never enough

[schcmcr]

a single muse blog for sanya devi, head cook of russia. written by rawr, she/her, gmt+1

— please dni if you're not affiliated with @theopulenthq

[flcralhaze]

❝  no.  why  come  here  at  all  then? ❞   far too much ice had found a home within tsar's veins, dripping into his emotions, what few managed to slip past the mask. it was not the familiar voice that made him glance over his shoulder but rather the familiar smell that wafts through the air. home should feel warm. russia lived within his heart, but the aromas of food made him think of a different home.   ❝ thank you. have you ensured others have eaten first? ❞   he spoke not only of his siblings but the other members of the russian entourage.

[schcmcr]

"I have. All of our brothers, sisters and siblings have received a warm meal already." The coldness did not seem to daunt Sanya in the slightest, brash and confident in her skill – not just her cooking, but her charming smile as well. She's worked hard enough to convince most in the Russian court that her amiable nature is for the most part genuine.

"You take care of all of us, sir. Is it not only fair that we return the favor?"

[umitvar]

it is always an odd feeling to grieve for someone's loss when they are still alive, and what you have lost is this bond that you used to have with them. grief due to betrayal, one of this magnitude, makes yura feel terrible in empathy. "i am terribly sorry, sasha." the idea of their mentor doing that to others, to them, is incomprehensible: a special type of heartbreak. the question makes them pause, though all they can do is shake their head. "i... don't think so. nothing i have heard. i think they are still... deliberating about the consequences of what he did." the compliment is surprising enough to spring some redness on their cheeks, the ends of their lips turning into a smile as they shake their head again. "i — i don't know about being interesting." and they don't- that's never been the purpose or the method on their quest to learn some of the truths of the world. this question, much more difficult than the rest, makes yura more hesitant to reply. "i... there are a lot of theories. but i think- we all carry some good, and some evil within us. it depends on which plant you water more, for it to slowly take root and change who you are."

[schcmcr]

"Smart people are often interesting," she retorts, pleased to see her compliments have the intended effect. Yura is nice and pleasant to have around, but most importantly they are naive and easily flustered, and just as easy to earn the trust of. That makes them a perfect best friend for a person like her. "So you would say people can be classified as good or bad, depending on their actions? Is that an absolute thing, or can you distinguish between the greater evil, and the smaller evil? And, most importantly," and she raises a finger, almost getting up from her seat, "how much does it take for a person to be considered good again?"

[flcralhaze]

closed starter ›› @opulentsarina , @espionisms , @schcmcr

fire  was  not  the  only  element  that burned; one need only look in the eldest tsar's eyes to understand. russia had prepared everything, all the other nations had needed to do was sit still and let justice prevail but they'd been incapable of setting aside egos, arrogance, or whatever had rendered them senseless. and look what it'd resulted in. nikolai's hand trembled slightly before forming a fist. he stood at the window, glaring out at the world, and didn't bother turning when the sound of the door opening reached his ears.   ❝ unless you have something pressing to discuss, i'm not in the mood. ❞

[schcmcr]

"I have nothing to discuss, pressing or not. Does that count?" Sanya's smile is warm and her tone is amiable, but devoid of her usual playfulness. Is it not her joy and duty to be there for the people she serves? Or, at the very least, it is entertaining. All sort of interesting things can be learned when emotions run high.

She carries a tray with her, and the smell of home fills the room like a gentle embrace. A warm bowl of ukha is offered. "You should eat something, my lord."

[siobhxoconn-deactivated20250805]

eyes  slightly  widened,  listening  to  the  woven  story  with  rapture.  were  all  russians  so  open  about  what  treasonous  things  happened  within  their  kingdom?  it  doesn't  seem  all  too  reliable  to  be  that  way,  but  ceren  doesn't  proclaim  to  know  customs  of  conversation.  russia  is  one  of  their  own  personal  mysteries,  a  place  they  barely  heard  whispers  about  when  living  back  home,  tomes  of  which  they  did  not  encounter  during  their  time  of  bookkeeping  and  apprenticeship. 

“how  so  very  interesting.  it  mustn't  have  been  a  very  good  poisoning  if  no  one  died.”  the  bluntness  of  this  statement  matches  up  with  the  current  circumstances  too  well.  ceren  does  have  the  decency  to  flush,  glancing  back  and  forth,  suddenly  aware  of  the  heaviness  that  this  statement  can  carry.  “how  can  someone  eat  and  not  be  harmed?  were  they  immune  to  the  poison  used?” 

immunities  by  ingestion  poison  were  a  secret  practise.  ceren  had  only  found  a  couple  accounts  of  this  in  their  bookkeeping,  but  that  was  enough  for  them  to  remember.  “it  does  seem  terrifying.”  their  tone  dips  more  towards  empathy,  just  in  case.

[schcmcr]

The lightheartedness of their statement sets off their alarms momentarily. Something off, about seemingly caring about the gravity of her story as little as she does herself. Sanya conceals an instant of stupefaction with a nervous chuckle, as if she'd just heard a very dark joke.

"What? I hope you don't know first-hand what a good poisoning looks like." Do they? Sanya's eyes are examining the scribe more intently than it seems. "Nobody got to eat. Nobody human, that is — some of our animals weren't so lucky. I'm sorry for them, too, but at least that prevented the food from being served." It would have made no sense to climb the ranks in a family thrown into disarray by a successful assassination.

"It was. That's what I mean, whoever was in charge... I bet they blame themselves for their negligence. But I swear, anyone who uses poison is not only a coward, but a sneaky bastard, too. I hope they get caught soon."

[xsecretkeepers-deactivated20250]

Maybe this was the trick, but thrilling them the waters could heighten fertility they were all encouraged to discuss the topic, not the waters themselves but the suggestion they held creating the prime opportunity for exactly the type of behavior required to maintain their reputation. A self fulfilling property.

Or perhaps they were simply a powerful body of water in a beautiful spot and Hisashi had too little control of his own impulses.

"I prefer to think of it as pickiness, rather than a choice to be celibate. It is far less embarrassing to share. But mostly I just have a general habit of saying whatever pops into my head regardless of the thought. It leads to me sharing far too much information about myself."

[schcmcr]

"I think that is as dumb as it is charming, but then again that depends on what you have to share about yourself. If it is only your loneliness, then you're right and it's just embarrassing. But if you're some kind of murderer, as there seem to be at least one among us lately— that would be a lot more problematic. Although I'd appreciate you sharing that, you know, so I could start running right now."

A light chuckle follows. Even that idea wouldn't daunt Sanya, she had been in enough fights during her younger days to be able to stand her ground.

"I, too, have an habit of saying whatever comes to mind. What's your name?"

[umitvar]

leaning back against the chair, yura crosses one leg over the other, resting the cup of cocoa on top of their knee. talking about this topic makes them feel sorrowful. even if they never knew the person, it's easy to feel grief for what their loved ones must be going through. of course, they do not dare utter this out loud, knowing how ridiculous it would sound to the tsarina. "you are right... it is no one's fault but the perpetrators." this, yura speaks resolutely. listening to her, they raise the mug to their lips, taking a sip. this is addicting, and there's always going to be a pang of lingering guilt that they are enjoying this, that they get to have this whenever they wish while they are here. then, their attention is pulled to sanya's words, and this time, their expression does twist into sorrow, gratitude, and terror all at once. "that- must have been terrible for you as well. for someone you trust, doing all of that." yura remembers that day, the chaos, how grateful they all were to not have eaten anything. "and of course — we cannot thank you enough for unveiling it. for helping my family." the idea of something happening to their siblings is enough to induce panic within them, which they try to push down. "evil men by their own nature cannot ever prosper. i read that once, from- euripides. i wonder, if it's supposed to give us comfort, or more terror."

[schcmcr]

"He taught me pretty much everything I know about a real kitchen, and I have no idea of what got into him, or if he had been planning it all along. It's frustrating. You don't... happen to know if he said something else in this time, do you?" She hesitates before asking. Despite her jovial and carefree nature, Sanya would not dare asking anyone about that, but Yura. They are special, and the two of them are friends— she has ensured they know that.

"You know, you're always quoting famous guys, or... I guess they are famous, I don't know them. And, don't get me wrong, I love that, you're the most interesting person I know — don't tell your siblings. But what do you think?" She leans in, a mischievous look in her eye. "About evil. You say that word a lot. Do you think there is true evil in the world, in people?"

[succiducus]

talkative; friendly; the mention of poison doesn't create a flutter of eyelashes or a sharp intake of breath, his gaze remains on them in a nonchalant manner, nodding as if every word was one that he'd spoken himself. "the devastation of loss creates waves that if could be seen by the human eye would look more like the roots of a tree. it reaches many and it's hands are deep - even tragedy is a word that cannot explain the level of such a loss." rafael says, intrigued by the follow up. "after?" he prompts. "well in that case, god stood with those you were serving. might i ask? what happened to your mentor? in the after-math of such a crime?"

[schcmcr]

"That's deep, your majesty. And very true," or so she assumes. To be honest, the nature of grief entertains Sanya very little. Of every feeling, that might as well be the most pointless, unproductive of them all. An anchor that drags others down into inaction and back into the past, over and over again.

"After. It was a special occasion, thankfully. Among the chaos, one of the dishes got burned, so I threw it away — for the animals to eat, nothing goes to waste. I don't know about God, but I know for sure the poor things saved the tsarina." Less messy and complicated than getting a person to try it.

"They imprisoned him. And he's still there, to my knowledge." The last unsettling proof of a crime otherwise perfect. "I suppose they made the right call, considering the recent events. With all these suspects... who knows if the guy was not part of something bigger, too. It's terrifying, honestly."

[opulentsarina]

"Oh not that story again. It's entirely too depressing," says Antonina as she saunters up to the table Sanya sat at with...someone. She didn't recognize them, and she didn't care, coming to implant herself firmly into the conversation. "All those years of service, and then a single fit of madness. At least Sanya here noticed. Who knows what would have happened to Mama if they hadn't," she gives Sanya a sweet smile and then turns to gaze at Sanya's companion. One beat, then two. Her haughty stare is more than enough to make Sanya's companion squirm and then excuse themselves. Antonina plops down in their seat and leans forward.

"I insist you learn how to make these little pastries," she says, holding one up. "I don't know what they're called, but I'm going to eat a hundred of them. And then when I return home I'll eat a hundred more. Now, I have a job for you."

[schcmcr]

"You are absolutely right. Let us not entertain such grim notions, especially when others have been less fortunate," a single note of compassion in her words, that quickly fades as the woman scares the other person away while Sanya watches with an amused smirk on their lips.

"Of course. However, you must understand, my dear lady, that to replicate the taste accurately, I may have to eat a few dozens of them myself," the quip is lighthearted, but they both know that the chances of the great tsarina agreeing to import something as trivial as cacao are quite slim. But they might come up with something similar, with enough time and a few tries — that much they meant for real. "You tell me. I am, as always, at your disposal."

[schcmcr]

Café do Paço, soon after Russia's arrival - Open (0/3)

"Her friends and family must be devastated, no doubt, but I cannot help but empathize with whoever was in charge of her, too. Someone, or someones, were supposed to prevent this from happening. We are only human, but don't always realize the importance of our roles, or the magnitude of potential mistakes."

Sanya takes a sip from her cocoa, and takes a moment to sabor it. She can tell she's gonna spend most of her free time here, trying out every flavor at least once, and then perhaps twice, for good measure.

"We caught my mentor after he poisoned the dinner once. Our food, in the same kitchen we had worked together in for years. I can't remember ever being more terrified than I was back then, even though no one ate and no one got harmed."

Bullshit, every single word, all of it. Yet, she speaks with a confidence and emotion that makes it nearly impossible to spot a single lie.

[classiqals]

status -> open starter, no cap

setting -> haspira's birthday boat luncheon party, having just left at a leisurely pace to sea

special requirements -> by order of the birthday sultana, no men are allowed to be in attendance, but all others are welcome regardless of political ties.

it was if once the leisure ship left the royal docks, haspira could finally breathe. no threat looming over her neck; no suspicion from her sultan, no daggers from her husband, no paranoia over her commander. for three hours, none of that would matter, and haspira personally wheeled out the cake to be cut for the celebration to begin. " thank you so much for joining me today. hopefully it turns out to be as refreshing for you as it already is for me. please - try the cake, it is made with semolina flour, and flavored with citrus. rose && lavender for the glaze. " her personal favorite.

[schcmcr]

"Thank you kindly, sultana." Sanya gives a formal bow, almost exaggeratedly so. It isn't by any means mocking, but displays the kind of overcompensating comicality of someone who is not used to etiquette and is, frankly, just doing her best. Or that is at least the sort of persona she's going for. "I shall enjoy myself. I spend most of my days with food on my hands, but I only a small part of that I get to put in my mouth as well. And that sounds as delightful as everything else smells."

A cut of the cake for her, and another for the sultana. The woman is handed her first, of course, and with an inclination of Sanya's head.

"To a long life filled with joy and plenty of cake. Happy birthday."

[xsecretkeepers-deactivated20250]

who: Hisashi & open

where: Outdoor Water Springs

Hisashi let out a deep sigh as his body settled into the spring. The smell wasn't quite that of an Onsen, nor was the heat exactly what he was used to but in the Brazilian winter, warmer than he was used to, that was a relief.

"I did wonder if using a spring renound for its fertility properties was a good idea. Seems far more dangerous than desirable right now. But then I decided it was the perfect excuse to make my current celibacy seem deliberate rather than incidental."

[schcmcr]

"Well, that depends on who you choose to lay with, don't you think? I know a great deal of people, royals and peasants alike, would love to have a large family of their own. Some do like them better when they're not of their own blood, but my point still stands."

A wide smile, Sanya feels at ease soaking in warm water while her face is out in the cold. Especially when the sights are enjoyable.

"Sorry, I merely just arrived. Is your celibacy common knowledge, or are you proclaiming it everywhere because you'd like it solved?"

[schcmcr]

{jayden revri, 28, genderqueer, she/they} We are so glad to see you safe, HEAD COOK ALEKSANDR 'SANYA' DEVI of RUSSIA! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are CHARMING and RESOURCEFUL enough to handle it. Just don’t let your CALLOUSNESS bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU WILL STOP AT NOTHING TO LIVE THE LUXURIOUS LIFE YOU HUNGER FOR

NICKNAME: Sanya (will not answer to any other name unless she's being scolded) NAME: Aleksandr Devi (true surname: Rao) AGE: 28 GENDER / PRONOUNS: Genderqueer, she/they ORIENTATION: Pansexual, polyamorous • • • FAMILY: Couldn't care less MARITAL STATUS: Unbetrothed but eager to change that LANGUAGES: Russian (fluent, native), English (fluent with a heavy accent)

BACKSTORY

Saint Petersburg is cold and unforgiving for those who do not have a single kopek to their name. Your family was rich and powerful during the Romanov rule. They served them for generations, and were given freedom to appoint their own for any position that was needed. That should have been your fate, had you not been born long after the assassination of the royal family.

After the war, your parents were shamed for their connections to the previous regime. Shunned, denied jobs, chased out of the capital. Remnants of the extinct dynasty were framed as the common foe that would unite the people towards a new collective goal.

They left for the countryside, and did what any couple in desperate need of money would foolishly do: produce as much cheap workforce as they could. Illness and starvation made you into a survivor. You can at least thank for parents for that, no matter how much you despise them. Your instincts led you to leave them quite young — better to starve stealing, than work eighteen hours a day and starve all the same.

You were caught only once, and they took your right little finger in retribution. You claim to have lost it as an apprentice, when you were still dumb, and clumsy with kitchen knives.

At the age of seventeen you had almost outgrown your aptitudes for sneaking into forbidden places and stealing nice things, and needed new sources of revenue. You already had a talent for selling things to people who don't need them, so this time you decided to sell yourself: instead of sneaking and stealing, you would be invited and given.

Your plan was fail-safe, or so you thought. You set your eyes on the youngest daughter of a merchant family. Dreamy, naive creature. Pretty, too. And filthy rich, behind the tsarina's back; another remnant of the regime. Felt almost like the home you never knew.

You became her friend, then stole kisses meant for her betrothed. Stole her heart. Her family's secrets. Her money, with honeyed words and pleading eyes. You attempted to steal her from her impending marriage, too, but her mother wasn't as stupid as she was, saw right through your intentions, and kicked you out like a dog. Your goodbye gift was to divulge everything you had learned and prompt an investigation on their dealings.

With a warning, if not worse, on your name, you sought refuge in the safest place you could think of: the great tsarina's home. You were smart enough to trick the service into believing you knew shit about cooking, and secured your new job by being competent, charming, and a skilled liar. You learn from your failures, and when you framed the previous head cook for a failed attempt to poison the family, you graciously accepted the role from him.

Now in Brazil, old plans are set into motion once again. Your greatest ambition is still not only not to starve, but to thrive, fill your pockets and climb the social ladder, whatever it takes. Yet, there isn't much more for you to climb in your homeland. So, you have set your sights higher: if you manage to secure a marriage with any of these foreign royals... maybe you could just leave Russia for good.

[gloriousncss]

Maria huffed, dramatically throwing her head back to let her jet black hair fall down her shoulders. "Gracious, indeed," she chuckled, "In all of these years, brother, you have only managed to maintain your sense of humor." Though he may point his finger at her for the reason of their downfall, Maria would equally point her finger at him in return. For his selfish acts lead her further and further away from a brighter future for all, not just for those who were born into riches. "Value!" she spat, her delight turning into a more bitter form of sarcasm, "Pray tell, what value do you hold here? None of us mean anything without our names and who we can marry, make no mistake about that."

[schcmcr]

"Unlike you, I did spend the past five years learning how to make myself useful, for my family and for myself. There is a lot to be done, when one understands politics and money— Well, I suppose you do understand money. How to spend it, at least," he retorts, sharply. "Make no mistake," he mocks, "marriage is just one kind of transaction. I have plenty of friends and allies to make up for mine, and good replacements for Stefan. So, you mean nothing except your name, and your husband's. And you'd better be a charming wife for him to keep you, because I will personally ensure you will not see another coin of Ortiz money."

[flcralhaze]

stefan  rolled  his  eyes.  every  word  the other spoke sounded like a singer constantly off key.   ❝ because i want nothing to do with you. ❞   how daft was the spaniard if he needed that spelled out to him? it was a rare moment that he didn't play the part of a charming prince, but he had no intention of going along with this sham and saw no reason to pretend. he scoffed.   ❝ no. my brother's predicament is no reason for me to sacrifice myself. he can clean up his own mess. ❞

[schcmcr]

"I see." Then it would not harm Stefan terribly if word spread out that he was willing to break their engagement. It might hurt Germany, however, but that would be a fun card to play, especially if he was to support a lover's campaign into China's throne. The ally of the enemy of my ally, or something like that. Still, he didn't like it when his plans got ruined, so he would gladly devote himself to become a headache in the meantime. "You could keep your lovers if that is an issue, you know — I had assumed already a man as handsome as you are would have plenty."

[thenxghtwemxt]

"It still baffles me that they remain standing. In your home, with your people." He admits without hesitation. Perhaps the Ortiz's are not as Machiavellian as the Emperor himself. Some version of empathy or weakness that keeps a few Bonaparte's in their realm, rather than destroying them as they have all others. "Why not just send them away? To France? To the middle of nowhere?" If they were true adversaries, they'd pull themselves by their bootstraps and emerge. Alas, staying is only a danger to Joaquim and his family's rule. "Best to do away with a threat before it takes root." Isn't that what he's done with Kaiming?

"No?" He cocks a brow, lifting Joaquim's chin to search his eyes for a lie. If there is one, it's invisible. One of the many attractive qualities about the Prince. Cards close to his chest, at all times. "Maybe he finds you charmless." Angelo jests, but not without peppering a kiss against Joaquim's chin. "Maybe your twisted mind isn't his cup of tea. His loss." He dismisses with a laugh. "He shall be poor and alone, whilst I enjoy the most handsome of Prince's Europe has to offer."

[schcmcr]

"I suppose it seemed like the most sensitive choice at the time, not to misplace them, let them regather and come back stronger. It worked out well, before my sister had to fall out of line. With that, I can sympathize. I wish I could remove mine so easily." And at least Kai-ming didn't steal the money and run away with it for enough time that faith in their rule started to crumble. The assumption that she spent five years wasting the Ortiz's funds until she ran out of gold to spend was poisonous to the reputation of a family who first ascended to power by removing another who did precisely the same.

And the truth, if he ever came to learn it, was even worse.

"No money, and no taste. And they say God won't punish twice," Joaquim purrs, taking a seat on Angelo's lap. A kiss is pressed to his lips as Joaquim's fingers caress the other man's face. "I still wonder if there is anything I can offer the Hatzfeld's, regardless of Stefan's stubbornness. I prefer my contracts to be made official, but the truth remains that their current allies aren't faring much better than they are. They could use someone who knows how to bring a nation back from the brink, and has the means to do so. Maybe even someone who doesn't require their naval forces, when they can barely subsist themselves."

[gloriousncss]

With the palace in shambles, everyone pitted against each other as verbal lashings took place around every corner, it seemed a perfect opportunity to seize their distraction. Heading out under cover a night, Maria stepped out of the Spanish wing with the hood over her head, sword attached to her hip and empty bag slung across her body. Stopping at the sound of her nearly-estranged brother's voice, she turned as though she had not a care in the world. "I've become the favorite? You insult me," she scoffed, brushing his hand off of her. There was once a time where Joaquim and Maria were thick as thieves, partners in crime... but their motivations deviated long ago. "I've got things to do," she sassed, fastened her bag tighter over her shoulder, "Why don't you ask your husband to join you in my place?" She grinned at the jest.

[schcmcr]

"Weren't you always? Fortunately, I'm a gracious man, who is willing to give second chances." The hurt is almost tangible in Joaquim's voice, and the tension in his face, eyes piercing the woman's. Even his words are half-truths: he has always been prone to rage, vengeful thoughts and cold revenges. He may forgive, sometimes, but never forgets. The Ortiz were once strong in their unity, and now that it is crumbling, it seems to have become the Bonaparte's instead, and the source of all problems is right in front of him. "Stefan is my fiancé, and we are in a tight spot, but don't get that wrong. I have value beyond my betrothal. You do not."