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Rudolf Slava Rurik - Crown Prince of Russia
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever
AnasAbdin
Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
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I'd rather be in outer space đ¸

â
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RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Discoholic đŞŠ
dirt enthusiast

shark vs the universe

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
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@drippedink
Send in "what if" meta questions!
What if ____ never happened? What if ____ did happen? What if they never met ____? What if they were ____? ect!!
Rudolf Slava Rurik - Crown Prince of Russia
My character is under a truth serum, ask them anything.
MY CHARACTER HAS TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY, NO MATTER THE QUESTION.
Rudolf Slava Rurik - Crown Prince of Russia
â The Kingmaker â
đžđđđđđ đżđđđđ: đđŹđ¤đ˘đąđĽđ˘đŻ đŚđŤ đđđŻđŚđ°
â More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact. â
Featuring Nette Doria, the sugar daddy in disguise.
The Madness of Love
Starring Antoinette and @princethomas II Featuring: @sercphism II Brought to you by: Ana Crowns
â The Kingmaker â
Ęá´á´á´ á´ĄĘá´á´ ÉŞęą á´ á´É´á´ á´á´É´É´á´á´ Ęá´ É´á´á´Ą á´á´á´É´á´ á´á´ .
â I wish I could articulate the nature of His Majestyâs court, or the trick of light wherein all courtiers reveal themselves either snake and siren. It is such an insidious phenomenon upon the English that one cannot be certain of their own nature, for deception comes easy where discernment does not. We are taught that to be worthy - nay, pure - is for oneâs true self to be rendered indistinguishable from the mirage. And so we are half-people, concealing forked tongues and gills, choking upon air as damp as ocean, and yet half as satisfying. We hiss, and gasp, and slither, and lunge - and lower ourselves into precise rĂŠvĂŠrence upon its end. And I, who thought myself so separate from such spectacle, now don silk to cover scales. â
@drippedink
The Winter Orangery of the HĂ´tel de Sully was breathtaking - all deep-green leaves and vaulting branches. Â While the world outside still felt the snap of chill, within the glass confines of the room, it was all heat and summer. Â Apollonia felt as though she could breathe again, ensconced by the brilliant cacoon that was the green house. Â
Fingers delicately twining a nearby leaf, she smiled a winsome smile and cast her gaze across the denizens of Paris gathering of the celebrations.  Wine and food flowed freely and, in a distant part of the HĂ´tel, guests were dancing.  The strains of music wafted towards her and Apollonia thought of her youth, suddenly: the courtyarded palazzos of Rome, the sparkling waters of the TiberâŚand she laughed.  What a child sheâd been, then, a mere girl with impossible dreams.  Now, she thought with brimming triumph - she was an Empress: the most formidable woman, some had been heard to say, in all the known world.
The Empress moved deeper into the Orangery, running her hand idly across the planters nearby, and wondering how she might adopt this same sort of structure at her own palace in Innsbruck. Â Hearing a step, she turned to spot a young lady she knew to be a Princess of Sardinia, empowered by her father in ambassadorial operations for the kingdom. Â Tilting her head, the Empress smiled thoughtfully and approached.
âWhat do you think of this extraordinary room?â she inquired. Â âI must say, I think I shall steal the concept and bring it to the Holy Roman Empire. Â How splendid that shall be! Â I can think of no better place to display one of these delicious paintings, or to read one of these glorious books.â Â She smiled sweetly. Â âBut, perhaps to you, living in this city with this building ever at your shoulder, these seem but commonplace luxuries to you. Â I have heard much of your love of the arts. Â You must tell me, do you patronize any of these artists?â
đ¸
ââââ The sky had been littered with various colors, the horizon of France sprouting greenery once more to don a finer visage - the weather seemingly as indecisive as she. Antoinette found difficulty in preparing for her private audience with the Holy Roman Empress, a woman rumored to be of the most intimidating of those who had arrived on their shores. Paired with the reputation which proceeded her, the King of Sardinia had demanded that the young princess do well in light of the recent recovery of their power - egging her to provide her father with the good news of a trade alliance, to further the riches of her homeland. This responsibility felt heavy upon her inexperienced shoulders, her feet moving with veiled hesitance towards the other woman. Even from afar, the other seemed to emanate an impossible power, one not thought to exist within her gender, yet it was right before her very eyes. How she yearned to one day possess such strength in her every movement, such a grace that could strike fear in the hearts of even the bravest men amongst them.
As the distance between them slowly closed, her anxiety only ran higher, her hands fiddling with each other in front of her ornate dress. How could she reasonably be expected to arrange such an important thing with this woman when she held so little experience in these negotiations? Was her Father testing her intellect or finally coming to see her as an asset to the family? It was true that she had acquired countless foreign friends throughout the years, their influence spanning the entire continent, yet their relationships had not passed into something of a more professional nature. It was likely this way because she had purposefully left her companions in the world of pleasure and not in the pursuit of power. The lust for power had never suited her anyway, she was far better off if she remained in the art world - with her head floating amongst the clouds.
"Oh..." She began, the Empress skipping over the portion of the conversation that would require formalities - causing a slight comfort to drip over her. "Well, I think it is quite lovely.... and yes, the ones who are not buried in the ground receive my patronage. I find that France has much to offer to the art community, even if the traditions are not so valued as others... I could arrange for some unique pieces to be produced for you to take back home with you, I believe the artists would find it to be quite the honor." Her frame seemed to sink in the presence of Apollonia, despite almost matching her in stature. "How have you found French court? Is it to your liking?"
leondanjou¡:
â
     Leonâs gaze shifted to the familiar voice that echoed from his childhood, accompanied by the all too familiar blonde locks and sharp cheek bones that he had once known, not too long ago. A wide grin appeared instantly upon the Countâs lips as his attention fully locked onto his cousin, carelessly tossing aside his previous conversation. She was much older now, much more strikingly beautiful than he remembered. He stepped forwards to meet her, pushing through the tight crowd of guests desperate to catch a glimpse of the French king himself. âAntoinette!â he beamed with excitement. âWell I thought it better to surprise you. Are you not pleased to see me?â Leon gently reasoning, her reaction being a quick reminder for just how temperamental women could be - which was likely to be one of the reasons the young Count was not yet married. One of the many reasons.
He agreeably followed her lead, allowing himself to be tugged into the much quieter halls that surrounded the grand hall. In truth Leonâs life had not changed all that much, which he was entirely pleased about. âI am still trying to keep my grandmother as far away as possible as the last thing I need is to be exiled from court a second time.â although he hoped if she did attempt it again that Philip would over rule any sour judgements she had towards his half brother. âMarius is skulking around here⌠Somewhere.â he carelessly waved his hand as if to wave away the topic of his uncle, someone who was merely a second thought. âYoung Louis is the image of his mother, much to the Queen Motherâs distaste. And we all know how much she despises bastards.â Leon leaned in closer to utter his last comment with a knowing smirk. âBut enough about this tirelessly tedious family. I hope you are well, dear cousin?â
đ¸
ââââ The voice that greeted her ears was deep and sweet, one that resembled the treats they would giggle over as children. Having always been the odd ones out, the two found solace within each other's company. There were many times in prior years where she considered him her only friend, more a brother than a cousin by marriage, it brought nothing but joy to see him. It had been many years, she thought, since they had laid their eyes on one another - likely her Grandmother's doing, to keep her from mingling with someone of lower birth than her. But, she attempted not to linger on such things for fear of the dread that would seep into her chest. Antoinette had always been critical of those who treated people differently based on parentage, as they all were simply lucky to have been born to royal marriages that were deemed desirable. With one less shred of this advantage, she would be the one who had begged his attention and not the other way around - this was how she had always thought, thus they had been fast friends.
"Uncle has arrived as well? It seems everyone forgot to send word to me!" She started, slightly disappointed at how predictable her family was in their dismissal of her importance. Why should they not make her privy to such knowledge? Was she considered so little by them, even though she was the most likely to give care to their visit? Once she shook these things from her mind, she readily absorbed his analysis of their court. "I am as well as an unwed woman can be. My Father has demanded I receive a proposal within the year, or he shall lock me away in the tower for being a useless commodity." These words caused a laugh to abscond her lips, frame displaying her giddiness at being able to speak freely. "and now Grandmother is keeping me here in France as punishment... Can you believe it? I am being forced to wed? I never believed such a day would come..." Her words fell from the tip of her tongue, the reason for not believing such things were in her future too devastating to recollect. Should she speak of her sisters, how they died so cruelly during the latest plague? These things were better left alone, she figured, as she did not wish to put a damper on so lovely an evening.
STATUS: open to @scfiyc @ofmarquessa @crownedprxncess @sfcrzas @isabelofyork @ofshiraz @queenalexandrina @jvanas @drippedink @amiraofcordoba @mairinarurikâ LOCATION: Couvent des Celestins, Mihrimahâs celebration TIMESTAMP: March 1459
 The old quarters were alight with brass ensembles, the drapery of rich purples and the singing of the meddah who quoted the tales of Achilles, the Greek whom refused to leave the safe and isolated haven of his military tent. The room that was once the sanctuary to Catholic nuns, was transformed into an Islamic Palace; a central hearth to the Imperial Harem of the Sultan.
Mihrimah, sat upon the floor, surrounded by luxurious pillows embroidered in geometric designs, with her veil pushed back, as it always was when she kept herself within the security of the Harem. It was surely a sight to be seen, for the room was cloaked in colour and riches â leaving it to seem almost mystical, the very room becoming a peek into what Mihirmahâs upbringing had always been. The shapes, tastes and sounds were what formed the young Sultana, and what brought her to this moment, sat with only a handful of the ladies who had come to Parisâ summit.
âWhat do you think?â She asked, her eyes alight, as she reached forth to pluck a piece of Lokum, placing it between her lips with a slow motion â savouring the taste before her eyes widened in delight. She had hoped to dispel any foul rumour about the Harem, to let such grand and prestigious women into the Ottoman way of life. With the pop of her lips, Mihrimah reached forth to take another slither of Lokum between her fingers, gesturing for the other to open their mouth. âDo you like it?âÂ
đ¸
ââââ The invitation which arrived at her door late that night came as a slight shock to the young princess as she had never made proper acquaintance with the Sultana of the Ottoman Empire, merely passing by her frame at diplomatic events. These interactions did not seem to warrant a semi-private audience by her side, yet excitement bloomed in her once content breast. It was likely of good nature that despite their meeting, her reputation had preceded her enough to allow the other to find importance in her. Perhaps such developments could convince her Grandmother of her indispensability and value beyond her unwed hand. Antoinette found herself aiming to impress the others that would attend, donning the finest of the Sardinian gowns her father had made for her and letting her moon-lit hair fall in ringlets down her back. She packed a trunk with gifts for the Sultana; ornate jewelry from her homeland, delicacies that could not be found on French soil, and a gown of the purest plum color she could find. It seemed an ample offering that should satisfy Mihimah to the best of her ability.
At her arrival, she could not help her mouth from falling open in awe. The room was decorated in a far more picturesque way than she could have ever conjured within her mind. The pillows doting patterns unusual to her upbringing while musicians filled what little empty space there was with angelic sounds. "Sultana, I am honored by your invitation and found myself overjoyed at an opportunity to bask in your culture..." She began, offering the other a polite curtsy. "Since you seemed so very generous to provide us with such spoils, I have assembled for you a chest filled with some wonders of Sardinia, I do hope they will be to your taste." She stated as she moved to take a seat beside the other, awkwardly patting down her dress which seemed far too eccentric in their current setting. When the other woman moved her hand filled with food towards her lips, she opened them and took it willingly. "My gosh, what is the name of this, it is delicious?"
mateo-trastamara¡:
He couldnât help but whistle, the echo bounced off the looming hall arches. âMy dunce behavior? Funny you should ask, my nursemaidâs expecting me back soon, anyway, butâ I feel as though youâve composed such fitting poetry about me, my lady, and I will hold it dear to my heart wherever I roam. Truly, you have a way with words.â Mateoâs words a shallow-pool husk as he placed his hand over his collarbone, dark desert eyes closing in mock bliss for a moment as his own boyish smirk stretched. The night was crowded with dull conversations flittering in and out of his ears, and though he didnât wish to truly ruin Antoinetteâs night, he couldnât help but fuel her pyre, warming himself from her flames. But even fun and games had his own limits, and the chill in the beautyâs demeanor even could bring him to fade.
He paused, looking her in the eye a moment as his smirk faded, handed her the book he carried within his grasp and bowed. âGenuinely was curious if you would like to engage in festivities this evening, but I see youâre set to avoid me like the plague. Iâll leave you to practice your act, laughing at horrible jokes from the vicomte.â He tilted his head in the direction of the crowd nearby, the flustering souls too indulged in wine and spirits to keep out the early spring chill, and bowed into her slightly. âTruly didnât mean to offend you so. I wish the heroes and villains in your stories a lovely evening, too.â He nodded at the book, brow quirked faintly as he rose to his full height.Â
đ¸
ââââ She could have been compelled to offer a laugh at his words, yet found herself so unrelenting in her disdain towards his frame that no such expression of joy crossed her features. It was unfair of her to crucify him for the sins of those who came before, he much the same as her, was just a victim of the political games that they had little control over. Whether they liked their lives or not, they were subject to whims outside of their realm of existence - perhaps that was why the quest for power was so compelling, to have complete control over one's life was a tempting accomplishment - one that caused people to turn on their closest companions in greed filled rage. Would she eventually become someone of that nature, to spare no cost in her quest for freedom - should she deny everything that was at her core simply for one luxury she was not certain she deserved? It was a difficult concept for someone obsessed with analyzing every movement she made as she was so painfully aware of her own shortcomings. Why did she hate him so, when her empire could fall just as easily and she would be left to face the same scrutiny?
"Mateo... I..." Her words trailed off, anxiety pulsing through seared veins. It was not typical for her to be so dismissive of someone, so rude. Something felt incorrect about the way she had behaved, but her tongue refused an apology. He should be the one to apologize, for more than stealing my book from my hands. His family should make amends for the horror they caused my people or I shall always harbor such hatred towards his kin. "I wish you a better company in another woman." She finished, sighing before turning on her heels and making in the direction she had intended to.
Fin.
Points this week: 95 Total: 270Â Â Breakdown:
Princess Antoinette of Sardinia, avec her harp, pictured in a blue brocade houppelande over a blue shift dress, tied with a leather belt, and above a shortened hennin and veil ( @drippedink )
sercphism¡:
âą
âif you yearn for it, then you must!â seraphina exclaimed, a brilliant smile gracing her lips. but of course, her grandmother posed a threat to the freedom antoinette mightâve had as a maiden. âi may have no power with the queen mother, but perhaps i might ask my husband to request from her majesty that you take leave from court and develop your talents in florence. i realize now that i pledged for you to be my secret from him, although if it means securing your freedom, i will insist that we whisk you away to florence or wherever youâd like!â speaking of freedom sent a surge of energy and light through her; she felt as if they were teenagers once more.
but on second thought, perhaps her imagined daydream could become a reality. it might require a sacrifice on antoinetteâs part â was she willing to give up the plausibility of being a spinster, no matter how very little it bothered her? though seraphina found herself to be bound to her husband, the same was not true for all wives. âand whatâs more,â she began, a mischievous gleam in her eye. âthere are plenty of promising florentine merchants looking for wives, who would pay incredulous amounts to marry nobility â nay, a royal like yourself â to legitimize and enhance their status and legacy.â seraphina winced, hopefully unnoticeably, as she spoke. though she did not specify names, these were the terms of her own marriage, more or less. âthere are, of course, duties to being a wife,â she winced again. âbut otherwise you have leave to do as you please, and so long as your husband is not inclined to silence, you would be free to to play music in the artistic heart of europe. what say you? you are not required to marry anyone, but it might not be the most unfortunate outcome.â
đ¸
ââââ Excitement rose within her at the presented proposition, her frame perking upwards in a display of such emotions. The Italian peninsula was a place of wondrous developments in the world she preferred to spend her time in - their artistry recently renowned throughout the entirety of the continent. They had already produced such wonderful pieces during her youth, but their collection had grown substantially in the past years due to the ample sponsorship of artists from their courts. It was so invigorating to read of these things, she could hardly imagine the joy she would feel to physically bask in their glory. "That would bring my heart so much joy, you cannot begin to know! I believe with the influence of your husband, my dreams may soon come true... Besides, it would give us far more time to entertain each other privately - and you could show me your new home! Oh, how I would adore such an opportunity." She finished her grasp on the novel she held tightening in some attempt to hide her girlish glee.
As her companion continued, Antoinette noticed a shift once more in her stature. The woman had never been one who winced easily at words spoken, always holding a quiet strength to her - these actions were much unlike her friend. But should she reveal her noting of these changes? There were likely many reasons they had occurred, ones Antoinette had not experienced and could not offer advice on - so she stayed silent yet again in favor of not disturbing Seraphina's emotions. "It is a proposition I am inclined to agree to, as my Grandmother would be most pleased if I returned from my trip with a betrothal... and it would give an opportunity for me to rid my thoughts of a man who has consumed them."
crownedprxncess¡:
- &&. YICHENG CANNOT HELP BUT bask in the way Antoinette lights up within her mere presence. It is this very admiration she lusts after, feeding into her very soul. Was it not every Princessâs dream to be vied for and adored by all her subjects? Antoinette was not one of Yichengâs own, officially, but her presence commanded every room she walked into. The two were alone and subject to the worlds within worlds Yicheng would construct for them; a daydream. â Yes, actually - I do. â Without asking, the Crown Princess of China does not ask for things, she seats herself beside Antoinette on her stool beside the harp,â I play the Erhu and the Liuqin, although I am not much a musician these days. My sister, Princess Lijuan has always had a keen eye for the arts and music, I am more of aâŚ.people person.â
â The years of practice have paid off, in abundance. Truly the music you play is beautiful. â Yicheng says, her tone as soft and as smooth as silk, her smile beguiling,â Have you ever considered playing for Kings and Queens here in Paris? Perhaps the Emperor - my father - he would surely be impressed with your talents, Your Highness.â Her words are littered with tempting promises of fame and fortune, promises of becoming a favourite at the Chinese court; Yicheng would never tire of sourcing herself new admirers disguised as promising courtiers,â I think it would suit you; not only being a Princess but a musician, admired by all. â Â Â Â Â Â
đ¸
ââââ Yicheng was of the most beautiful among the foreign women who graced their shores; her skin mirrored porcelain, her hair the ebony of a raven's wings, and her umber eyes filled with a fire not present in most women. Antoinette found herself within the group of those enchanted by such things, her voice weaving words of honey through her crown - she could not resist the yearning that overtook her at the chance to be in her company. To have such power over those she was around, inspired Antoinette to pursue the same influence. If she became as desirable as the other, her life could be yield far more bountiful rewards. Should she ask for advice or merely bask in the glory of the other to absorb her powers? Either way, she felt honored to be allowed in her presence, especially since the Princess always received her warmly no matter the circumstance.
As the woman sat next to her, she found herself making room for the other willingly. It was not often she would allow another to play her harp, the instrument having been crafted especially for her adept fingers, but she could not will herself to deny the other such pleasures. "I appreciate your grand compliments, I still have much to learn if I am to earn the renown of the mastery of this fine instrument..." Her words trailed off for a moment, tawny irises scanning Yicheng to engrain her image into her memory. "I have played at large events before, but I believe my grandmother is keeping my talents hidden recently to save them for future suitors only - you know how men adore being the only ones privy to such things, I believe it makes them feel exceptional."
thebeloveduke¡:
      In a world of such harsh politics, Nikita cherished the times he was able to find another dreamer. Thomas had been such, sitting by the banks of the Tagus, talking with him about destiny and fate. A pang hit Nikitaâs heart as he considered that day, and how he had been the one to encourage them to go down this path, only to attempt to stop it. Lest it sour his mood more and lead to him being wrongful to the woman before him, however, he dismissed the thought as much as he could, reaching up to run a gloved hand through his cropped curls as if pushing the ideas from his mind.Â
   âI must also mention, your Highness ⌠you need not apologize for being in the clouds, Princess,â he said in his more halting French. âI too find sometimes it is a better place than where we stand.â Rarely did one get hurt in dreams. Sometimes, many times, Nikita wished things were as easy as he could imagine them to be. âIf this world did not have dreamers, then it would not have poets or painters.âÂ
   Breaking away from his own commentary, he offered an apologetic smile as to his tangent. Since his flight from England, he had played over these thoughts many times, considering when the dreamer in him that had hope in happiness left. Following the Princess, he hurried down the steps to catch up with her, offering an elbow for her to hold. It was second nature for Nikita, growing up with his sisters, being the closest in age to most of them and therefore being the designated accompaniment before they were married to those who escorted them instead. Listening to the woman talk intently, he was warmed as she spoke of Russia, although curious as to who she could have known. He had not heard mention of a Princess of Sardinia from any of his sisters, who were likely to mention such an encounter to him - especially Irina, who would be hearing wedding bells. Here mentioned of a gift startled him back to the moment, and he shook his head at that, shutting down the idea with a short, âyou need do no such thing Your Highness, your company to this market will be gift enough for me,â he said, but was still stuck on a previous statement.Â
   âI am curious to what other Russian you have met. We do not number as many as some of the courts which attend here,â but after the words left his mouth he gave a soft smile and waved a hand, âand you also may keep your secrets, I am sorry to pry into such. I am sure you would have mentioned, I just find myself more curious as to if it is one of my sisters.â
   His eyebrows rose slightly at her question, asking why he was at the mass. He supposed it was fair - he was from a different country which, he assumed, was common knowledge in the fact that they were not traditionally Catholic. Especially if she had been acquainted with a member of the court previously. âMere curiosity. I find myself taken by the theology of different religions, and thus in my travels I like to visit the various holy places as to truly experience the differences are similarities. It gives me an appreciation to how alike we all are, even if we strive for difference.âÂ
đ¸
ââââ His response gave rise to the fire within her breast once again, egging her comfort to expand throughout the entirety of her being. It seemed that more oft than naught, the foreigners that graced their land held looser ideals than those present in the French court. Where her family seemed more conservative in their values, she found succor in the presence of their guests. Most of her life had been spent shrouded in a facade of formality, her mouth merely repeating phrases drilled into her by those who raised her to be the woman she was. But these days, the opportunity surfaced to be truer to herself, her heart, and to the future she wished to run towards. It was delightful, to say the least.
"I appreciate such sentiments more than you can comprehend, I find that having one's feet planted to the ground is so painfully boring - it is much more rewarding to be a dreamer..." She began, allowing him to finish the words that were absconding his lips. "I mirror your thoughts exactly. I believe that painters and poets are among the most important additions to our society - it is they who shall be hailed for centuries to come, they who will inspire future generations to follow in their paths - their legacies are the most lasting, I think." These thoughts were what fueled her to befriend many an artist internationally. She had quite the influence in the art world, bonding with those who were below her through her music, despite the rumors that were often generated because of her companions. There seemed no better company to her, as those she met through her art were into what she had to offer as a person and rarely interested in discussing her title.
"I must insist that I purchase you something, do not fret, Sardinia is quite well-funded these days, so it will be of no consequence... Admittedly, I can never find enough to spend my allowance on, so you would be doing me a greater service than I, you." Her insistence to purchase him a welcome gift was based on an innocent gesture of good faith between them and their countries. She had found that her lust to travel to Russia grew with every year that passed without such a luxury. Thus, she knew that breeding good relations with the brother of Tsar could lead to her goal of seeing their bountiful country. "No apology is necessary, I am not so secretive of my friends. I find pride in their companionship, that we should continue to foster relations despite living so far from each other... It is Princess Tatiana, we were fast friends in our youth and as these things do, the relationship has flourished with time."
"If that was your purpose, I regret your attendance to this particular event, as that priest can be such a bore in comparison to the others harbored by the church here. I beg your attendance to another mass of my choosing, I can arrange for an open seat in the front for you - there are few here that go to mass these days anyhow, for they find their time occupied by less holy pursuits." She finished with a kind smile, continuing to walk in the directions of the market. "How have you found France thus far? Is it living up to your family's expectations?" The question carried more weight than she likely intended, for she knew that her King wished to impress the Tsar and his family considering their recent rise to extreme power. Russia was becoming an empire in its own right and France wanted a piece of their pie.
princethomas¡:
â
At the base of the tree, Thomas imagined himself in youth, and what a marvelous affair he might have partaken in beneath these branches. Running aimless trails across course bark, he dreamed of taking a blade to this, of carving a mark for his lover into its eternal trunk. If his had not been so carelessly spurned, Thomas still might have, as though leaving part of Kita scattered across the globe could free him of carrying the weight of his absence instead.
A voice chirped out across the silent night air, startling him from such heavy dreams. Turning his eyes up to the stars, Thomas blinked a moment, certain that a spectral being - a force of the cosmos - was answering his questions as last. Yet there, within the shrouded branches, which bent beneath their own grief of existence, was a more mortal form.Â
âAthena,â he inbreathed, voice lost to the night wind. âI did not⌠You came.â
It was an unrefined thing, to marvel. To stutter, even, stumbling over words as though oneâs thoughts were not effortlessly composed. But with good fortune an unfamiliar friend, any such luck seemed a magnificent thing. At her behest, he wrangled free from the earth beneath, grappling with the treeâs sloping curves. His limbs felt rigid and lumbering, for he had been a child when he last climbed with such disregard.Â
With more effort than anticipated, Thomas balanced his weight atop a sturdy branch, laughing with the youthful joy of abandon, of peculiarity. He enjoyed the oddness of it, the strangeness of her presence.Â
âI hold some qualms regarding your clue,â he caught his breath, smoothing the linen of his shirt. âAs it offered no true indication of time, or of yourâŚunique position. Now surely you think me mad, for cursing the fates aloud while alone in a public garden.â
Settled at last, Thomas looked upon her, lingering at the loveliness of such a visage. He was certain his lips were parted, as though caught in speech, yet they stretched a silence backed by leaves scratching night air. âYou are either unchaste or audacious to have agreed to an unsupervised meeting with a stranger this late in the eve,â Thomas remarked, head tilting in speculation. âI should think you the latter, though, for you would not even take my arm at the tavern. Though, perhaps that is wishful thinking. My intentions, I assure you, are true - with only the aspiration to know you further. And, if you should feel inclined, with doubt to my honor, one good push would leave me rather incapacitated, my lady.â
Thomas glanced below, unsteady at the sight, and found himself committed to remaining upright for the evening. Turning his eyes back to her face, he flushed again at the sight. âWhy have you come, then? When you are so eager to evade my questions that I still call you by an assumed moniker?â
đ¸
ââââ To see the way he fumbled to speak and then to climb up the tree she was so accustomed to finding rest within, made her nose squish upwards in amusement. He was an eccentric man, an opinion she had pieced together with her intricate study of him. A person with a mind such as hers, a dreamer destined to keep their head in the clouds. For this type of person to survive the difficulties of peasant life, she admired him even more so. He was everything she had hoped she could find in the soul of another - the perfect match for a troubled heart such as hers. What pain and woe rested between them though, knowing they could never cross the line of acquaintance. Should she even be found in his company at such an hour, despite intentions crafted in innocence, the two would surely be hung out to dry. Her grandmother may be so shocked, her heart would cease working - for her lovely Nette was directly disobeying everything she had been taught.
Antoinette thought it unfair for her to be so limited in her purview, however, as she saw a direct advantage in becoming a companion of both the common man and those of higher statures. If she were to have influence within the circles who they ruled, she could gauge the temperature they had towards the new King and immediately alert her family if things were colder than desirable. Besides, she was never meant to don conformity as the other ladies in the court - though she noticed there were some ladies who deemed conformity even less useful than her, exchanging their grace for something else entirely. She was aware she could never completely rid herself of the flowers placed in between her ribcage by those who forced knowledge of being a royal on her - no matter how much she wished to, these ideals were most certainly held high due to misplaced naivety.
"As much an abnormal man I begged thee to be, you prove just the same in certain traits - to have qualms with my clue is so dreadfully predictable of your gender..." She began, a smirk crossing her features that widened her eyes as a result. "Though I must admit, you are the only suitor to have made it thus far - most failing to even solve the riddles in half." She finished, gazing upon him through heavy, dark lashes. He seemed even more bemused than herself to have been in the other's presence. Could it be, I have found a match to my intellect and one who would revel in the light I have the propensity to provide? Perhaps his sanity should be questioned, to rest within the company of a woman so odd.
"I do nothing with unpure intentions, I assure you, sir... For those pursuits are below me at this time - do you not see ample reward in the delicacies? In the thrill of the hunt?" A laugh absconded her at the next words that spilled from his lips. "You seem more of interest in this scenario, to meet a woman in a tree who is better versed in settling in this tree when she implied she may be a criminal just one night before." She moved then to pull a book from her lap, rubbing her thumb over it. It was an old French collection of poetry, one she read relentlessly as a child, brought with the idea of providing it to the man before her. If they were to be torn apart by status, at the very least she could give him some shred of her to serve as a memory.
"Once again, I fear you do not see the hypocrisy in your own verbiage. You have relinquished even less information about your person, yet you desire more of mine? Do the English always desire more than their fair share?" It was a verbal whipping of sorts that she offered him, a way for her to knock him down from the peg she was certain he was on. There was no malice present in her words, but she knew she needed to bring him to her level - for he was so plentifully endowed with features of a holy nature, she was sure women fell at his feet regularly. She would not be one of those if it was the last thing she did.
date / time:february 1459, mid morning location: palais cardinal, princess antoinetteâs chambers status: closed starter for @drippedinkâ Â
Sweet melodies, muffled behind a decorated wooden door enchanted Yicheng as she approached the private quarters of the Sardinian Princess, Antoinette. The two were growing in closeness and comfort as days in Paris went. She had heard for the Princessâs affinity for the harp, but had not yet had the opportunity to hear the blessed music in person. Yicheng fills with excitement as her hands twist the bronze door knob, head peeking around the wooden door frame, she lights up at the picturesque sight. The weather had been particular forgiving for this time of year, a gentle breeze and delicate sunshine floated through Antoinetteâs room providing and almost dream-like backdrop to Antoinetteâs serenade.Â
â Princess Antoinette, â Yicheng bows in greeting, smiling fondly, â Such beautiful music, your reputation precedes you. â She approaches the harp and the Princess with curious intent. Yicheng plucks a few strings, giggling at the pleasant sound before turning to Antoinette, â Itâs beautiful - how long have you been playing? â Â Â Â Â Â
ââââ Fingers met string, producing sounds which had been heard at courts throughout the world - hailed as one of the best harpists of their time, she was in high demand during large events. A prize which the French were not bashful about hiding, their beautiful relative who created music fit for the heavens. It was the sole accomplishment she had that provided pride to her kin, a legacy that would likely follow her until her death, and even thereafter. So, when the sun leaked into her room, casting light upon her instrument, she could not deny the Lord of her music. She plucked the harp, eyes closing to drown out the cacophony the rest of the castle seemed insistent upon producing. It was as if she were an angel, performing for her king, her hair glimmering beneath the luminosity of the natural rays, countenance tranquil as if she discovered the only true peace in the world.
Lost in the universe she had constructed within her mind, she does not take note of the other's entrance until words are spoken, eyelids fluttering open to moving her gaze towards the other. "Princess Yicheng, it is an honor for you to say such things." She admits, hands removing themselves to allow the other woman to indulge her curiosities. "I have played for years so abundant I do not recall the origin of my lessons..." Her words trail off as she finds herself looking over the other female, her beauty astounding her to a degree by which was unusual. Antoinette had never been very far east, mostly traveling to countries in the West that had requested her presence - but upon meeting Yicheng, she had desired nothing more than to visit China. If the women were even half as beautiful as the one before her at present, she was sure to find interest in such a place. "Tell me, do you play anything yourself?"