Katherine of Russia, Princess of Wales

маленький воробей

[katrinkc]

What if Katherine's first child had been a boy? Do you think she would be facing the conflict from the English people she is now?

Katherine’s been the subject of fascination (wildly so in the early stages of her swift marriage to Harry- praise for a bride with an extensive dowry, a mighty country arriving on English shores for the cherished Plantagenet prince), speculation and scrutiny amongst the English for quite some time, deeply rooted within the name her brother carries and his formidable reputation. Beloved, prized sister of Ivan the Terrible isn’t necessarily a good PR campaign with England’s people. She carries with her the ‘what if’... if Ivan was so ruthless in his tactics to rise and unite Russia, if he is so merciless as legend depicts him, what if she was of the same nature? How would they trust that she serves England, when intimidating mystery surrounded her family, and the Ruriks exhibited merciless actions to protect their own? But if she did end up having her son first- a Plantagenet son- it would have been a step toward solidifying that trust she so desperately craved from England’s people. More so, a son born so quickly would solidify another heir in their budding line, helping ironclad Harry’s claim to the throne. Her marriage is fighting against the pressure creeping in from several sides, and Katherine hopes for a son to safeguard this family she’s hellbent on building and protecting despite all the turmoil, because deep down she truly loves Harry and their daughter. Their success is her priority.  So, William is born instead of sweet Mary. As a baby, he’s toured through the streets of London, heralded as a new future for England; an assurance to look forward to two generations of strong kings after King Edward’s brilliant reign ends. Katherine’s seen by her son’s and husband’s side, consistently diving into a campaign to demonstrate her devotion to England. Slowly, the people realise where her heart lies. York supporters may experience a far greater struggle shooting down her credibility: Not only is she wed to England’s future, she is mother to England’s future.  

[katrinkc]

Truth serum: if you had to choose either Ivan or Rudolf to support as tsar, who would you choose and why?

Look at you... You’re too bold with that tongue, it’s drooling from such a risky question. Looking for trouble, spilling out questions like that. Think you’re brave to ask me? Think it’s wise asking the great tsar’s sister? Curious, foolish thing. Russia wouldn’t climb to the greatness it stands on today if it weren’t for Ivan, it’d still be little fiefs out fending for themselves, stuck against each other. Rudolf’s efforts on the field, his sacrifices for Russia are unparalleled, but Ivan sits on the throne. Don’t question my brother again, and don’t fuel such silly rumours- such dilemmas will never occur. Watch yourself with what you ask. 

[katrinkc]

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝟏𝟒𝟓𝟕 || 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭

@hcrryofwales

[justanotherrpmemeblog]

My character is under a truth serum, ask them anything.

MY CHARACTER HAS TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY, NO MATTER THE QUESTION.

[katrinkc]

Ask Katherine:

маленький воробей

Ask Mateo:

I implore you. Go on, then.

[katrinkc]

🚦her brothers

Stuck in an elevator: Ivan. Long talks and a chance to escape the world for a bit, just the two of them. So many hope to reach Ivan during the day, crowds surround each of them with prying ears and watchful eyes. She dreams of the days when she could sit with him, uninterrupted without conscience or care. Avoid the rescuers from arriving for hours, she’d be happy enclosed somewhere so small with the one who she thought would always protect her.

Stuck in traffic: Nikita. Play the best music, light a cig, roll down the window, play games to pass the time. Nikita is always on the move, charging forward on behalf of the family. Whilst they’re late to their latest pressing appointment, they allot time to relax. Have real talks, candid in the confines of their car.

Stuck in an apocalypse: Rudolf. Have you seen the guy? He’s a powerhouse! No better person to kick the zombies’ butts with than Rudolf Rurik. Katherine might get a bit too big for her boots and get wounded doing a trick she hadn’t mastered, but Rudolf had always known how to use sparring to channel whatever rage or frustration Kat pent up within her, and helped her use it as something proactive.

[rpmemedumpster]

Send in "what if" meta questions!

What if ____ never happened? What if ____ did happen? What if they never met ____? What if they were ____? ect!!

[katrinkc]

ask KATHERINE | MATEO

[crownshqsinspo]

virusinfected-memes​:

THREE (3) CHOICES ;

Send an emoji below + three (3) different characters / muses that my muse must pick from! Some choices are considered ns / fw.

💍 - fuck, marry, kill. we already did this one but w/e  💋 - hug, cuddle, kiss. 💫 - fight, tickle, insult. 🦋 - befriend, adopt, ignore. 🥊 - pinch, slap, punch. ✨ - summon, banish, absorb. 🗳️ - vote for, vote against, run against. ☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food. 💰 - rob a bank with, hide a body with, rat out to the cops. 🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with. 🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. 🍪 - make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food. 🔪 - protect, attack, fight side-by-side with. 💬 - SEND IN YOUR OWN THREE OPTIONS NOT LISTED ABOVE!

[ivanrurik]

𝖆𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖆 | 𝖗𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖊𝖑

[katrinkc]

ask KATHERINE | MATEO

[katrinkc]

kingedwardplantagenet​:

x

   A throng of fine tall trees grew so close, stem intertwined with stem, as to lift a thick sea of canopy above Edward’s head; to crown him, with a diadem of winter shrubbery. Broken through the throng, onto the sprawling expanse of the French grounds, he caught sight of his desired companion – swinging astride her horse, arresting his attention, whilst she worked to discern his person. In Katherine – Katrinka, the name he still believed a warm mantle – Edward fashioned, an ally, a dear daughter. The pledge of protection beneath the canopy, was null and void upon barren turf; he felt stark, dawning his very best colours, against the bleak landscape. From a distance, the strength of her features were still marked by regal clarity – though their quality, imbued with a hollowed sadness. Katherine’s best spring hours had been altered in shadow – in her visage, where Edward had oft seen refined movements of joy, no true sentiments of glee shone fully out. Katherine’s fire, never doubted in its ardour,  and her spirit itself, seemed trampled. Dark sayings and ruinous tides, played against the Princess; a score of men, had pushed Edward, to move against her. They reasoned, they implored, they humbly laid their advantages before him – lobbying for he, swiftly to cast the Princess from his favour. In deep purples and reds, they cast themselves benevolent guardians of the Plantagenet line. Edward answered them, cloaking his sentiments in no honeyed language, nor poetic endeavours; in simple tongues, harsh in their plainness, he would answer, no. 

      The flicker of sunshine, the sinewy film of clouds; twilight succeeding the remarkable winter morning, proving it to be no common day. It was not remarkable, due to signs cast in the heavens above, nor phenomena’s on earth – but in conference with Katherine, it was bound to be as fine a day, as Paris could boast. Edward advanced, at last fitted by her side; consulting her eye, with his own benevolent, azure gaze. “Was it not for a maid lurking in a corridor, my efforts to locate your grace, would have proved fruitless – you posses a dense mystery, my princess, which I shall attribute to your newly adopted English airs. We Plantagenet’s, favour heavily, windswept rides and grey skies.” She appealed to his fondest nature, whilst invoking the name of his granddaughter – a blessing, bearing eyes just like Katherine’s, but a chin, so alike the late queen’s. “You have my word, daughter; I should not wish to betray I took audience, sans her sweet presence, and risk losing my place, as a beloved grandfather, which I treasure above all else. Was it not just yesterday, that she was delivered onto us? And now, I think of her riding, writing, conversing – though she is perfect already, is she not? In all arts, in all manners.” In spite of darker themes swirled round her head day and night, a playful delight, was always in vogue when one was in Katherine’s company – he returned her offer with a grin of delight, his eyes full of mirth. “I shall accept your offer, though I must offer you a staunch warning – despite no longer being one and twenty, I am not as old as my dear son likes to claim I look, and ride with as much strength as before. It was a beloved pastime, of the Crown Prince and I - I suppose he has made little mention, of the affair. But how he loved our riding ventures, when he was a mass of ginger hair, and scarcely at my waist.” 

“And ruin the fun, leaving it too easy for you to find me? What an insult! Don’t ruin my ego’s hopes that one day, I’ll surpass you with as the next master of the hunt. Would you bet I’m a contender? Tell me, truly!” Katherine chortled, knowing this would never come to fruition as she swayed against the loping palfrey, patting down its coarse mane with a puckish simper. Lounging in mental sunlight from the love woven in his sentiment about Mary, adding, “Is it possible to fall harder for your child with each new day? Every word she speaks, the conviction she holds as she runs down the hall- falls, pushes herself up again. She’ll be the best kind of trouble! Her father’s daughter, and it shows, don’t you think? He’s her brightest star.” 

Despite the toxins that poured in from Katherine’s naysayers and the bitter taste lingering in her mouth when mulling over her hemming and hawing reputation on English soil, winter’s bite softened its jaw, gave way to beauteous cusp of new season when she could level steeds with her king. Allow her conscience to lean into him, temporary shield from frosted winds. Marvelling, even still, that the one holy being who presided king of all life’s new land could feel like family. Aware that bonds could change as circumstance thrashed. But he offered kindness to a girl who carried whispers of ruin or potential. She believed their relationship’s evolution to be a cushioned fall: first, headstrong girl wrapped import, weighted by beads, headdress, adornments that clicked and clacked as Russia’s offering rose from the gloating Thames. Transaction bride with ink-stained eyes that sparked passionate inquisition: curious over his accent, his customs, his nature, his thoughts. Swelling fondness amongst the storm.  Aware, too, of the past that lingered and with it, a code she yearned to unravel amongst the Plantagenets. Sensing wildfire smoke on the family’s horizon. Faded only by picturing her husband in such a happy memory that Edward painted, glad for it. “Let’s turn back time. First to the pond, past the brush- and don’t go easy on me. As for a fitting prize, I can offer to change the seating arrangement for our next meal. Lord Arundel’s said the same story seven times over and nobody deserves to hear how he killed that boar only to mistake it for his wife!” Katherine leaned forward on her saddle, accelerated from an idle stroll into a slow-gallop, calling over to him."What was Harry like as a child, then? It’s impossible for me to imagine him so small!”

[katrinkc]

3v3linarose​:

“I have my mockingbirds and I’m sure you have yours.” Evelina replied with a slight smirk. She mysteriously left it at that. She would never tell who her birds were, that was her secret and hers alone. She loved her sister and the rest of her siblings and trusted them all, but Evelina knew that none of them would ever tell each other everything about their individual spies or every detail of what happened in their lives because everyone had their secrets.

Upon hearing her sister chastise her, Evelina’s lips tightened slightly before she spoke. “I will not speak anymore of your… husband, sister.” She said coldly as she walked over to the roses.

“Beautiful… but full of thorns are they not?” She commented with an unreadable tone as she gazed at the roses.

“One prick of the finger and you bleed… a lovely flower can do such damage. Fascinating isn’t it? I hope the English treat you and Mary well… Katherine. Though it seems to me they already have.” Evelina said as she looked back at her sister a slightly cold gaze making it’s way into her eyes.

In Evelina’s mind, it wasn’t a threat at all… it was a promise. If she learned anything else about how the English were negatively treating her sister and niece then she would get involved… perhaps by telling Ivan… but nothing damning had yet emerged, but Evelina knew it was only a matter of time.

She only wished to not only strengthen Russia and it’s diplomacy through marriage and alliances but she also wished to protect her siblings just like how they tried to protect her from their mother’s hatred when she was a child.

The gaze softened as the conversation shifted.

“Perhaps. I do hope you can assist. That’d be absolutely lovely! Ah, I don’t believe he has mentioned any contenders but I feel it could be someone from the Ottoman Empire.” She mentioned with a smile and a chuckle.

The cold bite, sharply housed within Evelina’s promise to quell whatever thoughts she had from spilling over about Harry was expected. Katherine could only nod curtly at the promise, watching Evelina saunter toward the rosebushes and in a flash, time seemed to clutch at the princess of Wales’ ankles, drag her forward to view her sister as she once was. Small thing, who could challenge the weather with stubborn resolve- the youngest Rurik who didn’t mind to claw and lash beneath such an angelic face. “Thank you.” She rolled her shoulders, expecting the conversation to move forward until Evelina motioned toward the roses, and Katherine followed with a pointed sigh, heels digging into the ground with each step forward at Evelina’s near cryptic words. 

“What’re you on about, Lina? What are you implying? Drop the riddle and be blunt, I have no patience for it.” She added, dark-brow quirking skeptically when Evelina emphasised her new name, and Katherine the cold gleam in her sister’s eye. No, she wouldn’t have the patience for such vague, ominous statements and implications as she rose to her full height. Though it seems to me they already have. That phrase rested as a surprised tremor in her bones, and Katherine leaned in to mutter low, away from curious ears, “If my name frustrates you- the name of England’s next queen, sister, you have much to learn of the world and our paths in it. One day, you too will leave Russia’s shores and make something new of yourself, as is our fate. I’m proud of who I am, where I am, where I’m going - despite whatever you hear. I am not one of these flowers. Thorns or none, however you say, they’re still easily crushed beneath my foot.” She nodded abruptly toward the rosebush, picking one stem off and dropping it before her path, rubbing the petals into the soil with an annoyed stomp. 

[katrinkc]

shroudedson​:

⚔ II Closed for @katrinkc​ II Two Wolves and a Dagger

———— The morning lent itself to thought, snow dusting the ground, the land wearing a mask of purity. Yet, his mind was plagued with cynicism, taking over every fiber of his earthy being, as though it was the only thing of note he had learned in his youth. Enjoyment should have been found in the cracks of the summit, yet the picturesque confines of his dwellings brought nothing besides conflicting notions that tore at already tattered seams of composure. He was not built nor accustomed to the life by which he was meant to lead in the coming months. Though successful at most diplomatic things he was assigned, there remained a difficulty in such tasks that often seemed insurmountable. More worthy to sit among fellow men of war, the pursuits of those closer to his stature seemed so far-fetched, they did not contain his full comprehension. He was understanding of their quest for power only if it aligned with his own - for the betterment of their society and not in spite of it. Could these things exist within these men who seemed so audacious and wily compared to those he normally shared his time with? These musings shoved him in the direction of company that would quell his persistent anxieties: his sister, Katrinka.

Compelled to be in her presence, which possessed the fiery spirit of Russia paired with all the refined nature of a true princess, he had invited her to the training yard. She was what he needed to mirror if he were to make significant strides in his current pursuits. He dare not divulge such things to her, however, as she was still likely aligned strongly with their elder brother and would not shift her support to him so easily. This was his feeling towards the bulk of his siblings, their loyalties to him only extending so far. He attributed such wavering ideals to his lack of presence within their lives as they grew. He had been walking his destined path since a very young age, one bred of solitude and conformity, which did not lend itself to forming notable bonds with his family. A traveler without a real home, destined to capture souls of those deemed disposable to accomplish the whims of leaders, he had no claim to their devotion. Thus, his siblings and newfound family rarely acquired the luxury of his time, finding Ivan’s far more easily accessible. It was only natural that they should support Ivan’s claim over his because he was little more than a stranger who donned the Rurik crest.

Even if he understood that his deeply-rooted affections for them were unrequited, he maintained them. He was concerned about the state of affairs Katrinka had been wed to, the tumultuous opinions the English held of the Russians a dangerous arena for a woman without real power. Out of all of his sisters, she provided the most perturbation to his frame. His other sisters were more weathered by time, having dealt with more intense pain than she. But she was beginning her journey as the heir to the English throne with a partner Rudolf did not see as her equal. The man seemed weak, a mere boy who did not wish to support his wife but rather control her - and who would not defend the Rurik name with proper vigor. Rudolf had seen the hatred of Russia in many a face, brought them to their demise, and no matter how many he killed, they continued to sprout like lilies in the spring.

So, he wished to ensure the safety of his sister if her husband was unwilling to do so, providing her with knowledge of things only the men in their time were made aware of. He had taught her from a young age to be the wolf that she was and to be unrelenting in her strength, despite the world demanding her fire be stomped out. Her ability to protect herself would placate his uneasiness and allow him a good night’s rest. His large frame towers over the weapons rack provided by the French king, eyes dashing over the craftsmanship with scrutiny only he could muster. They seemed well made, yet the elaborate designs distracted from the true purpose of it all; to kill. Perhaps it was reflective of French society in general, that they cover their poison in lovely designs so that they seemed less threatening overall. Just as such notions crossed his mind, the crunching of snow beneath delicate feet catches his attention. He turns and is greeted with the image of the little wolf.

Katrinka had grown into someone he barely recognized, her stature filled with such poise it seemed she was merely a woman who resembled the girl he had known. Her raven hair was of longer length than the last time they had met, her brown eyes piercing as though the pain had shifted her. It was astounding to see her a woman grown, but the strings of his heart tugged with embedded disappointment. Not in his sister, but in the system that had clearly provided her with such agony that the light had drained from her soul. He crosses the courtyard towards her, opening his arms in an offer of affection. It is not often he would reach out to her, but he had yearned for her company far more during this past battle than before, so he is acting a bit out of turn. “I have been thinking of you recently, I hope your difficulty in getting leave was naught.” He reaches towards her, pulling her into his chest and releasing her a few moments after.

“Come, let us spar.” He offers, extending his hand which wrapped around a dagger he had acquired during his travels. “I am sure you have some frustrations that demand to be absconded, let me assist you and then we may talk of your life in England.” Rudolf always attempted light conversation around his sisters, unwilling to trouble them with the tribulations of the life he led. Why should women fill their heads with thoughts of war when he was unsure these things were even fit for men? He wished only for them to have lives filled with happiness and freedom from the restraints that bound him - thus, he often avoided speaking about the issues in his own life in exchange for issues in theirs. He only hoped he could provide her with the same peace that she did him.

Cleanse with rosewater, adorn in gilded trinkets, swaddle in latest over-gown, furs, only for Katherine to venture to one who never minded presentation. Careful to be discreet with her venture, she insisted to spare time for such a reunion, allowing daylight to tease their corner of the world before she was alert, awake, restless to train. Despite occasional clumsiness she couldn’t shake, Katherine knew how to tread nearly undetected against scant snow, ice: soft-footed, with gentle padded paws until the target was within range, ready for her to lash, grip, claw, ruin. He taught her so… and though French spring aged, wrinkled and died against the ground, she could wet her lips here, inhale a sting of morning air, peer across the land to catch the outline of her brother- his copper curls like embers that blind her when the early sun crowns behind him- and she was transported to wild forests beyond Moscow. When Katrinka could barely grow up to Rudolf’s waist, struggling to hold up her bow and arrow in the frost whilst he curled over a shoulder, their mother’s steadfast glare inherited in shared gazes tracking prey. Never look away until the deed is done. 

How long had it been since she saw such a face? A question stuck on the tip of her tongue throughout her life. Rudolf was nearly eleven when Katrinka came into the world, shifted battle hero at only fourteen, fluttered in and out of her own mundane existence like a seastorm that she envied- until she couldn’t differentiate him from Achilles, Odysseus or Beowulf in her early years. Fawn-eyed, she marvelled at tales of his triumphs, tripped over her feet chasing after him, shifted green over his fate, and how she could never truly share his accomplishments. How she swore she saw him catch stormwinds, suspend mid flight a split second, then evaporate into thin air with an echoing crack. She hated him for it. How the wind and sky would swallow him whole and leave her behind to contemplate the limitless mystery of wherever he ended up. Juvenile jealousy died as expectations cemented, and calmed into love fostered through memories such as this. Chasing adrenaline, learning tactic. Pulling him in for an embrace, her laugh ragged from the chill in the air and evaporating sleepy haze against his chest, Katherine mused, “You’ve thought of me, Rud? What part? The little sap crying, insisting you comfort clumsy wounds? Have I aged you before your wonderful new daughter has the chance to? Wait- I spy a grey hair!” She teased, nearly plucking a red curl out from his scalp to present him like a flower, stifling another chuckle as he released her.  

 She eyed him a beat, hardened smirk fading as his words sank in, rang true. She reached forward, hesitant to divulge in a spar and allow her doubts to fall forth and reveal themselves with each step, grabbing the intricately detailed blade, allowing a curt nod as she swiped it once, twice, through the air. “I warn you, it’s been a while... I don’t want to end up breaking your skin with a foolish mistake.” Swaying slightly, before stepping forward as they’d practiced so often before, a huff of a sigh escaping her as blade cut through the air with more conviction. “How is fatherhood, life with your budding family? Are you finding happiness in it all? Are you allowing the world to stop a moment, to enjoy it?” 

[katrinkc]

bloodwrittcn​:

closed starter for @katrinkc​ (Katherine Plantagenet)

The Russians had always amazed him. Despite their kingdom’s freezing temperatures and, literally, unorthodox customs, they brought forth some of the most cunning and interesting people Cesare had ever met. The same applied to the princess of Wales, whose roots ran deep within Russia’s royalty. He’d asked her entourage for an audience, just to see her, just to witness any changes for himself. Did she like England? He wondered if the alliance between England and Russia still existed and, if it did, how this would influence Milan’s influence within Italy. 

“Your highness,” he greeted Katherine with a smile and with himself bowing. “Cesare Sforza, count of Pavia, ambassador of Milan,” he waited just a moment so his name didn’t get lost with his next words, “as such it’s my duty and wish to inquire about foreign relationships and leaders from far and wide.” he kept his hands in front of his belly so he would look less intimidating. Milan had to look strong, but submissive, at times, especially to someone whose influence might be vital. “Much importantly - I’ve come to inquire about your well-being. Getting used to new surroundings is never easy, ma’am, and if there’s something I could do to help you only need to ask.”

“Signore Sforza, your call was a welcomed surprise! Especially so -- due to my preference of Milanese metals. I must admit, I have my own small collection of your home’s fine weaponry, armour. The detail in such craftsmanship’s too enviable, don’t you agree? Do you have an item to show me, now?”  Katherine’s silk-ladden boots clicked as she offered him a graceful dip of curtsy, thick-ladden accent still blended with the Eastern wind, calm pleasantries that floated into the space of the reception hall with a lilt matching a slight curved smile. Years of letters in anticipation of a once-secured marriage with Naples’ new king earned her a decent tongue in Italian; though times had shifted fate and she hadn’t focussed on the language in ages, she found herself gravitated to practice. Particularly, drawn to her curiosity over in the Italian league that all arrived on French soil.  

Smile shifted into her old habit: a tilted Rurik smirk, reminiscent of both winter and bright life, that could only hint at a penchant for dark amusement.“My well-being? An ambassador and a physician stands before me, it seems, with regard to how I’m settling into Paris. Such talent your nature possesses, sir! Though I’m used to change, being here is a flurry. Tell me of life as an ambassador - where’s the most fascinating place you’ve set foot?” The sun filtered in through the arched window, coaxing spring in the garden beyond. “Walk with me, will you? Shall we get used to our surroundings together?” 

[katrinkc]

oncegreat​:

In this crowed feast, this tightly packed hall, Katherine did manage to stand out. Not only because of her dress, but because she was a stunning woman. When they first met, Eivor had tried his usual tactics on her but she had shut him down rather quickly. Which was fair as she and Harry seemed to be in bliss with one another. If he could not manage to get between them he doubted anyone else could. Besides that, after getting to know the two of them and their sweet daughter, Eivor did not wish to get between them. Their family was tightly bond and he admired that in someways. At least for their daughters sake. Yes, the two had become good friends over the many years that Eivor had escorted Katherine and her family from one place to another. Long hours spent on the road made for a good amount of time to get to know one another. She was a very clever woman with a wicked tongue at times. Their conversations were very rarely less than amusing and although she held a title higher than Eivors, he would always adore the fact that she treated him as a human being. Never had Katherine demanded respect from him but instead Eivor gave her respect willingly after getting to know her and her family. If his life came to a end protecting them, Eivor would be happy. Happy knowing they were safe. 

Laughing along with Katherine, Eivor felt his mood lift. Going from sullen and lost to finding just the right spot to be did that to a man. He belonged with Katherine and her family. Glancing past her at her maiden’s, Eivor winked at one of them. “It is no magic but simply the favour of the gods, Katherine. They’ve given me two left feet this nice but the charm of a prince.” Eivor went on, though he was clearly jesting with her. “Not even drink can dull that.” He added before turning his attention back to his friend. 

As they stepped outside and away from the others, Eivor watched Katherine closely. She was prone to finding herself on the ground. He had managed to catch her before finding that fate in the past and he did not want to return princess to her prince with scuffed knees. He cracked a smile one more as she spoke and shook his head. “I apologies but I cannot make this deal with you.” Eivor took her hand and kissed it quickly before lowering it back down. “The gods have sworn me to secrecy. If I so much as spill one of their secrets from my lips, I will be struck down by one of Thor’s mighty lighting bolts.” He explained in an overdramatic fashion. “What use would I be to you then? Dead and without a weapon in my hand. I would surely go to Hel.” He went on before looking at her once more. “Is that what you want for me? To never see Odin’s great halls in Valhalla?” Eivor added as he nudged her side lightly. 

Paris at night retained a whispering magic that Katherine could only revel in, swept up in the conjuring of fast-fading blue glow that cast shadows over cathedral carvings - even the stones piled high and the wood-flanked buildings that towered over the pair as they weaved through cloisters and narrowing alleyways felt like nests for slumbering birds in the night, ready to take flight by morning. The emptiness provided an ample setting for boldness to sweep over her: cheeks warmed and vibrating merrily, near juvenile from the wine that stained her lips a bruised red, her arms swaying into the air as though the long walk to their lodgings could be a dance. Eivor kissed her knuckles and she groaned from his refusal to divulge, twirling as he dropped his hand to his side, her feet pattering across cobblestone before them like a street performer, kicking, hovering like a forest nymph. “Damn gods’ and mankind’s secrets… They all tire me! Fine, Eivor, I’ll take your silence as confirmation. But I expect you to bless me with your powers whenever those gods of yours decide to give them. What will my first blessing be?” 

Midnight eyes strayed from her knight, rolling up toward the murky heavens to call loud enough to bounce off the side of a few looming structures, “This Thor you speak of doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Let him dare try and strike! All the more reason to run home, or add a show for Paris if we’re crisped.” She challenged, arms splayed out into the air as she squinted for a sign. A vein of light, perhaps a shooting star, caught her attention enough for her to marvel, lips to purse, push forth a coo, a wine-drunk gasp. “See that, Eivor? The chase begins!” She glanced back at him renewed with energy as she picked up her skirt, “Come, then, race you to the gates!” 

But as Katherine fled into the darkness, the echo of her laugh disappearing into the air, soon too echoed a handful of footsteps beside her. Shadowed figures, stamping feet against the dying cold, voices lingering, weather-scarred and jeering. Fixated on her gleam of pearls embedded into raven’s wing curls, or the jewels grazing her collarbone.

[katrinkc]

KATHERINE RURIK

[katrinkc]

🎧 + Eivor

SAFE & SOUND : TAYLOR SWIFT

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

GLORY & GORE : LORDE 

You could try and take us But we're the gladiators Everyone a rager But secretly they're saviours Glory and gore go hand in hand That's why we're makin' headlines

HIGHWAY TO HELL : AC/DC

No stop signs Speed limit Nobody's gonna slow me down Like a wheel Gonna spin it Nobody's gonna mess me around

[katrinkc]

kingcfnaples​:

His confidence lay in stubborn dismay within the company of the now-Princess of Wales. In truth, he found he trusted the Tsarina far more — but she was still Katrinka in his eyes; a woman once betrothed to the sun-soaked company of Naples through a series of rushed and cursive letters. So he lay himself bare, spreading out secrets that only his privy council were welcome to pick at. He waited for her opinion — his eyes wide as she bided her time. Hands clenched together, Ferdinand’s lips picked up into a smile. “Pursue her? Oh, Katherine. I fear I am long past such a stage. I fear she holds me captive, like a cat with wounded prey. I see the stray cats of Paris play with the mice and I see something of myself in them. Of course, myself being me without the crown. For you know in public, I do tend to keep my truth to myself,” Ferdinand laughed, a bellowing kind of laughter born in the pit of his warm belly. 

By her side, loyally as her friend rather than a Monarch, Ferdinand hung his hands by his side in open honesty, walking alongside her with sly looks sent sideways towards his companion. That’s good, I trust your honesty on such matters… Of course…” he began, rolling his tongue behind his teeth, a habit made when nerves battled his consciousness. “You know my ambition, my true goal. So I depend also upon the word of her father, the King of England and their troops to reinforce my own in the mission… But I fear, even with that varying in trust, I seek her hand more. Her character alone will aid my own; and with her status, I see sense that she is more of a longing traveller than truly an English Princess. Perhaps, when married, she would fight for Naples rather than England — and that, that must be rare in means of women and their homes. May I ask, how do you find being English now, Katherine? Are you told to ignore your homeland?” 

With the rise of his brow, he squeezed over the hand that held his arm, offering her confidence unlike any other, before his lips fell into a neutral stance. “I trust that love will grow between Beatrice and I, love that the Neapolitan people have never seen before… That, alone, must be worth the risk,” Ferdinand cooed, waxing lyrics as if he were more poet than King, as he bowed his head to his dear friend. “I trust your word above anyone else’s Katherine, and I hope you know that my honesty always awaits your question and confidence. We need friends and trust to survive in this bloody world, Katrinka — I mean, Katherine. That, I have learned.”

“You’re the trapped mouse between her paws, are you? She’s quite the feline, isn’t she?” Katherine made a face as he spoke, peering up at him to inspect, “Shall I dunk you into the river, then, to clean off any vermin before you present yourself to King Edward? Steal you a crumb of cheese? Don’t bite me, I’m trying to help!” Her childish tease broke into a shiver from the soft breezes off the river, fresh and sweet and earth, poignant with bunches of rosemary lining barrels, market stalls coaxing the last bits of crisp-crust bread, oil-sleek fish, flowers alight in bursts of colour in the dying daylight like firework bundles. She shivered too, from the beautiful scene Ferdinand had allowed her to jump into with each roll of his tongue. Bright, glorious, his love for her acquired sister caused the River Seine to pale and wither. His laughter over his heart’s ordeal like church-bells as he ruminated on whatever emotion peppered his skin to preach of the lengths he was prepared to go in the name of his lover. She envied this: his dewdrop faith in love despite the road ahead. The innocence of it. But life had a way of guiding souls through the dirt, the dredges, to feel both highest highs and lows due to love.

 She could only conceal a dark horse smirk for a flickered moment by rubbing her lips together at his question, careful tread with any thought abandoning Russia. “Wouldn’t you cry when leaving home? What was it like when the crown first sat on your head? It’s shocking, when life changes! First, like the world’s upside-down, and everyone in it. I was thrown to the lions of England, a family you must keep pace with to survive… but an odd thing happens, when you run alongside them, and suddenly home isn’t a place but the shared goal, that shared destination.” She paused, raising her chin up defiantly to the scenic view, adding with a rebellious flourish, “The world doesn’t see me as English, England doesn’t even see me as English -- but I love Her more than many who spend their lifetime sinking feet into its soil.” A beat, smirk stretching as she added, “So, take one lioness to Naples. Love her enough, and one day, she’ll bleed for Naples, too.”

“You know I’d help however I can. She’s my family now, and I know you cower in my presence, so mind, treat her well.” Her fingers lightly squeezed his arm, hoping to reassure as she felt his palm over her knuckles, and she leaned in to mutter,  “Stay this kindhearted forever, Ferdinand, promise me? I’m lucky to have a friend like you in the world.”

[katrinkc]

🎧 + Evelina

PRIMADONNA GIRL - MARINA

Primadonna girl, yeah All I ever wanted was the world I can't help that I need it all The primadonna life, the rise and fall You say that I'm kinda difficult But it's always someone else's fault Got you wrapped around my finger, babe You can count on me to misbehave

THE CIRCLE GAME - JONI MITCHELL

So the years spin by and now the boy is 20 Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty Before the last revolving year is through and the seasons, they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return, we can only look Behind, from where we came And go round and round and round, in the circle game

SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT - THE KILLERS

And someone is playing a game In the house that I grew up in And someone will drive her around Down the same streets that I did On the same streets that I did Smile like you mean it

1979 - SMASHING PUMPKINS

We don't even care as restless as we are We feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts And poured cement, lamented and assured To the lights and towns below Faster than the speed of sound Faster than we thought we'd go Beneath the sound of hope Justine never knew the rules Hung down with the freaks and the ghouls No apologies ever need be made I know you better than you fake it to see That we don't even care to shake these zipper blues

[katrinkc]

🎧 + thom

WHAT EVER HAPPENED? : THE STROKES

I want to be forgotten And I don't want to be reminded You say "please don't make this harder" No, I won't yet I wanna be beside her She wanna be admired You say "please don't make this harder" No, I won't yet Oh dear, is it really all true? Did they offend us and they want it to sound new? Top ten ideas for countdown shows Whose culture is this and does anybody know? I wait and tell myself "life ain't chess"

But no one comes in and yes, you're alone You don't miss me, I know

Oh that's an ending that I can't write, 'cause

HAUNTED HOUSE : FLORENCE + THE MACHINE

My heart is like a haunted house There's things in there that scream and shout They make their music in the night Wish I could find a way to let them out, ohDo you remember winding your arm around my shoulder As we wandered 'round the hill? Now I'm in that fog forever And full collaboration with the weather 'cause I'm not free at all

I SHOULD LIVE IN SALT  :  THE NATIONAL.

Don't make me read your mind You should know me better than that It takes me too much time You should know me better than that You're not that much like me You should know me better than that We have different enemies You should know me better than that I should leave it alone but you're not right // I should live in salt for leaving you behind

BAD BLOOD :  SLEEPING AT LAST

So we huddle over maps; Is it faith or prediction, Will or tradition Until we collapse? We argue our bearings Until we collapse. We study our story arcs Inherently good, Or were we broken right from the start?

COCAINE JESUS :  RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE

Listen in it isn't when you're talking for your name's sake Jesus, Mary Magdalene you are, are you okay? Sitting by the well, Jill, your falling down the hill, Jack And everybody laughed Don't you pray? Don't you pray?

// I'm nothing more than a page unwritten on the pavement, blowing in the wind You win a lot, and lose just a little bit more than you gained in the end But God, I wish that I, was better than I am, but no luck, no love, no Gospel I could understand I'm nothing that ever wanted to lean on, yea, but even then When you find an old picture of us, and you clear away the dust I hope you miss me sometimes When you see a frame that reminds you of me Would you remember the times Oh the times that we believed In a Cocaine Jesus in a black four-seater