#henrixdesrochers

[agentmonet]

@henrixdesrochers​

“You aren’t doing a very good job of blending in, Northener.” The brunette assesses, humor dripping from her tone as she polished off her goblet of wine. It was easy to spot those foreign to the East Reach, simply by their dress and demeanor. But Prince Henri, a Northener, felt out of place in the lush greenery of the East Reach. Her handmaidens spoke of a Prince, paying tribute to the ailing Duke Ashcraft. It wasn’t until hours later, close to midnight, when Ainsley recognized who had come to pay tribute. “What brings you to the Reach?” Pausing, she callously adds. “Surely it’s not to honor the dishonorable Duke.” The rebellion attack left most in ashes, but from that, she bloomed. Looking back, perhaps only those who had little to live for, found renewal in the change.

[arvascorned]

When: Masquerade, time of plot drop Where: West Wing Stairway Who: @henrixdesrochers 

There’s little rhyme or reason to the direction of the fleeing crowds, most simply scattering in whichever direction was opposite the encroaching attackers, panic having taken hold only moments after the explosion rattled the keep and transformed the esteemed guests into something not unlike a herd of deer, leaping desperately towards presumed safety at the sight of a dragon circling overhead.

It descends upon a different target.

Grabbing a decorated table over from a near wall Arvas sent it tumbling down the staircase with remarkable ease, crashing into the few soldiers who had been rapidly ascending the steps and together hurdling down back to the hall below - a hurried glance spied other engagements over the banister, the sounds of battle having carried the old beast towards it, by sheer instinct seeking to aid those who had chosen to take up arms against the intruders.

Regardless of whether or not they could stop halt their path, they might at least stave them off long enough to give others a chance of escape,

[ladyamela]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  :  Front steps of  East Reach

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒  :  for  Henri Desrochers / @henrixdesrochers

Over the years, Améla lost count of how many times she stood in front of the window in her quarters. What she can remember is standing in this same spot 14 years ago on the day of her aunt's funeral. It seemed strange that while the world changed, the view outside this window never did. The seasons came and went, altering the grass from green to brown, then orange and red during the months the trees discarded their leaves, and white when the snow-covered it but with all of that, the landscape remained unchanged. It felt a bit surreal being back at East Reach for her uncle's funeral. East Reach had been her home since she was three years old today, though it felt more like a ghost than her home. The halls filled with memories of a time long gone. A time filled with all the people she loved and now lost. Her life had been full of loss; first her parents, than her aunt and now her uncle. Though if Améla was being truthful with herself she lost her uncle years ago after her aunt passed. For so long it had been just Alek and her, and now it really was just Alek and her. The last of them, Améla thought just before she heard come to a stop outside her door. Not a second later there was a knock on the door has it slowly opened.

"Lady Améla, Prince Henri Desrochers of Chateau Mer Sereine has arrived," she maid spoke.

"Thank you, I'll be right down." It would take a few deep breathes and another five minutes for Améla to pull herself together enough to face the world once more or so she thought. That still did not stop her from making her way down to the main floor, and then outside to greet Henri.

[vixenandviper]

✵

Send ✵ and my muse will answer the following.  

Their first impression of your muse:

“Another attractive entitled lord.... oh he’s asking for the vixen of the Nightshade? I suppose now’s as good a time as any to teach some lessons.”

Current impression:  

“He isn’t as bad as most lord. Still a little entitled but he’s entertaining and sweet some times. And he’s grown to like some of my other staff.”

Are they attracted to your muse?:  

Yes, in a way. They haven’t crossed the line from customer to friends or anything but he’s attractive.

Something they find frightening about your muse:

Every nobleman has power to shut her down, one way or another. She’s always afraid of something like that happening but Henri is a decent fellow overall.

Something they find adorable about your muse:  

He has the quietest snore.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  

Hell no.

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  

Romantic, probably.

One word my muse would use to describe yours:  

Repressed. Mostly in terms of his potential but all northerners are to some extent. Especially that stuffy queen of theirs.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?:

Depends on if he’d like it.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?:

Yes to both.

[arvascorned]

When: Prior to Festival Where: Markets of Glasswater Keep Who: @henrixdesrochers​

He turned the small, intricate knife over in his hand, regarding it with much the same level of interest he’d had for the rest of the wares splayed out in front of him - which is to say, not a lot, and certainly less than the stall’s owner would prefer. The blade he'd picked out was carved from bone, with winding patterns along it’s side which captures his curiosityonly briefly, as shortly enough he put it back down and glances dubiously back over the rest.

He had doubts he would leave with more than he came.

The nearby, muffled sounds of angry voices had an easy time stealing his attention away from such lackluster shopping efforts, a rather acute sense of hearing picking it up despite the bustling around them. He made an effort not to pay it much mind, fairly content to chalk it up to a dispute of haggling or one unhappy customer and another, but as the voices raised a little higher, a little nearer, the dragon’s brow furrowed.

When there is suddenly a bump against him, he is less surprised, and more preemptively feeling the embers of irritation flaring up, even as he turns to face the source of the disturbance.

[agentmonet]

@henrixdesrochers​

“Naturally, my only option was to join them in the public baths before my father caught wind of the situation.” Ainsley giggles loudly, huddled together with her ladies maids like hens squawking over gossip. After putting her husband to bed, the Duchess could finally relax and indulge with better company. The laughs suddenly come to a slow stop, as her ladies look behind her. Immediately, they come to their feet and bow. “ Lady Ashcraft, it’s Prince Henri -- I mean, your Grace.” One of her ladies, a younger girl from the Red Keep, muttered nervously. With it being her first time in Glasswater Palace, the practice of formal greetings was still ost on the poor soul. Never the less, it sparked the Duchess’ curiosity. Looking back at her shoulder, she spots the boy from many moons ago. Gone was the young child with tussled hair, instead replaced by a statuesque man. “It can’t be,” she exhales. “Henri DesRochers. Is that truly you?”