collections that are raw as fuck ➝ basil soda s/s 2011
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@dauphinedelacroix
collections that are raw as fuck ➝ basil soda s/s 2011
strange and beautiful // {erik&linnea}
Erikur’s mind had a tendency to wander on long journeys, eyes slipping shut as exhaustion overtook him and his men trailed tirelessly behind. He never thought of pleasant things, never found comfort in the ratways of his mind, and he couldn’t afford to slip away — today was important. Today they arrived in Siceilienne, the kingdom of his father’s wife to be. It had taken them a fortnight - the days had begun to blend together and he ached to be back in his warm bed with a belly full of mead. Only one full moon had passed since Erik’s mother, Queen Lyra, had died while giving birth. One full moon.. One month, and the king had already found himself a new, younger wife. They barely had time to mourn their old mother before a new one would be thrust in their face. He hadn’t even seen his father shed a single tear. Meanwhile, Alessia refused to leave her room, and Mattius spent all his time slamming doors and sulking about the palace, permanent scowl on his face. They wouldn’t take kindly to this new woman. Erikur didn’t know how he felt about it. He didn’t know anything more — nothing but the swing of his sword and the feel of his horse galloping through the snowy tundra, going from battle to battle. Sighing frustratedly, Erik ran a hand through his hair and opened his eyes as they reached the capital of Siceilienne — the Cradle of Light. Jaw slack, he took in the sight with baited breath. The name was certainly fitting. Everything was bright, a mix of orange and gold hues, warm and sunny. The air was light, not heavy in his lungs like back home, and somewhere in the distance a chorus of birds echoed through the sky. As they continued on, approaching the front gates of the palace, Erikur stopped Darya and his men scrambled to come to a halt with him, waiting intently for further orders. If he was tired before, he was entirely awake now, a sweet scent hitting him with full force. Everything about this land was different in the most comforting, welcoming way possible. For the first time on his travels, he did not miss Rorik. A whistle of approval came from somewhere behind him. “Indeed,” He agreed under his breath, dropping Darya’s reigns and swinging his leg over the horse to land on solid ground for the first time all day. Turning to address his men, Erikur projected his voice and spoke with authority as he stood tall. “The citizens of Siceilienne have done us a great kindness by welcoming us to their home with hospitality. You’d do well to remember that we are merely guests —I expect you all to express your gratitude. Let us not take advantage of their generosity.” The expanse of men before him all nodded, a chorus of “Yes, sire” rang out through the courtyard. “Very well. Enjoy yourselves.. just not too much.” He joked, petting Darya as he turned now to face the gates and await their welcome with squared shoulders.
Morning greeted Linnea earlier than usual. Though she need not awake for hours she found herself tossing and turning in anxiety, heart pounding nerves that she didn't know how to contain with poise. A betrothal in the loosest sense was one thing, the fact that there was a man very far away who wanted her to be his bride. All this meant in the beginning was that she couldn't flirt and tease the boys in their court any longer, that she belonged to someone now. In the middle it meant her mother doting on her, on her sisters bestowing their favorite accessories to her for the fancy parties she would attend, it meant building a proper wardrobe to take with her to Rorik. This, of course, had been the most fun. Now, staring at her multitude of fine leather trunks that had been lined with pale blue silk, Linnea felt sick. Now at the end, a longing desperation for familiarity and safety swallowed her whole. All the clothing and finery in the world would not have been enough to make leaving Siceilienne behind easy, let alone possible. Every single bone in her body cried out to remain, this of course was where she belonged, each facet of her world perfectly fashioned for her. A wife, a mother, that was what she was about to become when in reality Linnea felt like nothing more than a child parading around in her mother's jewels. This was one fate she was not ready to meet, not just yet. The day that she wanted to spend in the aviary, by the ponds, on the shoreline, was instead spent sitting in a stiff vanity chair as her mother pinned and braided her silvery hair. Anastasie sat at her feet, painstakingly painting traditional swirls and designs onto her hands in glittering gold ink. Today was a celebration, whether or not Linnea thought so, and she would be wearing her finest. "You look beautiful..." The queen cooed, voice soft and melodic as always. Linnea managed a small smile, not feeling beautiful, just scared. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of her mother's perfume one more time. She could never put her finger on quite what went into it, but she new it smelled warm. Something floral, something light too, like the champagne they drank at parties. Painfully, Linnea realized this was the last time she would ever smell it. Like all things, childhood had a time and a season, she knew hers was coming to a close. That didn't make it any easier. That morning she saw the palace through new eyes, as someone who would never see anything more beautiful ever again. Details that had once been lost to her, ornate crowning on the ceiling, tapestries and paintings, this was her last chance to absorb it all and take it with her. Finally they cloaked her in a fine gown made of gossamer silks, the sort that was laden down with pounds of gilt gold detailing yet still flowed weightlessly. Taking a slow deep breath, Linnea took in the sight of herself in the mirror. Normally looking so ethereal, like one of the many porcelain dolls sitting on her shelves, would have lit her up with delight. Instead all her forced smile met her with was dread. They would be arriving soon, the king and his men. This was it.
Just as tradition called for she stepped into place upon the palace steps to welcome guests with her family and the court. Suddenly Linnea found herself feeling very small and painfully visible. Normally when everyone sought a look at her to see her dressed in her most lovely she relished the moment, tipped her chin up even higher to let them know how pleased she was with herself. Now, she simply wanted to sink into the ground beneath her feet. With a giggle, Anastasie leaned over. "You look beautiful- just remember that Linny." She murmured, her voice nothing but an excited whisper. Daring her sister a smile, Linnea let a laugh slip through her poised demeanor. "As do you, Ana."
Curious subjects lined the streets, all craning their necks and fighting for a look at the foreigners. Some were welcoming, some waved, others stared in awe. Some even threw flowers at their feet. The buildings were pale, cream and white under the suns bright rays, only broken up by ornate blue tiling and terracotta colored brick. No matter where one looked the mountains and the sea remained, a constant view throughout the city and integral part of their lives. It was as though The Cradle of Light had sprung up naturally without human interference, without cutting away at the foliage, trees, flowers, shrubbery, it was all there. They were simply living among it.
Though she wanted nothing but to turn and run, Linnea stood straight like the lady she was raised to be. This was her moment and she could seize it or let it destroy her. Despite her fear she didn't play with her hair or bite her bottom lip for fear of ruining her well crafted makeup. Dread pounded erratically in her chest but a thrill soared through her as the gates began to lower. She couldn't breathe, with no idea if it was due to horror or delight. Eyes widening, a gasp hitched in her chest, ruining her perfect posture. Heavens, she didn't know what she had expected but the sight that greeted her eyes was nothing like it. The Angardians were unlike anything she had ever seen. Tall, broad, weather worn. Not even Siceilienne's medal appointed military men looked half as imposing as they did. There was something regal about it, overwhelming. Even their horses were different, the largest she had ever seen with long untamed manes and hooves twice the size of Stella Lou's or more. Straightening her stance, so as not to look small and pathetic, Linnea put on her best smile to welcome them. That was when her eyes fell upon the King, again, nothing she was expecting and in the most wonderful way. Much younger than his painting, warmer, approachable. Her shock must have been painfully apparent because a moment later Adelei was hissing at her not to stare. Linnea hardly found herself with the capacity to pay attention to the ceremony of it all. The trumpets and the sweeping gestures. She couldn't draw her gaze away. It was the oddest sensation, looking at a man and knowing she was to be his bride without a single word spoken between them. In shame she found herself relieved to find him handsome. How very vain but utterly true. Anastasie must have thought so as well, as she heard a stifled bout of giggles escape from beside her. Sending her sister a chiding look, she stepped forward to welcome them. Almost always her father did this, she was a background piece, fine china and pretty wallpaper, not the voice. Today was hers, her moment to make an impression, one she had agonized over for days. Somehow she took the steps she needed, not a single tremble to her limbs or her voice. Just the graceful confidence she was afforded by right of birth. Casting an approving smile over the men of Angard, Linnea curtsied, her wrists light as she lifted the hem of her dress off the ground and swept one ankle behind the other. With well practiced phrasing Linnea spoke as she straightened up, chin held high.. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to the Cradle of Light." Though she had practiced the language of Angard for days now, pouring over lesson after lesson her accent remained. Each word was practically sighed out, light and breathy, almost like song. "And, I can only hope it is a pleasure for you to be here." She added, a a playful smile breaking through for a brief flash.
The Royal Family of Siceilienne, bearers of The Cross.
King Évariste Delacroix & Queen Irénee Léchuyer Delacroix ,
Sons of the King: Prince Royal Alaine Delacroix, Heir to the Throne & Prince Issmienne Delacroix. Daughters of the King: Dauphiné Adelei Delacroix, Dauphiné Linnea Delacroix & Dauphiné Anastasie Delacroix Children of the Prince Royal: Prince Célestin Delacroix, Lady Élodie Delacroix, Prince Ariel Delacroix
Vivaleir; The Siceilienne Palace. Places of Note:
the water gardens//: an escape built for the queen irenee as a birthday present from her husband when they were first married. a secluded area shaded by large weeping willows that graze the ponds, all manner of koi fish and water birds live there. flora and fauna to her lady's liking have been imported from across the continents to make this possible.
princess linnea's quarters//: the king commissioned the finest silk weavers in the east to craft the wall coverings for linnea's room. each detail has been carefully and painstakingly embroidered, the country's cross, designs, and heritage woven through it complete with tiny dolphins in the foam of the waves. the ceiling has the night sky cast across it, painted so well that there almost appears to be nothing between her and the heavens.
the royal court//: both ceremonies and great decrees happen here, this is where the king and queen's rightful thrones sit. the ceilings have been painted with their centuries old history, right back to the creation of time, land, and sea.
the aviary//: built for the king's 'little bird', linnea, who loved seeing the songbirds in their gardens and cried when they flew south for the winter. by far linnea's favorite place in the whole kingdom, outfitted with all manner of foliage and comfortable seating. even when the winter winds set in it still feels like summer inside. linnea knows each bird by name and in turn they know her, unafraid to fly to her hand if she calls them.
Abraham took Isaac's hand and led him to the lonesome hill. While his daughter hid and watched, She dare not breathe, she was so still. Just as an angel cried for the slaughter, Abraham's daughter raised her voice. And when he saw her, raised for the slaughter, Abraham's daughter raised her bow. "How darest you, child, defy your father?" "You'd better let young Isaac go."
01. JUNG ESFP / 02. ENNEAGRAM TYPE 2x3 SX / 03. MORAL ALIGNMENT LAWFUL GOOD / 04. NATIONALITY SICEILIAN / 05. KINSEY SCALE ONE / 06. INTERNAL DEFENSE SYSTEM HEALTHY / 7. SIN GLUTTONY / 8. VIRTUE CHARITY / 9. ANIMAL DOLPHIN / 10. TITLE THE TEARSTAINED
Basics
name: Dauphiné Linnea Paget Delacroix
meaning: Little servant of The Cross
nicknames: Lin, Little Bird
age: 19 Years Old
family: King Évariste Delacroix (Father), Queen Irénee Léchuyer Delacroiux (Mother), Prince Royal Alaine Delacroix (Eldest Brother), Prince Issmienne Delacroix (Middle Brother), Dauphiné Adelei Delacroix (Elder Sister), Prince Célestin Delacroix (Younger Brother), Dauphiné Élodie Delacroix (Younger Sister)
pets: Stella Lou, an Akhal Teke ( X )
heritage: Siceilian
religion: (I want to take the time to flesh this out more tbh, will edit)
job: Princess of Siceilienne, betrothed to be married.
lives: The Cradle of Light, Siceilienne
Physically
appearance: Linnea has a very gentle appearance, she holds herself in well taught grace all the while keeping her limbs light. Her hair is silvery blonde and has been since birth, though hours spent in the sun have lightened her locks. Her frame is slim but soft, utterly unworked, leaving her with a slight curve to her hips and thighs.
scars: None.
tattoos: None, but oftentimes in Siceilienne temporary tattoos are painted on for special events in intricate swirls in patterns, most often done in blue or gold ink.
piercings: Ears.
dominant hand: Right.
Sexually & Romantically
sexuality: Heterosexual heteromantic
sex-life: Nonexistent, Linnea is a virgin.
turn ons: She quite likes a handsome face, someone with a good laugh, strong hands at her waist when she's dancing, broad shoulders.
turn offs: Linnea has been brought up to see the good in others, even so her affections can easily be lost. She doesn't like being grabbed, talked down to, spoken at loudly, or crass advances from older men at fancy balls and parties.
relationship history: While there have been visiting princes that stolen kisses and danced with her during balls, boys in the royal court who liked to hold her hand and pass her sweet little notes, Linnea has never been in a real and serious relationship, always having intended upon saving her first love to be her only love.
love vs. lust: Love, of course. Linnea was spoonfed tales of courtly love and enduring bonds, she grew up a dreamer. Siceilienne is a very affectionate country, kindness and warmth is seen as the norm and expectation, not the exception. She's having a hard time coming to terms with the realization that through her diplomatic marriage she will be afforded neither.
thoughts on love: As the middle princess of the Delacroix family, Linnea grew up believing she was one of the lucky ones, that being so far from the crown as far as inheritance went that she could marry for love. She thought she would be courted and treated to a proper Siceilienne marriage, one filled with love and lots of children. Instead, duty came calling. When an alliance with Rorik became necessary a diplomatic marriage was the only thing that made sense. Knowing that her elder sister Adelei was already in love and soon to be married she offered to take her place, must to the King of Rorik's liking. Now forced to swallow the bitter truth, Linnea has accepted her duty with grace, but in private deals with it poorly.
Socially
mindset: “Chin up, best smile on, try to hold your tongue this time."
view of self: Linnea thinks of herself little, too wrapped up in the world around her fr self involvement. That being said, her opinion of herself is rather high. She likes who she is and the things she does, if she knew herself as someone else she likes to think she would befriend them. Slowly she's starting to realize that has to change, she's not a child anymore and can't indulge herself when her kingdom and people's safety is on the line.
attitude toward others: Though rather coy and shy, Linnea tends to be magnetic, drawing people in with her careless laughter and bright smiles. Everyone she meets is treated with proper respect until she is not given the same. This often leads to indignation at what her mother would consider inappropriate points in time, especially in relation to important people of high standing.
does she care at all?: Very much so, more then a young princess ought to be allowed. This often expresses itself through melt downs when things don't go her way. Linnea sees herself as the peacekeeper in her family and has a hard time dealing with the fact that she can't always make them happy. As she grows older she's grown incredibly attached to their subjects, come to see how much they depend upon them for protection and leadership. All she wants is to be right by her people and protect their way of life.
fears: Linnea is terrified that her knew husband won't take to her or she to him. Letting down her country is her greatest fear, an invasion upon Siceilienne by the Katahn army is that very fear personified. Vicious, unstoppable, and coming right for them.
bad habits: Tends to speak her mind, when her father raised her to think for herself he didn't pause to consider that perhaps raising her to know /when/ to think for herself would also be helpful.
pet peeves: Being forced to sit though droning etiquette lessons, pricking herself with her needle when she sews, people who speak too loudly and invade her personal space, being told 'no', being told to act like a lady when she feels she hasn't done anything wrong.
nervous ticks: Often wrings her hands, as fiddling with her hair and dress would be considered improper and unsightly.
commonly used words: Please?, Of course, Ah.
strengths: Linnea is quite empathetic and engaging, she thrives off of approval and knows almost every way to get it. She tends to be very nurturing, spurring on those she loves towards what she believes is best. Though she is young and inexperienced she is also charismatic and has the undying loyalty of her people through and through. With a strong sense of duty, she is willing to do anything for them.
faults: Raised like a prince instead of a princess, she tends toward behavior that is seen as inappropriate for a young lady. With her brothers she plays and roughhouses so far as to swordfight with wooden sticks. She is impetuous and struggles to keep her thoughts to herself, though she tries her best to be gentle and kind instead. Though very emotionally giving, Linnea does not have a lot of emotional fortitude, she's a tender heart and easily wounded.
Misc
hobbies: Collecting beach glass off the shoreline in front of the castle, Linnea has been taught all manner of feminine hobbies including but not limited to needle point, singing, and ballet, but prefers running with her brothers or growing messy while painting instead.
skills: Linnea is incredibly shrewd. The royal court of Siceilienne can be so stiflingly polite that she found making others believe they wanted what she did brought about quicker results over actual arguments. Because of her upbringing and her father's belief that she should be as well educated as her elder brothers, Linnea is well versed in literature, history, politics, and the art of war making. All of these combined make her a skilled diplomat, the perfect liaison between Siceilienne and Rorik.
drinks/smokes: No, neither, it is considered improper.
Favorites
favorite foods: Strawberries when the harvest comes in, the tiny cakes her mother always brings out for tea with important guests. She's always scolded not to eat too many or she'll lose her figure, but slips extras into her pocket anyway.
favorite drinks: Water, orange juice, the fancy sparkly drinks brought out for parties that come in all manner of pastel colors.
favorite animal: Dolphins, they like to play in the waves in front of the castle and she could watch them for hours if allowed. The bright songbirds that live in the royal gardens are a close second.
favorite scents: The sea side, the taste of salt is always mingled through the air back home. Vanilla, coconut, lavender, and her mother's perfume imported from the north are also fond favorites.
favorite color: Pale blue, when the ocean is so pale that the horizon isn't visible anymore and the sky and the sea melt into one, enveloping them all.
favorite place(s): The royal gardens, there's always something new and beautiful growing there. She can hide away for ours, tucked behind flowers and simply painting the day away. When she was younger she would slip away from etiquette lessons and make flower crowns there. She loves the beach and the feel of the sand beneath her toes. Her mother's bedroom, always full of beautiful jewelry, flowers, and cosmetics from across the continent.