Competitor Interview
All her life, she’d been primped and primed for interviews, speeches with the all the necessary qualities that one would look for in a queen. Grace and intelligence were bestowed upon her, mind formulating ideas, even if she could not will her power to be anything greater than what it had always been. She had been so close to asking her sister for aid regarding the later, but with that loss, every lesson on how to act seemed to be lost in her mind. It felt too soon, Calista’s barely scrambled together sanity hanging by a thread. But she can’t fail now, if her sister is watching down on her, she wants her to finally feel proud. Deep breath in, toss of her sable curls, and she’s walking to the room.
Despite being told that the interviewer would be there waiting to start immediately, the onyx haired woman seemed largely unprepared, on in no place to hurry along. Calista perches herself on the designated chair, legs tucked together with her hands resting on her lap in a loose lock. Nerves bounce upon her skin, and each moment that the interviewer spends wasting time promotes irritation. She’d gotten herself into a state of composure, and time slipped away slowly as she continued to wait. When the interviewer was finally ready, and then looked at Calista expectantly, she wanted to laugh. Patience had been taught to her as a child, she used all measure of it in that moment.
“Could you introduce yourself to the camera?” It’s a simple enough question, and the lady forces any nerves from her throat. No frailty will be accepted, if she wanted to be queen, she needed to be admired and not mocked. Her aunt continually congratulated her on the public face she gave, visiting the red orphanages was genius, but there had been no games in her heart and she took little of Liora said to heart. All her life, there had been a dependency on her aunt, who filled the mother shaped whole in her life - but in need of someone to blame, Calista had chosen her. Hurt of course flashed across the elder woman’s features, but she was still there encouraging her niece. She purses her lips, lifting a delicate smile onto her features, not enough to look fake, but a glimmer of one, which makes her appear genuine. Looking directly into the camera, words filter softly from her mouth, “Hello citizens of Norta, I am Lady Calista of House Eagrie.”
The words are barely spoken before the interviewers is moving on, and once again she thinks of the other person’s tardiness. Perhaps that itself was some form of test, so that they could get a measure of how much patience she held. Her hands remained on her lap, eyes never drifting from where they ought to be aimed. Liora always told her to never look at her hands, or to fiddle, and over exaggerations of the hands could make her look erratic or out of control. Measured actions had to be taken, all of which had begun from the countless lessons where she was forced to sit straight for several hours, dance with books upon her head, neck elongated as a signal of grace and prestige. The Eagrie’s were a high house, although Calista often wondered why.
Another question, another answer. “Why are you doing crownstrial?” A calculated breath, eyes briefly acknowledging the interviewer before glancing back at the camera. Not long ago, her answer would have been different - she was certain. Her aunt wound have been there moments before she entered, giving her words of wisdom. Instead, Calista had blocked out her aunt in particular, and refused to swallow her oaf of a father’s words, for he seemed to get over Guinevere far too quickly, or perhaps he didn’t truly care...Calista was the horse he’d always bet on to win the race. “There are a number of reasons why I am doing this. Firstly, it seemed a natural step for me to taken, given that I was the firstborn daughter of the Eagrie family and at that time, the entire trial was named something else entirely. I do believe in trying for my family, but I am undoubtedly doing it for myself as well. I have come to admire the King, first from afar and now his actions have spoken of a new age, I’d like to join him in that conquest. I believe that I have the heart, and would do everything within my power to be the Queen that Norta deserves.
“Are your words true? Do you mean what you say? Can we trust you?” Difficult questions were anticipated, and she thinks of the way in which the red woman had initially recoiled, ushering along her daughter who was too innocent to know better. She had been judged at face value, lumped with the rest and deemed that she was no better. Calista loved her fine things, she loved the luxury of the life that she lived, but she did not believe that those considered lesser by their blood, were truly that different or were any less important. “I know that in a world of darkness, we have all grown cautious of strangers. How can I say anything that you can truly believe? All I can do is be myself. Benevolence can be an outer mask, with darkness pulsating within a heart, but I have not come her to lie. I do not have the heart to deceive you about something so important. If it is I who wins, I would want to be trusted and not marked as someone speaking falsehoods.”
The longer that the interview continues, the more weary she grows. Her life has been built up to this moment, a grand architecture of do this, and do that, her desires laid out on a plate. She wanted to be queen, she wanted to be his. Adoration filled her, an unquenchable smile would lift onto her features, Calista lit up in his presence although he likely didn’t notice. The harsh reality was that in a competition of power, she was undoubtedly weakest contender. Emotion made her stronger, and in wake of Guinevere’s departure, she had seen more things - but not enough to challenge the likes of Zaira Samos. The thought of the Samos heir made her blood curdle, there was no kindness in her.
Calista continues to wait, for what seems like a lifetime. She’s uncertain as to whether or not she is still been monitored, but the interviewer is notably absent from the room. It had been a fleeting excuse, and Calista had virtually been told to sit tight and wait. Again, perhaps they were trying to test her patience. Time allowed her mind to once again fall to her sadness, and she wanted nothing more than to finish the interview so that she could relieve the emotion which was building in her heart. Give her the ocean to wash away her pain, salt waves to pull her under and wait for her to arise. She thinks of the waves, the way they brush upon the shore, as she wills herself to remain calm.
When the interviewer returns, Calista smiles softly once more. “Let us pick up where we left off.” She avoids raising her eyebrow, when the interviewer begins to tuck into a baked good. The action makes the severe looking woman almost seem wholesome, but she knows better than to fall into a trap of trusting the mere visage of a lady.In other circumstances, she was perhaps a delightful woman, but her saccharine voice was starting to grate on Calista’s nerves. “Do you agree with the ideals of our king?” The question sparks a tremor in her heart, and she forces aside the gleeful smile, she cannot look as though she is childish and girlish, running after the king so foolishly. She was raised with poise and dignity, she could muster it around him, so could certainly supply it in an interview.
“From what I have seen, the king is keen to incorporate change within his rule. I imagine that he wishes to leave the world better than he found it, and I’m certain that he will. He inspires many, and those who he has not, will soon see that he is doing what he believes is best for the people. Radical changes have already been put into place, but I do believe it is the kind of change that was needed for Norta to survive. It is no secret that many suffer, we are not all blind to it, and if they too can be helped then I think they should be.” Admiration is etched upon her features, lifting into her eyes. She believes in him, she always has. His father was a good king, but Orion could be better.
There are numerous cue-cards in the woman’s hands, but she seems to avoid most of them. Calista wonders whether it’s been a good interview or a bad once, since she appears to be omitting the questions of hobbies and interests, hopes for the future and all the generic ones which would have been recited against a looking glass by many of the ladies. “Now give a closing remark. Keep it short. I will cut whatever I do not like.”
With a nod of her head in acceptance, despite the brashness of the woman’s tone, Calista formulates a response. “These events will set change in motion, and I am certain we will all be stronger for it. The rebuilding of this world into something both peaceful and beautiful is all that I can hope for. The Norta which we deserve is on the rise. Thank you for your time.” She could have taken the moment to speak more of herself, on why she should be chosen or the people should love her. But desperation was unfavourable, and whilst her hopes were bordering that same trait, she could not bring herself to act upon it. In wake of tragedy, Calista felt humbled.
As sluggishly as the interviewer had set up, the ending came in quick succession. Recordings halted, a dismissal was issued and the woman was compiling her things. A sigh of relief her chest, although the gown which she wore felt constricting. With a soft goodbye, Calista left the room with tears in her eyes. She wanted to ask Guinevere if she was watching if she approved, but it would only fall on silent ears. No one was there to listen