( cismale / kivanc tatilug / he/him ) MAZUS DRABEK is a SORCERER hailing from the kingdom of WHELDRAKE. The THIRTY SIX year old is travelling to the council summit because they believe in WAR. They HAVE NOT lost their magic and possess the ability to MANIPULATE SHADOWS INTO TANGIBLE SHAPES. HE is ENDURING, DECISIVE but also INFLEXIBLE. i wonder if they’ll get what they want at the summit?
bio and wcs under the cut !!
BIO
Slip a silver spoon into a child’s mouth often enough and they soon expect the weight of it. They anticipate the way the metal warms quickly on their tongue, the richness and salt of the milky broth, and it’s human instinct to want more. Mazus was born with his mother’s appetite. Was raised with that same voracious desire that kept his belly empty despite every rich thing he was fed, clothed in, or served. But dress a mongrel up in silks and he is still a bastard -- despite having the king's eyes. Officially, his mother is married to a lord. But there's a steady trickle of rumors in Wheldrake of his blood connection to it's monarch, and so Mazus is kept in the countryside. But he soon outgrows the cage and collar that he tolerated as a child, and even as the lord his mother married attempts to hinder him from arriving at court -- Mazus is ambitious and heads to the capital with his mother's coin heavy in his pockets.
He is but one of many sorcerers attempting to rise at court. And aside from his sister, Mazus finds his family largely disinterested in his arrival. But survival is learned behavior, and the waters of court are unforgiving to tread. Mazus catches on quickly to swim, not sink, and to do so he needs to ruin his rivals. He plays tame at first. Bides his time before he slowly, efficiently cuts them clean like fat from a choice cut of meat until he sits comfortably near Wheldrake's most influential sorcerers.
At court he's notorious for honeyed compliments and occasionally warming the beds of those he feels are most beneficial to his comfort. Mazus has grown accustomed to being a pampered creature. He catches the hands that feed the choice cuts, and tucks his lips so his teeth don’t prick the skin. But he’s been raised from the teat of a traitor, and there’s a price tag on the intimacy he offers. Ravenous. Desirous. Mazus wets his mouth on what he can gain, not offer. But he will do everything in his power to keep you content so long as you're useful.
WCS
- an enemy who throws his position as a bastard to his face
- a lover (he’s pansexual so any gender works) or someone that he courting for personal gain
- someone he butts heads with over his stance of war
- a soft muse who makes him pause to think over the potential of peace
Location: Just Outside Welkin Keep Great Hall
Who: @mazusdrabek and Libitina
They had only been at this banquet a few hours but was already ready to turn in for the evening. In truth, they had been ready to do so long before the banquet had even started but this was the life and duty of a royal. They had been prepared—or so they had thought—for the backlash of their former ability to commune with the dead and other sorts of spirits. But it was one thing to be aware and mentally prepared but quite another to be there and living it.
They had no idea what the rumors regarding them even were but whatever they were it caused primal fear in anyone who realized Libitina’s identity. A lot of people from Wheldrake had been experiencing the same, but as a royal and with the specific communing ability there was a different sort of fear.
It was so ironic, as not only was it gone but they had no powers to do anything to anyone anyway.
They had gone to take a break outside, another few deep breaths to keep going, when they saw a sight for sore eyes. Libitina, who could hold her own in being cold but also play pleasantly civil, truly only felt comfortable around some of their loyalest servants and their family. Their other brother, the king, was undoubtedly facing his own concerns at this event and would not have the time to spend a moment with his sibling, but their other brother might have a moment to spare for their half-sibling.
“Mazus,” they said, coming over to stand next to them. “How has this banquet been treating you?” Luckily, no one was nearby at the moment to eavesdrop if they were honest and quiet in their discussion.
as an apprentice he’d feigned at bumbling. his peers assumed he was incompetent, not worth their attentions, and they focused their ambition and muttered spells against each other. it was only during the trails that mazus allowed himself to boast.
he nearly killed three. he’s certain they still carry his scars, and the thought pleases him.
despite his appearance mazus is more snake than lion. more knife to a turned back than the crossing of swords because honor has never been his concern. not as a bastard, not as a sorcerer of wheldrake. alas, thanks to his partnership with nyx -- his reputation has trickled into enough ears that it’s impossible to play at tame. and he wonders if any of the bodies and bones he’d broken with his magic have family here.
peace sounds pretty when set on the table, but not when those seated have debts they consider unpaid.
but mazus is fond of pretense -- and this party is dripping in it. necessity brings out their better faces. he isn’t worried about himself. he thrives upon the subtle cut of tongues, and the words hollowed out to hide their real intent.
but her--
“little princess.”
despite her age and despite her crown -- libby will always be a wisp of a girl in his heart. one he feels obligated to protect, even at his own expense.
“would you fancy a wager? if i reached for a butter knife -- how many would jump? it is ridiculous. i would never bleed them at a party. not in my expensive coat.“
chocolate hues were fixed on his actions, a light twinge in her stomach at the mention of the marriage lingering in her future. “they’re not united yet.” she barked, though she had no bite to follow through with. blinking, possibly regretting her words, she offered a small smile. “I merely mean that– there is much to plan before that can transpire.” she hadn’t even met the shadow king yet, not in all his glory. it still terrified her. still, the poise of the man beside her was refreshing, a little glimmer of hope. perhaps if he was one wheldrakian, they couldn’t all be monsters of the dead? perhaps they weren’t like everyone had said to her growing up. orlaith was still young, still naive in many ways. her sheltered life would surely be exposed during her stay here. her eyes grazed over the plate, knowing she couldn’t stomach anything, she shook her head. “i do not think I can stomach anything. perhaps more meade may help.” she couldn’t eat anything a stranger presented her, after her own parents assassination, she’d been warned to only eat what came to her from trusted hands. perhaps one day she’d take them from his, but currently, she couldn’t. “pray-tell, kind sir– of your kingdom? I know nothing of it, aside from what I was told as a child, which I’m beginning to assume were all folklore.”
“all will be united under wheldrake eventually.“ he tips his voice low, ominous, a contrast to the glimmer in his eye as he holds her gaze. it’s bold for a bastard. mazus’ pedigree is thinned by commoner’s blood, and any influence at court he owes to the scraps of his noble father’s attention and his own brilliant command of magic.
while other courts favor the wielding of words -- wheldrake places bearing on power. it’s common to be born with a tongue. but the gift of magic is more fickle.
“i jest. more meade for her highness.” he raises a hand, flicking two fingers for a server to approach, and picks up the flask to fill her cup himself. “now. i’m more interested to hear about this--“ he pauses. cocks a brow. “folklore you’ve heard of my country. though i’m far from surprised. it’s ignorance to fear what you don’t understand, and the ignorant far outnumber us. wheldrake -- i suppose you might compare it to an antique sword. beautiful and tempered by wars, but far from ornamental. how would you describe your own country?“
boredom washed over her, standing at the side of the filled hall with goblet in one hand and little to entertain her otherwise. orlaith knew a good party, and while this was adequate, was it really the best the watchers could offer? where were the performers? where were the fire dancers? were they just meant to dance and drink and that was it? she gave a sigh, as the air beside her shifted. “enjoying the festivities?” it was a pleasant enough tone considering she had little idea as to who many people were or where they hailed from.
he rolls his wrist. watches whatever swill passes for wine here spiral red in his cup. “before the union of our countries i would have said yes.“ mazus raises his hand in a toast, then takes a sip that dampens his mouth and the hair on his upper lip. “but after experiencing ceren nouv hospitality? the entertainment is diluted. like weak wine. you’ve spoiled me, i’m afraid.“
this woman is to be his king’s wife. mazus treats her accordingly -- arranging a plate with sweet meats and neatly sliced fruits that he serves her with well-oiled grace from decades at court. “you’ll need your energy to brave through their attempt.“
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