his amusement, sauntering up beside him. "You've suffered these events your whole life, how is it that I feel more comfortable in them than you do?"

「 @TerraBooma 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[wren.]

hh

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KLAUS

Klaus has never been one for huge, fancy parties like these, but it would be rude to skip a celebration of his two brothers' victory. Even if they don't realize that he's their brother. Besides, if Orion were to notice his absence, no doubt he'd pay for it in some manner. Of course, Orion paying enough attention to him to register his absence is an unlikely scenario, but one he'd like to avoid nonetheless.

Dressed in his nicest clothes, consisting of an olive tailcoat with black accents, a black waistcoat and pants, and a white dress shirt. It'd taken him forever to iron all of the wrinkles out given that it had been stuffed in a trunk for several months after the last big party he'd felt obligated to attend. He's stationed himself at the side of the room, nursing a glass of wine. He'd rather have champagne.

His siblings all seem quite preoccupied with each other and entertaining the many guests battling for their attention and most of the servants are busy serving drinks or tending to their masters, leaving him feeling awkward and bored. Since he's shown his face, perhaps he can get away with slipping out. Some of the horses might be feeling antsy with all of the strangers on the grounds.

As he turns toward the exit, though, he spots the familiar face of Mercy, who looks blessedly unoccupied. With more relief than he'd like, Klaus walks over to him with a beaming smile. "Mercy, my dear!" he greets enthusiastically, restraining himself from clapping a friendly hand on his touch-averse friend's shoulder. "Are you busy this evening or do you get to enjoy yourself?"

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[wren.]

hh

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TAUREAN

He despises these parties. The flagrant display of excessive wealth and power, and for what? The king says it's to celebrate their country's victory against some rebels, but it just seems like an excuse to get drunk and show off. Plus a way for the king to arrange a new marriage for the crown prince, no doubt. He'd pity the widow if he felt much at all for anyone of the Blacke line.

The whole event leaves a bad taste in his mouth, especially given how much it reminds him of his own failures, having fought as a rebel against Orion before and suffering greatly for it. If only he'd been beheaded for his betrayal and not sentenced to be a lapdog protecting the very man he loathes. If it weren't for the chance of meeting his children again, he would have taken matters into his own hands long ago. He's lost track of how many times he's considered it.

"We risk our lives nearly every day protecting these fops, where's our party?" grumbles an equally discontent soldier to a few others. He quiets from the hard look that Taurean gives him. He makes a good point, but it's still improper for an officer to speak that way. Taurean may have nothing else, but at least he has his pride as a general.

He walks a bit aimlessly through the crowds, hands clasped behind his back just for something to do with them, eyes roving over the many guests. If anyone were to ask, he'd say he's keeping vigilant to any threats, but really, he just doesn't have any friends to speak of here. Speaking of — he can see Moss in the distance, drawing attention as usual with his court jester act. The sight of his levity makes his chest ache with familiarity.

Admittedly, he misses them. Moss and Azriel, that is. They grew up together and were arguably the people he was once closest to in the world, so of course he'd miss them. However, knowing that they'd betrayed their own morals and pride for the sake of the tyrant they call a king fills him with a visceral... something that he can't ignore. Rage, disappointment, disgust. When he'd seen Moss on the opposite side of the battlefield, beating on the drum, he'd nearly thrown up on his boots.

To his credit, though, at least Moss is only doing what he thinks he needs to in order to survive. He has no true loyalty to Orion, even if he's debased himself by agreeing to be the man's dancing monkey. Azriel, though...

He can see him, too, not far off, looking calculating and poised as the king's loyal advisor. No, he can't forgive Azriel. He has no excuse except ambition.

Distracted by nostalgia, and literally half-blind, he'd neglected to pay attention to his surroundings, and he's jolted by pain shooting through his foot. Zuleika seems to have accidentally stabbed it with her cane, which she profusely apologizes for. He smiles kindly. "No more than I've felt before, ma'am," he assures. He has the scars to show for it.

"I'll just take one of these," he begins, plucking one of the puff pastries off the silver tray she's carrying, "And we'll call it settled." He winks at the palace cook. If Zuleika wasn't happily married and Taurean still had a heart, one might mistake the interaction for flirting. "I hope Moss hasn't been giving you too much trouble stealing from the kitchen again?"

「 @PavellumPendulum 」

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS

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[MaryGold]

Julian Blacke

"I won't remarry, Gale," Julian told him softly, but there was a conviction behind his voice. He turned his face to look his lover in the eyes as he said it, wanting him to understand not only the truth and determination behind his voice but the love and faithfulness he felt toward him. And him alone. If they were in private, confined and hidden away by the walls of their tent, he would have conveyed his meaning with more than just words.

The court, and by extension, his father, may always have puppeteer strings on him, but that was one he wouldn't let them have. Not now not ever. No matter how they would push and pull and bribe and possibly threatened, likely, threaten, he wouldn't give them that. Not as long as he had Gale. Had their laws and society allowed it, had his position allowed it, he would have taken his hand in marriage long ago. But as far as Julian was concerned, he was bound to Gale by more than law.

It was easier said than done, however. Living in the palace as long as they had, they were both aware of it. Promises were often broken, along with many spirits, hearts, and bodies.

Therefore, Julian chose to say nothing more on the subject for the night. They would have plenty more to worry about in the morning and though he didn't agree to celebrate his father's every win, the merriment of the night was infectious. He wished to share and partake in the enjoyment with Galen.

His touch even through the many layers of his clothes spreads a familiar and welcomed warmth through his body. He has to flex his shoulders, stretching his back minimally, to relax. From the stress of his father to the lazy, playful, and successful seduction of his lover. He moved closer to the man's side, leaving little space between them as he leaned over to speak into his ear. "Perhaps you should visit it tonight then." Anyone who didn't know any better would assume he was simply trying to be heard over the noise of the music and numerous talking voices. "Maybe I'll dress up for the occasion."

Compared to Gale, he was an awful flirt, but he knew other ways to rile him up. "In the meantime," he brushed the back of his hand against his. "Do you want to find somewhere quiet? I think I'd like to dance with you." He lowered his voice as he spoke his last thoughts.

@wren.​

credits

 

[MaryGold]

Judas Morningstar

Sir Judas.

Countless times he had been called by his official title. A title he was proud of when it meant he was no longer a forgettable commoner, a servant who cleaned the boots of his masters nor a soldier who knew nothing but how to take commands. Though it seemed both servants and low-ranked soldiers had that in common. He was no longer either, and soon, with his skills and ambitions, he would eventually rise through the ranks. He hoped Lord Abendroth would be there to see it. And he hoped he would smile when he did.

But even now, with his new title, as he spoke it his smile lessened. For an instant, so did Judas's smile. It may have been a small, minuscule change, but Judas would never miss it nor misunderstand the meaning behind it. The disagreement they had during their last conversation stayed fresh in his mind. And now it was an unwelcome guest they both chose to ignore.

Regardless of the strong disagreements and the feelings that weighed on their hearts, Lord Abendroth was happy to see him. He was happy to see him and chose not to ignore him. He expressed as much with his words and eyes alike, making Judas feel warm and nervous simultaneously.

The blonde may have the higher education of a noble now, but he was still troubled by words all the same in his presence. Judas said no more and followed in his footsteps, lagging behind the man by just a step. To walk side by side with him, he was unsure if he had the right to do so with a duke. "I've been well." He answered him the short answer. Divulging the lord in tales of the hardships and triumphs he faced as a soldier would never please him. Not when it included bloodshed and violence both from him and onto him. But he was well because he was alive, he was well because he was a knight, and he was well because he was able to meet him again.

"The king is quite pleased with the work we've done catching the rebels, so we'll likely be rewarded more." He rested his hands behind his back, not knowing what to do with them. "And you, my lord? You look well. Are you well?"

@Dusk​

credits

 

[PavellumPendulum]

MERCY

Though there was dread rising up in the back of Mercy's throat, it was nothing that could not be sealed tight and restrained with a warm smile and a flick of the wrist. These parties were never of any surprise to him, as he had witnessed many during his time in the palace, but this one struck a particularly dissonant chord in him. The king's sons had returned. The murderers, the living daggers he had sired for the sake of dominance and power, were to be celebrated and admired for the blood that dried upon their hands. The corners of Mercy's lips were pinned upwards in a rehearsed smile, eyes sweet and unobtrusive. Prey animals could do nothing but try to appear as though they were not worth the hunt, after all.

The drinks, the food, the festivities, it would keep them all busy. Bastards.

He flexed his hands, only faintly sore from all the cleaning he had done earlier with the other servants. His thumb brushed over the nub where his missing pinky was, a habit he'd gained over the years, though he still was not sure whether it was better at soothing or agitating him. The floor still glistened from their efforts, shining under all of the shoes that were likely valued higher than his own life. Soon, he was sure that he would be called upon for standing idle near the door, but a blessed moment of inactivity was what he currently needed, more than anything.

His name was warm when spoken from Klaus' mouth. Upon seeing the other man's smile, his own felt only a touch less forced, something reminiscent of relief in his eyes. "Hello, Klaus, my dear." he greeted gently, a perfect mimicry of his friend's tone, "I have not yet decided if I am busy or not. In the crowd, it is easier to find a moment where nothing is expected of me." There was calm interest in his voice, expression curious and partially teasing, "Were you hoping to keep me busy? I would not mind, if it were you."

「 @wren. 」

Code by wren.

 

[PavellumPendulum]

ZULEIKA

The intensity in Taurean's face had once seemed impossible to melt to Zuleika, who had seen him brooding around the palace, eyes always narrowed and stony, chin defiant and lip unwavering. He was only slightly more approachable now that she'd seen him smile at her a few times, this instance included. She liked the way that the upwards quirk of his lips was still warm even when entirely polite in nature. She turned, nearly having to apologize to another partygoer when coming an inch away from smashing the side of the serving plate against them when turning towards Taurean. Her clumsiness knew no bounds when she grew careless, it seemed.

Zuleika returned his smile, obviously embarrassed, but cheered up when he took a puff pastry, holding out the serving plate to him imploringly. "Please, take more. I'd be honoured if it was you who ate the whole platter." she responded in a friendly manner, her grin sweet and relieved that she hadn't accidentally hurt someone less forgiving, "I prepared these ones myself. Nothing more to ask for when crisp dough meets warm cheese and spiced vegetables, yes?"

When asked about Moss, she tilted her head slightly, expression knowingly mother-like, despite her not asking any follow up questions. "I would never complain about feeding you boys." she laughed, despite knowing that both were full grown men, "I encourage you to come steal a snack or two every once in a while as well, Taurean."

「 @wren. 」

Code by wren.

 

[Lulunopia]

~ Octavia ~

LOCATION | INTERACTIONS | MENTIONS​

The room was loud, full of music and murmurs; something Octavia lived for. She loved parties, especially when it came to her fathers. He always threw the best parties and if she even missed one it put her in a bad mood. Then again she was a bit of a wild card in the family never quite fitting in fully. As she descended the stairs, hand gently holding the railing, her eyes scanned the room. It almost looked like a hawk seeking its prey as her gaze swept across the crowd, pausing on only her family members.

It was Julian and Cain's big day, father having the party thrown in their honor. It made Octavia both happy and envious. She was happy that they were alive and here now but envious of the attention they got from father. No matter what she seemed to be in the background. Though she knows not many of her family liked her, outside the very few people she keeps around most of them avoided or looked down on her.

Walking out into the ballroom Octavia smiled devilishly as she moved like air, weaving through the crowd. If she was going to be partying then she might as well get a drink. Hips swayed as she walked toward the alcohol. Man she really hopes there is something stronger than wine here. To get through this party, which she was sure would be interesting, she would need a few shots of…anything really.

As she danced across the ballroom looking for something to drink her eyes trained her half brother, Hector. They had a…spicy relationship as one might say. Making way towards him a glimpse of a smile on her face. Hector may be her half sibling but he was okay, in terms of how they interacted. Octavia knew he wasn't too keen on her, but that didn't stop her from pestering him and all together going out of her way to talk to him.

By the time she was in front of him Octavia had a smirk on her face. "Hector, how wonderful to see you here!" She moved to lean on the wall next to him watching the crowd aimlessly. "The party has just begun and you're already standing against the wall?" Octavia teased looking over at him.

@MaryGold @Dusk ​

 

[peach]

Marjorie

These events were always grand. Loud, overstimulating and simultaneously boring. Marjorie hated these large parties, sitting alone in the corner with the same mind numbing smile and blank stare. It was a duchess's duty to attend these events and support the royal family through her actions and behaviors, but Marjorie seemed to do best when she stayed out of the way.

Watching the various couples and groups chatting, dancing, smiling actually sparked a small pot of jealousy in her. It was unusual for her care on anything deeper than a base level for these types of soirées, but it wasn't unusual for her mood to fall.

Marjorie took a deep breath, lifting a champagne flute to her lips and downing a long sip. " Take a seat, Clarice. Let's try and look engaging." She sighed, turning to sit facing her nurse and dearest friend.
" I'm going to need a few more drinks to keep this up, don't you think?" She joked half-heartedly, offering an amused smile.

「 」

Code by Jenamos