{ Gaia Vatrix, sole child of Isolden and Ishbell|Twenty-eight|Female|Currently: Speaking with Caeca}
Green eyes, patched with hazel, stared out into the castle gardens as Gaia crossed her legs. The young monarch perched on the railing of her balcony, watching the rain and biding her time as guests gathered in their finest clothes to attend the Gala. She wore a dress of crimson material that hugged her body to reveal the soft curves of her figure and fluttered in waves behind her gliding steps. Her ebony hair was held up in an intricate mass of braids, cradled in a net of golden ivy, allowing for a few stray locks of hair to curtain over her shoulder in elegant curls. She ran her slender fingers through her hair, before sliding off of the railing onto the stone flooring and starting for the dining hall.
The young monarch walked with a graceful glide to her step almost as if walking on air rather that the stone floor below. She held herself like a queen and greeted all those around her with a smile that rivaled Helen of Troy in its radiance.
"Ah, magi Caeca, how fortunate you should attend," she greeted the woman with a frozen smile, taking her in for the first time since her father's death. "I've not your courage to bare my face after such sour endings to your rise and then to waken, properly, alone once more," Gaia spoke softly, almost kindly, as if sharing the evening's gossip with a dear friend rather than taunting an enemy on her scars, both physical and mental, of war. A slender hand, coloured like porcelain rose to touch the garnet that hung from her throat on a gold chain made to resemble the crafted ivy that adorned her hair.