❝ ── WASTELAND, BABY !

[vaermina]

ＡＢＲＩＬ ＦＯＸ－ＳＴＲＡＮＧＷＡＹＳxxx
I.xcisfemalex II.xno affiliationsx III. a resident of vault 113


indentshafts of fading yellow sunlight streamed through the biddercombes' cheerful gingham curtains, casting a warm glow upon the polished linoleum floor and chrome-trimmed appliances of the small kitchen. kitschy drawings of faded lime pie, jubilant roosters and speckled teapots lined the wallpaper that ed biddercombe hung on the kitchen walls upon his wife's gaudy insistence. the kitchen bore not only the gentle patina of countless family gatherings but a home that has stood unfazed as the heart of a time-forgotten haven. daffodil-colored cabinets, adorned with curved chrome handles, revealed treasure troves of neatly arranged chinaware. wendy biddercombe has always been meticulous when it came to the presentation of her household. she kept her porcelain chinaware in the cabinets—quartz, feldspar, and kaolin clay made them relatively invaluable in today's market—but her bone china enjoyed a tended spotlight in the home's numerous mahogany hutches. missus biddercombe's fine sets of bavarian gilded glass sets adorned with grey fish scale motifs and mulberry sparrows stood on proud display throughout the family home. she was meticulous when it came to polishing them, as she was with ensuring every appliance and counter in her house was speckless. the kitchen's state of affairs and everything it entails for a strict but matronly housewife meant the most to her. the centerpiece of the kitchen, a gleaming white enamel stove with dainty pastel accents, showed no signs of wicked grease and oil stains. the porcelain sink, adorned with a charming apron-front, stood similar in an unblemished glow alongside the formica countertops. two hours were spared earlier this morning rearranging the insides of the kitchen's retro cyan refrigerator. spoiled milk bottles and meatloaf leftovers were dumped and thrown out to make room for the various meals that had been prepared over the past week for the winter festival. the downtown bistro was one of the festival's main dessert providers—one could never go wrong with molded strawberry salad, cherry nut cake, grapefruit alaska, spiced pineapple upside-down cake and glass cups of tropical ambrosia salad—but nearly every household in merrowbeach contributed to the catering with a classic neighborly benevolence. they had more platters of ham with baked pineapples than they knew what to do with, and green bean amandine and olive-stuffed celery appeared to be a favorite amongst some of the families. there was a healthy and moderately alarming variety of home-cooked meals delivered to the festival every year: jell-o salad, creamed onions and peas, deviled eggs, easy chicken croquettes, chicken thigh fricassee with mushrooms and rosemary, welsh rarebit, beef casserole with biscuits, wedge salad, beef wellington, honey ginger carrots, tunnel of fudge cake, lasagna, tuna casserole, smoked pigs in a blanket. the kitchens of merrowbeach were scenes of a warzone earlier this week, but the promise of lavish social gatherings and quaint family gatherings had every housewife and paranoid husband rushing to clean their homes before the festivities began. the biddercombe household was no exception. missus biddercombe insisted that everything be perfect, in-case they were to host guests later tonight and drink a few tom collins at her husband's mini glass cocktail bar. like most of the homes in fallkirk county, the biddercombes' house represented a period of post-war optimism and mid-century modern delights. their living room and dining area embraced a mix of vibrant and pastel hues such as bold teal, orange, and chartreuse, along with adorning colors like mint green, blush pink, and baby blue. turquoise, coral, and buttery yellows adorned the walls with their geometric-patterned wallpaper, and clean lines and organic shapes defined the furniture. the living room featured sleek and streamlined furniture designs, with its pink upholstered sofa and striped lounge chairs bearing small, tapered peg legs. missus biddercombe's prized black noguchi coffee table set smack dab in the center of the room, and starburst clocks and sunburst mirrors overlooked the room's wall-to-wall arctic carpet. garnished decor such as ceramic animals figures, decorative ashtrays, vinyl wall pieces and table lamps with fiberglass shades were scattered throughout the home, and an old television set sat encased in a wooden cabinet in the living room. most of missus biddercombe's precious china sets sat on display in her dining room—none of them sat on her open-air shelves, where dozens of black and white photos of her family and friends perched—and her oak dining table was already prepped for a potential gathering with a yellow tablecloth and speckled melamine plates. a floral stained glass pendant light hung over the table, its pale lightbulb washing the olive green walls and abstract expressionism paintings in fading light. the light crawled along the tacky carpets and past the colorful linoleum of the kitchen to creep into the hallway where the home's wood-paneled staircase led upstairs. mirrors with decorative frames and large wall clocks with bold, visible numbers had been nailed along the wall that stretched upwards into the second floor of the house.
indentit was quiet upstairs.
indentthe painted casserole pan felt cold in abril's hands as she took it out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter of the kitchen's servicing hatch. it was a crunchy spinach casserole, wrapped in aluminum foil and prepared by one of missus biddercombe's neighbors. it sat next to a plethora of similar dishes, all who were to be transported downtown within the coming hour for the winter festival. every year, merrowbeach hosted a weekend of jubilant festivities in early january that, in the beginning of the town's history, were held to celebrate the upcoming fishing season. the cold waters of the bay usually rewarded the locals with trout, reds, flounders, sheepsheads, black drum, bonito, pompano, whiting and hearty crab, although the latter usually forced fisherman out in rowboats with dip nets to catch the crustaceans in deeper waters. the basis of the celebrations haven't changed much when one accounts for the numerous fishing and crab eating contests held over the course of the weekend, but the township has adapted to the turning of the age and post-war enthusiasm by including entertainment contests, city plays and performances, collector shows, a flea market, food stands and various other contests. what was once a meager conviviality held to welcome a new year has become one of merrowbeach's most economically and socially valuable celebrations of the season. downtown main street was blocked off as a throughway for crafters and businesses alike, and the locals could enjoy a weekend of browsing through artisan stock or attending the local plays and performances hosted at the art center. generally speaking, it was far too cold to celebrate at the beach—some locals could still be found playing in the surf, undisturbed by the chilly sea—but the festival did well enough on its own that it did not have to depend on weather conditions to draw in a crowd. it was one of merrowbeach's biggest events, and it would not be until easter that the streets would grow as crowded as they were to be this weekend. abril's mother agnetha took it all very seriously. the winter festival was good business for her diner and small seafood processing plant down at the docks. the diner was closed during the weekend of the festival, but she kept a small stand open on main street to sell her stock of bistro desserts and fresh seafood. both options were a hit every single year, for the citizens of merrowbeach loved nothing more but newly harvested seafood and homemade desserts. the stardust bistro and diner remained one of merrowbeach's most successful businesses because of such sentiments; people preferred to shop at home than give their hard-working dimes to large corporations trying to bustle their way into small-town living. merrowbeach thrived off of local consumerism and classic hospitality. most of the businesses here were owned by the locals, and those who participated in the craft fairs usually walked home with a substantial amount of cash from curious buyers. the festival contributed greatly to merrowbeach's economic climate, and like most of its citizens abril was eager to help it get on its feet. she already spent most of the past week baking and preparing meals for the festival alongside her mother's social group. she has spent most of her life helping her mother bake extra pies and desserts for fundraisers and community projects. it was an awfully tedious but mindful project, one that abril enjoyed contributing towards. she was a dynamic individual who not only found joy in meeting the needs of others but also thrived on the tangible successes that resulted from her compassionate endeavors. many would proclaim that abril fox-strangways is a delight to be around, and a girl of most infectious friendliness and amity who boasted a helpful disposition to any task set before her. she was never the one to complain about the difficulty of a situation, and any complaints she did issue were usually concealed behind lighthearted banter to hide her true intentions. her personality was a blend of traditional values and a modern, progressive outlook, and she enjoyed the respect and veneration that came with her duties. abril extended herself into every corner of merrowbeach. it did not matter if it was simple volunteering, regional donating or scribbling her name down on some pieces of paper to join an outreach community project. she was by no means a woman who lacked ambition, and her eagerness to help did well with her assiduous ways. abril's more fussy mannerisms usually hid themselves well in her leaderly disposition, often to the point that she rarely came across as badgering. she had enough good sense in her body that connecting with others was never a chore. it appeared that nothing was a chore for abril fox-strangways. most would describe her as a good girl, a very good girl indeed, and a pleasant young lady who attended church every sunday and always punched in her employee card on time. even as a child she was never openly disobedient to figures of authority, and any grievances she had with her superiors were never uttered in their presences. she did what was requested of her without complaint, even when her thumbs felt like they were about to fall off from pressing pie dough or decorating hundreds of sugar cookies with vanilla frosting. abril has spent most of the day either thawing out dishes or presenting the final touches for pick-up; that was not including heeding missus biddercombe's wishes by helping tidy her home by scrubbing the kitchen tiles, wiping down every dusty or finger-smeared surface, and vacuuming the carpets free of orange cat hair. she checked the bottles of liquor behind mister biddercombe's home cocktail bar to ensure no half-empty glasses were in view, and afterwards swept the front porch clean of dead leaves shed by the big oak tree in the front lawn. she would not want missus biddercombe to come home and express disappointment in her efforts.
indentwhile abril would never admit it to an adulated adult, the acts of cleaning and preparing homecooked meals to be delivered downtown was monotonous at best, and she had other worries on her mind today. her hands were caked in flour from kneading dough all afternoon, and her fingernails were embedded with royal frosting from making batches of icing with raw egg whites, icing sugar and water. she had more leftover cookie dough from cutting pastries with snowflake and fish cookie cutters than she knew what to do with, and every dessert that needed extra garnishing—be it fruit slices, fondant, cheese, chocolate or chopped nuts—were finished by the time the biddercombes' grandfather clock struck three. abril could not deny the fact she was a swift worker, one who was always careful to avoid mistakes by acting so frivolous during her projects, but a part of her could not ignore the restlessness she felt deep in her bones. it remained an irritating perseverance in the back of her mind, a naughty woodchuck that kept pecking at her brain and reminding her every five minutes that, despite the beauty and joy of the winter festival this evening, she was going to endure yet again another uneasy night of dreams. even as she stared down at the polished kitchen counter and the wrapped dishes in front of her—she could already smell the stench of tuna wafting from one of the casseroles—she could feel her defenses closing in around itself, her thoughts already beginning to prepare her for whatever anomalous dream busted down her door tonight. they were restless reveries, a series of bizarre and exceptional dreams that made no sense to her but continued to haunt her sleep on a regular basis. abril has never been the type of person to experience vivid hallucinations. for the most part, her dreams were simple, nonsensical and overall harmless in terms of what her brain liked to present to her at nighttime. most of the time she could never recall dreaming of anything at all, and she was just fine with that. lately, her dreams have grown to become far more vivid, indecipherable and sibylline than any other silly musing she's ever had. she woke up with clear remembrance of everything that she had just experienced, and every dream she had seemed to follow a strict pattern. even now as she cleaned up leftover fondant could she recall the dreams that plagued her sleep every other night: the urban sprawl of southeastern conurbation was but a distant picture amongst the arid expanse of secluded terrain and scorched desert. the first hints of daylight unveiled a scene of weaved tranquility and harshness that could only be found in sunbaked valleys such as these. as the night sky bled into a canvas of pastel purples and warm medallion, wisps of clouds began to catch fire, igniting with a fiery brilliance that mirrored the sun's slow ascent to the throne. the air was crisp and cool, carrying the whispers of desert winds that have traversed vast expanses of sand and stone. the scent of ancient earth, tinged with the subtle aroma of hardy desert flora, lingered beneath the fading stars. the landscape's undulating topography, whether in the form of sand dunes or rugged rock formations, cast long, stretching shadows that appeared to elongate as the sun climbed higher in the sky. lean stacks of old cacti, yucca, brittlebush, and prickly pears bathed in sunlight as dawn touched the land, and desert birds took to the breeze as soon as the warmth of the sun graced their ground nests. the area's iconic joshua trees stood as silent sentinels, their spiky silhouettes a stand-out against the the evolving canvas of colors. the ambiance was serene, with nature's subtle symphony unfolding against the canvas of the awakening desert. in low-lying areas, hungry mammals continued to scurry along the cracked stone for sustenance, and wisps of wet mist danced above the ground. the dawn unveiled a captivating display of evaporating moisture as plants began to stretch and open their blooms, introducing a burst of color against the muted palette of dirt and sand. lakes were a rare sight in the valley; the most one could find was shallow ponds or unfriendly rivers with frothy brown water and strong currents. the jagged mountains and small plateaus that dotted the landscape created a dramatic interplay between light and shadow, between the safety and dangers of an alleged small slope versus an unsuspecting steep cliff. the beauty and stillness of daybreak hid the prowling coyote and venomous snake, and the shifty drifter who wandered along the valley's desolate highways found no kindness in the hearts of passing vehicles. the desert presented a delicate dance between the elements—a harmonious convergence of light and shadow, stillness and awakening. the transition between the cool hours of nighttime and the gaining heat of day transcends the ordinary, inviting contemplation and awe in the face of nature's ever-repeating masterpiece. mankind was not welcome in the barren landscape. nothing but god's creatures were welcome there, and man had so far proven himself unworthy of god's embrace. and somehow, deep in the shadow of the valley as abril found herself sitting inside a strange vehicle that looked almost entirely too newfangled, she knew that this was the end of the world.
indentabril would always wake up in the morning feeling nothing at all.
indentit was difficult to make sense of it all when she had no personal connection to what she was witnessing. abril has never left the limits of fallkirk county. she has, in some capacity, always resided within a few miles of the pacific ocean. she has never left the comfort of the west coast before, so where was her brain taking her at nighttime? what did it want her to see? was there something out there that wanted her to remember something, to view a vision lost to time? none of it made much sense to her, and her efforts to look into the concept of dreams through the local library have so far yielded no tangible results. she found a research paper published by a professor of physiology in which a new sleep state, rem sleep, was described and a correlation with dreaming hypothesized; it was followed by a delegation that the human sleep cycle of nrem sleep stages of increasing depth was followed by periods of rem sleep, with the cycles repeating through the night. it did not tell her much, though, at-least not much of anything that she could understand. she found another book of a nineteenth century austrian neurologist who theorized that dreams reflect the dreamer's unconscious mind and specifically that dream content is shaped by unconscious wish fulfillment. he argued that important unconscious desires often relate to early childhood memories and experiences. abril could not argue with that, but she was unsure that she could relate to it. her childhood was one of a very dull but pleasant actuality. she was born here in merrowbeach, delivered by her own father who, to this day, still operates as the town's leading physician and surgeon. she grew up in its idyllic suburbs, having received her education at its local schools and her sea legs on its local boats. her childhood was nothing particularly extraordinary, and abril grew up well-liked and well-loved by friends and family alike. she was never lacking in the social department, and striving to achieve her goals has always come easy to her. she has never experienced anything as calamitous as loss or trauma, which is why she could not quite make sense of what her body was trying to tell her at night. her life was not one of a perturbed nature so why was she witnessing something that, while not inherently discomfiting, certainly bore fruition that something was deeply and starkly wrong? she could not quite say how many times she's visited the same dream over and over again. there was nothing about it that struck home for her, no memory she could recall that would give explanation as to why she was in the middle of a barren desert. obviously, there was a sense of balefulness about it all that led her to experience the same emotions over and over again right before she woke up but she could not a finger on what it was. it was a strange experience that shattered her otherwise bonny existence here in merrowbeach, for it was rare for abril or anyone else who lived on the bay for that matter to experience anything world-shaking. abril found it easy to shove it all aside when she was busy focusing on the people or events going on around her but in moments like these, the silence made it easy to remember what she was trying so hard to veer away from. at this point, she was becoming convinced that it was a nightmare of some sort for what else could it be? nightmares could be recurring, although every other nightmare she could recall having as a child was always in black and white. in fact, her dreams were usually in black and white, something that seemed to be touched upon a lot in what few research papers she could find in the library about dreams. the lack of answers agitated her, but she supposed she was not terribly alarmed about it all. she was just unsettled over its obstinacy although nightmares were supposed to be off-putting, right? and the human body was not terribly sensible anyway. that's what abril was trying to tell herself, at-least. her father often told her that sometimes it's best not to try and make sense of the unknown, for there are some mysteries on this earth best left for god to figure out. dreams cannot harm you, and she was beginning to lean on the idea that her restless nights lately were a result of recent stresses. what would a philosopher know about the human body, anyway? the church viewed philosophy as not only distinct but mutually antagonistic to the christian attitude, and that it stood at the same time as rival interpretations of creation. according to the local pastor, you cannot have aristotle's eternity in time and god's creation on the same belief system without serious discordance. the thought did not comfort abril as she finished sealing the remaining dishes and placed them on the servicing hatch.
indentthere were several books in her tote bag that she had yet to return to the library that touched upon the cultural importance of dreams. she found one book that spoke about the dream worlds of the mayan civilization and how learning to dream with clarity and lucidity allows the human brain to access messages to the conscious mind after waking up. an archetypal dreamer is a spiritual warrior, and if a match between a day sign and dream occurs then it is an important one. one chapter focused on the essence of the koyopa, a feminine energy upon which shamans draw for important rituals. mayan priests would activate the koyopa through kulkukan movements in the highest chambers of their pyramids. they believed that the pe-dawn hours before waking are most important, and that the nawal wonders meet and interacts with wandering nawales of others. the day sign soul nawal is one's spiritual essence and archetypal imprint, and its inner purpose was to dream and roam freely. the "adiosich" is the soul of a person that lives on after they die—something akin to a spirit—and can be contacted by the living in dreams. the mayans used altars to communicate in the dream world, and they claimed to have received messages from items on their altar such as rocks and crystals. if everything is a living being, then it is possible to communicate with anything in existence. she even read that in mayan tarot card readings, leaving a particular card underneath your pillow at night allows you to connect deeper with the archetype of that card and visualizing the tarot card before sleep can unveil hidden messages. they believed in cosmic forces and spirit circles, and some dream practitioners even encouraged leaving a cup of water for your spirit to drink when it returns to your body at daybreak. the cultural practices of the ancient mayans and the knowledge she found on notorious occultists like aleister crowley certainly piqued her curiosity. if she was being honest, she had already thought of drinking a glass of water with lemon an hour before supper several days ago to possibly gain a crutch in understanding her dreams—it was a common practice back when the mayans were around. she doubted she could find crystals to make her own altar, too. rocks might work but what type of rocks? she did not know. she wanted answers, but she did not know where to start looking or if there were even answers to be found. there was a possibility that she was just being foolish, and her anxieties over what inflicted her had no basis or cause for wariness. others would view her strangely if they knew of what topics she has recently dived into—the librarian had given her an odd look when she went to the library the other day to check out the books. it was not that merrowbeach was full of close-minded bigots who would tar her at the first sign of hearsay but rather it was a small town and people loved to gossip. it's all you ever hear in the grocery store line or at the salon while you're getting your hair styled. abril could not say that it was anything inherently terrible other than run-of-the-mill bavardage of marriage speculations and social scrutiny but she was not exactly looking to endure that sort of treatment herself. abril has always enjoyed her privacy to begin with, and topics that could potentially alienate her spirit to casual perusal was unacceptable. she would not speak of her troubles to others in fear of appearing foolish, for who else could possibly relate? besides, there was a chance that abril was attempting to find fault where there is none, and she would be most embarrassed to tell others that something was wrong with her when, in reality, she was just going through the motions. she tried to lean on reason and logic above fear and paranoia, and busying herself with mundane tasks helped keep her from dwelling too long on her consternation. it was one of the reasons why she practically leapt at the opportunity of helping her mother with the festival's catering services, although by now most of the work was done. abril spent a good portion of her friday afternoon preparing the dozens of baked goods and dishes in missus biddercombe's fridge for pickup, and by now there was little to be done but have the plates be delivered downtown. her mother refused abril's help in that regard. she told her to leave missus biddercombe's house key beneath the owl statue next to the front door, and they will come and pick up the rest of the dishes before dusk.
indentthe falling sun cast a warm, golden glow upon conference grove avenue as abril left the home of the biddercombe family. the suburbs have always been a quiet place. less than a ten minute walk from the ocean, the quaint neighborhoods that surrounded the considerably small town of merrowbeach have always been a relatively peaceful place to live. neighbors were pleasant but insular, and every house that lined the streets were kept in impeccable shape. the residents of merrowbeach kept a certain pride about themselves when it came to the houses they lived in. you'll never see a house in merrowbeach with peeling paint or an overgrown lawn. in fact, nearly every housewife appeared to be engaged in a courteous but quiet game of warfare over who can outcompete the others in terms of presenting a flawless lifestyle and household. gardens remained as exemplary in wintertime as they did during the summer, and no resident would be found dead with a car covered in grime and dirt. uniformity was one of merrowbeach's most astounding traits, for its neighborhoods had very little diversity in terms of architecture and design. most of the homes were beach cottages and cape cods, with a few select ranch-style and victorian homes to boot. they were painted in light colors, pastels to match the luminance of the sea, and faded crape myrtles and young oak trees lined the sides of the roads where cars sat idly beneath their branches. the gardens planted by the denizens of merrowbeach were some of the finest in fallkirk county, with bundles of orange coneflower, purple asters, pale peonys and snow-white verbena decorating the edges and inner belly of bright green lawns. there were weathered statues of baby angels inside some of these gardens, for they stood silent vigilance over faded flowers and crawling ivy. as abril stepped off the front porch of the biddercombe house with her tote bag slung over her shoulder, she could not help but notice how wane the neighborhood appeared to be. the cold jaws of winter have already begun to bite down on the small coastal town. thin white sheets had been draped over flower bushes to protect them from the midnight cold, and the once bright scenery of smalltown living looked awfully gray as the sky drained itself of color. abril shivered against the cool breeze that came in from the ocean. long shadows stretched across the street from the quiet houses that stood guard on conference grove avenue, their windows dark and chimneys devoid of smoke. cars sat silent on the sides of the street like big metal beasts deep in slumber. she could find no source of children's laughter or the barking of chained dogs, and the only sounds she could hear was that of the wind and the sea. it was impossible to see the ocean from where she walked along on the sidewalk but she could hear its distant call, like that of a great god calling out to its followers for their attention. she was long familiar with the cold ocean breeze. she was familiar with the way the sky darkened into shades of light violet and dark amber, and she was familiar with the way the clouds rolled in from the ocean to settle over the bay of lovers. she always found this time of day to be melancholic, where the late hours of afternoon dwindled into early evening. winter always found a way to get her into that sort of mood. it never snowed here—snows last in the high mountains until early fall, before the summer melt irrigated california's central valley during the summertime—but there was something oddly pensive about spending winter near the ocean. abril could only assume that the festival contributed to the neighborhood's current emptiness, for it was rare to be out and about and spot absolutely nobody. there were always children playing on the sidewalks or women tending to their gardens and outside patios; dogs could be spotted lounging beneath large oak trees and men could be seen tinkering inside their garages. families most oft made their presence known, and it was strange to witness their absence. there was always somebody walking on the same sidewalk as her, for merrowbeach was a small town and it did not take very long to commute between the heart of the borough and its suburbs. abril enjoyed the trek. she found it easier to walk than to take her father's car and find some cramped spot to park it in in downtown. besides, she liked hearing the ocean. it was comforting to her that the beach was so close by, although she was unsure if it was because of a love for the sea or if it was because it was a direct contrast to the dreams that haunted her sleep as of late. to her, the ocean represented freedom and adventure, and she loved watching the fishermen from the docks navigate the waves as they attempted to conquer its unruliness.
indentthe commercial district of merrowbeach was not as quiet as its residential sectors. abril could tell almost immediately upon leaving the sleepy ambiance of the suburbs that most of the bay's residents were already beginning to congregate further into town. most of the celebrations did not start until later on tonight, but it seemed people were none too shy with getting a head start on the festivities. merrowbeach's business district was quite different than that of its quiet suburbs. a rather restrictive and bustling area that revolved around its popular main street, the town was composed of over a hundred brick buildings, all short of stature and all pushed up against one another with little room for anything else. most of the buildings in merrowbeach were not towering. most of them were only one or two story, thin and tall with large windows and a variety of businesses shacked inside. distinct keepsakes at the myriad of unique boutiques and shops along the brick-lined streets were easily uncovered by the wandering eye, and local artisans were always kept on their toes by the flow of traffic coming into their shops. there was a plethora of diverse shops to look upon in merrowbeach's business district. retail and home goods boutiques, gourmet provisions such as bakeries and butcher shops, health and beauty shops, general stores, fresh produce stalls, cafés and garages could be found scattered throughout the small district. they were all owned and operated by locals, and that's just how everyone liked it. main street itself was the bulk of merrowbeach's shopping experience, although the local courthouse, bank and police station could be found there as well. there was little room for parking aside from whatever parking spot one could find against a curb, and the small roads that zigzagged through the town's business district all eventually led down to the water, where merrowbeach's prized docks could be found. there was already a steady flow of traffic going on when abril entered the commercial district. the roads were packed with cars attempting to navigate their way out of the cramped avenues, and the sidewalks were littered with people rotating in and out of shops or heading down towards main street. the young woman could no longer hear the distant call of the ocean, for all she heard now were vehicles honking, muddled conversations and the faint call of music wafting up from main street. merrowbeach's commercial district was very much different than that of its residential neighborhoods. while one or two shop owners may spruce up their storefront with potted plants and small trees, it was a relatively lifeless front full of nothing but stout brick buildings and cramped streets where drivers felt like they were one centimeter away from hitting an iron light pole. the benches that lined the sidewalks were always occupied, and unless one was careful of where they were going it was easy to accidentally stumble into another party. abril tightened the gray headscarf around her head as she passed by the throngs of people. she had yet to style her hair today, and going out and about with unstyled hair was not ideal for abril. the scarf hid the plainness of her head. truthfully, abril had yet to get ready for tonight. as of now she wore nothing but a long-sleeved sweater, shiny black court pumps and a skirt that reached her ankles. it was unusual for abril to dress so plainly, but she was not about to abdicate her plans with saoirse. the other woman rarely showed crossness, but abril would not be surprised if she felt something akin to that emotion should abril dress without her. in fact, it did not take long for abril to appear in front of the merrowbeach dance studio where the other woman lingered inside. she was unsure of what she was doing inside. practicing, maybe? or just finishing up? she was tempted to enter but quickly figured that the others inside would most likely not appreciate a random guest entering their midst, especially when tensions must already be high from the winter festival. abril opted to instead take a seat on a iron-wrought bench outside the studio's doors. she placed her tote bag next to her. abril liked seeing the crowds. it gave her some hope that the festival would be worth the amount of time and effort that has been put into it by people like her mother. the older woman worked hard at everything she does, and she would be most disappointed if the crowds did not meet her expectation. abril did not blame her for that. there were already several plays set to be performed during the weekend by groups abril has been coaching down at the arts center the past couple of months, and she would be most distressed if something were to go wrong. but abril was eager to see what others have been working on in preparation for the festival, and she was most curious to hear what saoirse's ballerina company has been working on. she was unsure on whether or not they were participating in this year's festivities, but she remained curious nevertheless. saoirse was a wonderful dancer, a graceful woman who was praised for her talents for a reason. the winter festival seemed almost perfect for a ballet performance, and she could think of nobody better than saoirse to lead the charge.

[vaell]

xxxxxＳＡＯＩＲＳＥ ＤＥ ＲＯＴＨＳＣＨＩＬＤ.

xxxxxxxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa resident of vault 113.
xxxxxxxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
indentjanuary is always a special time of the year for the residents of merrowbeach. the ushering in of a new year brings forth a high of elation for most people, determined to make do what they could not achieve the year prior. people are anticipating what may be in store for them while others are dreading the prospect of what possible hardships they may come to face. regardless, cautious hopefulness and expectation seem to linger in the air, ready to be ignited by the promise of a few nights of merriment and gaiety. she supposed her father was right when he said people become filled with joie de vivre come this time of winter. serving as an escape from the mid-january blues, merrowbeach has made a tradition out of dedicating a few days of the month for winter celebration and festivities, beginning this friday evening and extending throughout the rest of the weekend. downtown would soon enough be brimming with folks eagerly looking for some form of entertainment or revelry, and oftentimes events coordinated through the town's center for the arts attract a considerable crowd. saoirse herself could testify for the awe and wonder artistic performances inspire in the community of merrowbeach, having spent time on stage as a performer for a ballet and in other instances as a marveling spectator in the audience. saoirse's efforts in the dance studio these past few months would culminate at the end of the town's wintertime festivities, starring in a well-known classic ballet such as swan lake, l'histoire de manon, the sleeping beauty, or the nutcracker ─ a favorite of hers, and the performance she was honored to lead in this year. the world of dance is a familiar one to saoirse and it often made much more sense to her than did the real, practical world. as of late though, she couldn't help but find her two separate realities encroaching on each other. ever since she was a young girl saoirse has attended most ─ if not all ─ merrowbeach festivities with a certain abril fox-strangways, her dearest and most cherished childhood friend whom she planned to spend tonight's celebrations with. much like the town has established it's own tradition, they too have. a small leather photo album in saoirse's room serves as home to a number of different memories the two of them have shared together over the years, evidencing how closely they've grown up and matured alongside one another. sometimes it was comforting to flip through the pages of the album after a long day at work or an exhausting practice at the dance studio. seeing photographs of her and a young abril playing along the shallow inlet of the coast as kids ─ a series of black and white candid images probably taken by one of their parents ─ could always manage to put a smile on her face even in the worst of times. saoirse was a sentimental person indeed; she liked to keep photographs, little letters accompanying christmas gifts, or other keepsakes most people may find trivial like movie tickets or receipts. she loved her friend as profoundly as any girl might their childhood companion, granted with a sense of awe and silent admiration. abril shone in ways saoirse did not, and she grew used to relying on her friend as the more outgoing of the two of them; in turn, the other woman understood her in ways other people did not. saoirse was still not far off from the shy, quiet little girl she once was but her friendship with abril has inadvertently helped her become more rooted in her identity. alas, saoirse was honored to be performing a ballet later this weekend; in fact, she was quite eager to show off her hard work on the stage but admittedly, there was another reason that might account for her growing enthusiasm today, curious as it may be. she's been restless at the barre today, and quite certain that if she remained stretching her leg for any longer she may fall into another fit of daydreams yet again. was it abril fox-strangways quietly infiltrating the recesses of her mind, or was she simply excited to embrace the beginning of a weekend full of carefree celebration? saoirse could not tell.
indentthe encore dance studio boasts a spacious room for the ballet company's practicing professionals, floored with a semi-traditional covering with wood battens laid on neoprene pads. the sprung floor is intended to minimize the stress on the bones and joints of the ballet company's resident studio dancers; with the load spread by plywood and good quality durable wood, the floating floor rests on an system of high density foam to absorb the shock of jumping by practicing dancers. other practice rooms in the studio have vinyl floor coverings that can be rolled up if they're needed for performances at different venues such as the center for the arts or merrowbeach's modest opera house. such vinyl floorings are easily mobilized because they rest atop the studios hardwood floors without any adhesive, requiring only a few tapes on the edges to be fastened up. she and the rest of her ballet company are often responsible for helping transport belongings such as floorings to different performance centers, just as they would likely be tasked with doing later this weekend. the studio walls are lined with floor-mounted barre ─ otherwise known as support bars ─ fixed to the walls of the room to provide support for dancers wishing to stretch in either stages of their warm up or cool down routine, such as saoirse was in the middle of doing now. floor to ceiling mirrors surrounded the main dance floor to ensure dancers could check their postures while practicing, interrupted only by a grand wall clock located near the top border of one of the walls. the ceiling height in the studio even permitted the addition of a few ceiling fans to help with the temperature and ventilation control in the room. a quaint piano occupies the space in the corner of the studio in case a dancer should wish to practice on live music, especially for a ballet and ballroom sequences. having finished practicing the third movement in the nutcracker pas de deux for the day, the melodies composed by the iconic pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky were no longer being played in the studio for saoirse. when she first arrived to the studio today after her shift at work she stowed her belongings and valuables in the studio's dressing rooms just down the hall. any props, costumes and accessories required to conduct recitals are located in a room adjacent to that very dressing room, also intended for the safe storage of equipment and the ballet company's collections of records, tapes and videos. other dancers have come and gone throughout the day as saoirse practiced, retrieving their items and departing, while others have come in to quietly begin their own stretching at the barre to warm up. save for saoirse and two other men, the studio was empty this time of the day. the young woman let out a sigh of relief as she carefully withdrew her outstretched leg from the stationary handrail of the barre, shifting on her feet a bit before alternating to elevate her opposite leg to ensure she's adequately stretched each of her two limbs. saoirse's pale blue eyes remained fixed on her reflection in the mirror though her features give away little expression. today she wore a plain black leotard complimented by a white tulle practice skirt over a pair of powder pink tights similar to that of her laced pointe shoes, an ensemble not uncommon for the ballerinas of her company. her short brown hair was pulled away from her face in a low, neat bun and though her wispy bangs were supposed to be held back by a thin black headband a few strands remained framing her face, enough as to hide the sheen of sweat that still sat above her brow. after a moment passed and she felt comfortable at the barre, saoirse lowered her chest to her leg to deepen the stretch in her quadriceps.
indentsaoirse was what some people might call a child prodigy, or at-least she came close enough to the small town equivalent of one. even as a young girl her ballet teachers would praise her for being endowed with an exceptional talent and unlike some dancers whose careers eventually fade out into a mediocre hobby, saoirse was fortunate enough to continue doing what she loved most by pursuing a professional career in dance. rooted in artist expression and technical difficulty, ballet is a demanding sport both physically and mentally. people often misjudge the strength, stamina and will required to dance ballet because seasoned performers on the stage make it look impossibly easy. the art form is so intricate that it almost paradoxically requires the dancer to practice abandon; if you think too much, you will almost certainly falter. it's taken years upon years of discipline, persistence, and overcoming injuries and setbacks for saoirse get to where she is today. it's not uncommon for the most talented of dancers to be promoted within their company very quickly ─ she's been acquainted with individuals nineteen and twenty years old in principal roles, compared to her being a prima ballerina for encore dance studio at twenty-three. nonetheless, such is a grand achievement to be celebrated at any age. and though expected to devote long hours dedicating herself to her craft, it's not uncommon to see saoirse serving coffees and pies at the stardust bistro and diner on main street when she isn't in the studio, a local favorite for most merrowbeach residents, owned and operated by abril's own mother, agnetha. saoirse has managed working at the diner for a few years now in order to earn some income on the side, having long grown used to the familiar faces of regular customers and their predictable set of orders during the time she has been employed there. the hospitality industry is often a stressful and taxing environment though she supposed sometimes it was worth seeing a certain someone whenever she decided to swing by and say hi. as silly as it may sound, she knew abril's favorite orders by heart. she preferred classic options on the menu, like a cheeseburger, or sometimes she'd even be in the mood for a strawberry shake topped with a swirl of whipped cream. even on days where abril seemed in a rush and saoirse would only see the blonde-haired woman for a few mere minutes before she was out the door with an iced coffee or a macchiato in hand, saoirse would often find herself thinking about their brief, transactional conversation hours after it already passed. sometimes saoirse wished she was more confident reaching out to other people but she has always been more observant than she has ever been meddling. if life was a movie or a tv show, she felt certain she would be dedicated the role of a background character with two seconds of screentime per season, a notion that didn't particularly seem to bother her. reserved and good-mannerly, not a single citizen in the town of merrowbeach would be able to conjure up anything devastatingly horrid about saoirse's character but then again, neither would they be able to comment on much about her as a person either. in highschool she had a few short lasting friendships though nothing significant; everyone else always had someone they were closer with, someone who they preferred to spend their time with. maybe for her that person has always been abril. there was a certain comfort in knowing someone as well as she liked to think she knew the other woman. they've experienced girlhood together, grown well acquainted with each other's families, and their respective involvement in the community and the fine arts kept them connected over the years. saoirse may not be the most proactive in terms of initiating plans with other people, but she does show her appreciation for what friendships she has in small yet meaningful ways. for instance, whenever saoirse has an upcoming performance at a large venue in town she often makes sure to extend an invitation to abril in case she would like to come. after all, it's always nice to think she might see a familiar face the night after a long performance on the stage, and above all else, she wanted to continue sharing this important part of her life with her friend.
indentwhere other people such as abril herself have been continually supportive of saoirse and her career in dance, she hasn't always felt the same unconditional support from her own parents ─ more particularly, from that of her father. jacques de rothschild lacked the creative mind she and abril seemed to share. where saoirse saw hard work and dedication in her craft, her father only ever saw child's play and a waste of time. clearly he did not consider she might one day make a career out of her favorite childhood hobby when he first signed her up for ballet at only four years old, a mistake she was sure he must dearly regret to this day. heading merrowbeach's downtown bank as managing director, jacques has made a name for himself in ways his daughter would never dream of. assertive, strong-willed and charismatic, her father makes the perfect businessman. as a prominent figure in the community who demands respect and authority, his fellow colleagues and subordinates either love him or they hate him, though he's doubtlessly garnered a predominant reputation as an arrogant man by the town residents as a whole. it's possible her father yearned for her to follow his footsteps into the world of business and thus one day take over his operations downtown but unfortunately for him that reality would never come to fruition. saoirse didn't think she much liked the idea of becoming her father either. a jacques jr. is something the town of merrowbeach could go certainly without, though even the idea of her being anything like her father seemed an impossible notion to grasp. she and jacques possess dispositions strikingly dissimilar and maybe that is a part of why he seems to resent her so. her father is the sort of man to trample other people's feelings with such an insensitivity that it almost seems cruel. it should come as no surprise why someone as emotionally tuned as saoirse has a hard time entertaining the company of her father at all. it's probably a good thing they both spend a lot of time outside of their common residence, otherwise the whole neighborhood might be kept awake from hearing their nonsensical quarrels every waking hour of the day. her mother seems to be the only one in their household with a perfectly level head on her shoulders, calm and sensible even in difficult or sensitive situations. niamh de rothschild would much rather facilitate compromise in an argument than she would like to see bitter feelings continue to swell. perhaps that is why she and her father are such a good match for one another, despite being so different by nature. her mother works at the town's joint clinic and drugstore alongside abril's father arthur, her job as a pharmacist being rooted in customer service and ensuring each party is appeased with the outcome of their access to medication, a responsibility that seems to extend in to how she conducts her own personal life. saoirse considered her mother to be respectful of her career-related decisions, especially in comparison to that of her father. she may not fully understand the allure of dance having never been involved in the art form herself but nonetheless she granted her daughter the support she needed. on the nights where saoirse's father might miss her ballet performances with some lousy work-related excuse, be it whether she arrives late or not niamh always found a way to join the crowd of onlookers, and her efforts did not go unnoticed by her daughter either. saoirse appreciated her mother's desire to be involved in her life and the curious interest she held for what her daughter evidently loved to do. it's not easy feeling confident in your career choice if everyone else is constantly shaking their heads in disapproval or questioning how you will ever be successful enough to make a feasible career out of dance. saoirse did not care if people thought her naive or a dreamer. she knew what she wanted for herself and this was it.
indenta final exhale escaped saoirse's lips as she raised her torso from her leg, allowing her ankle still propped on the barre to return to the ground. her attention flickered to the round clock anchored on the wall above her, eyeing the hand of the clock and it's position on the face. hm. it appeared she was running on time today, if not somewhat ahead of schedule in regard to her plans of meeting abril. the woman rolled her shoulders back, feeling her limbs grow more relaxed now that she's had the last hour or so to recover. she came in to the studio today to tackle some weak spots in the second act of the nutcracker, where her prime number is a pas de deux called the dance of the sugar plum fairy. apparently, choreographer marius petipa wanted the sugar plum fairy's music to sound like drops of water shooting from a fountain. russian composer tchaikovsky suggested the use of the celesta, an instrument that he said looked like a piano yet sounded like bells. fearful that another composer may catch wind of it and use the celesta before he might, tchaikovsky went so far as to ask his publisher to keep the purchase a secret. the instrument has since been forever identified with the sugar plum fairy. the studio was relatively quiet right now save for the slight creaking of the barre as two other dancers finished their warm ups. saoirse momentarily lowered herself to the ground in order to pull apart the bow of her point shoes securely wrapped around her ankles, allowing the ribbon to come undone. she threw a glance across the room as she collected her pointe shoes, looking into the mirror on the wall to make eye contact with her colleagues. followed by a meek wave of goodbye, saoirse sought to escort herself out of the studio room. the dressing rooms, though relatively small in comparison to the studio itself, have a special place in saoirse's heart. when she first joined merrowbeach's professional ballet company encore she felt as though she was finally fulfilling the dreams she once had as a child, having achieved her own permanent spot in a studio's dressing rooms. since then, the dressing rooms have become a sort of sanctuary throughout the course of her days as a professional dancer. though certainly not the most glamorous of spaces, this room has been lived in and witnessed all of her and her colleagues' good days and bad. along the walls of the room each ballerina in the company has their own light surrounded mirror, some with pointe shoes hanging haphazardly from the frame and others with personal mementos like photos stuck into the corners of the mirror. this room is where the beauty and elegance of ballet meets the ugly on a daily basis, with tutus and sweatshirts hanging amongst one another, a portable bed in the corner for long days and power naps, and piles of leotards and tights thrown amongst sewing needles and glue. each and every day this room is buzzing with the emotions of it's dancers. the dressing rooms have effectively proved a place of refuge, a momentary escape where they could collapse on the floor during an interval or express their exasperation during a rehearsal. they could cry when it's all become too much, or they could laugh out loud about it. saoirse has shared a multitude of moments in this room among the mess it can become during peak performance season, complaining and encouraging, laughing and crying. she and her colleagues have experienced an unimaginable number of situations together within these four walls. it holds not only their belongings but also their achievements and problems. it's a place where they can momentarily let their feelings out so they can keep it all together once they are on the other side of this door. saoirse's own counterspace was relatively neat and tidy save for a comb, an open makeup bag and a few hair pins from when she hurriedly threw her hair up after work today. instead of sitting down in front of the mirror she instead leaned forward to examine her profile, pulling the tie out of her hair and shortly thereafter the headband. saoirse ran a few fingers through her hair, trying to smooth out the frizz and alleviate her disheveled post-workout look before resorting to using a comb. she placed a hand against the counter in order to get closer to the mirror, determined to make herself appear somewhat presentable despite how much she was working up a sweat earlier. she was sure abril wouldn't care much for her state, but still, a part of her wanted to avoid looking a complete mess in front of the other woman who always seemed so put together herself. once saoirse was satisfied with her hair she quickly changed into a pair of black tights, a red-and-blue plaid miniskirt and a fitted white tee, leaving her pointe shoes and clothes on her counterspace. pulling on a pair of red mary janes and grabbing a crossbody bag, scarf and leather jacket she left hanging on the back of her chair, she was finally out the door.
indentsaoirse pushed open the studio doors only to be greeted with a bite of cold air, hastening her efforts to tie her red scarf around her otherwise exposed neck. the encore dance studio is located only a few blocks off main street, meaning her usual transitions from work to dance are almost seamless due to being within an ideal walking distance of each other. the building itself is mainly comprised of brick, with large black letters printing the words "encore" above the archway of the entrance in a script font. the dance studio is plain on the exterior and certainly appears more modest than the furnishings inside, making it hard to discern how old the building truly is. in her earliest days dancing with the company, she got so excited she once snuck abril inside to give her a quick tour of the new studio she belonged to. the senior dancers at the time probably just shook their heads and laughed at the sound of the two of them giggling throughout the hallways like girls. the memory often brought a small smile to her face. it made her wonder how often the other woman reflected on the time they have spent together. last year, when the two of them were browsing booths featuring the works of craftspeople and their goods during the town's annual wintertime street fair, saoirse had come across a delicate pearl necklace with a golden toggle clasp. she couldn't help but feel as though the piece of jewelry would suit the other woman, and as a small token of her appreciation for their friendship, abril would later find out she bought it for her that night as a surprise. she supposed gift-giving helped her convey the words she did not know how to speak out loud, nor felt the courage to. perhaps the other woman understood that. it didn't help much that saoirse often found herself stumbling over her own words in the face of abril's own sure demeanor. conversation and sociability has never been her strong suit despite the fact she has no real qualms toward socializing with other people. she liked to speak ─ granted, with some people more than others ─ but dialogue wasn't something that came naturally to her. instead, she often found she was the very person holding herself back. maybe she loved dance so much because it was a way she could express herself without the use of words. her shyness has been a hindrance to some aspects of her life, especially in terms of coming out of her shell, broadening her horizons and establishing a network of social connections, though remaining on the outskirts of a party is not nearly as bad as what other people make it out to be. judge her as you may, but sometimes saoirse truly believed that keeping to herself helped save her breath on people and that inherently made her relationships much more intentional. she need not waste her time telling people things they cared not to know, and in return other people did not expect that of her. enjoying a quiet life can be something beautiful. she adored abril and sometimes that meant admiring her from afar or finding comfort in the sound of her voice in conversation with another. her feelings for the other woman oftentimes felt so strong that sometimes she didn't even understand what they quite meant. there was nobody she would rather spend her time with than abril, and there was certainly no one else who made her feel the way the other woman does. it's possible she's gone most of her life without even recognizing the sheer devotion she's grown to have when it comes to her childhood best friend. then again though, the very question of abril's own feelings remained unbeknownst to her. was it just saoirse who felt this way? such a notion seemed impossible when they've always been toeing the line of something bordering fascination and attraction for years without breaching the restraints of their friendship. there was just something there, though hard for even her to place.
indentas saoirse emerged from the building her eyes landed on the back of abril's head, all of a sudden feeling a rush of giddy excitement warm her blood. a hand nervously fiddling with the scarf wrapped around her neck saoirse took a few hesitant steps toward the bench, approaching the other woman so as to not surprise her from behind with her quiet presence. saoirse could not resist a sheepish smile from crossing her face when she cast her sights on abril fox-strangways. "..hey," she greeted timidly, drawing abril's tote bag into her lap so that she could sit down beside her on the bench. abril's getup ─ though more plain and simple than saoirse knew abril was inclined to wearing ─ still managed to draw her eyes to the other woman. saoirse could only hope she didn't do too pitiful a job trying to look as though she did not just come from a grueling workout herself. growing self-conscious she tucked a lock of brown hair behind one of her ears, her eyes momentarily flickering to her feet in order to temporarily relieve her from making eye contact with abril. "i hope you weren't sitting around waiting for too long?...i'm sorry if you were. i honestly thought i was on time today, unless that silly old clock in the studio is broken again." she mumbled that last part, adjusting her clutch on abril's tote bag. the fabric felt stretched taut with whatever the woman put inside of it, and it's contents appeared more heavier than usual. if she had to guess from touch alone, there seemed to be a few books inside. saoirse was tempted to ask abril just what books were worth lugging around town with her but she knew it wasn't a polite thing to intrude on another's affairs. maybe abril simply went to the library before she decided to meet her and picked out a few intriguing fictional novels in the meantime. the notion wouldn't be unordinary, and that seemed to be enough to keep saoirse from taking a look inside of her bag. still, saoirse was an avid reader and she was curious to know what her friend might be delving into. perhaps she would inquire of her later should the time be right. silently returning abril's tote bag, she took the opportunity to link the crook of her elbow in the other woman's arm. "we might as well get a move on. i was thinking we could head over to my place, unless you have any objections?" truthfully, saoirse would prefer visiting abril's house but she decided she may as well invite the other woman out of courtesy. she always considered abril to the be the more stylish out of the two of them ─ her closet included ─ but she was certain the other woman would be more than willing to shift through saoirse's wardrobe to help her pick an outfit for the beginning of the festivities tonight. besides, saoirse is often more inclined to wear pieces normally shoved to the back of her closet if abril was the one suggesting a certain outfit might look good on her. it's not often she feels confident in her own fashion judgement though having her friend guide her certainly made matters easier. once standing, saoirse remained arm-in-arm with abril as they began their stroll down the street from the encore dance studio. fortunately for the two of them the walk to the rothschild residence would not be a long one. she much doubted either of her parents would be home to greet her and her friend at this hour so the house would likely be empty once they arrived. around them, the commercial district of the town was bustling with life no different than when saoirse first headed to the dance studio earlier today. the rumble of traffic and one-sided conversations passing this way and that as people walked down the street or emerged from local boutiques reminded saoirse of what anticipation simmered within the town of merrowbeach and it's inhabitants. tonight was bound to be filled with festivity, cheer, laughter and enjoyment, and saoirse was eager to take a break from the demands of work and dance. even better, she got to spend some time with abril for a change.
indenthaving been walking in relative silence save for the buzz of the town, saoirse's eyes briefly flickered to the other woman. "what did you get up to today? i can imagine you've been working hard lately, busy bee that you are." saoirse teased, her tone affectionate. she knew this time of the year was a hectic one for someone as community oriented as abril. the other woman frequently involves herself in fundraisers or local projects and saoirse knew the town's wintertime festival was no exception. she probably spent today much like she spent the last week, caught up in assisting with preparations any which way she could.

[vaell]

xxxxxＣＡＬＩＳＴＡiiＡＴＨＡＮＡＳＩＯＵ.

xxxxxxxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe revenant princess of the eidolon.
xxxxxxxxxxxx────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
indentstrategically situated at the highest point of land in the cochrane district, snowcapped foothills and crags jutted out from the earth around elkmire castle as though hungering to swallow the keep whole. light was beginning to breach the mass of mountains in ishpatina ridge, the sky suspended between the certainty of night and the break of dawn. from her guest chambers calista could spot a shroud of mist looming over the atidurn pass, obscuring the only viable passageway to and from the remote stronghold. the steep flanks of the mountain range grant the ruling house of stavropoulos the chief advantage of inaccessibility, making assaults on elkmire castle difficult and depending on the whims of the weather, sometimes even impossible. how strange it is being here again, calista mused. no longer a guest on the account of war. the last time calista stepped foot in the halls of elkmire ─ let alone laid eyes on the surrounding countryside of koiláda tou chrysoú ─ was after the battle of xauburn, when the eidolon's two year-long war effort against the northlanders of black river finally came to an end one dreary evening on the outskirts of adapolis. even despite the fervid reception that awaited calista in the city of uhelchester come word of her triumph, she could still remember that night well; how victory tasted and how it smelled, bitter and metallic on her tongue like spilled blood. parts of the battle at xauburn came more readily to her than others. she could recall the aftermath of the battle most vividly, dragging her longsword on the wet ground beneath her as she trudged through the thick fog that settled over the battleground of the xauburn gold belt. her mind implored her to keep moving but at that point she had no idea which direction she was even heading in. the weight of her sword felt exceedingly heavy in her hands, its hilt threatening to slip from her grasp altogether. is this what a slow death feels like, she'd wondered, warmth leaving the blood that splattered her face as soon as it congealed. tears left long streaks through the dirt and grime on her cheeks, a result of the fresh memories of so many of her men struck down around her. for all she knew she was one of the last survivors, the northlanders refusing to yield even as their own numbers dwindled with each fresh charge of eidolon soldiers. calista knew then that even if she did live she would be marked forever by the sight of so much death around her. thousands, they'd said. it had to be thousands. laying claim to the goldfields of cochrane and reaffirming the eidolon's control over the mines of huadale west, croseus, and urymont immortalized calista in more ways than one. her departure from cochrane and subsequent arrival back to the capital city of gore bay was marked by celebration in the streets and weeks of festivity to commemorate her military victory, yet surviving the carnage that night despite the terrible slaughter of her own military host would not grant her the same sort of commendations her queen mother once received after the war efforts she led in greater sudbury. queen anastasia's people hailed her the immortal queen of the heartlands after she survived inside the walls of rayside-balfour, apparently having been separated from her own military force long enough for ballads to be written in her honor. unlike the renown her queen mother garnered during the infamous war of the sault, the battle calista waged at xauburn isn't sung throughout taverns or inns, the prospect of the eidolon's beloved revenant princess coming perilously close to death miles away from the familiar call of lake huron's north channel no more than a tragedy weaponized by the likes of their western rivals. sometimes it felt as though she was embroiled in a strife that was not her own, viewed only as a mere extension of the women that came before her, a vessel intended to mindlessly see through their goals and aspirations before they are lost to the tides of history. calista knew better than to think she was the haunted, though. like the daimon said to dwell beneath the subaqueous caves of spirit island, she is the haunting. calista has seen the look on her mother's face before, watching yet another man mercilessly fall at her daughter's hands in the gore bay colosseum, not much different than if she'd seen a ghost. it begged the question; did her queen mother ever succumb to doubt, looking upon the face of her young heir if only but to wonder if their bloodline may truly be doomed, plagued by the what the people of the eidolon call maniae? what has been said about her family's bloodline by the tribes of manitoba is no different than claiming they might be accursed by the daughters of nyx, baleful rumors birthing life to a heinous prophecy that has since been circulating the lands of annexed canada from the days of her grandmother juno's rule. calista knew her closest kin have tread carefully around her ever since she was a mercurial young girl, though they would never admit being worried she might be the one foretold to send their dynasty into ruin. what did her uncle galen once tell her, though? ─ "to be mad in a deranged world is not madness; it's sanity." calista didn't believe in destiny, be it falsehoods conjured by their enemies to challenge her family's right to ascendancy or not. destiny is only a cage this world forced her in since she was a girl, her hands bound by the manacles of those who came before her and her ankles by fetters constructed by the fearful hands of her own living family. destiny is little more than a torture rack stretching her ever so slowly until one day her limbs might finally dislocate and be ripped from their sockets. destiny is what sought to smother her in the middle of the night before discarding her lifeless corpse on the shallow inlet of lake huron. the concept of destiny has been ─ and always will be ─ calista's greatest adversary.
indenta curious chitter called out to the revenant princess, drawing her attention away from the mountains that lay beyond elkmire castle. calista turned away from the arched windows and to the sight of her peregrine falcon talos. across her room the regal bird sat perched inside an iron cage finished in antiqued bronze, the torchlight from sconces on the walls casting a gleam on its metal bars. the guest chambers calista occupied for the time being were located adjacent to house stavropoulos' own apartments, its walls paneled with richly carved wood and furnished by the presence of a few scarlet and emerald wall hangings emulating their hosts sigil of a golden rose. though her bedchamber was not as large as that of her ruling lady cousin's, it still housed a sizeable canopied bed, ebony colored rugs, golden-tinted round windows and a modest vanity table with a beaten silver mirror to boot. she could spot her reflection in its scratched surface from where she stood, an ashen and ebony pelt of a dreadwolf covering her shoulders and a navy blue cloak fastened at her collarbone. down the length of her cape a pair of rearing lions were stitched in gold thread, the sigil of her house on proud display. a beautifully tailored golden velvet dress hugged her frame, though the garment revealed very little of her skin for even her arms were covered with sleeves to help ward off the cold. her long dark hair had been piled at the crown of her head and secured by an intricate golden headpiece adorned with jewels, with several rows of loose braids draped over the back of her bare neck. when calista was a young girl she would have scoffed at the idea of being bedecked with such finery. growing up a competing gladiator in the gore bay colosseum she used to favor tunics and trousers over the impracticality of dresses and jewels meant to be donned by girls of her station. even now calista felt as though she looked strange so heavily adorned. her older brother adonis used to remark she was more a brute than a girl ─ a gibe that often proved itself true when the two children would proceed to get into a scuffle. nonetheless, coming face to face with what brutality and bloodshed exist outside the sanction and rules governing the gore bay colosseum forced her to harness the defiant habits she once bore as a temperamental child who spurned tradition and authority. on the battlefield there is no one betting the last nomisma in their name for your victory. no southern palm branch will be handed to you come your triumph, and no crowd of onlookers will be cheering for the game of cat-and-mouse you play with your opponent. what years she spent a youth consumed by the adoration she garnered from the seas of people who would flock to the gore bay colosseum to watch their revenant princess take on heinous war criminals or seasoned competitors only culminated to a string of unfortunate mishaps in the north come her involvement in their military campaign in the kenora district. calista's early penchant for the unpredictable made for dubious warfare strategy and it did her no favors when it came to currying respect with venerated figures positioned at the helm of the eidolon's military. most of her early adulthood was spent this way, seeing through rash choices and facing the dire consequences, no different than how she used to repeatedly defy the rules of engagement in the gore bay colosseum. it's no wonder why putting someone as notoriously wild and untamed as calista athanasiou in heaps of finery seemed akin to forcing a lion to perform a series of circus tricks. though she still makes a point to dress in martial wear as often as possible, preferring a suit of decorated golden plate, calista has become equally comfortable in a lady's garb. the blue train of calista's cloak trailed behind her as she made to cross her chamber to approach the waiting peregrine falcon. talos restlessly shimmied along the length of the wooden perch in the cage when she neared, chirping in greeting as the princess gingerly reached a hand toward the metal bars of its enclosure. she watched the raptor fan its wings in anticipation, revealing rows of barred white feathers beneath a plumage of pale pewter. a glint of amusement in her eye, calista pulled open the latch on the cage door. the peregrine falcon all but darted out of the cage with a few beats of its feathered limbs, hook-shaped talons outstretched to aim for a place on her shoulder. talos landed on the furry pelt she donned, momentarily grappling for stability before finding sure footing. once steady the peregrine cocked its head around to survey calista's bedchamber from its newfound vantage point atop her shoulder. she watched the vigilant bird of prey from the corner of her eye, taking heed of her companion's agitated bearing. it seems you and i both tire of this stay already, calista observed. their trip north from the capital city of gore bay traversing through the lands of the sudbury district and even parts of the temiskaming shores made for a long and tiresome journey to the border of gibraltar and the heartlands, where an encampment teeming with tribesmen of the mythic dawn would soon be awaiting reception from the eidolon once they departed elkmire castle. calista and her royal family have occupied elkmire keep since last nightfall, an arrangement conceived out of convenience for the castle's proximity to the gibraltar border, granting them and their retinue rest before recommencing the final leg of their trip to the eastern border. given the circumstances, calista deemed it fortunate talos seemed to bear a mild temperament today for neither she nor the peregrine have ever been keen on trading in the blue skies of spirit island for four suffocating stone walls. in the eidolon birds of prey such as the peregrine falcon have long been revered for their sharp vision and hunting prowess, becoming a symbol of focus, intelligence, and celerity. the ancient practice of falconry itself has evolved from a mere hunting technique into a refined art and a symbol of status among the upper echelons of their tribe. in fact, it was calista's uncle galen who presented talos to her as a gift on her sixteenth name day, a fledgling once taken from a nest in devil's rock as a downy bird still unable to fly. the falconers in the timiskaming district are known for their expertise in rearing an imprint, an arduous and time-consuming undertaking according to her uncle.
indenta meek voice hesitantly sounded from the hall outside calista's chambers, interrupting her train of thought.
indent"my princess?"
indentcalista turned her gaze away from talos, recognizing the familiar voice of one of her handmaidens. lady andromeda bouras. the only daughter of the ruling lord of the timiskaming district and warden of the east, lady andromeda was brought up on the shores of lake timiskaming's wabi bay near the gibraltar border. aside from dominating the sport of falconry as a result of their control over the territories of devil's rock, the house of bouras is also well known for partaking in the practice of archery, an art lady andromeda herself has learned to master. calista eyed the door separating her and the other woman. a moment seemed to pass before she responded at all. "enter." calista simply commanded. the door to her bedchamber creaked open and with it came the lithe form of lady andromeda swathed in a sea of purple and grey and trailing closely behind her, the raven-haired lady bellona drakos. much unlike calista who regarded her personal attendants with mild disinterest, the peregrine falcon on her shoulder carefully watched the two ladies enter her room, keen eyes following their movements as they approached their princess. lady andromeda ─ no different from usual ─ appeared unsettled under the watchful gaze of the raptor, momentarily averting her eyes to the ground below her as she and lady bellona curtsied before calista. "your highness," she raised her gaze to meet calista's own. "the lady lucina has requested your presence in the great hall before we take leave."
x
indentthe great hall of elkmire, though empty save only for calista and the set of royal guards posted outside its great oaken doors, was once populated by dozens of martial champions reporting in campaign briefings during the time she spent waging war in the district of cochrane. in fact, entire ranks of legionaries mustered at the city of uhelchester during the battle of xauburn. the revenant princess found herself standing where she and a handful of lord commanders of her own legion once presided over the fate of the northlanders of black river at the table of chártis, a long table carved from black basalt and painted in the form of a map of cochrane and its neighboring districts. an empty gallery lined the perimeter of the chamber around her in concentric crescents to accommodate a military presence that has not been required within these walls for years. banners depicting old glories hung in rows along the walls of the hall, some woven as tapestries. between the proud displays of wealth and influence the house of stavropoulos liked to flaunt hung their coat of arms, a golden rose on a green and red field. calista's eyes flickered to the empty throne at the end of the hall, carved from the same dark, fine-grained volcanic rock from the abitibi greenstone belt as the table of chártis. calista did not bother to turn when she heard the sound of guards forcing open the grand doors of the hall behind her. instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the elkmire throne, anticipating the sight of her lady cousin from the corner of her eye as the sound of heels clicking against the stone floors of the keep drew near. "my princess," the woman greeted from behind her, her piercing voice one that made calista want to gouge her own ears out. she was quite certain lady lucina would have breezed by her without so much a glance if duty did not compel her to uphold an modicum of respect and yet here she was, coming to curtsy before the revenant princess. "cousin." calista spoke dryly, feeling the brief touch of the woman's hand on her arm as she rose from her curtsy, far too familiar and much too friendly for what ill terms they were on. even the smile on her painted lips seemed unnatural too for the lady of cochrane has always held herself with a rigid demeanor, more often scowling than is she smiling. "thank you for heeding my request. i thought we might have more time to dredge up old tales of glory and conquest from the time we last spent together, but alas.." lucina trailed off, resuming her approach to the modest dais of the elkmire throne. her words reeked of false affection, almost laughably so. not to mention lucina all but made her wait on her arrival ─ deliberately, calista was sure. the revenant princess watched her cousin's scarlet skirts stream behind her like a cascade of water over the steps she ascended to her seat. beneath a decorated baldachin, gnarled rose thorns carved of basalt twisted around each leg of the elkmire throne, spicules pointed like daggers extending to the height of the seat. her lady cousin wore a blood-red gown that matched the field upon which the stavropoulos rose was displayed on their coat of arms, her dress appearing to have been crafted with satin and intricate filigree like detailing stitched in with golden threads. ribbing and other visible stitching corseted her chest and accentuated the finer parts of her figure, glittering golden leaves and flowers sewn into the flowing fabric she wore. the other woman wore her black hair in an elaborate waterfall braid, her forehead encircled by a simple golden circlet whereas the rest of her tresses fell past her shoulders in a cascade of locks. calista folded her arms across her chest expectantly, observing the lady from where she remained standing. "is that why you called on me, so that we might fondly reminisce the happenings of the past?" she questioned, raising a quizzical brow. the peregrine falcon on her shoulder shifted its weight, opening its wings to swoop down and land on the table of chártis beside the revenant princess. lucina only regarded calista with a look of amusement. "no," she clarified, letting out a quiet laugh. "no ─ i only wanted to personally bid you farewell before your travels to the gibraltar border." the lady of cochrane leaned back in her throne, perhaps in one of the only instances in which she might ever be able to look down upon calista from a position of her own authority. a moment passed before she spoke again. "you know, when i caught wind of your betrothal a few months back, i was surprised." calista could feel her jaw twitch though her features did not betray what agitation the other woman stirred in her. "and what of it?" she ground out. though calista has never been particularly proficient in navigating the vagaries of veiled insults or hidden snipes inherent to life at court, it was not hard for her to understand why her lady cousin might have called her to the great hall to begin with. truly, calista knew lucina could care less about her leaving elkmire so soon; in fact, she probably counted down the hours come the departure of her and her royal family. what she wanted was to see calista squirm with discomfort by dangling her premediated fate above her head, for she knew how vehemently the revenant princess valued her independence. lucina only shrugged. "i suppose i did not expect the rumors to birth truth. you have always been such a force, beloved cousin. it's hard to imagine you tied down. i'm not sure if i should congratulate you or console you...." she paused for a moment, scrutinizing calista with a critical eye. "it's quite possible you might fit in with that pack of religious zealots just fine though."
indent"careful." calista warned her. "those religious zealots you speak of are going to be people of the eidolon no different than people of the mythic dawn come our union."
indent"oh dear...you sound like you already convinced yourself this is what you wanted. is it, cali?" the lady probed, undeterred. even her cousin's sobriquet for her was enough to make her want to cringe. quickly growing tired of lucina trying to toy with her, she let out a sigh of exasperation. "my wedding to prince halvor is for the greater good, cousin, a notion that seems lost upon you more often than not. perhaps my queen mother ought to have offered your hand to the mythic dawn on a silver platter instead ─ only, i'm sure they'd find you a lot less palatable with what faithless history your house has sown. who knows what might happen when prince halvor and i are to wed. cochrane may just become another parry sound under our decree." lucina narrowed her eyes at the latter, for what calista so boldly insinuated was not lost upon her. even if she was just being derisive, the former lords of parry sound were no longer, their district territories now an extension of gore bay and the southernmost heartlands. "so now you seek to threaten me in my own keep, cousin?" she let out a mirthless laugh, the sound bouncing around the walls of the great hall. "i'm sure soon enough you'll try to have me hung or burned at the stake for being a heretic when your husband-to-be forces you to turn to the mythic dawn's valëkrya. even sooner you'll be tearing down the statues of athena in gore bay. isn't that so?" lucina's voice dripped with a hatred not unusual for lords and ladies of high renown who feel threatened when it comes to their alliance with their eastern neighbors. while the most prevalent beliefs in the heartlands revolve around deities derived from hellenistic worship, religion plays a very insignificant role in the governing of the eidolon itself, a notion that differs greatly from that of the mythic dawn whose ancient history is known for being steeped in holy war and the massacre of other religious groups. many in the heartlands fear the prospect of religious assimilation, of having to forsake their own gods lest bloody hunts for non-believers should ever ensue. even calista had her doubts at times. after all, what made her queen mother so sure they would not come to be swallowed whole by the mythic dawn's religious fanaticism come the future? perhaps a lifetime spent trying to maintain their alliance with the gibraltar tribe meant she willing to make sacrifices, and if not to ensure their collective futures together, then to prevent what foreign diplomacy she has cultivated from falling to ruination altogether. the lands of annexed canada have not yet seen two major tribes successfully merge with one another to create a blended way of life, and her queen mother was a determined woman. calista and prince halvor's betrothal turned a new page in the history books, one that many hoped might usher in a new era of prosperity and unprecedented dominion for the mythic dawn and the eidolon. no one should dare cross an alliance as mighty as their own come their integration with one another; after all, the heartlands and gibraltar are among the largest territories in canada, each with a wealth of resources to be exploited. granted, criticism is bound to surface come word of an arrangement as binding as a union of marriage between the respective heirs to the sunburst throne and the hallowed throne. her lady cousin's condemnation of her marriage came as no surprise, though her worries did pose curious ─ after all, lucina stavropoulos was by no means a godly woman. as much as she might try and play the hand of a distraught devotee, calista could wager lucina did not fear the loss of practicing her beliefs in her own homelands. it seemed much more likely she only wanted to provoke calista over the matter. she and her cousin have been at odds since they were children, seemingly. though evident during her time spent in cochrane during the war it only came more apparent to calista later in life, this idea that lucina has always been betting against her. the resentment she bore for queen anastasia was one that did not discriminate. a girl who assumed ladyship over her house at the age of sixteen while her lord father remained a captive in the dungeons of legio gemina keep, the rest of her family sent to slaughter by the command of calista's own queen mother, lucina has never seen a friend in calista. her cousin's bitter grudge against her family ─ despite her own having committed treason of the highest kind ─ only festered as the years passed. lucina went from being a youth who placed bids against calista behind her back during gladiatorial games to a woman who refused to compromise even during times of strife. during the military campaign calista waged against the northlanders she had to manage warding off not only their rivals occupying major gold mines in the district, but her own cousin too. ever since the uprising of cochrane staged by the houses of stavropoulos and cirillo, gore bay soldiers have been stationed at major strongholds in the region. doubtlessly, calista's presence in elkmire a few years ago stoked a new flame of fear in her cousin who, like prey being hunted, became threatened and hostile. lucina likely loathed the idea of the revenant princess exerting any form of authority over her in her homelands. considering her family's uprising revolved around their independence from the royal house of athanasiou, becoming kings and queens of cochrane in their own right, calista wouldn't be surprised if lucina was frightened by the idea of not having complete control. she might have thought calista a privileged, self-important, bumptious and condescending woman come her involvement at xauburn but the other woman certainly owed her more than what meager respect she offered her now. "dare i say you sound frightened?" calista's mouth curved into an impish smile. "come now cousin, do you honestly think i would let elkmire fall to the hands of a mythic-borne lordling when thousands of my men died fighting your battles?"
indentlucina leaned forward in the elkmire throne, peering down at the revenant princess. unlike calista, she was adept in the art of deflection and knew it was easier to aggravate the revenant princess by evading her jabs altogether. "dear cousin, it wouldn't matter in the slightest even if you did install a nobleman of the mythic dawn in my stead. don't be so naive. do you know what it is they do to non-believers? what they will do to your people? i'm certain you've heard tale enough. even if you come to worship their deities you will never be one of them. you know that, don't y─"
indent"do not lecture me as though i'm a child!" calista interrupted, the hiss of her voice ringing sharp in the quiet hall. the smug look on her cousin's face did little to quell her growing vexation. lucina had calista right where she wanted her, no different from a trapped animal falling victim to a set lure or a wild beast being poked and prodded in a game of venationes. and of course calista took the bait. she refused to be her cousin's plaything for any longer though. turning toward the table of chártis, calista extended a hand toward talos as though to invite the peregrine to return to her. the raptor seized the opportunity to reclaim its rightful spot on her shoulder, hooked talons threatening to snag the fabric of her dress on its climb to the height of her arm. the revenant princess glanced to the elkmire throne with a scowl. "go on then," she growled. "speak your parting words and be done with it. bear in mind if it weren't for my martial support at xauburn, you would be a slave at the hand of the northlanders right now without a throne to sit. you'd be wise to remember that." she added, eyeing her cousin critically. calista gingerly brushed a hand against the crown of talos' head, eliciting a chirp in response.
indentlucina worked her jaw. the lady struggled to refrain from countering the other woman but even then her cousin knew better than to overstep her station with a retort. she and calista were kin, yes, but the change in her demeanor was enough to remind lucina of her position. the other woman shifted in the elkmire throne, leaning back slightly. the barbed stems of carved roses framed her seated position. "safe travels through ishpatina, your highness." her curt farewell sounded more hollow and rigid than it did sincere or warm, but calista had already turned on her heel by the time she was speaking, making her way toward the great doors of the hall. the set of guards stationed in the hall were prompt to open the doors come her approach. her lady cousin's words echoed behind her as she swiftly made to depart the hall. "do remember to watch out for any mountain lions lurking about atidurn pass," lucina called, almost tauntingly. "they are known to be quite vicious around these parts."

indentindentindentindentindentindentindentindentindent──

indentas suspected the journey on stratnach road from elkmire castle grew to be a tiring one, if only for the company calista had to keep. her family is usually bearable enough ─ granted in small doses and at even smaller increments of time ─ however their extensive traveling together has begun to grow increasingly exasperating by each passing hour.
indentmounted sidesaddle on her ivory stallion fortuna, calista held the horse's reins with a pair of dark leather gloves dyed the same navy blue as the cloak on her shoulders. she could hear the call of snow buntings and black-capped chickadees amid the sound of hooves clopping against the soil and stone aggregate underfoot. overhead talos circled the sky above the eidolon party, light wings gliding on the breeze in the air. calista would not be surprised if the raptor was assessing the flat stretches of land they traversed through, populated with deciduous trees and eastern white pines smaller birds would likely flock to. oftentimes peregrine falcons target birds like ducks and shorebirds along the shorelines of spirit island, capable of taking on prey as large as loons, geese, large gulls, or even as small as songbirds. seldom are small mammals and insects their target, and rarely carrion. calista has seen talos stoop in spectacular dives to strike prey out of the air before, sometimes even knocking larger birds out of the air, fed upon the ground where they might fall. a modest distance in front of calista and her siblings rode their queen mother on a dark stallion, escorted by a pair of her personal guards, knights and servicemen of the imperial shields who also reinforced the rear of their procession, as well as several of her own advisors. the revenant queen was directly accompanied by their uncle galen, the liege lord of sudbury and the ruling lord of house ateos. in their culture the role of the queen mother's brother often seems a puzzling concept for outsiders to grasp. foreign diplomats might expect the queen to travel with her king consort instead of her brother galen, however calista's father balisarius remained in gore bay in her queen mother's absence, meaning his formal introduction to their royal guests would come upon their arrival to the southern city. calista did not find such a notion bizarre. after all, her uncle galen has raised her since she was a young girl. he was the one who helped her hone the art of the blade and during her adolescence he took on most of the undertakings one might expect of a mentor or a father. calista did not harbor any ill feelings toward her father for his lack of involvement in her life nor could she understand why anyone might be inclined to think that she might. king balisarius drakos was once a famed gladiator but as the years drew on he grew far more interested in attending gladiatorial games as a spectator, a pastime he could no doubt indulge in more frequently without the expectation of guardianship. she supposed it was not only outsiders who questioned the eidolon's longstanding traditions of adhering to a matriliny though. catching wind of her brother adonis muttering something to himself, calista cast a glance in his direction. "talking to yourself again?" she teased.
indentadonis caught her gaze and held it. the prince glowered when her own did not falter. "what do you want now?" he spat. her brother bore the traditional hallmarks of a heartlander and indeed of an athanasiou; dark was his hair, and dark were his eyes. the prince was adorned in a high-collared navy doublet and jerkin both made of velvet, a relatively simple cut but finely made. over it he wore an extravagantly embroidered short-cut cape of cloth-of-gold lined with ermine. a belt was drawn across his waist, a long dagger in an engraved sheath on the left. the finishing touch was a golden lion brooch that fastened his cloak to his shoulders. riding at calista's opposite side was her younger sister cybil. overhearing their exchange, the younger woman was eager to chime in. "leave him be, he's probably just whining again." her remark amused calista. her sister had no right to talk about whining given the fuss she's been making since they departed elkmire castle but still, any jab at adonis was a jab she would entertain. much like calista herself, the youngest daughter of the revenant queen looked every inch a wealthy princess of gore bay. her mousy hair was pinned back from her face and piled artfully atop her head, the rest of her locks falling to the middle of her back. her gown was resplendent, a dark navy embroidered heavily with gold thread in an ostentatious display. the three lion cubs of the eidolon looked utterly united, a perfect display of joint power if it were not for their constant childlike bickering. "the poor baby just isn't getting enough attention. would you like it if you were the one betrothed to prince halvor instead of calista─?"
indent"i'm sure we can have that arranged. in truth, i'm amenable to the idea so long as he is." cybil giggled over calista's rather flippant comment, a sound brimming with delight over their brother's mockery.
indent"by the gods!" adonis snapped, evidently affronted by their exchange of banter. "enough. and to think i thought you two more mature. especially you, calista, being the heir to our esteemed hallowed throne and all─ but i suppose i can't hold it against you. the fairer sex are always less inclined toward reason and far faster to team up and accuse, to torment."
indent"and yet you still did not answer our proposition," calista challenged him, dismissing adonis' strongly prejudiced attitude toward women as though it were commonplace. she was determined to get a rise out of him. "and not objecting at all certainly means something. does my older brother have something he'd like to admit? perhaps that i am whisking away his one true beloved bound in the shackles of a political marria─"
indent"you truly are a dolt, aren't you?" adonis quipped bluntly, unceremoniously interrupting her midsentence. "maybe if we had another respectable man around here i wouldn't be so humiliated all the time. one with a spine, that is. our father does not even receive invitation to ride with us nor does he fight for one. he's just as pathetic as the rest of you lot if you ask me."
indent"you're implying our uncle galen ─ and what trusted advisors accompany us now ─ do not count as fellow men? interesting indeed."
indent"uncle galen has a soft spot for you. call it pity, i suppose. in any case he's not exactly what comes to mind when i think of someone asserting some real power around here."
indentqueen anastasia glanced over her shoulder, seemingly upon the sound of their bickering. her expression was hard to read though it certainly appeared somewhat pointed. calista caught her gaze for a brief moment.
indentgently tugging at fortuna's reins, calista advanced to her queen mother's side at a modest canter. behind her she could hear adonis mumbling something along the lines of her 'running to mommy dearest' though his comment did little to ire her. queen anastasia acknowledged her daughter's approach without so much a glance. her eyes remained trained on the road ahead of them. "calista." her tone was curt. the raven-haired woman was quite the imposing sight, her style of dress decidedly more severe in nature compared to that of her children. a golden armored corset compressed the bodice of the long dress she donned, a gown colored the blue of house athanasiou and trimmed with gold thread. engravings of ornamental designs lined the plate around her waist, including the depiction of two rearing lions at her chest. at her neckline a round pendant displaying the head of a lion hung from her throat in a long golden chain. queen anastasia's ebony tresses were pulled away from her face to accentuate her sharp features, her hair secured in the fashion of an artful chignon at the nape of her neck. even the crown atop her head was an ornate display of queenship. sharp black blades protruded from the golden band on her headpiece, beset with stunning sapphire gemstones to match the rich fabric of her dress. the precious stones glinted in the sunlight filtering through what trees they passed. her queen mother emulated martial style even in her finest of wear, a notion that did not strike calista as surprising. a woman preceded by a staggering history of cold-blooded, vicious war campaigns and countless years spent conquering the gore bay colosseum prior to her ascension to the throne even in spite of her mother's disdain for her, the revenant queen of the eidolon held herself in a way that made clear she was not one to be trifled with. even calista felt as though she must straighten in the other woman's presence herself. queen anastasia's stony demeanor seemed to be the consequence of her experiences as a youth, the rage she accumulated over the course of her adolescence driving her to not only enact bloody war against manitoba tribes infiltrating major domains in the heartlands, but enabling her to succeed in doing so too. she was certainly no longer a girl suffering at the hand of her mother in front of thousands of commoners and highborn alike. queen anastasia's mother juno sought to humiliate her heir a countless number of times in the gore bay colosseum before her reign came to an abrupt end, an observation widely acknowledged if not witnessed by many. your grandmother's rule was one tolerated out of fear rather than one built on the respect of her people, her queen mother once recounted. juno's growing inclination toward achieving bloody glory over their rivals ─ particularly her selfish desire to exclusively reap the acclaim that came of such military excursions ─ certainly made for a tenuous period of foreign diplomacy for the eidolon. even what prosperity juno brought to the heartlands after laying claim to the kenora diamond mine during the war of the blood diamonds in league with their eastern allies was said to have been rather short-lived. juno was still possessed with the notion that her own court was infiltrated by loyalists seeking to carry out the agenda of her late aunt the usurper. as a result, she would go on to irrationally accuse and sentence a number of prominent aristocrats and some of her trusted advisees to their death, either by their own hand or in a public spectacle at the gore bay colosseum. juno was known to be as erratic and unpredictable as she were cruel and unkind. apparently, she started to think herself more a god than a mortal, a belief that is not hard to discount when considering her rather untimely death. it seemed a haunting notion to imagine, her grandmother standing in the arena so confident and sure, no doubt drunk on the worship from her people, unsuspecting of what beast lurked in the shadows free from its lair. surely by the time anyone in the crowd noticed the nanook loose in the arena juno's throat had already been slashed open, her limp body tossed to the ground by the starving beast who no doubt eagerly satiated its hunger on her royal blood. the ice bear would have been apprehended immediately by order of the overseer of the colosseum but only then it would've already been far too late. calista warily observed her queen mother from the corner of her eye. it has been said that anastasia ─ despite the atrocious relationship she bore with juno ─ took to her public displays of mourning quite seriously, and like a woman weeping blood she was often styled in high-necked black gowns, sewn with dozens of blood-red gems cut in the shape of teardrops. curiously enough calista's uncle galen once mentioned her utter lack of tears over the matter. in fact, she was sure he mentioned anastasia seeming a new woman come their mother's unfortunate death. released from the tribulations and suffering juno once inflicted upon her, anastasia was quick to come into her own agency as revenant queen, and even quicker to establish herself a competent ruler. what perceptions people held of anastasia from her being forced to participate in impossible gladiatorial games hosted by juno were quickly buried come her grand successes over the stone hounds of manitoba in the districts of sudbury and thunder bay. even despite juno's attempts to debase her reputation anastasia was always going to be a force to be reckoned with, having seized a major expanse of territory in the thunder bay district at the ripe age of seventeen ─ a victory that supposedly turned juno against anastasia to begin with, with the former being unable to accept the notion of her successor outclassing her by any means. calista looked over to her uncle galen when his voice suddenly pulled her from thoughts. he rode opposite to her queen mother. "not a greeting in store for me? good to see you too, princess." he jested playfully. she was thankful for the familiarity of his light demeanor right now. "ah, uncle." calista offered him an apologetic smile. "how are you faring? it's been no small trip from sudbury, has it?"
indent"no," he chuckled in agreement. "but getting out of that stuffy mine is good for me." only her uncle would refer to his ancestral seat as a stuffy mine. even her queen mother could not mask the glint of amusement in her eye. "i can imagine the journey all the way up from gore bay has been more taxing than mine own though, or so i hear. what say you, calista?" the older man seemed to search her expression for a moment, as though trying to gauge her current temperament. galen wore the simplest of the athanasiou finery on display, donning a long, white surcoat clasped in the center by the sigil of his house, a golden fox. emblazoned underneath his collar were ornate flourishes of black thread. she noted the man's beard and hair had been trimmed and cut respectively to look much neater than usual too. calista was quick to tear her gaze away from her uncle's own. "it has been long, yes, and tiring." she said simply, her tone coming off rather blunt. calista's eyes remained fixed on the patchy road stretching through the sparse woodlands ahead of them so that she might avoid the sight of his frown. her uncle galen was far too accustomed with her habits, more so than even anastasia herself. he knew she was seeking his and her queen mother's company for a reason rather than entertaining that of her siblings. a part of her wanted to remain distracted during their journey on stratnach road. what her lady cousin said to her last they were at elkmire seemed to echo in her mind like a hatefully incessant reminder of her future: i'm not sure if i should congratulate you or console you. she could almost picture lucina's smug face, wearing that horrible grin she so desperately wanted to wipe from her perfectly sculpted features. calista did not want anyone's pity. there was nothing to pity. or was she lying to herself? maybe a part of her was resentful toward her queen mother. after all, the other woman spent years of her own life unmarried, apparently partaking in carefree endeavors of self-exploration all the while impressing the masses with her swordsmanship in the gore bay colosseum. by the gods, she only married her father because he survived the brutal series of venationes she arranged, proposing that any man who could overcome her games should be fit to win her hand in marriage. and that was only after she relented from a previous announcement, that being she would only marry any man who could best in her in the colosseum grounds. she even took a horse from each man who failed in his attempt. when it became clear to her that she would best each of her opponents, only then did she make amends to her prior declaration. the notion was an oddly frustrating one to grapple with. the other woman had the right to dictate her own fate. she inherited the hallowed throne and did as she pleased for a time. when she eventually came to wed it was fully on her own terms. she was not married off like some political pawn to gain the eidolon more power or land. she may have been tied down to a man at the end but it was a relationship she ultimately chose. calista had to wonder: when in the history of house athanasiou has the heir to the hallowed throne been forced to bow her head and comply with a marriage proposal, least of all to a foreign house? she supposed her grandmother juno was an exception, her marriage to calista's grandfather lord demonax cirillo of the archipelago being one arranged by her aunt who seized her rightful throne from her. calista's situation was far different though. she was no captive like juno was once. calista's queen mother stole her ability to choose from her ─ a prospect that surely a younger anastasia would have been furious over herself ─ and she treated her no different than her younger sister cybil, married off to a wealthy lord to grant her family more influence throughout the territories of the heartlands. perhaps that is it, then. the whole situation was simply infuriating. calista has done fine for herself this long without a husband and she hardly thought it culturally appropriate to engage with the mythic dawn in such a manner. her queen mother was not only threatening calista's autonomy but choosing to undermine centuries of an established matriarchy, whereby dynastic descent has been reckoned solely through the athanasiou female line. once calista married into the mythic dawn's royal family would she not inherently loose some of her power? their gibraltar neighbors certainly do not adhere to the same rights of primogeniture as they do. granted, they rule over two separate territories through two separate thrones and seats of power, but would having a blended way of life not change that in the end? tradition was being sacrificed for power, almost blatantly so, whether or not anyone was willing to look it in the eye and call it that. she was raised to understand the role of the ruling queen as being one not dependent ─ or even subservient ─ to a man, let alone to the husband she might take on. it was a bizarre concept to her, this possibility she might have to answer to another ruling authority, and it was one that by nature she did not like. since she was a young girl she has been under the impression she would come into a power of her own, and to potentially have that stripped away, or at-least diminished in theory, was quite hard to come to terms with. either way, calista hoped prince halvor did not expect much from her. it would make both of their lives significantly easier if they could both just perform their duties and carry on their own pursuits as they pleased. she was to be the revenant queen of the heartlands one day, not merely some consort to hang off the arm of a man born outside of her culture. everyone would certainly do well to remember such a notion come their wedding.
indent"...i'm going to be getting my boots caked with mud! and my skirts, oh gods. one of the finest dressmakers in gore bay fashioned this─"
indentcalista glanced over her shoulder upon hearing cybil's complaints. the expression upon her face was not a particularly impressed one. a moment passed before she shifted her gaze back toward her queen mother and her uncle. "if it's not too late, may i request we make a detour? i'm thinking it might be wise to drop cybil on lord bakirtzis' doorstep before we squander our chances with the mythic dawn altogether. we've travelled long enough already. what's a few more days to thunder bay?" behind her she could hear cybil's appalled protests at the mention of her betrothed, though the sound of her voice was almost drowned by her uncle's boisterous laughter. both became rather irrelevant when calista began to notice the change in their surroundings though. the gradual recession of towering trees into rather stumpy ones indicated they were proceeding to the timberline of the sparse forest they were travelling through. "your majesty," a serviceman interjected from the the lateral side of their procession. "the camping grounds are upon us." upon hearing confirmation of their subsequent arrival, calista tensed without realizing it, gripping fortuna's reins for a fleeting moment before forcing herself to regain her composure. she had to remind herself it would not bode well for her if the mythic dawn thought she looked as though she'd seen a ghost upon laying eyes on their encampment. even despite her efforts, why did her throat feel as though it were closing though? this sort of unease was much unlike her. calista swallowed thickly when the trees eventually gave way to the sight of old palisades, tall stakes protruding from the ground to fortify the encampment site frequented by the royal families of the mythic dawn and the eidolon over the years, an area located at the border of the heartlands and gibraltar. despite the feeling of dread pooling in her stomach, a part of her remained hopeful. in particular, a certain søren kolbeck crossed her mind. she should see him here, amongst the many...
indentonce in the clearing, queen anastasia was the first to dismount her steed, one of their attendants taking the reins of her queen mother's stallion. calista gently pulled fortuna's reins toward her body to urge her horse to come to a halt as well, her eyes only briefly flashing across the reception of the other royal family outside the palisades before she followed in suit with her queen mother. calista's dainty pair of heeled shoes made contact with the earth, her navy cloak twisting behind her when she turned to face fortuna. she gave the stallion a reassuring pat on the neck before allowing the horse to be tended to by another one of their men. casting a curious glance up to the sky, the revenant princess spotted talos diving down to perch among the palisades. the raptor looked out on the eidolon's impressive retinue, preceded and flanked by bannermen hoisting house athanasiou's sigil of a crowned golden lion on a navy field. while the rest of their procession proceeded to slow to a stop, calista was quick to join her queen mother and her uncle, heedful not to appear careless or distracted when formal introductions were to be made. her siblings made to do the same. determined not to dirty the hems of her skirts, cybil gathered the fabric of her dress in bunches to keep her skirts from dragging on the ground underfoot, her caution far different from the way adonis carried himself, confidently swaggering over to take his place at his family's side once they approached the royal family of the mythic dawn. "king ulrik," anastasia greeted the man cordially, paying him respect with a bow before giving his wife the same courtesy. "queen aoibheann. it will be good to see you both setting foot on heartlands soil again. we welcome you." the revenant queen glanced toward calista expectantly, who in turn took a step forward to stand at her side before the rulers of the mythic dawn. "please, allow me to reintroduce my daughter and heir to the hallowed throne, princess calista athanasiou." calista lowered herself to a curtsy when her queen mother presented her to the king and the queen of the mythic dawn. between the two rulers, queen aoibheann was certainly more of a familiar face given her frequent visits down to gore bay, oftentimes on the account of foreign trade and diplomacy. her queen mother has grown fond over the other woman too, as far as calista understood it. it would appear they have grown to have a sort of companionship with one another since their initial introduction to each other years back. queen anastasia continued on to address the lord standing on her opposite side. "and accompanying me today is my brother, lord galen ateos, the liege lord of greater sudbury." calista's uncle offered the two rulers each a bow. "king ulrik, queen aoibheann. it's an honor." galen said. both cybil and adonis paid their respects to the foreign rulers once their queen mother called upon them to do so, but calista was hardly paying mind to what was going on around her, and she certainly did not care much for standing around like a prize to be shown off to the royals of house kolbeck. there was only one person whose attention might matter to her at all, and only for him did she find herself hoping she looked every part the regal princess she was fashioned to, a notion that would not typically concern calista otherwise. the revenant princess raised her eyes to survey the members of the royal kolbeck family, briefly searching for a familiar face among those in attendance. should her gaze even momentarily fall upon søren calista was sure her eyes might linger a moment too long. her wandering attention would be quickly reeled in by the sound of her queen mother's voice though. calista averted her gaze when the revenant queen looked to both king ulrik and queen aoibheann once they finished exchanging formalities between their families. "i do trust the journey to the border was uneventful?" she inquired. "i understand it is no short trip from khyobel either."

[vaermina]

ＳØＲＥＮ ＫＯＬＢＥＣＫxxx
I.xtribal affiliationsx II. the lord ascendant of the mythic dawn


indentthe winter breeze carried the distant call of a wolf's howl, long and lonely in the frozen expanse of the canadian wasteland.
indentthe pale sun high above, shrouded in a thin envelope of dull overcast, did little to chase away the cold that clung to the wilderness along the border. radiation fog lingered throughout the valley of towering spruces and thin pine trees like a sea of ivory mist. there was a stillness in the air, broken only by the sound of distant bird calls and the cry of the wind as it rattled snowy tree branches. the land that fringed the border was an isolated one, quiet in the dead of winter and unafflicted by the usual activities of human civilization. an expanse of open basins, frozen rivers, and frosty wetlands, there was little to see apart from quiet homesteads, lone fishing shacks and abandoned townships from an age long since forgotten. it was difficult travelling through the mountainous terrain of the canadian shield, a rocky plateau that stretched practically stretched throughout the entire province of gibraltar. with rolling plains, forested valleys, and hilly regions of lakes and swampland, it was even more strenuous during wintertime. canada's back country was a treacherous realm. a land divided by tall clefts, large slopes, winding creeks, and everlasting woods, most of the territory proved perilous during the wintertime. ragged rock formations and cracked stone underfoot made it difficult for livestock to navigate as farmers urged their flocks to warmer pastures, and unsuspecting crags and sudden changes in scenery morphed the backroads into a potential death trap for unsure travelers. it was nearly impossible to discern how deep a snow drift truly was during this time of year, and whether or not a slope was truly ending where one's eyes promised it would be. the rich duvet of foliage, small rocks and verdure that usually made up the forest's undergrowth was hidden entirely by pockets of sleet, and not even the usually rich abundance of waterways found throughout southern redibor proved secure to travel upon. the smaller lakes and brooks were completely frozen, encapsulated in bright white ice that reflected the midday rays of winter sunlight. the larger basins and creeks proved a tough creature to conquer. the freshwater lake of lake simard remained unfazed by the cold upon the royal retinue's passing a few days ago. the shoreline's abundant stashes of pickerelweed, blue flag, arrowhead and bulrush had been layered in fine coats of ice upon closer inspection, and the tall conifers that sat on the lake's shore stood like frozen statues, silent and unyielding in their observation of the large lake. with several islands, lake simard was an outgrowth of the ottawa river. the north shore of the lake formed two large curves while the south coast has several bays: the bay of deer river, bay klock, poverty bay and bay snags. and while the lake itself remained unfrozen, its blue waters proved unwelcoming to the human touch. most of the country in ottawa valley proved that way. nestled between the saint lawrence lowlands and the canadian shield, ottawa valley sat along the border of gibraltar and the heartlands. a vale of flat farmland, sparse forests and towering foothills dotted with dead boscage, the ottawa river flowed through large swathes of snow-covered woodland and shriveled blueberry bogs. patches of birch, maple, beech, oak and ash occur in more mesic areas with better soil further inland in gibraltar; wetlands became more common as one drew closer to the border, with relatively pristine sand dunes, diverse shoreline alvars, and large silver maple swamps beginning to dot the landscape. similar to the rest of the surrounding woodlands, the wetlands were trapped in their own quiet alcove with nothing but thin ice, tawny plants and sparse trees dotting the landscape. observant hares and skittish foxes blended in nicely with their surroundings. the towering sentinels of the forest—speckled paper birch and pale red oak, thin balsam popular and narrow western hemlock—stood proudly amidst the winter panorama, their branches stripped bare of leaves. the skin of their trunks, weathered and rugged bark as deep as the color of soil, stood out against the pure white canvas of snow that lay comfortably atop their exposed roots. some branches even drooped beneath the weight of the frost, creating enchanting archways and tunnels for explorers to pass through as they mingled with dead thorn bushes and unkept brambles. the forest floor, once a bustling tapestry of greenery, was now cloaked in a soft layer of snow. occasional bursts of color punctuated the monochromatic landscape as vibrant red berries clung defiantly to frost-kissed bushes, and the occasional splash of sage dotted the landscape as hardy evergreen trees persisted through the cold weather. the forests became less abundant as the border grew near, and the flat vales of ruined bogland and dead plains grew more persistent. it almost appeared like the trees were beginning to purposely stick together to avoid the ruinous temptation of being the odd loner stuck out in the frozen mire.
indentthe toil that came with travelling through frostbitten country was not lost on the royal retinue of the mythic dawn. the land was inhospitable this time of year, a graveyard of treacherous roads, troublesome weather and scathing temperatures that made both man and beast rather ill-tempered. the summer thoroughfares were too perilous to travel upon this time of year, for the icy roads promised nothing but shattered bones and broken wheels. they were forced to utilize the mountainous terrain to avoid the worst of the flat lands, where deep snow drifts all but guaranteed perplexed wagons and exhausted livestock. it was a difficult journey for the king's entourage, an ever-present cortège who reveled in the benefits and pleasures of high living but loathed the odiousness that came with long-distance travel. the royal house of kolbeck was joined by quite the number of aristocracy, a none too docile mass of wealthy patricians, influential merchants and reputable well born that most likely leveled into the hundreds. most of them were lords and ladies of the great houses and their respective vassals; others were affluent traders and property owners who have long since raised their social statuses through a culmination of wealth and intelligent property operations. the retinue was bumbling with an assortment of impatient nobles, their families and households and wagons full of wares and belongings that they were unwilling to leave behind during their brief stay in the heartlands. most of them were courtiers of the royal court, and a mere scoop out of the usual thousands that attended the royal court in the suncrest palace back in khyobel. whatever constituted their personal agendas in making contact with the heartlands was their own, for their presence was nevertheless required on an occasion as grand as this. no gibraltar grandee was foolish enough to miss such an historic landmark for the future advancement of the mythic dawn, and the extrapolations that were sure to come out of these recent events promised tempting economic and social awards for those willing to play the game.
indenthaving spent the last few days travelling through grueling conditions, the comforts of a well-tended campsite was a welcome reprieve for the members of the royal entourage. nestled upon the frigid threshold of a dead forest and frozen mire, the royal campsite stood as a beacon of grandeur amidst the pristine white landscape. flanked on all sides by sentinels of towering pines and snowy swamplands, the campsite exuded an air of regality and warmth that not even the rugged environment could hamper. this was not the first time this particular site has been used as a camping ground. it bore the touch of previous occupancy through worn gravel underfoot, a handful of protective cheval de frises on the outskirts of the camp's perimeter, and old lantern posts that had been shoved into the ground over a decade ago. it was located next to the entrance of the forest, the trees tall and unyielding as they looked down upon the tents, and right before the terrain gradually morphed into swampland and frozen hills. at its heart lay a majestic pavilion, adorned with rich crimson and medallion banners emblazoned with the tribal crest, billowing proudly against the backdrop of the winter sky. the pavilion, crafted from the finest silks and furs, served as both a temporary throne room and a sanctuary from the biting chill, its interior warmed by crackling hearths and opulent tapestries that depicted scenes of valor and conquest. surrounding the pavilion sat the tents of the noble retinue, each meticulously arranged in a symmetrical pattern reminiscent of a grand court. these shelters, though smaller in stature, were no less lavish. their canvas walls were insulated with plush furs and adorned with intricate embroidery that spoke of the status of their occupants. sturdy torches cast flickering light upon the scene, and meandering pathways of crushed pine needles and powdered snow lead to the various satellite tents set up cautiously amongst the snow drifts. the air was alive with the enchanting melodies of court musicians, their instruments carefully sheltered beneath elaborately crafted awnings and broken only by the howls of the retinue's wolfhounds. the camp buzzed with the sounds of activity; servants scurried about, tending to the needs of their lords and ladies, while guards clad in boiled leather and gleaming steel stood vigilant against the silent threat of the forest beyond. the many wagons and carriages that made up the retinue were carefully parked on the outskirts of camp, with the horses and cattle that pulled them set out to graze from hay bales brought along on the journey. within the opulent confines of the camp's many tents, the walls were draped in sumptuous silks of regal hues, where an aura of divine grandeur permeated the air. tapestries of religious motifs adorned the walls, depicting scenes of celestial beings in godly repose and intricate patterns reminiscent of sacred geometry. golden candelabras illuminated the spaces, casting a warm, ethereal glow upon the rooms, while fragrant incense sweetened the air. plush cushions and palatial chairs, embroidered with symbols of faith, were scattered across the floors, inviting guests to recline in comfort and reverence. small altars fashioned from polished marble stood as focal points outside the tents' flaps, adorned with intricately carved icons and offerings of precious gems and perfumed oils. detailed byōbus depicting scenes of bloodborn victories hid the occupants' cots and personal valuables from view. ornate rugs, woven with threads of gold and crimson, hid the earthy ground from view. as the gentle rustle of silk curtains danced in the breeze, candle light flickered throughout the tents, illuminating the intricate carvings of wooden furniture and the gleam of precious metals scattered throughout. the tents of the bloodborn nobles were a sanctuary of warmth and comfort, their thick, insulating layers of fabric carefully designed to ward off the chill, while still allowing the soft murmur of the winter breeze to permeate the space. but now, most of the tents sat empty, cleared out upon the arrival of the eidolon.
indentgarbed a suit of traditional armor, søren kolbeck appeared quite plain amongst those who stood in attendance beyond the palisades of the bloodborn's encampment. in fact, he appeared almost like a sore thumb amongst the sea of luxurious fur coats and colorful fabrics. his companion, the ardent rafaelle okland, put him to shame by mere appearance alone. adorned in regalia befitting his station, lord rafaelle's resplendent ensemble tailored to exude power and prestige. his attire, a seamless blend of sophistication and opulence, featured a doublet of rich, obsidian black velvet, intricately embroidered with crimson threads of shining suns to accentuate the boldness of his presence. a white undershirt, hidden only by golden clasps in which kept the soft material of his doublet closed, peeked along his throat with the blooming figure of a stark collar and delicate lace cuffs along his wrists. cascading from his broad shoulders, a flowing cloak of deepest scarlet billowed behind him, its edges trimmed with fine gold filigree and the soft fur of black minx. he wore a thick chain of intricate design about his neck, wrought from gleaming ebony and studded with rubies. his fingers, adorned with rings of antiquity, each bearing the crest of his noble house, shimmered with the light of precious gemstones. his attire was a visual symphony of black and red, from the sleek dark color of his trousers to the leather boots in which hugged his calves. distinguished by a commanding presence and charming disposition, the lord cut a striking figure amidst the grandeur of his fellow tribesmen. his countenance, framed by a meticulously groomed mane of chestnut brown hair, exuded an air of refinement and authority. not a hint of facial hair marred the smoothness of his visage, and the fine lines of his face only emphasized the aristocratic cut of his jaw and the strength of his features. the man's piercing mahogany gaze, set beneath arched brows, focused carefully on those around him and, to a certain degree, the lord ascendant, whom he had been conversing with in hushed conversation prior to the arrival of house athanasiou. draped in garments of exquisite tailoring, lord rafaelle moved with effortless grace as he fixed the gold brooch pinned to his doublet. a lord of the great house of okland, the man was originally born into the vaillancourt family, an influential and wealthy merchant house situated in blood and wine country. famous for producing some of the finest mead in gibraltar, the vaillancourts bore an outward presentation of opulence and sophistication, with lavish banquets, colorful social displays, and extravagant parties serving as showcases for their luxurious lifestyle. their public image was carefully curated, projecting an air of affluence and exclusivity that masked the relentless drive propelling their success. they operated with a calculated ruthlessness veiled beneath a facade of aristocratic charm. they functioned with a pitiless and strategic approach that mirrored the intensity of their prized concoction. cloaked in an aura of deliberate elegance, the family navigated the cutthroat world of commerce with a shrewdness that bordered on cunning. there were rumors of the family's dealings in cutthroat negotiations and clandestine dealings, acts of exploiting rivalries and leveraging alliances to maintain their stranglehold on the industry. their reputation for producing unparalleled mead was bolstered not only by the quality of their product but also by their shrewd manipulation of trade routes and distribution networks. they viewed competition not as adversaries to be vanquished but as pieces on a chessboard to be maneuvered and outmaneuvered in their relentless pursuit of supremacy. negotiations unfolded for the clan like a high-stakes game of chess, each move designed to secure advantageous positions and undermine rivals. the vaillancourts orchestrated these maneuvers with a precision that left very little room for error. they employed a ruthless pragmatism, crushing competitors with a strategic finesse that only enhanced the allure of their renowned mead. in the past few decades, they have bought out more land than they knew what to do with while simultaneously crushing weaker wineries and breweries beneath their heels before subjugating their rivals to their whims. the mythic dawn's alliances only further fueled the ambitions of the vaillancourts and rival merchants houses, for political and economic opportunism in the heartlands and akhiwudian could prove fruitful for those willing to play the game. the family's rise to prominence was not just about crafting exceptional spirits but mastering the intricate dance of power and influence, making them a force to be reckoned with in both the market and the machinations of high society. and despite their current standing, the vaillancourts were not of noble blood (albeit they were not keen on admitting so), but rather began their journey as simple commoners before crafting the now famous recipe for goldenglow mead. they have catapulted far beyond where one might think someone of their original station might end up, and lord rafaelle himself has played a massive hand in their current ascent. the former heir of the vaillancourt estate, the older man was introduced to the royal court by his seasoned tactician of a father before he even knew what the royal court was. marred by early years of warfare and foreign glory on the battlefield, lord rafaelle would later develop into a proficient politician upon becoming head of the vallaincourt family. he was a former ambassador of the house of kolbeck, a trusted diplomat and efficient plenipotentiary whom often accompanied queen aoibheann on foreign pursuits during the reign of king torhtsige. he lacked the dogmatic and offensively brutish mannerisms that so many canadian tribespeople displayed. in a land that was utterly dominated by cultures of war and cruel pursuits, many tribesmen lacked the charisma, perspicacity and patience needed to create efficient governmental structures and political atmospheres. the tribes of the mythic dawn and the fallen eidolon were not the only groups to experience mad monarchs and violent shifts of inner power and turmoil, for there have been just as vile─and perhaps even worse─figureheads who have ascended their thrones and left behind a tainted legacy in the provinces beyond their borders.
indentperhaps that is why so many found the lord to be an interesting character, for the reckless and bold far outnumber the cautious and astute here in the canadian wasteland. prior to becoming a great lord several years ago, lord rafaelle had spent most of his time rotating between his duties as a kolbeck ambassador and dictating his inheritance over the vaillancourt estate. he once served the royal court as an emissary, and frequently engaged in political and economic negotiations, promoted bilateral cooperation and safeguarded bloodborn interests in the heartlands. he served queen aoibheann as an attaché before the war of wrath, and he was one of many politicians and noblemen who made up her political retinue as an envoy. lord rafaelle proved to be a popular ambassador during his years with the royal court. self-assured, charismatic, and optimistic, the older man exuded warmth and purpose, so much that his charisma was inordinately throttling. the almost primitive and mistrustful ways of the average bloodborn tribesman did not seem to necessarily affect lord rafaelle's character, a state of mind that many, as a native of gelderarich, would swiftly attest to his 'bohemian' heritage. those born in blood and wine country have always been considered to be an idiosyncratic brunch, for they lived a preserved way of life that embraced the ideals of ancient european court circles. they possessed a prevailing aristocratic spirit that sought to sustain art and personal craft, hobbies and avocations that are often greatly scorned throughout annexed canada. they considered art and earthly pleasures as not just a form of expression but a cornerstone of cultural identity and societal cohesion. the natives of gelderarich valued creativity, collaboration, and mutual advancement. craftsmanship was revered, with artisans honing their skills over generations. their crafts not only serve practical purposes but also contribute to the aesthetic beauty of daily life, enriching the environment and enhancing the well-being of gelderarich's general populace. and unlike the neighboring subregions, economic prosperity was pursued through innovation, entrepreneurship, and sustainable practices. rather than viewing resources as finite commodities to be fought over, the populace embraces collaboration and cooperation to ensure equitable distribution and long-term sustainability. there was a strong emphasis on education and technological advancement, with investments made in research and development to drive progress across various fields. the people of gelderarich championed refinement and progression, concepts that are often grossly neglected in the tribe of the mythic dawn. it was why they appeared so alien and almost frustratingly uptight to their neighbors, for their liberal mindsets aggrieved those who benefited from the old customs of the bloodborn populace. religion was respected throughout gelderarich─and even widely practiced─but not in a way that mimicked the tribe's overall fanatical mindset. lord rafaelle's background as a native of gelderarich and his subsequent beliefs imposed him as a striking individual that differed from the average bloodborn ethos, and that is what made him so beloved as a foreign ambassador. instead of shunning the beliefs of neighboring adventitious tribes, he instead temporarily embraced their ideals and became the poster boy of eidolon-mythic relations. he did not wear his heart on his sleeve, and his ideals and beliefs were hidden beneath whatever guise he found suitable to display. the candid acrimony of the bloodborn did not necessarily apply to lord rafaelle. he was generous and open-minded when it came to appealing to the better nature of the heartlands residents. when he was an ambassador, one could always find him sitting amongst the crowds of bloodthirsty spectators in the infamous gore bay colosseum, surrounded by both bloodborn visitors and eidolon residents alike. his cool-headed nature and beguiling tongue has made him many friends throughout the heartlands, both in the commerce department and sea of politics. it was no surprise why the man would seek to expand the vaillancourts' influence and wealth by offering an olive branch to similar eidolon merchant houses, and the eidolon made for a juicy target when one accounts how much alcohol the tribe runs through while watching their beloved games. lord rafaelle's connections, carefully nurtured through decades of congenial companionship and careful industry undertakings, has allocated the vaillancourts' businesses as some of gibraltar's most successful foreign commerce dealings. lord rafaelle's part in creating a system of flourishing consortiums between the bloodborn and eidolon only bolstered his status in the royal court, and it was of no contemplation to the king of who better to fill the vacant spot of a great lord than one as loyal as rafaelle vaillancourt himself. to some, it was a worthy selection. to others, it was a sycophantic move granted to a man who was already quite immoral and unprincipled to begin with. lord rafaelle's endowment as the new lord of house okland was based on pure connection and piety. after years of bloody war and a mountain of losses, they needed a reliable figurehead, one whose faithfulness will remain steadfast in the face of any temptation to renounce, desert, or betray the crown. but the act of betrayal was dubious when it came to men like lord rafaelle. despite his polished public personality and vast connections built upon a seabed of good faith, there were many within the royal court who felt that the lord was janus-faced. he certainly had no qualms befriending individuals whom he believed could serve his cause in some way shape or form. his beliefs were slippery to begin with, and the older man had no trouble twisting himself into a restrictive cast if it meant he could find some way to manipulate the system for his own benefit. it was probably one of many reasons why he has developed close ties with not only house kolbeck but the religious factions that served their gods. lord rafaelle would gladly present himself a righteous subject if it meant reaping the benefits of eliminating his rivals from the game, for many believed it was he that was responsible for exposing the crimes of the former lord okland (despite lesser accusations that he himself was also engaging in criminal conduct alongside the former lordling). the pieces fell together almost perfectly when one accounts how the vaillancourts' wealth will only continue to rise now that one of their own has claimed dominion over the entertainment halls that put house okland on the map. he knew how to make friends in high places, as shown by his relationship with the lord ascendant of the mythic dawn. as high inquisitor and one of the tribe's most leal and vicious hands of justice, it did him good to find some standing with lord søren.
indentlord rafaelle stood patiently on his left, bordered only by a bridge of inquisitive nobles who had come from their confines of their tents to witness the arrival of the eidolon's royal family. the lord ascendant's sister, lady máirín, flanked his right. the aristocrats gave the royals a respectable distance, standing behind and off to the sides of the camp's wide entrance like a crowd of curious pigeons. the mythic dawn's religious body stood with them, albeit at an interval that set them apart from the crowd of high-born and granted them their own respective aura of powerful aptitude. they stood out amongst the tide of rich furs, glittering gemstones and deep silks with an emanation that tasted almost grim. lady máirín wore a long-sleeved, high-necked gown in a rich, dark merlot-stained hue. the fabric was a heavy, textured material that was almost starch in nature─a gown of undoubtedly complex patterns such as brocade, damask and matelassé─with a fitted bodice and structured shoulders that extend slightly beyond her natural shoulder line. the bodice featured a unique v-shaped seam that extended from the high collar to her waist, creating a flattering silhouette. the sleeves were long and fitted, with intricate detailing at the cuffs. the gown's material did not flutter in the breeze and appeared almost as restrictive as a suit of armor. the dress went down to her ankles, although there was hardly anything conservative and prudent about its fashion statement. the ivory skeleton of a small raven was sewn into the front bodice of her gown. it was posed as if in forward flight, its bony wings outstretched across her chest and its beak pointing to the sky in silent ponder. its fragile bones were carefully sewn into the rigid fabric of her gown, the mahogany threads appearing almost like red vines that had trapped the bird in life and now preserved its body in death. máirín's hair was unstyled, marred only by the presence of a circlet made out of twisted birch wood with plastered redberries. her hair fell down to her waist, its wavy curls billowing slightly in the breeze. her pale features were marked by a faded bloody handprint that lay plastered directly across her face, a common symbol worn by ladies of the wood during matters of particular diplomatic importance─no matter how ominous it may appear to those unfamiliar with the mythic dawn's religion. her face lacked any emotion save that of a slight smirk, her dark eyes surveying the approaching eidolon retinue with great interest. her druids stood silently behind her, for they too bore an ominous appearance with grotesque wooden masks reminiscent of mischievous forest spirits. her brother did not look any less welcoming than she. clad in a full suit of dark, ornate armor, his chest was protected by a blackened breastplate with a large cross pattée emblazoned on the front. the edges of the breastplate were lined with gold trim and large pauldrons, also edged in gold, covered his shoulders and extended down to protect his upper arms. a series of segmented plates hung from the lower edge of his breastplate, protecting his upper legs and groin. they were adorned with gold rivets and buckles. accented rerebraces for the upper arms and vambraces for the forearms protected his limbs from potential injury, and his hands were encased in gauntlets with articulated fingers, allowing for dexterity while maintaining protection. the knuckles were reinforced with additional plates. with a closed helm that covered his entire face from view entirely, the religious figureheads stood accompanied by a number of leal subjects ranging from masked druids to armored templars. their magnetism was rivaled only by that of the royal family, whom stood unperturbed before the eyes of their subjects as they surveyed the approach of the eidolon retinue. the kolbecks stood in quiet anticipation, their demeanor exuding an air of ancient but majestic pride. hailing from an archaic bloodline, house kolbeck has ruled gibraltar from the sunburst throne for centuries. they were an illustrious family, grandeur and imposing but cavalier and vain all in the same breath. their egotism manifested in their unwavering belief in their own divine right to rule, their entitlement evident in the way they carried themselves, heads held high, as if the weight of the crown was a mere trifle upon their regal brows. they participated in the game with muted magnificence, for that was the cost of being one amongst the high-born. every gesture, every word uttered was carefully crafted to project an image that most would consider to be gracious behavior. it was not easy to navigate the world of nobility. demeanor was as much a part of the legacy as lineage. behind closed doors, whispers of intrigue and machination abound as they vied for dominance within the gilded confines of their palace walls, yet every public appearance was meticulously curated to project an image of unassailable majesty, with even the slightest hint of imperfection swiftly swept under the rug. their house's long history of political and civil strife was something the kolbecks were not quick to acknowledge, and it was impossible to tell their recent woes by first impressions alone. king ulrik and queen aoibheann held their heads high, so much so that their subjects felt the need to follow. in the bitter chill of canadian winter, the monarchs were adorned in garments both regal and practical, tailored to withstand the unforgiving cold while exuding the importance of their positions. atop the king's broad shoulders rest a cloak of the finest fur, a majestic mantle fashioned from the pelts of arctic foxes, its creamy hues a striking contrast against the stark white landscape. lined with insulating layers of quilted fabric, it provided both warmth and protection against the relentless chill, its hem brushing the snowy ground with each step. beneath this outer layer he wore a tunic of supple leather, dyed a deep, earthy hue reminiscent of the ancient forests that cloak gibraltar's countryside. embellished with intricate patterns and runes of amber and crimson stitching, each symbol told a tale of valor and lineage. he wore a supple leather jerkin, adorned with gold clasps, over the tunic itself. his legs were encased in trousers of thick, weather-beaten leather, reinforced with additional padding at the knees and thighs for added insulation and protection against the elements. they were tucked into sturdy boots, lined with fur and fitted with metal studs for traction on the icy terrain. upon his head sat a crown forged from iron and adorned with hessonite garnets, a stark contrast to the soft fur framing his face. yet, even amidst the opulence, practicality reigned supreme, as the crown was designed to fit snugly over a fur-lined helm, ensuring that no gust of wind or flurry of snow can penetrate his defenses. it was not the traditional crown worn by the ruling monarch of the mythic dawn. the original crown worn by the ruling monarch of the dawn does not leave the walls of the suncrest palace, for it was too valuable to take on the road.
indentyounger than the husband, queen aoibheann retained a sense of juvenility that did not break down with age. wrapped in a cloak of the deepest of purples, reminiscent of the velvety hues of twilight skies, she commanded attention with an aura of gracefulness that was not often found in the rugged populace of the bloodborn. her gown, spun from the finest wool and silk, bears subtle gaelic motifs woven into its fabric, a nod to the intertwined heritage of her realm. embroidered with intricate patterns reminiscent of celtic knots, a fur-lined sepia cloak cascaded around her shoulders, shielding her from the biting cold while adding a touch of untamed wilderness to her ensemble. the cloak was lined in white fur that matched the ensemble of her own husband's apparel. she wore minimal jewelry apart from colorful runic beads at her throat and a sparkling tiara embedded with hessonite garnets. stories did not do justice on describing the beauty of the witch-queen. with a pearlescent complexion and sharp features, the queen bore high cheekbones and a strong jawline that only accentuated the fullness of her face. cascading down her back like a midnight waterfall, her long, lustrous black hair framed her face with a stark contrast, accentuating cold features that speak of both strength and grace. she looked just like her daughter. her eyes─a mesmerizing shade of mint-green, reminiscent of the northern lights dancing across the winter sky─pierced those around her with a striking clarity. with full lips and a prominent nose, queen aoibheann looked younger than her age, and it made her stand out when perched alongside her husband. she had the characteristics of a dark vixen, but king ulrik himself possessed a rugged regality that could not be found in the unblemished visage of his wife. she did not have any prominent wrinkles or imperfections, something her husband could not relate to. weathered by the passage of time and seasoned by the responsibilities of leadership, the lines that skewed the crevices' of the king's face spoke volumes of the tribulations he has experienced in life. with a square jawline, chiseled features, and piercing eyes the color of icy fjords, he commanded attention just by appearance alone. a thick mane of long frizzy hair, once the color of burnished gold, now bears the distinguished marks of gray, cascading down his neck to rest upon his shoulders like waves upon a rocky shore. his beard, similarly touched by the passage of time, framed his face in a mantle of authority, its length groomed yet untamed, hinting at a wildness beneath the surface. tall and imposing, he carried himself with the grace of a warrior and the poise of a monarch. his physique, though no longer as robust as in his youth, still retained the strength and endurance forged in countless battles and trials. king ulrik looked just like his mother, the former queen léontine, and his own disposition bore some analogy to the golden queen's good nature. neighborly and somewhat well disposed, king ulrik lacked the physical frigidity of his queen. it was far easier to read his expression than it was the average bloodborn noble and while not entirely magnanimous in nature, the king possessed a sense of geniality that has only helped strengthen eidolon-mythic relations over the years. he was not an adept politician by any means─he still relied on his advisers to guide him through his reign─but his cooperative stance on matters where his kin and people have been unwilling to budge made him a leal ally of the heartlands. he had a jovial sense of humor when not overwhelmed by political duties and while not easily angered, his wroth was something frightening to behold. he had a good sense of judgement and relied on such shrewd instincts to guide him in his decisions; such decisions seemed to include pursuing further relations with their western neighbors. it was no surprise that king ulrik would be the monarch to usher in a new age for his tribe, and a new era it would certainly prove to be. the marriage betrothal between prince halvor of house kolbeck and princess calista of house athanasiou promised an auspicious future for the tribes of the mythic dawn and fallen eidolon.
indentthere has never been two major tribes in close proximity that have combined their respective ways of life to become a provincial superpower in canada. while large tribes have certainly created alliances based on marriage proposals, there has never been a blended merging of two distinct ways of life to create a regional sovereignty. it was a prospect that, for the most part, has been believed to be widely impossible. the tribes that dot canada's landscape have been fighting for centuries over resources, land and local power and more often than not, said tribes bear distinct cultural differences that meant a clash of law and reason with their neighbors. the tribes of annexed canada have never been too keen on sharing vital resources with one another, and it was a constant race between neighbors of who may reign victorious over uncontested subregions and crucial capital. naturally, it also meant that tribes who find ways to grapple dominion over others are keen on destroying rival cultures and ways of life, if only to preserve their own heritage in a land that will not hesitate to wipe out entire bloodlines. the alliance between the people of the mythic dawn and fallen eidolon was one that has been brewing for decades now. it has reasonably suffered historical highs and lows throughout the years, although the betrothal between the crown prince of the mythic dawn and the crown princess of the fallen eidolon promised a future that seemed almost incomprehensible to think about. it was true that the bloodborn and the eidolon lived very distinct lifestyles that, without some sort of buffer or adaptation, promised to clash violently in the future. there were differences in religious beliefs and customary traditions that could affect the way the two tribes merged their societies, and it was a threat that was unfortunately almost all too real for the two royal families to deal with. in fact, the past decade alone showed how the citizens of gibraltar felt about the mythic-eidolon alliance when they rebelled against the crown with the black prince as the figurehead of their rebellion. tradition served as a critical anchor to identity and heritage. it preserved the customs, rituals, and narratives that connect people to their roots. these connections were essential for maintaining a sense of identity and belonging, and the bloodborn had not been eager to share their land and heritage with that of their western neighbors. and while those who publicly participated in the uprising have since been executed and largely eradicated from the tribe's political sphere, there was still the underlying threat of those who secretly held the same beliefs and still retained positions of considerable power. it was a risk that both families were willing to take, albeit at the cost of tradition and autonomy itself. it was expected that prince halvor and princess calista would rule as one with the combined interests of both their tribes in mind, although whether or not the two royals would be willing to make adjustments to handle the burden of such a responsibility had yet to be seen. it was a situation that king ulrik and queen anastasia would need to prepare them for, for any sense of weakness or conjugal unrest between the two heirs would surely lead to unscrupulous subjects seeking a way to undermine the alliance by taking advantage of their inability to stand as one. it would only take one person to undermine the sanctity of the concordat, something the bloodborn were all too familiar with. it would only take one great upheaval to destroy the alliance but this time, such destruction would surely end in the deaths of both house kolbeck and house athanasiou. the marriage betrothal between the tribe's two respective heirs now marked the two families as one body, and if one body was to suffer a dagger wound directly to the heart, it would be enough to kill them both. should they fail in uniting their people as one, it could very well result in a self-inflicted revolution that would have both houses eliminated and their thrones seized by ambitious names who had no intentions of living in peaceful co-existence. their alliance has already upset and alienated many of their subjects, and failure to bring about a successful union would result in a total dismantle of trust and respect between that of the royal dynasties and their people. failure was not an option, for death would be the price they would pay for their foundering. one can only stand against the tides of war for so long, and neither house would be able to survive a revolution enacted by their own people.
indentthe arrival of house athanasiou brought hushed awe upon the spectators. the whinny of horses and the brisk orders of soldiers ushering their mounts to a halt broke the stillness of the air, permeated only by the quiet whispers and interested gossip of the surrounding crowd. the banners of house athansiou and the tribe of the fallen eidolon fluttered in the cold breeze, their stark colors a daunting sight against the gray of the surrounding landscape. the eidolon's procession was an impressive sight, if only because of those who spearheaded its front. all eyes remained glued on the immortal queen and her royal children as they dismounted their steeds. there has always been a sense of repute and great interest when it came to observing the interactions between house kolbeck and house athanasiou. did they truly hold each other in such high approbation? what did they really think of one another? do they hold similar beliefs, and will said beliefs help guide their tribes to a better future? yes, the tribes' respective monarchs get along just fine now but will the same be said for their children when they rise to power? are they strong enough to carry on their legacies? there would always be a shadow of doubt and judgment poisoning the pool upon which the common people drink, and gossip and unheard hearsay concerning nobility would always be their poison of choice. it was an interesting pastime, to speculate the hidden evils and ambitions that may linger in the hearts of their tribes' biggest names. eyes remained glued on the athanasiou clan as they approached the kolbecks, their respective house colors intertwined in their very clothing. and as always, there was a dignified approach in queen anastasia's words as she addressed the king and queen of the dawn. "queen anastasia, it is an honor to be in your presence once more. your welcome is most gracious. and as always, it is a pleasure to be amongst your kin," king ulrik responded decorously in return, his voice loud and crisp in the silence of the crowd as he addressed the immortal queen, her children and her lord brother. he responded to her bow with one of his own. the crowd's attention pierced the royals as the king introduced his children, daughter-in-law and son-in-law to the athanasious. the king's children and in-laws stood alongside king ulrik and queen aoibheann with a silence that only invited conversation should such a branch be extended to them, as per their own courteous greetings to the queen of the heartlands and her family when provoked. the pressure to carry themselves in a courtly manner and to allow the monarchs space to talk without interruption was immense. there was a part to play, a theme common in politics and affairs of state. it was important for both clans to retain diplomacy, no matter how boorish and lifeless their interactions may seem to others. queen aoibheann smiled slightly at the other woman's inquiry, her pale hands clasped in front of her. "there were no impediments, no," the raven-haired queen confirmed. "it was a smooth journey. of course, winter has never been the most pleasant of seasons to travel in, but the remaining miles will be most pleasant now that we have your company to enjoy. i hope that the weather has been kind to your retinue, as well." queen aoibheann's diplomatic experience made her a tactful woman, although some might say she stood out amongst the current brood of kolbecks. she was not king ulrik's first wife nor was she the mother of his children. his first wife, princess eula, died many years ago before he ascended the throne. the marriage between queen aoibheann and king ulrik was one of an interesting fiber. it was not uncommon for monarchs of the mythic dawn to remarry after the death of a spouse, and most of said marriages tend to occur even if said monarch had children with their first spouse to begin with. it was often contributed as either a political move or one of pure desire, and in the case of king ulrik and queen aoibheann, it appeared to be a bit of both. queen aoibheann had married king ulrik to ensure not only her own survival but that of her children following the sack of khyobel and the war of wrath. it was a survival move, not one based on carnal desires or some intense grasp for power. the ancient blood laws of the mythic dawn proclaimed that the direct bloodline of a certifiable sinner could, in some cases, be contested in a court of law and furthermore eliminated entirely should someone come forward and contend of the grievances they suffered beneath said wrongdoer's hand. in the case of the adrúmentarii, the losses and pain suffered beneath his hand could not be understated. there were many that came forward demanding the head of not only his wife but that of his children, a rightfully reciprocal justice for the kin they had lost during the sack of khyobel and the years of woe. it was the law of exact retaliation, the same principle that a person who has injured another person is to be penalized to a similar degree by the injured party─or, in the case of murder, the murderer's kin must suffer the same fate. it was a largely primordial constitution of tribal jurisprudence that has grown slowly uncommon as the decades pass but, when enacted, could prove fatal to innocent parties. there was ultimate hypocrisy tied into such blood laws that has led to its declining popularity, such as the fact that the house kolbeck's direct bloodline cannot be held to its standards. after all, there has been so much inner bloodshed and kinslaying throughout the past three or four generations that should such laws be held to a pristine standard, house kolbeck would not be standing here today. but many had called for its enactment after the black prince's rebellion, and queen aoibheann rushed to marry the wifeless king ulrik in a desperate bid to save not only her life but that of her children's. she was granted immunity from such demands upon her ascension as queen and marriage into the ruling bloodline, and king ulrik had quickly grown resistant to the very idea of harming her or his niece and nephew. perhaps it showed a deeper kindness that the king did not readily display, for there are many in this violent land who would have gladly butchered prince brynjar's children if it meant ensuring the death of his direct bloodline and a possible reoccurrence of war in the future. hypothetically, they would not be able to follow in their father's footsteps and challenge the natural line of succession if they were dead. blood ties and lineage mean everything in annexed canada, especially amongst that of royal families. and while queen aoibheann was successful in escaping the demands of the tribe's blood laws, time and consequence has demanded the fracture of her immediate family as a whole. with her first husband shunned and imprisoned, her twin children remained isolated from house kolbeck. it was not a purposeful misdemeanor but rather circumstance of their religious positions and the responsibilities they must now uphold. they no longer carried the titles of prince and princess, and stood alone from the royal family during processions as important as this. it was not that they did not hold positions of great importance but rather their exploits in maintaining and upholding the tribe's religious atmosphere isolated them from their royal blood, and their duties involved greater undertakings nowadays. they were not forced to uphold their former duties as royals anymore. they rarely interacted with the royal family unless it happened to involve courtly duties and appearances. aoibheann was queen, yes but her children would not inherit the throne upon her passing. they too would fade away like that of a burnt spark, with nothing remaining of their legacy but that of what they chose to craft and uphold in life. aoibheann was queen, but she has lost everything to get there. and she was the happiest she has ever been, but at the cost of a once dutiful husband, her kin and two loving children whom, upon being handed life's unpleasant realities, have grown cold, bitter and ambitious to an almost zealous degree. she stood as queen while they stood in the shadows of the crowd. it was almost like her children never existed, a prospect that most likely pleased many people. aoibheann was queen, but she had little to show for it apart from the husband she was forced to marry and the crown she wore on her head, with flecks of faint blood stains dotting its surface from when it fell into a pool of queen léontine's blood. it was impossible to tell if such prospects had a toll on her. "we are most honored to be here today. my former advisor and now leal vassal, lord rafaelle okland, has brought two wagons of the finest meads and alcohol from gelderarich to toast to you and your family's health. we offer it as a gift, as thank you for allowing us the privilege to be amongst your people." queen aoibheann looked to the king almost expectantly. while he has proved himself to be a sociable man, he lacked the political tact and overall guile of his wife. it was good that he was open-minded and appeared to pick up a few things during his years as king, for there are many tribal monarchs out there who would refuse to even stand in front of another ruler and address them with the proper titles, much less than of an independent queen. king ulrik nodded in agreement. "yes, and we are most delighted to see where this road takes us. and while i do not ever doubt your aptitude, your majesty, i must ask and hope that it is not too strenuous to host our retinue? we do not wish to impose on your good will." it was a reasonable question. the bloodborn retinue was almost overflowing with nobles, influential merchants, popular religious figures and bumbling patricians. it was possible that even more may cross the border in the coming days, ranging from wealthy noblemen to curious lowborn seeking to enjoy whatever entertainment the heartlands may offer. a tide of people would surely follow house kolbeck's wake in eager anticipation of the budding marriage alliance, for it was an historical event. whether or not the large crowds of bloodborn and eidolon citizens mingled appropriately with one another had yet to be seen.