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@littlegoldendove
Run boy run! This ride is a journey to Run boy run! The secret inside of you Run boy run! This race is a prophecy Run boy run! And disappear in the trees Tomorrow is another day And you won’t have to hide away You’ll be a man, boy! But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!
- Run Boy Run by Woodkid
The Little Dove
FIFTEEN ; NOBILITY ; WORDSMITHERY
Taken
FC: Gabriella Wilde
Gif Hunts: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]
Madeline Wyre
Biography
Madeline, like her brother, grew up in Nore surrounded by wealth and warmth. She trusted easily and openly, spoiling her friends and servants with gifts and trinkets that were useless but pretty. Samson protected her from the darker parts of the world while she kept him entertained at all hours with music and folk tales aplenty.
Madeline lived in awe of Cariott girls, her brother’s wife especially. Adelaide, in all her sharp features and dark hair, was beautiful in her eyes, and, to Madeline, beauty went hand-in-hand with kindness and wisdom. So far, she hasn’t seen any reason not to believe this to be true. Despite all the gossip and the rumors, Madeline prefers to believe only what she’s seen with her own eyes, and, for the most part, it’s just an unhappy marriage between her brother and sister-in-law.
Madeline often visits the house of her other sisters-in-law, Victoria and Tamzin. And while she adores Victoria, Madeline stays closer to the younger girl, who is closer to her own age. She is fascinated with the experiments and studies Tamzin holds, though she isn’t entirely sure it’s morally correct. But it’s fascinating to watch, and, besides, she wouldn’t want to bother Samson with more work than already on his shoulders. For now, at least. Until then, she’ll sit and let her discomfort grow in secret.
Personality
Young and spoiled, Madeline is still very naive. She often makes up facts and knowledge just to hold the spotlight. Because the second they look away, Madeline will certainly get jealous, and she’s certain that, because she’s an orphan, she deserves to be loved and coddled. Of course, behind all this, she does wonder if anyone truly cares for her at all, as the only other girl she speaks to often is hardly capable of love at all.
But she is a sweet girl overall, selfless and playful, if not a bit arrogant. Madeline falls in love easily with anything at all, poetry, scenery, and people, and can find the good in anything and anyone, even if it isn’t there. She just has to look for it. But, more than that, Madeline expects people to see the good in her, whether it’s there or not. Prone to temper tantrums every now and then when she doesn’t get the recognition she thinks she deserves, Madeline can become spiteful and sharp-tongued and an entirely wretched person to be around. Luckily, these phases tend to pass quickly, and she returns to the sweet demeanor she usually carries.
Magic
Madeline’s magic has yet to surface. However, she will grow to have wordsmithery, the ability to say anything at all in a way that makes it near impossible to speak against. It could be a terrifying thought, seeing as Madeline is already a very persuasive person.
com·pul·sion
the act of compelling; constraint; coercion.
a strong, usually irresistible impulse to perform an act, especially one that is irrational or contrary to one’s will.
"My, my."
"If my powers of interpretation are indeed correct: a love letter. Of the most classless kind as well."
"A love letter? For you? Rather disappointing that it is poorly written, who is it from?"
"My, my."
"How very droll."
"What is that? If I may inquire."
"I hope this means she's found peace."
“I shan’t ever understand your willingness to lie down and die,” Felicity bars. “If you won’t at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.
Skirts and Silks || Eira & Madeline
Some may have called Eira a fool for taking time out of her schedule each moon to have tea with a young orphan girl, but the queen thought Madeline had potential. Even more importantly than that, the girl was a ray of sunshine in the otherwise bleak halls of the Obsidian Palace. The girl needed a mother figure and ever since her parents died, Eira had tried to fill that role to the best of her ability. It was not always easy as life often preoccupied her, but she was still happy to spend time with the girl.
In the back of her mind Eira remembered how she suggested Madeline as a potential queen for Beod. For some time she had been trying to impart the knowledge a future queen might need during their tea dates, but she knew there was only so much she could teach the girl. A sigh fell from her lips as her handmaiden finished helping her lace the back of her dress. It was getting too small. It would not be much longer before she would be unable to wear it.
“Your grace,” the handmaiden said as Eira watched her in the mirror. “The babe is growing. You will not be able to keep this hidden much longer.”
Eira nodded and brought her hand to rest on her stomach. “I know. I have to catch my daughters and inform them before an announcement is made to the kingdom.” She had not even intended to tell her handmaiden, but the woman had been her companion since she was a girl in Sol. At ten years her senior, she had been the one to first suspect when Eira was carrying Astrid.
“Of course,” the handmaiden replied.
Eira smiled then turned to face one of her closest friends. “You cannot tell, can you?”
The handmaiden scoffed. “I can, but I know what I am looking for.”
The queen rolled her eyes. “Then I should be fine for now.” Without another word she left the room to meet with Madeline. After speaking with Aric about a betrothal, Eira was looking at this in an entirely new light. She wanted to make this girl into the best possible queen.
She took a deep breath when she reached the room before she pushed the door open. Madeline was sitting in her usual spot and it brought a smile to Eira’s face. Undoubtedly the young girl was thrilled by their tea dates for a much different reason than Eira was.
“Good day, Madeline,” Eira said as she came to join the girl and sit beside her. “I do hope you are doing well.” Eira had been feeling rather ill the last time they had tea and it had taken a lot of strength not to cancel on the poor girl. At least now that her pregnancy was progressing, she would not be feeling ill any longer.
Madeline straightened her posture immediately as the queen entered. "Good day, your highness." she said with her prettiest smile. It had taken her quite a few tea's with the Queen to learn to control her excitement. Her fidgets were now steady hands and her falterings of voice now calm and confident. She was proud of herself for overcoming such girlish mannerisms and she had made sure Nelly knew of her progress.
"I am doing quite well, thank you." She said with a nod, "and I hope you are feeling better my lady." Madeline had noticed the Queen had been quite pale during their last tea but on this day she looked rather well, her cheeks even brighter than usual. The Queen always looked beautiful in her eyes. She was so graceful and pleasant to be around, Madeline hoped to be like her one day but she knew she had quite a ways to go. The Queen certainly did not have scrapes on her knees and hands. Thankfully she was wearing gloves so that she did not see them. Nelly had almost caught her cleaning out her wounds and she would be terribly embarrassed if the Queen were to see any sort of imperfection on her skin.
"How are Beod, Sophia, and Astrid?" She asked as the Queen sat. Madeline smiled as the servants began to carry out the china. The palace's china for casual affairs was almost as nice as her own family's fine wares. It only reminded her of how much she adored the palace and the royal family.
the firefly and i ☼ madeline + dorian
That, he could certainly agree with. He’d agreed when he was seven, and he agreed still all these years later. Normal was not something Dorian was, or would ever let himself become.
He ruffled his hair absently. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said — somewhat flatly — and followed. This is ridiculous, he suddenly, very clearly, thought. He could just leave, should just leave. If he had’ve offered her help up, she would likely have rejected it in any case. She was sneaking around, with likely worse punishment in store if discovered than he had, and he had no desire to be around for it. Madeline was clearly a young noblewoman, and an injured one at that — careless, too! Those scrapes would not benefit from the dirt. She was proud and foolish and he was allowing her to lead him. Why did he allow his inclusion in the phrase, ‘we should’?
Fleetingly, he wished himself more ‘boring’. Perhaps that would do the trick. Repelling people. But of course, yet another inconvenient recollection surfaced: Dante’s persistent worry over his social life.
So, most of his proper friends were ten-plus years older. So, most of the below-nineteens he befriended were discarded or phased away within days — weeks if they were tenacious. So, a lot of them were unknowingly studied. What did it matter? The only person that needed to care for him was himself.
(That was a damn lie and somewhere deep inside — perhaps in something redundant and with no emotional association, such as the appendix — he knew it.)
"Stables," he repeated, now catching up to meet her side. "Um — yes. Sounds quiet. I’ve a — headache, you see," he went on, before he could stop himself. Forced a weak smile and gestured toward his head. It wasn’t a complete lie, of course: while the aftershock of a magical episode had mostly dulled, the mask shop was situated in the marketplace, and would currently be thickly surrounded by festivity. Noise, music, chatter, people. Never good for soothing head pain. He would rather horses and a blood-stained but generally friendly girl to the human bulk of celebration. And maybe if she liked him, he’d have more power when it came to convincing her to wash those cuts already. Was starting to annoy him, darn it all. He could visualise the infection now. Plus his encounter with Jack had been…well, not bad. Maybe this experience would rise to a similar degree of not-badness?
"But uh, you said that you sneak around a lot," Dorian piped up. "And you’re not supposed to. What exactly do you — do?"
How odd. If there was one thing Dorian had always had in life, it was a fair bit of independence, whether he wanted it or not. Evidently this was different for children of nobility, even in adolescence. Gods, what a thought…if he hadn’t been left so often to his own devices throughout his upbringing, he surely would not be the person he’d grown to be. His life would be drastically, drastically different.
"A headache? Well that's no good. The stables are very quiet, I assure you. Aside from the horses that is but they'll settle down with time." Madeline smiled and began leading them away from the ring and the marketplace all together. Her home lay on the outskirts of Nore not too far from the other noble families. Aside from the palace, the noble castles were the largest homes in Nore. Her own was not the largest nor the smallest, it sat promptly in the middle as far as size went. She loved it and hated it simultaneously. It served as a high class prison for the first years of her life as she was not allowed to leave unless accompanied by Nelly or Samson who were both often busy. The cold made it hard for her to play outside when she was just a little girl. Between the fear of frostbite and Nelly's nagging she tended to stay indoors.
But her home was still her home and now that she had more freedom it was easier for her to love. Madeline giggled at Dorian's question as it almost perfectly corresponded to what she had been thinking about. "My brother doesn't like it when I venture deep into the market place or around the ring. He thinks it to be too dangerous but I don't think so. Been sneaking about for quite awhile and nothing has happened yet." she said with a shrug, "I get tired of being a lady all the time. It's incredibly boring." she shook her head, "All the skirts and lessons, manners and expectations, it's exhausting." she sighed with exasperation.
"You work for the mask maker right?" she asked, curious to see if her memory served her right. "That must be a fun job. Getting to do crafts and the store is right in town too. I bet you get to go wherever you please." she pouted. "Everything would be so much easier if I could just do what I pleased. No more fighting with Samson or lying to Nelly, I'm almost a woman anyway. Just a few more name days." she looked at the ground and kicked a rock. She knew Dorian did not care but she paid no mind to what he thought or wanted to talk about. Madeline would give him the opportunity to speak later on.
When they reached the barn, Madeline was finally finished complaining. She checked to make sure it was empty before inviting Dorian inside. "You can sit over there." she pointed to a pile of hay before she made her way to the water pump and began to clean out her wounds. She winced and whimpered quietly as the icy water washed the dirt out of her wounds. The scrapes would not be hard to cover up but that did not mean it hurt any less.
I had the strangest dream last night.
"They don’t — you don’t think they mean anything, do they.”
Oh don't be silly Dorian. Dreams are just dreams, nothing more!
the firefly and i ☼ madeline + dorian
Dorian dropped his hand from its place pressed against the boxes with a light sigh. “No, you’re right, he’s — gone,” he said, an air of resignation hanging stale in his voice. “Careful when you get home. It was — Nelly, wasn’t it? The grouchy caretaker.” He didn’t envy Madeline, having to deal with grumpy people. Dealing with people in general was often something he avoided in general. Mentally, he wished her luck.
He took one last look, and when no danger presented itself, he hauled himself up and brushed off his knees. Looked blankly down at Madeline. Looked away. If she needed help getting up with her injuries, she could ask.
But instead, she called him strange. That probably wasn’t a request for assistance, but it snapped her attention back to her all the same. He raised his eyebrows quizzically — she was…smiling? Well, Madeline had warmed considerably from the clumsy meeting of a mere few minutes ago, hadn’t she. Dorian relaxed his shoulders a little. Perhaps he should too, or at least make an effort to follow that lead of hers. It would make him seem less suspicious, and besides — the Feast was intended to be a night of joviality.
"…Strange?" He repeated with a tilt of the head, allowing half a smile to flit across his face. "Do — define ‘strange’, Miss Wyre. But I’d have to agree:" — he paused deliberately — "It may be best to get ourselves away from all — this," Dorian said, motioning toward the stacked crates.
He strolled past the crates and casually adjusted his overcoat. Asked over his shoulder: “did you have any - warm places in mind?”
"Oh don't worry about her. I sneak about a lot and she never catches me. We needn't worry about her. Samson, my brother, has a keener eye but he's usually busy with one thing or another." She shook her head and grinned. Her family was a bit wonky and not conventional in the slightest but despite her complaints she loved Nelly and Samson with her entirety. She hardly remembered her parents unlike Samson who seemed to remember every little detail of them. It was good and bad as she saw the sadness that reflecting upon their parents had on him but sometimes she wished she would just remember a little something.
He didn't offer to help her stand, something Madeline found quite rude especially since she was hurt but her pride did not allow her to ask for it. Instead she used the boxes to help push herself up from the ground. Her disappointment in his lack of manners soon faded, however as he asked her to further explain. "You know, peculiar, not normal. Just strange." She smiled and started walking away from the pile of boxes, "Normal is boring and normal people are even more so and yes let's." She said leading them away from the boxes.
Madeline took a moment to think of where they could go. Her home was always an option however Samson would not approve of Dorian and the maids would surely rat her out if she brought a boy home. "Hmm, I'm not really sure if going into the festival is a good idea." The royal family was probably out and about and she would die of embarrassment if any of them saw her in such a state. "Perhaps we could go sit in my stables." She suggested. The stable boys would surely be at the festival and neither Samson nor Nelly would enter the stables at this hour.
Skirts and Silks || Eira & Madeline
Skirts, silks, corsets, flying this way and that as Madeline ran frantically around her room trying find the perfect combination. "Nelly! Neeeellllyyyyy!" She called, "Where's my blue dress?"
"Which blue dress M'lady? And stop ye shoutin', you'll disturb everyone in Nore if ye keep that up."
"The one with the ribbons Nelly." She whined as her caretaker entered her room. Madeleine shuffled through her loose clothing and over to Nelly with a pouty lip. When she wanted to do things for herself it upset her to have to ask Nelly. Of course if it were any other day she couldn't care less what she was dressed in.
"Ye know sometimes I think havin' tea with the queen turns ye into a lady, other times I think yer just bonkers m'lady." Nelly laughed and walked over to the dresser and pulled out the blue silken dress that Madeline had been looking for. "Here ye are my darlin'. Now hurry up, don't want to be late." She smiled, laying the dress on the bed and lacing up Madeline's corset before leaving the room.
The dress was gorgeous, dark blue with golden trim and detailing. It was one of her favorites when she was in the mood. Putting the dress on was a bit of a challenge and eventually she was forced to call Nelly back into the room once more to help her. It wasn't long before she was scrambling out the door being as careful as she could not to trip on her skirts. Samson told her to take father's horse instead of her own on the way out. She was still meaning to ask him for her own horse. Even he knew her pony was too small.
Riding through town on her way to the palace on her father's horse and in some of her best silks made her feel regal. She enjoyed the feeling but also despised it. From there people shyed away from her or begged for money, nobody spoke to her or even looked her in the eye. It was a very lonesome place to be in but she supposed it was one she would have to get used to.
When she arrived at the palace the guards took her horse and led her inside. Madeleine loved the palace. There was no other place in Nore that could match its beauty. With it's paintings, high ceilings, and marble floors, to her it was quite possibly the most beautiful place on the planet. Her eyes took in everything as she was escorted to their usual tea room. Having tea with the queen meant the world to her. The queen always taught her the things that Nelly nor the scholars ever could. Her lessons were absorbed a great deal more than the others.
She sat down in her usual spot, adjusting her skirts to form to the chair and awaited Queen Eira's arrival.
"Am I sure it’s friday?" Her eyes looked up at Madeline’s with a small grin on her face, but she moved her head back when she came closer, her smile also disappearing. "It is very painful." She was going somewhere with this, but she forgot as soon as it came out of her mouth. She stood with her mouth open for a while before speaking. "Scraped knees are the worse. Especially when dirt gets in the cuts. I’ve had my share."
"Yes, I think. I'm not really sure of the day honestly." Madeline smiled awkwardly. The girl had most likely been joking but it was too late for her to go back on her word. "Ye, I had a bit of a fall earlier this week. Scraped up my hands and knees. You should probably have your cut cleaned up a bit. Wouldn't want it to scar."
"Oh—" she was startled, but not notably, by the response and turned to face the one who spoke. "U-uh, aye, my lady." She gave a nod of reassurance. "It’s just another… friday, is it?"
Madeline nodded, not fully convinced that the girl was not in need of medical attention. "Friday, yes...but are you sure?" She took a step closer to get a better look, "It looks awfully painful. I scraped my knees the other day and it hurt quite a lot. Couldn't imagine my face."
"Gah," she touches a wound on her face despite knowing it’ll sting. "Who the hell punches with rings on?" She looks back down at her finger, noticing a small stain of red before rubbing it against her thumb. "Coward, that’s who."
She tilts her head curiously to get a better look at the girl, "Someone did that to you?" Madeline frowned, she did not like the idea of people going around and punching each other for no good reason. "Are you alright?"
the firefly and i ☼ madeline + dorian
"That, I will not argue," Dorian agreed, gesturing toward the dress. Gowns and the like did not seem to be the most practical of garments, and he had often protested (at least mentally) to Dante’s tendency toward wearing them. Yes, they looked nice, but Dorian did not want to see his mentor trip and injure himself. That would be as embarrassing as it was preventable. His interjections had no effect on the man, however, aside from bringing rise to an eye-roll or witty remark. "I’m — clumsy already. I’d fall twenty times,” Dorian admitted easily, vaguely wondering how Dante avoided the accidents at all.
He gripped her wrist lightly, raising her hand closer to his face to inspect. “Yes. You will indeed be alright,” he announced. It was really just some grazing, loss of skin here and there. Must’ve had a fair bit of momentum behind her. Would surely sting, though, and there were still little grains of dust and dirt amongst the blood. That was certainly not a known prerequisite for good healing. He squinted at her hand, turned it over a bit. “Not bad at all. Surprising amount of blood though. Still, I would — recommend getting this dirt out,” he said, released her, and sat back on his haunches. Fidgeted absently with his sleeve. Alright, now his explanation was in order.
"I saw an — old friend," he lied. That man was, if he was who Dorian suspected, was many things — but never, not even once, someone he would call a ‘friend’. He peered once more through a gap in the crates. "We did not part on very good terms. I’m not sure it’s him — which is why I’m - lurking, trying to get a better look — but I think he might be…"
Gone.
"Tsk." Dorian sat back and frowned. "I think he’s gone. He was talking to his mother, um, looking at — gesturing toward the Ring, like he was explaining plans. I was wondering why. You don’t — see him? Have you seen him? Black hair? Tall, blue eyes?” Looks like everything I fear? He added mentally. Looks a lot like me?
Madeline giggled, he was a funny boy and not just in humor. Dorian was quite peculiar compared to the other boys around Nore. Despite being tall his frame was little. His bright eyes stood out from behind his pale skin as they darted about from her to the crowd. He was very fidgety and reminded Madeline of a deer.
She watched curiously as he inspected her palms with a close eye and re-stated what she had already told him. "I told you so." She said taking her hand back. It didn't surprise her that there was a lot of blood. As a girl she had read stories of Knights with rough and callous hands. She, like many of the princess's in the stories, had soft, smooth hands that were not used to physical labor. Her skin was delicate, porcelain like from a lifetime of living in a town where the sun's rays barely reached the ground. Now her palms and knees her grotesque with blood and dirt, completely unlike they had ever been before. "I'll get myself cleaned up once I return home."
As Dorian returned to his haunches, she too readjusted her position so that she was sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. Madeline wasn't quite sure if she believed his story. His speech was choppy and his voice stiff although with such an odd boy perhaps that was simply how he spoke. She narrowed her eyes, "A friend, yeah?" She asked trying to peer through the boxes to get a better look at the people standing in front of the ring. "I don't see anybody with black hair although I can't see much of anything from behind here." She said focusing her attention back on Dorian. He was very nervous, again reminding her of a deer as he stammered along with his sentences.
"You are a very strange boy, arn't you?" She asked with a smile. Madeline didn't mean it in a malicious manner, in fact she liked strange. To her, strange was interesting and much preferred over normal. She didn't want to be normal herself although unfortunately she showed all the classic signs of being just a plain, normal, girl of nobility.
"We should probably leave soon, perhaps somewhere safer to talk. As much as I enjoy the company of rats and boxes, I'd much prefer some place a little warmer." She said with a soft, sweet laugh.
