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      Vote for Valucre [June]   05/16/2017

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Pasion Pasiva

~*All is Bright*~

285 posts in this topic

On 2/13/2017 at 1:59 PM, Aleksei said:

@Pasion Pasiva (Lucis)
                                                                                              

Lemon_zpsbbc45a0f.png

"I am not entirely sure."

Lemoine spoke with honesty with a dollop of conviction. she had many reasons to why she came today and they all felt justifiable, yet she couldn't say them out loud without giving a very long winded story. There had been history between Orisia and Renovatio and the story is not one of credit, nor does it entirely matter now that many years have passed. She didn't want to bring up history that holds no reason to the now, and she feared she would fumble her words and make a catastrophe out of an attempt to explain her why.

She turned to look out at the trickling water beneath them; the reflection of starlight and moon dancing with every ripple. Her fingers were woven behind her while she thought and thought of how to answer Erik's question without being offensive. He has been a wonderful partner thus far and would hate to push him away with her hurried words. 

"To satisfy a gnawing need to see the rest of the world beyond the borders of my home, I do believe."

The whole truth and nothing but it. The core reason as to why she is here, why she had felt so promoted to make an appearance no matter the consequences (which were none at the time). All her life she has kept herself hidden behind Renovatio and her duties, using any excuse to never have to touch foot outside her home to remain safe and happy in the ease of her small life. When reality had smacked her not too long ago she realized that no matter where you are and no matter what you do, life always has a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone.

"I've never been to Orisia before and my niece wished to stretch her legs during this masquerade, so an opportunity was given to me to tag along."

Lemoine had arrived in Orisia a handful days before to better experience the place without constantly being followed by guards. Her freedom is a precious thing and she will do whatever she can (within reason) to grab every opportunity to indulge in it. When you have so many opportunities pushed onto your shoulders, you do not take your freedom for granted. 

"Thank you so much for entertaining me, by the way."

The woman had changed over the years, and even though Erik was unaware of who she was before today, he would be able to feel and possibly hear a dab of awkwardness to her thanks. Long time ago she would never have spoken so freely with a person of his stature, for he would have been considered lowly and foreign and only a spoke to a well oiled machine. Just with anything else, she had changed her ways and wished to remedy her nastiness with something more genuine and meaningful. 

She gave him a bright smile when turning to face him, the water now facing her back. The comfort of conversation, away from the gossipers and emotions unnecessary to her, made her feel more relaxed and ready to make a more appropriate impression on the King and his subjects. Earlier she had just let the words spill out with no regard to the laws of this land, and she is ashamed for doing so. With life surging through her veins thanks to the fresh air and new company, she can better approach him and say sorry.

A movement caught her eye and she quickly turned to look towards the shift in atmosphere. Her smile turned warmer, perhaps more welcoming if such a thing is even possible, at the sight of the King. With all the enthusiasm she felt, Lemoine waved at him just in case he didn't see her and Erik.

It wasn’t hard to find them. She shone from a distance -- the colors of her outfit paled by the silver moonlight. But she was still bright. An illuminated body against a sea of darkness. It felt like she was standing there just for him, and although she was quite literally waiting for him, the sentiment went far deeper. There was a sense of completion as he came around a bend and began to walk up the slight incline. Erik turned to his king and bowed. He didn’t wait to be dismissed, it was as if he had heard some wordless order and so complied promptly. The knight didn’t even turn to say his goodbyes to the kind lady who engaged him in conversation. But it wasn’t out of a desire to be rude, more so a desire to not prolong the long awaited for moment reunion.

 

Lucis stopped at the base of the slightly raised and curved bridge. He watched as Erik took his leave and then, only when the knight was at a distance, turned back to regard the woman who, true to her word, waited for him. She was smiling, and the warmth of her expression was infectious. He couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“And here I thought the evening would be long and dull -- well, it was long and dull until I saw you, a sparkle of color among the crowed of gold and black. It feels like I waited too long to come out and see you. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” he asked with a genuine look of concern as he began to climb up to the center of the bridge. But rather than go to her side or reach out and touch her with the same familiarity he had treated Constance, he kept a respectable distance. He lingered on the other side of the bridge, leaning against the low wooden rails.

 

He was quite a sight in his black outfit, and the bright golden sash tied across his waist, hanging low with the weight of a ceremonial saber-sword. He then did something strange -- something unexpected. Lucis reached up and pulled free the ribbons that bound his mask to his face and then pulled it aside. A young, handsome face greeted the darkness of night. He had sharp, square features -- a hard jawline, a squared chin, a narrow face, and golden eyes. Those golden eyes softened the hardness of his features, and the severity of his somberness. His thin, but pale lips were pressed into a line, and it looked like he never smiled. He couldn’t help it. He had inherited his mother’s worried scowl.


“So now that I have you alone, are you going to show me your face? I would love to know who among all my guests has managed to captivate me so.”

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Politics.

A terrible word with an exciting agenda.

It was a sport—a blood sport, perhaps. Raven was good at surviving. Her time with the Master Albany hand come and gone. He charmed her, and they had danced and danced. Dancing was a conversation, and theirs was one with the promise to meet again without the duress of societal obligations. Now she tactfully mingled through the crowds, making her way to one particular destination.

She had seen him before, and knew nothing of him or his origins. It was not that he was not agreeable looking, but rather her own particular way of labeling others. It was his attire that stood out the most to her. It was obvious he was meant to stand out, but for reasons outside of those who participated. It was artful, the way he stood out and simultaneously blended in. The Man in Blue Silk, she decided.

Raven was careful, the tips of her fingers gently brushing at his elbow to garner his attention. A pre-emptive greeting for a busy man!

“Excuse me,” The lilt of her accent stretched the vowels out, the consonants a staccato, “I have noticed you flutter about with great importance, are you perhaps the master behind this masquerade?” Planning an event this grand was no easy feat, and Raven had watched him for some time before decidedly making her move to approach him. Rejection was of course a possibility, but the ambition to succeed was there.

It was a sport of words and gestures, politics (though Drew’s idea of politics was verily more violent)—perhaps she could play the game a little longer still as she offered a genuine smile to the Man in Blue Silk.

@Pasion Pasiva

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On 2/15/2017 at 11:06 PM, Deus Ex Aizen said:

Politics.

 

A terrible word with an exciting agenda.

 

It was a sport—a blood sport, perhaps. Raven was good at surviving. Her time with the Master Albany hand come and gone. He charmed her, and they had danced and danced. Dancing was a conversation, and theirs was one with the promise to meet again without the duress of societal obligations. Now she tactfully mingled through the crowds, making her way to one particular destination.

 

She had seen him before, and knew nothing of him or his origins. It was not that he was not agreeable looking, but rather her own particular way of labeling others. It was his attire that stood out the most to her. It was obvious he was meant to stand out, but for reasons outside of those who participated. It was artful, the way he stood out and simultaneously blended in. The Man in Blue Silk, she decided.

 

Raven was careful, the tips of her fingers gently brushing at his elbow to garner his attention. A pre-emptive greeting for a busy man!

 

“Excuse me,” The lilt of her accent stretched the vowels out, the consonants a staccato, “I have noticed you flutter about with great importance, are you perhaps the master behind this masquerade?” Planning an event this grand was no easy feat, and Raven had watched him for some time before decidedly making her move to approach him. Rejection was of course a possibility, but the ambition to succeed was there.

 

It was a sport of words and gestures, politics (though Drew’s idea of politics was verily more violent)—perhaps she could play the game a little longer still as she offered a genuine smile to the Man in Blue Silk.

@Pasion Pasiva

 

 

“Don’t mix the red with the white, it looks horrible. And make sure the champagne flutes are properly polished for the toast later tonight, I don’t want them using any of the crystal that’s already been brought out. And so help me, if one more of your people drops a tray I’ll make sure you never get hired again!”

 

The man in blue silk had a throbbing vein pulling along the right side of his forehead, but it was hidden behind a matching mask of stretched blue silk. There was an elaborate design in silver rhinestones that danced along the border of the mask, and it was behind one of these shimmering jewels that one could see the faintest hint of a throb from underneath his clammy, tanned skin. Of course that wasn’t the only sign of stress. His voice was a bit shrill, almost hoarse at times, as if he might lose it altogether. And then of course there was his posture, which all but radiated the vast tension it must have felt under the weight of ensuring that this whole event went off without a hitch.

 

The woman he was speaking too, in such a rude manner wore no mask and was easily discerned as part of the serving staff by her outfit -- a clean white jacket made of thick fresh cotton and black pants and shoes. There was a small badge upon her right breast, a small heartshaped sigil with tiny wings extending from it. She smiled, warmly, and nodded her head. She was the picture-perfect vision of patience. Then she turned and walked away.

 

When she touched him, he jolted so violently that he nearly struck her with his swinging arms. He was a tall and slender man with long and slender limbs.

 

“Heavens, you scared me,” he chided the woman, before seeming to get a hold of himself. It wasn’t appropriate to go around treating complete strangers like wayward children -- especially when he couldn’t tell who was royal and who wasn’t. “Forgive me, my dear, I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” he lied, but settled a narrow blue gaze on the pretty little creature before him.

 

“I have noticed you flutter about with great importance, are you perhaps the master behind this masquerade?”

 

Ever the preening peacock, the man in blue silk, straightened and cleared his throat. His shiny blue feathers, imagined as they were, seemed to come to life and stand erect. “Why yes -- yes I am. I am the planner of this humble little gathering,” he shot out his hands, and grinned proudly. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t see a drink in your hand -- let me remedy that. White wine? Red wine? Perhaps a cocktail?” Before she could answer, he was snapping his fingers, trying to get the attention of one of the white-coated servers. “Has anyone even offered you a drink?! Ugh, good service -- it’s so hard to find.”

Edited by Pasion Pasiva
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On 2/17/2017 at 2:13 AM, Pasion Pasiva said:

“Has anyone even offered you a drink?! Ugh, good service -- it’s so hard to find.”

“Oh no, no,” Raven laughed nervously and shook her head in sudden realization of how strange it must seem to be at a party of this caliber and not drink, “No, I am so sorry—that will not be necessary. As a psion, I don’t drink. I verily appreciate that offer, that is most kind of you.”

Raven canted her head thoughtfully, her lips pursed. She was a thinking Sun in that moment, “I came to make amends with your King. There have been grievances done in my name against his nation, and I see it only right to amend these wrongs.” She turned her masked gaze to the crowds. To the colorful people who waltzed by, to the chattering, unsuspecting high nobles. She wondered if this would have been possible otherwise, if the great and terrible wrong had not occurred.

With careful consideration she reached up and carefully unfastened the mask from her visage. Her features were exotic—Her high cheekbones, the almond shape of her eyes. They were painted; thin, black lines with a touch of gold—but it highlighted her beauty all the more. Her eyes were like the changing of seasons—verdant and touched by the first golden leaves of fall.

“It is of great, imperial importance I see this through no matter the cost.”

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@Die Shize

Aine bit back her smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as the lamplight danced against the soft depths. “Well. Éabha has her own methods of entertaining herself.” She’d taught her well. Éabha had only earth and wood in her bones, all the stone seemingly reserved her her older brother. “And I doubt she’s caused any damage more significant than the occasional frayed beading.” She stepped a little closer, her hands coming to rest on Vadrian’s hips. Oh, to just stay here forever would be far preferable over going out to face the highest and mightiest of Orisia’s nobility. Here, she could just be Aine, not the Lady Dawnwood.

She sighed, resting her cheek against Vadrian’s chest. “Though you are right. I would love nothing more than to go scandalise every stone-boned sky-sniffer in that hall.” She looked up at Vadrian, her arms encircling his waist. “But to do so would be to endanger our standing at Court, which I’m to believe is the opposite of the objective of this little game.” She gave him a soft smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “So I will play pretend, and then go find Éabha when I am too pained with boredom to continue, and we will go climb trees.”

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@Pasion Pasiva (Lucis)
                                                                                              

Lemon_zpsbbc45a0f.png"And reveal my secret identity? You are a mad King!"

The exposing of his face spoke volumes on various levels. Something inside her chest blossomed and warmed her soul to its very core when he removed his mask in front of her, exposing features she already knew to be handsome and fierce. 

Because she is not a shy woman, Lemoine examines him with a fierce need to map every sharp turn, dip and curve, hill and valley, of his face. She restrains herself from being too bold and keeps her eyes on his face, unsure how he would respond if she were to trace the rest of his form with unusual eagerness. She openly admired the color of his eyes, trying to find a better word than just melted gold - maybe honey? 

Completely satisfied and sated with her evaluation, she tears away her gaze to remove her mask for the second time tonight. Slender fingers struggled silently for a few seconds as the thin strings to her mask decided to dance in the depths of her pink hair, becoming a tangled mess. After a few tugs and a couple of colorful words her mask was released, but she held it to her face and gave the King a playful look.

"Now, I hope you continue to like me for my mind after you see my face."

Could anyone blame the woman for being slightly vain? The removal of her mask revealed youthful features, which compliment her equally youthful actions. Opal hues became more prominent thanks to the kohl surrounding her unique gaze. Truthfully her smile is the only piece of jewelry she ever needs to wear, so bright, beautiful, and special it is. The jewels in her hair danced as she approached him, the light of the moon and stars illuminating them in the sea of pink hair. 

"There is nothing to forgive my King, you are a wanted man by many and I must respect that. I admit that I'm tickled that you have shown me such special attention, I'm not entirely sure how to react."

Lemoine stared at him like an equal, not some man with a loft crown atop his lovely head. She wasn't sure if she should will herself to blush like Constance had prettily done so before him, or if she should bashfully lower her eyelashes to appear coy or meek. Not once in her life has she been taught how to act the part of a delicate woman. 

"I sincerely hope I haven't offended you tonight. You've been so kind and admittedly I would be heartbroken if I had stepped beyond my boundaries earlier."

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    Musings, as they must be, do not settle the twinge knotting the knight's gut. Death may have overtaken the knight's life, but intuition and self were left unchanged. Better yet, they forgo many steps and forge a steel path in leaps and bounds. That they may strengthen in newfound Unnatural weakness. The illuminating light with which flaring eyes gleam at the thought, lingers as the knight rides. Those hues leaving trails of ghostly ripples of fog as the stallion carries them through the night. Refusal in belief.    
         
    It had taken days of travel from the darkened lava pits of Urbem Amissam to DuGrace Castle, yet brazen nerve holds fast. Time unable to waiver the flash flood of fury coming undone beneath a finely polished breast plate. Had the knight a heart, its purity would thunder loud enough for all to hear; a gong of warning to those daring enough to besmirch it. Instead they would have to do with the glint of armor illuminated by fire licked lanterns.    
         
    Having stabled the horse, and in no need for a cool down or rest of any sort, the knight proceeds towards the gala. Beautifully decorated beings of both night and day traipsing around in pleasure of the enamored scene. Faces hidden diligently behind ornate facades only birthing questions on the actuality of their true presences. Their carefree masquerading and pretentious acts not really hiding their faults or intentions in this knight's cold eyes.    
         
    Cerulean embers search thoughtfully, carefully, through the throngs as while stepping lightly across the grounds. The heft of metal shrouding the knight's well structured frame doing little to slow such a strong and steady gait. Recognition of any of the masked faces holds no gout. The knight's temperament set on one singularity in particular.    
         
    Arms and gowns lap against armor and part to allow passage as the knight moves through. Bodies rolling and tumbling back and forth like waves as friends greet one other only to gallantly shuffle off to kiss the cheeks of another. Giggles and chatter bounce off of uncaring ears, going ignored in the face of certain conquest. After a few long moments of traversing the clownish parade, the presence being sought is eventually deemed not to be near. The stoic curves of a pallid face tilting and turning to follow a drifting gaze.    
         
    This is where the knight takes leave of the gala, striding towards open grounds and a cool night breeze that goes unfelt as it caresses a high boned cheek. It is out here that glowing sapphire eyes find what they long to absorb. @Aleksei (Lemoine)A beauty of great quality and uniqueness guides the knight on a tour of the landscape, seeming to shape the moons aura in colorful hues and claiming the night for her own. Upon this bridge she has ornamented herself, is also a man of a meager demeanor. @Pasion PasivaThe frame, the stature, the sound of his voice prickles the ears in such tone as to drive the knight into forced movements. So haughty and statuesque is the man, that the knight holds no recourse upon approach. Having no feeling in bringing their little entreaty to a halt.    
         
    “Mad, most certainly... King, I will never honor such a credence.” Steadily as any other, though lacking in conduct, the Knight of Reverence joins the two so openly displayed on the bridge. “Lucis, where is her true highness, my Queen?”    
         
Edited by -Lilium-

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Lucis Angelus

@-Lilium- @Aleksei

They stood across from one another, and he could not help but take in the measure of her face now that it was revealed. Her eyes were by far more stunning without the mask, a fact that had somehow been lost to him during all of this time. Without the distraction of molded silk and ribbon, he could see the slender bridge of her nose, her narrow, but plump lips, her elegant cheekbones, and of course those bright eyes. They were a color he had never before seen, and it sent his imagination to strange places.

 

How would she look, early in the morning nude and amidst a sea of silken blankets and satin pillows. Or, alternatively, how would those eyes change when cast under his shadow when his body glided back and forth across hers in the throws of mating. The thought made him smile, which happened to coincide with her own smile. The way her lips curled, it brightened everything that was already glowing and wonderful.

 

This was a woman that he would keep smiling for the rest of his life, if only he had the honor…

 

“Now, I hope you continue to like me for my mind after you see my face.”

 

Perplexed at the mere thought that had seemingly entered his mind, Lucis straightened and a bit and tried to compose himself. The removal of her mask was not something he had been prepared for, but now that the lines and shapes of her face were becoming familiar, he could move from admiring them to wanting to appreciate them in motion.

 

“I don’t know -- charming as I’ve found your wit and mind to be -- I must confess that your face is akin to art, and beauty such as yours, speaks to me on another level. Your eyes,” he paused, frowning a little as he reached up to touch a wayward strand of strawberry pink hair, “ -- they are by far the most beautiful jewels I’ve seen. They are so unique. How did you ever acquire such a wondrous color?”

 

He wondered if it was a family trait, and that if it was and he happened to marry this woman (there was that strange thought again), if he could finally break the damn curse of golden eyes and give his children hers instead. What beautiful little sons and daughters they could have together, he thought with a charming little half smile playing on his lips.

 

“There is nothing to forgive my King, you are a wanted man by many and i must respect that. I admit that I’m tickled that you have shown me such special attention, I’m not entirely sure how to react.”

 

“Gratefully,” he replied with laugh, an obvious tease, “-- so grateful that you won’t leave my side for the rest of the evening. While you may be tickled by the attention, there are others who would pluck out my eyes to keep me from looking at anyone other than them.”

“I sincerely hope I haven’t offended you tonight. YOu've been so kind and admittedly I would be heartbroken if I had stepped beyond my boundaries earlier.”

 

He was about to wave a hand, to push such thoughts as far away from her thoughts and to change the worried expression that plagued her beautiful face into another dazzling smile...but he never had the chance.

 

“Mad, most certainly… King, I will never honor such a credence.”

 

“Lady Lyrae,” said Lucis, turning his golden gaze from the pink-haired beauty to the armored maiden who stood at the foot of the bridge, glaring daggers up at him. He didn’t immediately understand it. The tone of her voice, the disbelief and anger in her strange eyes. He wasn’t familiar with all the knights that had sworn fealty to the Black Queen, but this was far from the reaction he had expected.

 

“Lucis, where is her true highness, my Queen?”

 

If he was angry, it did not show. The only thing that did show was a deep sorrow as his eyes softened and his tense posture melted away. His shoulders sank a little and he took a step forward, setting himself between the Lady Knight and the beautiful Lemoine.


“I was under the impression that all of the Black Heart Knights had been informed...even those doing undercover work…” the King sighed and looked away, down, and then over the bridge to the small babbling creep. The silence hung between them all, thick and dark -- and so very awful. “Lyrae -- my mother is dead. The Black Queen has been dead for nearly three months.”

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@Die Shize (Teige)

                                                                               

23j1yc9.png

Areille was absolutely delighted to see Teige again stumble across his words, like a stone bouncing across the placid face of a tranquil lake. There had been such a strange fluidity earlier to the way he spoke with perfected manners, and to see the little rips and tears in his practiced behavior made the girl feel warm and elated. Both shared the same blush, the very same wide and ecstatic smile which spoke volumes on how they felt. In his mind he may consider the rose to be the less worthy in comparison to the stone, but Tiege may never understand how such simplicity is a monument to her. 

If the woman hadn't shifted to place a very endearing smack of a kiss on Areille's reddened cheek, she would have been lost to the young girl. Pushed back into the warmth of reality, the Princess turns to beam up at her rising mother, who had given Teige a very elaborate curtsy before turning back to her conversation, giving her daughter and friend slight privacy. 

Primera had caught the exchange of words against the rising silence of the surrounding crowd. She had been intrigued by the drama unfolding, yet she remained glued by her husband and daughter in a need to be ready just in case things got too excitable. 

Areille wasn't paying attention to any of the adult activities going on around them. Instead she was interested in what Teige felt, understood, wanted to know, all the those things and more. She knew, because she saw, that he had questions that need explanations and reason. Her mind hurried to find a beginning to her story, a story that is years too long for her to husband and far too indulgent to be safe for her curious mind. Sifting through all the strangeness of her family line, she does find a frayed end of a single strand of history.

"We are the descendants of the Moon Goddess Steorra; blessed with the eyes like Moon Stones."

She had voiced her disappointment towards her own eyes which are not as prominent as her mother's or her grandmother's, but her mother had reassured her with age they'll get their significant glow and glitter. Until then she is stuck with two orbs holding drops of a very impatient sea. 

"She was smote ... smitted? smotted?"

The girl paused with her arms raised to the sky and her face contorted with confusion. What was the right word?, she frantically thought to herself. She hadn't wanted to shame Tiege with such a poor display of vocabulary when his was so adult, so aged! Her panic made her choke and remain frozen in time, while he waited for her to say, do! something. 

"From our pantheon by The All Mighty, Him, He Who Is Creator - Primus! Jealous of her love towards His people, he refused to have competition and removed her to be lost in the history books!"

There is so much more to be added to the story, but she didn't want to bore him to tears with her lackluster storytelling. Steorra, alongside Superbia, has become a staple in the homes of many Renovatians who've just now rediscovered their love for all Gods, not just their precious creator Primus. The stars now holding Renovatio up are all worshipped, loved, and talked about; no longer are such things hidden away to be forgotten.

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@jack-attack (Jack)
                                                                                              

2dt5ec.png

Newlyweds indeed! They touched, they smiled, and they talked with honey tainting their words; they play the part of newlyweds well and it's somewhat of a heart wrenching moment. The night will be ending soon, and with it Jack and his brother and their manners. Delaney felt herself drowning in the melancholy of her hateful thoughts, becoming rather unsure if she should continue to drag her feet or nip this entire thing once and for all. Unfortunately she knows very well that this - whatever it is - can't be severed with just a 'good-bye'.

It would appear that this man had other things on his mind, his charade seemed to have melted into silence. Delaney was curious and needy to know what exactly had gone on to spark the man's ire, but at the same time she wasn't so eager to wait and listen. Whatever had gone on in this wonderful maze will simply remain a pricking memory. She and Jack will be departing soon enough, so wasting any more time on this forlorn man is positively silly. 

"I hope whatever your next endeavors are, are at least met with positivity and success, sir."

A kind exiting that is beneficial to the both of them. Giving the gentleman a bow he so rightfully deserves, the Princess marks their departure with pleasantries. If by some strange circumstances that they cross paths again, she wants to make sure that their next meeting is happily accepted. 

"Have a good rest of your night."

She grabs her pseudo-husband by his arm and returns to their previous spot. The heat from their needy little romp could still be felt, and the small memory made her smile and shudder with the simplest of pleasures. Right now, with all the small interruptions and their obvious like of one another, she wasn't sure if she should continue her oblivious act or not. Her father and siblings would not be pleased, though they would hardly chastise her for tangoing with a stranger unworthy of her pleasures. Stopping now would probably do them well.

"When you leave tonight Jack, where are you going to go?"

And may I come along? She withheld the last part to merely tease her companion - wherever he went, she'll go too. But she didn't want to get him too excited and continue to shamelessly play with his emotions.

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@Pasion Pasiva (Lucis) & @-Lilium- (Lyrae)
                                                                                              

Lemon_zpsbbc45a0f.png

"Gratefully?! You horrible man!"

Lemoine muffled her laughter behind soft fingers, showing that she does indeed have some semblance of manners before royalty. The words had been used to tease her and because of said knowledge she refuses to give him any inclination that she is. He didn't have to talk to her or even indulge her whatsoever this night, no matter their ranks in the upper crust of society. Lucis has graced her with his smile and most of all, his ease. His ridged edges had become smooth in her presence, a compliment to her. 

She had eagerly waited to hear his response to her apology, not sure if her eagerness had anything to do with hearing another compliment or the tone of pleasure which he held so hopelessly when complimenting her beauty. She had nearly melted when he had twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers, not entirely sure how such a action felt so intimate. 

But she would only left interrupted. 

Lemoine was in that position again; strange, suspended, sorrowful, and heavy. His lowered shoulders and sorrow rimmed eyes made her frown, clearly disliking the way the atmosphere keeps shifting between them and other people. First it had been with Constance, her beautiful forwardness to snatch the King's attention, her lovely blush to draw his yearning; there had been a tenseness about that meeting which had pricked Lemoine's curiosity. Now this one, with a lady-knight with venom on her exaggerated words, shifting the world beneath Lemoine and the King.

Again he set himself between she and danger - well, assumed danger. What he so wishes to protect her from, she wants to know. 

"Lady Knight."

The woman grabbed Lucis by the hand and curtsied to her best ability before the Knight. Even though the Knight appears to have forgotten her ability to be courteous and kind to the King, Lemoine will not repay the woman with the same attitude. That, and a majority of this hostility is clearly none of her business and she'd rather not overstep again in the same night, proving herself to be a bit of a fool in such circumstances. 

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Posted (edited)

@Aleksei
_______________________________

 

Jack Ransom

Jack smirked at the politeness of Delaney. He felt her aura, the curiosity burning for answers in her that was only aged my her impatience to wait for them, and he smiled. They were more alike that even he would have guessed. Jack allowed himself to he pulled by the arm. Certainly if she had asked to maim him in some way he would have blindly agreed also, for was that not the affect of love? Jack put his hand on her hip as they strolled back to the place where they had shared their first kiss, then many others after.

"When you leave tonight Jack, where are you going to go?" Delaney had asked. Jack instantly pondered this. He licked his lips, and turned to face her as his hands found their place on her hips. This time it was not a heated gesture, but a comforting one that a person would expect a married couple to take part in.

He spoke with uncertainty, but was telling the truth as much as he could. "I'll go wherever the wind takes me. I haven't yet seen all of this world, and I intend to change that..." He paused, then looked around before he continued his speech. "You ask as if you wish to come with me. Is that the case, or am I imagining it out of hope?"

Jack smirked, then brought her a little closer to him before she had the chance to reply. It was a slightly chilly night - not that that affected Jack in any way - that he used as an excuse to have her as close as possible. How he wanted to sweep her away and go on adventures with her. But what of her family? Would they have him executed for stealing her away? Wold they force him into domesticity? Would they give him an ultimatum? Jack shook the thoughts from his head because as long as she was with him in the present, that was all that mattered.

 

Lukus Ransom

Lucky had not ventured far from the starstruck lovers. In fact, he was ashamed to admit that he had followed them, always staying within earshot of the two. When they had a short-lived romp in the maze mere meters from him he held back a chuckle. When Delaney went quiet, then spoke to someone else of conspiracies and curious happenings within the castle he furrowed his eyebrows. She was an interesting one, he'd give her that, but what had Jack so captivated was completely lost on Lukus.

When she asked where he was going next, Lukus felt his canines - all three pairs - enlarge as he suppressed a growl deep in his throat. He knew Jack would take her with him. What of Lukus? Would he be left behind, the eternal third wheel? The younger brother wouldn't be able to stand it. He had to make some sort of plan. The princess had to have some family he could inform... he'd have to get closer to them to find out.

"You ask as if you wish to come with me. Is that the case, or am I imagining it out of hope?"

Lukus strolled in a nonchalant matter - he wished he had a cane to accompany him - into their vicinity. Jack's eyes lit up in a different way than they did in reaction to Delaney. Lukus swallowed thickly as he spoke, his silky voice lulling his brother into a false sense of security. "Miss Delaney come with us? Well, I'm sure she'd be a wonderful addition." He smiled to Delaney. "But what of your duties, madame? Do you have family? Friends that you would need to inform?"

Edited by jack-attack

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Lucis Angelus DuGrace

@Aleksei 

Lucis turned and looked at Lemoine. Apart from the heavy weight of grief he had been carrying around, he now felt a distinct displeasure with himself for not having been able to give this woman the proper amount of attention. There was too much to do,a nd far too many problems to attend to. And yet, he could not see himself giving up on the opportunity to simply spend time with her.

 

There were words that had to be spoken between himself and the Lady Knight, who still stood there mad as a hornet, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it in front of the heavenly creature who stood on the sidelines watching them. And so he turned his back to Lyrae, but only after lifting a finger as it to explain that he did not mean to delay long.

 

“My Lady,” he spoke softly to Lemoine, taking a few half-steps to put himself directly before her. It was a marvel what a small thing she was, and yet the strength in her elegant form was clear as daylight. He smiled sadly before reaching out to take her hand. He didn’t imagine she would shy away, but still his hold was loose and friendly incase she decided she didn’t want to be touched. “You must forgive me all of these interruptions. Tonight, I am king -- but if you stay, perhaps a day or two longer and let me show you the hospitality that my mother was once renowned for, then perhaps you’ll get to meet me without the crown.”

 

He bent at the waist and brought her hand up. A kiss, sweet and gentle, was pressed to the back of her dainty fingers, before he straightened and gave her one last fleeting smile. “I will send you a servant to show you to your quarters, if you decide to prolong your visit. I do hope you will consider it.”

 

He was gone then, having returned to the business of breaking bad news to Lyrae.


“Come, you’ve been away from court for a long time -- we can discuss everything that’s happened in private.”

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@Pasion Pasiva [Lucis] & @Aleksei [Lemoine]

 

“Lyrae -- my mother is dead. The Black Queen has been dead for nearly three months.”

 

         
    This does not rouse her from her stance; the knight enduring no dilapidation in the expanse of Lucis’ words. Although his statement comes as a shock and surprise, it holds no weight in her heart or her head. Could the others have been so weak and foolish to actually fall prey to such an idea as is being presented her this eve?    
         
    Foul and bitter on her tongue are the unspoken thoughts trespassing against her senses.  Lyrae would not stand for such a lie. Something within her bridles the reverence she holds so very closely to her own soul. Maintaining a sturdy calm in voice and stature is not a daring feat for the knight. Her emotions well checked and balanced to the point of perfection.    
         
    It may have been presumptuous and outspoken of her to demand an unscheduled audience with the Prince-turned-King in his mother’s unmistakable absence, but it was done nonetheless. Cold hard sapphires regard the enchanting young lady reminding her of the futility of geniality. Lemoine’s curtsy merely earns her an unceremonious nod for her efforts.  The knight either ignoring or not noticing the protective manner in which she attempts to shield the Prince. “Come, you’ve been away from court for a long time -- we can discuss everything that’s happened in private.”    
         
    As sinister as Lyrae may come off to the innocent creature, it is just the nature for which she is damned to. Never once did she claim to be of threat to either of them, aside from the sharp tune of her words. But innocence, much like life, is fleeting. The Knight of Reverence sides steps in order to allow Lucis passage from the bridge, both bodies intent on temporarily leaving Lemoine behind to her own devices. “Fair thee well child, for your light only encourages darkness.” Short, simple, and soft are the words she etches into the air to the girl without a passing breath.    
         
    And with a quick turn she is following after Lucis, knowing words would flow but never really latch on to what she feels. “I would be incredibly careful about announcing yourself as King and ruler of Orisia, Lucis. Lest they them come for you as well." Lyrae admonishes him with careful and cruel advice, not out of respect or adoration, but of reverence to her Queen that sometimes drips downward onto her devious offspring.    
         
         
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Lucis Angelus DuGrace 

It wasn’t so much that Lyrae posed a threat -- far from it. Lucis knew how devoted the woman had been to his mother and her cause when Orisia was still just a fledgling country. It was an emotion thing. The link he felt to the woman, the beautiful and uniquely colored-eyed woman, was astoundingly powerful and that was what caused him to try and seek to shield her from the very ugly and difficult growing pains of his ascension to the throne.

“Fair thee well child, for your light only encourages darkness.”

What a horrible thing to say, thought Lucis, who turned from watching Lemoine leave to stare at Lyrae with a perplexed expression. She was one of the Noble Seven, as was he -- they had shared much in the years it took to build up the Summer Isles, so it surprised him how difficult she seemed to be now.

“I would be incredibly careful about announcing yourself as kIng and ruler of Orisia, Lucis. Lest they come for you as well.”

“Who?” he asked as that perplexed look began to soak into his voice. “Lyrae -- she died, no one came after her. She passed away in an incredibly tragic, and stupid, accident. I am so sorry that you have to find out this way.”

They were walking together, but not back to the Golden Hall where the sound of music, dancing, and laughter was still overpowering the nighttime calm. He lead her away somewhere else, not far from the party, but not within the ranks of those celebrating. The woman had such a sour face that he didn’t want to risk her discontent spreading. Tonight was a happy night -- bittersweet, but happy nonetheless. So he lead her to one of the rooms where the duel participants had prepared. It was a large space with bunted training weapons hanging along the walls and a few mannequins standing up in the far corner wearing all manner of training outfits. Once inside, he turned to her.

“She went hunting -- you know how much she loved to hunt. And try as we might, as we both have tried, as others have tried, she didn’t take anyone with her. She went alone as she has always done. The best we can come up with,” he said looking down, his eyes glassing over in fake-despair, “is that she was wounded somehow and couldn’t make her way to safety before the sun rose. We found some bones, but mostly ash. That’s all there is to it, Lyrae.”

 

  

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