𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 / 𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓮 @destiniies - Tumblr Blog

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐒 : a dependent muse written for redsnowrp

ruined by 𝗷𝗲𝗻 . 𝟮𝟴. 𝗽𝘀𝘁. 𝘀𝗵𝗲/𝗵𝗲𝗿.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐢 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐲, grand prince of suroven

dossier . history . countenance . inspo . tasks

#INTRO / sergei drevetsky.#redsnow.intro

Cesar attempted not to notice the grubby fingers, crumb filled child standing by his side. So long as it stayed near his father and within reasonable distance, he could keep his composure.

It would be unwise to be rude toward the duo so he decided to make jest in light of the situation, knowing that his prior comment was rather ... well, rude. "Quiet was the promise; instead, I’m left with the weight of waiting, and a child who claims territory better than most diplomats."

He sighed. "Much of this is a waste of time and effort. For God's holy house, they do exhibit a multitude of sins ... greed and pride." It was an attempt at small talk but he wasn't quite fully focused on what he was uttering. Rather, in the corner of his eye, he kept watch on the boy to ensure he remained a comfortable distance. The last thing he wanted was further garments of his to be ruined by a child.

Thankfully, the boy seemed very preoccupied with whatever sweets were placed on the table. He was conquering it all, one mouthful at a time. If Cesar hadn't known any better, the child looked like he had never eaten for a week. "With tactics like that, I suppose he’ll need a larger corner soon enough." He murmured, watching as the boy sweep the table as if he were his own army general, ready for battle at the table of food before him.

destiniies

Even with the man's attempt to keep his composure intact, Sergei can tell how hard he was trying to maintain an amicable demeanor towards them. Had he been fifteen years younger, he would have been quick to call out the disdain he could sense from the other; oozing out from his words – subtle yet noticeable enough, and the way he kept the distance between them with as much space as the corner can allow them. But instead of taking offense, or dwelling on the other's blatant pessimism, Sergei thought it best not to take things – or any of it – to heart.

"You were a child once – I am sure you can understand the naivety, and the fixation on the sweets," he started, glancing at the man then back to his son and watching as he tip-toed to reach the platter furthest from him. Sergei immediately offered his assistance to save the little boy from potential accidents, and handed him a piece of the sweet cake he wanted. Once he'd gotten what he wanted – small hands filled with as much sweet treats as he could hold, Vasily finally stepped away from the table, glancing up briefly at the man before taking a few steps closer to offer one of the sweets he'd taken from the table. "Like?" was all he could voice out, still too young to utter complete and coherent sentences

Sensing the man's hesitation from their rather unwanted presence in his safe haven, Sergei immediately reached for his son and with one hand on the little boy's shoulder, he pulled him ever so slightly to keep his distance from the man; encouraging the little boy to sit on the bench just behind them instead. "Be a good boy, would you? Nyánya will take you back to your chambers soon, hm?" Sergei told the boy, nodding at their household nurse, who then assisted the boy to his seat and kept him company for a little while as he helped himself with the sweets.

Sergei turned his attention back to the man – nobility, for sure, perhaps even more, judging by the intricate design of his garments that he was sure to have cost a fortune. He was also certain he'd seen him from a foreign court before, in one of his many ventures as an envoy – the only problem is that he cannot put a name to his face, nor figure out which royal family he belonged. "Would you rather have the celebrations brought to a halt?" was Sergei's question, although his tone did not exactly demand any response at all. He took another sip from his ale, blue gaze now wandering back to the crowd that kept trickling into the center of the great hall. "Between you and me, I believe we would have been all the better for it if the celebrations had been postponed, at the very least."

#INTERACTIONS / cesar verdugo.#EVENT / chapter one: the devil's hour.

foreignnble

Open starter

The red ash had drifted like snow through the fractured sky, catching in Ekaterina’s curls and melting on her bare shoulders like a lover’s breath. - Now, hours later, she found herself just off-center from a long banquet table, goblet in hand, lips stained the same shade as the storm. The feast had begun again, in that glorious, delusional way only the nobility manage. As if a guttural voice hadn’t just threatened the end of the world, and as if blood hadn’t neatly painted the stones outside. Those who weren’t praying in the chapel, where here drowing in their delusion. Just like herself.

She was smiling. Laughing, even. A sound too bright, too careless. It was the kind of laugh a woman gave when she wanted no one to notice her fingers trembled. “You know,” she said to no one in particular, or perhaps to the room or to someone just now drawing near, “I’d bet you one of my precious jewels that there was at least one fool who stuck out their tongue to see if it was wine falling from the sky. Question is, who? My bet is on a pious one.” Her eyes, a fair shade of icy blue dancing with her familiar dash of mischief, flicked across the room with exaggerated thought. “They act all innocent, but beneath all those layers of cloth...”

She took a sip of wine that had gone warm in her palm, then turned slightly toward whoever lingered near. “Well?” she asked with a sly tilt of her head. “Tell me your guess, and I’ll tell you what it says about your soul.”

destiniies

The question broke through Sergei's trance, taking him aback with how...detached it was to the situation they all found themselves in. Presently, they all remained at the gathering, some indulging a little more than others, and then there were people like him who kept to themselves, minds elsewhere and preoccupied by the thought of the potential threat behind the message that started tonight's banquet. And as he turned to his side, he found himself looking at a familiar face – and suddenly, her words made a lot of sense. If there was anyone in this world who would dare make light of even the most grave of situations, it would be Ekaterina.

"Cousin," Sergei started, almost sounding like a father who means to scold a child, and yet, the hint of smile that tugged at the corners of his lips showed otherwise. "If you are referring to one of the cardinals, I would rather spare myself the harrowing thought of a man of the cloth being a deviant," he took a generous sip from his own goblet, as though he meant to wash down an emerging mental image of a cardinal being just as Ekaterina implied in her question. "Must I still guess if I have no soul?" he jested, "If the answer is that important to you, I would say it must be one of the sorrowful souls who have not known merriment in years – not after the war, at the least."

#INTERACTIONS / ekaterina vyelobanin.#EVENT / chapter one: the devil's hour.

heavyisthexxcrown

location: in the corner of somewhere with: @destiniies

He wanted to observe the wanderings of the cardinals, to acess the situation as well as he could. That and he needed a reprieve from the socialization that always drained his energy. He didn't care for the small talk or the fraudulent conversations that amounted to nothing but false pretenses and thoughtless chit chat. He had found himself a quiet, unoccupied corner to decompress from the evening's questionable festivities.

Surely it had to be a ruse.

Perhaps it was all in good jest, to really sell the merriment as a great celebration. The red snow was a wonderful theatrical touch if he had to admit, though a bit overindulgent if he really thought about it. The drinking seemingly quelled a lot of the panic that had started off the banquet. But he was never keen to raise his globet up for toasts or drinks. Not like he couldn't handle it but being in a drunken stupor made him feel like his father and the last thing he wanted to be, was to be like that man. He was both a fool and incompetent and yet the throne was given to him out of legacy alone.

He should have resigned the crown.

It didn't take him long to realize that someone else had encroached into his space. But he reeled in his annoyance, knowing full well that there were plenty of eyes and dignitaries watching. However, he was still off-put about being disturbed. "There is another corner over there," he jutted his chin out to another part of the room. Why did he have to join him in this space of all places? It took him a moment to realize the man hadn't joined him alone, rather - perhaps he found this corner for his son. He looked cute but Cesar still had a dislike for children ... dirty little vermin they were.

destiniies

In the aftermath of what seemed like a rather ominous start to the celebration, Sergei's first thought was to keep his child as close to him as possible. Vasily had been with the household nurse just before the start of the festivity, as there had been no one else whom he would trust to look after his child, and now, he was quick to his feet in search for them amongst the crowd of mixed faces; familiar or unfamiliar, everyone looked the same all of a sudden – people he cannot trust, especially not after that baleful proclamation from an unknown entity. He wasn't sure what to make of it just yet, and he couldn't bring himself to dwell on it now – not until he was finally reunited with his son, whom he immediately took from the household nurse out of haste, and hand in hand, they walked through the gates of the palace just as a feeling of uncertainty started settling at the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps, it was a mistake coming all the way here for this, Sergei could not help but think; the imposing walls of the grand palace surrounding them a sudden reminder of just how far they were from the safety of their home. But as the noble guests gathered for the banquet, he figured there was no reason for him to lock themselves in for the night – not yet, at least. With the household nurse trailing by behind them, Sergei pushed past through the crowd – helping himself with a goblet of ale from a servant, just as he and his son wandered over to the other corner of the room, where an array of sweets and cakes had been laid out for the guests. He grabbed a piece of sweetened wafer from a tray – his son's favorite, and handed it over to the little boy's tiny but eager hands. With a hint of smile on their faces, Sergei guided them further into the corner of the hall, finding temporary refuge in the quietude that the space offered – for one moment, that is.

A voice from behind had effectively erased the smallest of smiles Sergei had painted on for his child, and he was back to his usual self – brooding and skeptical, he turned towards the speaker, letting out an incredulous scoff as he processed the other man's words. "My apologies, I was unaware that this corner is already...inhabited," was his attempt of being conversational. Truth be told, Sergei would much rather be home but instead, he finds himself around some of the most obnoxious people to have walked the earth once again – people like this man, who seemed just as displeased as Sergei had been for being part of this banquet. "My son is particularly fond of the sweets that is well within our reach from here," Sergei explained, nodding towards the array of desserts on the table closest to them; his fatherly instincts kicking almost as if to defend his son, and their reasons for being there. Then again, they were at a gathering, what was there for him to explain? "If you seek solitude, then I fear that you will not find it in a banquet, especially as grand as this one."