xia qinghe, empress of china.
penned by bonnie for amethystrp.
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@xiaqinghe
xia qinghe, empress of china.
penned by bonnie for amethystrp.
INTRODUCTION | FULL NAVIGATION | TEMPLATE
chinese hanfu by 明华堂
dowagerempressxiaojing:
“It is a pity they lack the faculties to inspire emotions greater than apathy, but I am resigned to the knowledge few shall rise to the occasion of our excellence. They speak profusely, do they not? I grow weary, waiting for sense to accompany litanies.” Xiaojing found suitable company in her son’s bride; she brewed disdain in calculated measurements, sufficing to suffer her greatest anguishes (at the quality of company kept in Moscow) in private. Here at least, the Dowager would find no ardent challenger to her fierce tone. “And thus they are rendered cold; but they seek to endear themselves to us - have you noticed such? I am pleased, albeit lightly, by the strength of our renown.” Never-mind the threat to their all encompassing dominion.
To avoid stirring her own passions, she spoke not of her son, whose reign rapidly reached a raging climax; blind to all, bound to bloodlust, the strength of an empire was placed into a false idol. Xiaojing knew Qinghe to harbour such notions; evenings such as this, further fashioned a conviction in her mind, that she would find support here, when it was later summoned. “I am here only at the promise of opportunity; we shall be in no greater position, then we are now, to strike out and bind the West to our side. Tell me – on the topics of marriage or trade, which presents itself to you as being most attractive?”
❂
The dowager’s forthright response brought an amused smile to the Empress’s lips, Qinghe nodding as she sipped her tea. “Quite right. They speak very much and yet say very little. Such is the language of courtesies.” Setting the cup down on Xiaojing’s table, she sighed. “Yes. Many hope to make allies of us, from my estimation. But it is not a privilege that will be easily earned.” There was intent behind her words, the Empress’s hope that she would make the nobility of the rest of the world earn a place in China’s good graces, if she had her say.
Studying Xiaojing like a patient student, Qinghe nodded along, listening intently. The Dowager had much still to teach her, that much she knew. For a moment, she considered her options, thoughtful. “Any one of them might provide fruitful in trade. Perhaps the Sultan’s retinue might provide promising goods, with the greatest return as far as the distance is concerned.” She pursed her lips, barely hesitating before she spoke frankly. “As to marriage: my children shall all take spouses at home. Perhaps you may think me short-sighted, but I see no benefit to marriage alliances that only disrupt the way of the court.”
ofmoscows:
it was easy to decipher she was talking to the ming empress herself . standing there in all her majesty there was no mistaking her . lyudmila was quick to notice the luxurious brightly colored material of the empresses hanfu . china had long been known to have the best silks in the known world . the thought cross her mind that should good trade between their nations come of this event she’d have more elegant silks for her wardrobe . she’d best act wisely should any negotiations occur .
she had been left behind on most travels before acquiring her title of grand duchess . her family wouldn’t stand for the embarrassment of an illegitimate child tagging along for political affairs . since that stroke of luck she’d been permitted to travel some , but she'd never seen the lands empress qinghe called home . she tried to imagine these less linear gardens for herself . “what a poetic way to describe a flower . ” she said. “i would like to visit your gardens myself one day , should i be so lucky . ”
❂
“I am quite fond of them. They provide a reminder of home,” she admitted, allowing her gaze to again drop to the lotus flower that was so like the ones she knew. It reminded her that, despite the distance they had traveled, Russia and China still shared some commonalities. There was something almost soothing to the thought, though Qinghe would not let it make her complacent.
“We should be glad to have you,” Qinghe assured her, offering a smile. “Of course I cannot speak for the Emperor himself, but I know that my household should be very happy to host visitors.” She paused, studying the younger woman with a perceptive eye. “You are one of Russia’s duchesses, are you not? I’m sorry to have not had the pleasure.”
STARTER FOR: @spiderings
LOCATION: Chinese retinue’s quarters
Despite the distance from home, little things had been supplied to make the Chinese nobles feel more at ease, though the Empress could not help but be reminded that she was not in her own playing field. The feeling left her uneasy, no matter how much incense or silk was at her disposal. She thought of all that she had left behind, eager to ensure that the visit would be worth it. To win the support of the other kingdoms toward her own ends was front of mind at all moments.
The evening was quiet as she wrote dutifully, eyes focused as her brush moved over the paper. She had taken it upon herself to document what she could, making note of all things worth remembering of the trip to Moscow. That was what occupied her when Geng Dao’s arrival was announced to her, and the Empress smiled faintly, setting her work aside. She held no ill will to the concubine, knowing well that this was just a matter of course in the Emperor’s court. She hardly felt threatened, no matter how many women surrounded her husband, feeling assured at the end of the day that it was she alone who bore the title of Empress.
“Have you yet made any friends, among the Europeans?” She asked Dao by way of greeting, seated at her table and studying the beautiful younger woman. “I admire their efforts to impress. If only they knew what awaited us at home, they would realize we are not so easy to intrigue, wouldn’t you agree?”
ofmoscows:
open starter .
ah , the beauty of russian summer ! when the snow was at last forced to part and uncover the flora below . it was on such serene summer afternoons lyudmila walked the kremlin’s gardens to see what nature had hidden from them all year round . never was the grass so green , or the flowers so vibrant . though the other kingdoms had their natural charms nothing brought upon the sense of pure aesthetic bliss in her like the summers of her homeland . how lucky she was to be able to treasure it once a year . sometimes she would remain here in the gardens until sundown simply admiring her surroundings . if it was not for the social requirements of her current circumstance she’d have stayed out here all evening enjoying the roses & the solitude .
the roses were nearly as beautiful as she . lyudmila was always overdressed no matter the occasion . she wore a traditional sarafan made of fine material sourced across europe . it was dyed the rare & expensive tyrian purple sourced all the way from the mediterranean sea . on her head her large gilded kokoshnik was impractical for something as physical as even a stroll and lyudmila found herself routinely pushing it back into place every few steps . from it hung links of temple rings to accent her face , their metal glimmered under the summer sun and blotted out some of her vision . despite these flaws she never let practicality get in the way of her fashion sense .
lyudmila passed purple stalks of sage , a bushel of yellow white daisies and a hoard of chamomile . it was only when she reached her favorite flower ; the russian lotus that she raised it to her face and breathed in and savored its sweet perfume . her kokoshnik threatened to fall once again as she bent her head forward , but lyudmila hastily adjusted it saving herself from the embarrassment of it tumbling down into the mulch below . in perfect timing too so it would appear . lyuidmila heard the sound of nearing soft footsteps .
“come to sample the gardens , have you ? the flowers are truly divine in the late summer .”
❂
“They are indeed exquisite,” Qinghe agreed, her own silken hanfu a vibrant shade of crimson, standing out against the soft colors of the Moscow gardens. She had been curious, of course, as to how different the gardens here might be, and they had not disappointed her, though the sight of the lotus flower that Lyudmila was admiring pleased her.
Coming closer, Qinghe leaned closer to admire the blossom. “There are flowers quite like this in Nanjing,” she mused aloud, glancing to meet Lyudmila’s gaze. “A thing of purity and beauty, emerging from the dirt and soil. But the gardens are different. They are not so...” She considered her words. “They are not so linear, as the gardens I have seen here.”
ZHU ZHU as KOKACHIN MARCO POLO (2014-2016)
dowagerempressxiaojing:
@xiaqinghe
location: the empress’ quarters
The prospect of coming evening hours failed to cheer the Empress, nor dismiss her ever present sense of business, a vague impression of obligation which stirred her from rest – the silent descent of afternoon had been passed in fervour, ordering about a hushed maid in a stream of tasks. Xiaojing had little time for selfish endeavours such as dreaming, but felt empowered in moments of stillness to think of whatever she liked. When she closed her eyes, she heard a twinkling of bells, subsiding at last; the sound drums bearing upon the palace, like a water divided upon a bed of rocks. Amidst these dreams of China came evening, and her daughter in-law - whether she wished to be warmed by the glow of sweetness or not, Qinghe brought a light with her, whenever she entered a room.
The pair sat quietly before a tray of cooling tea, the quiet retreat of the maid as good a prelude as any, to the Dowager’s aims - she spoke presently, her voice calculated, mellow - she did not seek to soothe, but rather, to disarm. “This is a quiet, pleasant sort of room, is it not? Though I chide the Russians for their senseless thoughts of grandeur - it is little more becoming, then a cave at sea; pale, blanched. Have you found our new hosts as equally accosting in their excitement, or does your ever optimistic air forbid you from assertions less than genial? We have had little time to speak as of late – it would be prudent, would it not, to survey our affairs?”
Some deep part of Qinghe had always admired her mother-in-law. After all, she was everything that Qinghe wished to be. Successful and strong, calculating and confident. Since the moment of her marriage, and indeed long before, she had studied the empress with a shrewd eye. In the intervening years, she had learned months from keeping the woman’s company, which she did with a sort of religiosity.
“I don’t know what to make of them,” she admitted quite honestly, cradling her tea cup in her hands. “I find this place... cold, compared to our city. Not just in the weather, but the atmosphere.” She waved a hand around them, to indicate her idea. “But the people have been gracious.” For a moment, the Empress paused, studying the woman’s face. “Do you see opportunity here, Mother?”
solisoccasvm:
Open to : all Location: The Palace of Facets
High spots of colour sit in the princess’ cheeks, the only sign of the dancing she has indulged in. Still, there is not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her skirt. She is at her best when surrounded by people, and she is well-practised in avoiding dishevelment. Her shoes pinch her aching feet, but she walks tall still, not a trace of a limp in her gait.
She reaches the wall, and it is all she can do not to sink against it. Perhaps she has overexerted herself this time.
A glass is pressed into her hand, ruby wine glistening in its depths, and she had not realised until that moment how much she needed it. A small chuckle escapes her, and she glances up at her saviour. “Thank you,” she says, in Russian, but though she has practised the language for weeks, she is by no means fluent. The words are blighted by her accent, markedly English, slipping from her mouth awkwardly, and she knows it, a wince following them with haste.
“My apologies. My Russian isn’t my most impressive talent,” she smiles, ruefully, self-deprecating. In truth, she’s not sure she has an impressive talent. Certainly not anything that would win her any favour in a gathering of the most important people in the world. She will ponder it later, she decides.
“I could use some air,” she confesses. “Have you noticed anywhere less…” her dark eyes sweep over the room, and she grasps for the best word to use to describe it. “…crowded.”
❂
“It is not mine, either,” Qinghe assures, studying the English princess with a smile that has an underlying sharpness to it. There is no judgment or unkindness to it, but there’s no denying that the Empress is guarded in this room full of strangers. After a moment studying her fair face, Qinghe follows Elizabeth’s gaze around the room before she nods. “Yes. I think it might be a fair bit nicer outside.” She gestures toward one of the doors. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you? A bit of air would be welcome for me as well.”
oljeiprincess:
Open starter!
Location: The Palace of Facets in the evening
Öljei decided to mingle a bit with the other monarchs, for she knew she had to. It wouldn’t be a good look if the Princess of Shemyaka didn’t at the very least introduce herself to the guests of The Russian Court.
She popped a final fig into her mouth before getting up from the table and approaching the crowd.
“It is such a lively evening is it not?” She asked the person nearest to her with a smile on her face.
❂
“Yes - I’d say it is,” Qinghe agreed, gaze turned out over the crowds. She had kept her distance from the mingling royals and nobility, taking her opportunity to simply observe instead. It was what she did best, in a way, watching and learning from what she saw around her. It was clear already to the Empress that she had quite a lot to learn, the other cultures a far cry from her own.
Finally turning her gaze to Öljei, Qinghe’s eyes seemed to soften just the tiniest bit. “Are you enjoying yourself?” She asked. “Forgive me if I seem brazen, but you seem... reluctant.”
XIA QINGHE, the 37 year-old EMPRESS has arrived from NANJING. The PEARLESCENT resembles ZHU ZHU and is both CLEVER and CONTROLLING. They are a member of the MING DYNASTY and remind the poets of A GOWN OF FINE, VIBRANT SILK; THE LINGERING PRESENCE OF FLORAL PERFUME; AND A SMILE HIDING SHARP TEETH. In the annals of history, they will be remembered in the year of 1319 as a PLAYER. One day they may rise to greatness, though greater men and women have surely failed. (bonnie — she/her — 26 — cst)
empress of the ming: outfit appreciation
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