ＦＡＤＩＮＧ ＩＮＴＯ ＡＳＨ ＡＮＤ ＤＵＳＴ

[nymphadora.]

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Ｒｙｄｅｒ Ｓｅｒｉｌｄａ Ｌｉｎｓｔｒｉｍ

Gender: Female
Age: 21
Kingdom: Istoth
Job/Rank: Soldier, Assassin, Spy
Species: Dragon Shifter/Fire Element Controller
Sexuality: Straight
Crush: Crushes are for children
Rank: Barely Alive/Deceased ( Almost )
Tagged: No one I suppose
"I'm dead."

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I laid on the floor of my cell bleeding out. I had refused to put anything on to stop it and they obviously didn’t care enough to help me, they didn’t bandage me up like the others. I was going to die before they could get anyone to heal me. My wounds were fatal anyways. I looked out the cell bars and frowned when no one was around. Well I would rather bleed out in this cell then be executed. I began to hack up blood and I felt my head spin like a top. This wasn’t good. I knew what blood loss did to people.... Hallucinations sometimes. I was going to die at this rate. Not that I mattered to the others. I laid there in my own puddle of blood dying. Dark spots danced at the corners of my eyes willing to take me in. I was fighting death but not for long. I would be dead by the time anything happened, the wounds were fatal. Everything was terrible. Beyond the darkness at the corners of my eyes I could see an unnatural light, it wasn’t real light. I was wither hallucinating or I was going into the light. I died like any brave soldier would, on a battle field except locked in a cell. I spat out some more blood before completely loosing consciousness. I was dead for sure and I could feel it. I lost all connections to my body and there was nothing but darkness. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to go to Heaven or not... Maybe I would be sent to H*ll for my ruthlessness in battle. I wasn’t sure about anything. Maybe I wasn’t even dead. I doubted it thought. I wondered how long I would be stuck in my body before I could leave and go to a better place. I think it would be best for me to leave anyways. I am dead and my secrets died with me.

[sparky246]

Min Rowanaway
Female|20 | Shapeshifter
Trade Emissary | Currently staying in Seulghem

Min whirled around, but not in a surprised fashion. It only made sense for a guard to be with the hostages until a healer could tend to them. "Apologies, Sir," Min paused, not sure of the man's name. "My name is Min Rowanaway, but just call me Min. I've been staying in Seulghem for the past few days beginning trade negotiations for weapons, armor and other war supplies. As for the reason I'm in the dungeons," Min chuckled, mostly to herself. "In all honesty I was bored. Prince- sorry, King Aeron will need time to grieve, as we all will, so I'm in no mood to pry into his period of recovery by demanding trade deals. I saw the prisoner carts and was curious. No males, eh?" Min narrowed her eyes. "Should I have reason to not trust you alone with women who aren't in a position to defend themselves?" she asked, one hand drifting towards her exquisite half-moon blades.
Min shrugged, dropping her accusing tone like an unneeded cloak. "Anyways, I had hoped for some company. Most of the female inhabitants of the castle don't appreciate talking to 'a savage who runs around hardly clothed and with such short hair! That is for the men!'" Min mocked in a stuffy, pompous voice. She huffed a bit, not seeming happy to have brought it up. "Not that your gender is much better. Most men will either treat me like I don't exist or try to take advantage of me." Min grinned wolfishly. "They soon learn their lesson, but do you get my point?" The lean redhead frowned.
"But I digress. I had hoped your prisoners wouldn't care for appearances, but it's pretty obvious most of them cannot even stand," Min pointed out with a gesture to Ryder. "Do you think she's dead?"
(Tagged: Elizabeth, Alvere, Ryder)

[Keriae]

◤--------------------◥
ＡＬＶＥＲＥ.
male :: royal guard :: twenty :: seulghem
tagged - elizabeth, min
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His listened to her as she began to speak with good intentions but soon began to go off on a tangent, speaking about their new King and the upperclass ladies whom all looked down upon her for her for her short-cut red hair and the items of clothing she chose to wear. As she spoke, Alvere's brown eyes drifted downwards to see her narrow feet, without shoes. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth and shook his head, although he found himself respecting her for ignoring the taunts and the sneers and continuing on her way.

As her hands drifted towards some half-moon blades: completely unusual and something he had scarcely seen before. She chastised him on the fact that the prisoners were all female and, had he not been waiting for the master healers that could appear at any moment, Alvere would have spoke in a low tone, dripping with danger. However, he chose to ignore her as she continued to talk. Finally, she seemed to grow breathless as she pointed out the dragon shifter.

"More likely just unconscious. As I believe, she was too focused on the man who found out she was a dragon shifter before she was skewered on a blade. We've patched her up the best we can until the healers come." Now his voice was a dry, bored drawl but, like the lean woman before him, he continued talking before she could answer. "I don't care if you were bored, or curious: you are not allowed down here. From what I can gather, you are not even a citizen of Seulghem, and a citizen would not be allowed in the castle, never mind down here. Now if you've please leave, I'd be grateful. Otherwise," a devilish, dark smirk took over his lips, "you'll have to go in a cell yourself."

Just as he finished speaking, the master healers arrived. He could hear their heavy footsteps echoing on the smooth stone steps, and they came around the corner: four of them, three master healers and an apprentice. Fishing the keys from his belt, Alvere now ignored Min and moved down to Ryder's cell. She was the most serious right now and as such she would be treated first. However, upon opening the cell door only one master healer stepped inside, explaining that he was the most accomplished and he had his apprentice to help if needed. A small nod, and Alvere locked them inside before allowing the other two to enter the other cells. There was no need to explain the condition of the hostages: they were prisoners of war. He returned to Min and raised his eyebrows. She had to leave.

[duckworth]

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ＥＶＡＮＧＥＬＩＮＥ
Princess Evangeline "Evan" Blythe
female | eighteen | Isoth
tagged: open
in the "nice" dungeons
unhappy & in pain
no crush & single
❝ If we don't end war, war will end us. ❞
- H.G. Wells
format © vita.anima

Evangeline was feeling a bit bleary as the cart holding the prisoners arrived at Seulghem. She really had no idea what was happening. The pain from her broken ribs had threatened to make her black out more than once, and she was still fighting that urge right now, gritting her teeth and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from fainting. Her mouth was already bloody since she had had to bite her cheek so many times, for a variety of reasons. Spitting out some of the blood still in her mouth, Evangeline refused to look at any of the staring Seulghem residents. She had shoved her helmet quite low over her head so no one would be able to recognize her. Unfortunately, her ribs had been too battered to put her armor back on without it compressing her body and making the pain worse, so she was only wearing a long tunic and leggings, not her choice of a disguise. You would be able to tell she had the body of a woman, but you wouldn't be able to see her face, hidden by her helmet. Evangeline had also tucked her long, distinctive platinum-blonde hair into her helmet. Some could recognize the beautiful princess of Istoth by her lovely and unique hair.
Keeping her head lowered to reduce the chances of being recognized, Evangeline again was forced to fight off unconsciousness as the cart clattered farther into the city, towards the dungeons. She didn't look at where Prince Aeron went, and in that moment, she really did not care.

When the prisoners were unloaded and led into the dungeons, Evangeline wondered what they looked like. For some reason, she imagined dank, dusty, moldy cells with blood and dirt scattered on the floor. Tiny, shallow little claustrophobic pits that didn't allow for any movement at all, smelly and rotting, just like their prisoners. So she was pleasantly surprised when the dungeons turned out to be a lot better than her very low expectations. There wasn't even any screaming of horrible agony, which was another she had been expecting. No sounds of torture. Yet.
Evangeline was one of the last to be placed into a cell. She was in the one farthest from the entrance, which didn't do much to her sanity, considering how much lonelier this secluded cell would be. They were simple, made out of stone and with close-set metal bars, completely preventing escape. It made her feel claustrophobic, so at least it had lived up to one part of her darker expectations. However, the cells were not covered in blood and misery, but were actually kind of clean, maybe some dust and dirt here and there, but generally an okay place. It was very surprising, and as Evangeline was roughly shoved into her cell, a lot better than what she had been hoping for. It wasn't very welcoming or cozy, but it was survivable, she hoped. Evangeline just wondered how long it would take Aeron to cut off her head himself.

Evangeline let out a sigh as she lay down on the cold dungeon floor, not really doing anything in particular. She had found a small bit of charcoal on the floor, possibly left by the last resident, and was now writing nonsense on the walls, wondering if she would be forced to clean up her charcoal messes. Sketching absentmindedly, Evangeline wrote her name on the wall, using Evan instead of Evangeline. Writing "Evan" over and over again, Evangeline found a spot on the wall that looked remarkably like a fish. Smiling rather deliriously to herself, Evangeline wrote "Pike" underneath the fish-spot, placing the piece of charcoal down on the ground again after she was done messing around.
Poking at her ribs (it wasn't her best idea), Evangeline wondered if healers would come to help her. She doubted Prince Aeron would want her to die just yet. After all, he would either keep her hostage to humiliate Istoth, or keep her alive to toy around with her for a little bit more, maybe placing her head on a spike personally, with his own two hands. Closing her eyes, Evangeline tried to sleep, but the pain was too great, so instead, she was left to her own thoughts until the sharp throbs from her ribs turned dull as the roar of her mind became too great for her to handle. Slipping into a light and hazy cloud of unconsciousness, Evangeline still felt the pain. It was just always there now.

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ＬＥＯＮＩＤＡＳ
Leonidas "Leo" Gorgon
male | twenty | Seulghem
tagged: Beinethiel (mostly)
in the dungeons
guarding the prisoners
no crush & single
❝ When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die. ❞
Jean-Paul Sartre
format © vita.anima

Taking his helmet off, Leonidas walked after the prince and the hostages, forcing himself not to look at the dead body of the king. He felt utterly hopeless right now, but still, he knew that with time, the grief would fade away, for Leonidas, at least. Leo assumed that the anger and the madness would never fade from Prince Aeron's mind or heart. After all, he had lost his father, while the rest of the kingdom had only lost their king. Kings could be replaced, no matter how great, and they would have to be, considering that no man lived forever. The king had lived many strong years, so Leonidas was more concerned about the loss of a great king rather than a life. Leonidas was surrounded by death, so the effect was gradually becoming more and more muted. He feared that one day, he would stop caring when people around him died. He vowed to never let that happen, to never lose himself as a person.
Feeling exhausted, Leonidas couldn't very well sleep. At least, not yet. He wanted to check on the prisoners first, so he followed Alvere down to the dungeons, the decent ones. He was glad that the prisoners weren't being kept in the Black Cells, horrible little pits that Leonidas thought no man or woman deserved to be put into, no matter how horrible the crime. Leonidas didn't really believe in revenge. It didn't sit right with his honorable morals. He thought that taking an eye for an eye made the whole world blind, which was a problem, since you had to see to survive in these bloody days. Wincing as he accidentally put too much weight on his injured leg, Leonidas shrugged off the pain. He would see one of the healers later, but for now, it was best to guard the prisoners in case one tried to make a final, desperate attempt to escape.

Watching the hostages being unloaded and dragged roughly to the dungeons made him feel a bit unsettled, as much as convinced himself it was proper justice. Or at least, for now, it was justified. Leo didn't want the prince to execute the hostages. He guessed that Prince Aeron and many of the other men blamed the hostages for the death of their king, quite frankly because the prisoneres were the only people around to be blamed. You could direct your anger at the entire kingdom of Istoth, but it was a lot harder to behead and torture a whole people rather than a few injured hostages. The prisoners would take the brunt of the anger and force of the Seulghem people, only because it was the most convenient and easiest option, which made Leonidas feel a little bit sick. He was against torture, and would hate to see any of the prisoners tortured, even the dragon shapeshifter, the woman who had delivered the blow to his leg. He didn't want the princess to get hurt either, partly out of chivalry and partly because he did not wish to see the enemy king and queen in an even greater rage. Peace meant more to Leonidas than war, which was ironic considering his job as a foot-soldier and dreams of being a knight or Royal Guard soldier. He fought to protect, not to murder, and Leonidas looked down at his hands, hoping that he would continue to see them clean instead of permanently bloodied. At this point, he wasn't sure how clean or dirtied they were. It was all an illusion to him anyways.
Blinking, Leo's thoughts were chased away as the final prisoner was put into their cell. He wondered when the master healers would come. He had heard an order from Aeron to send the healers to the dungeons, for reasons that were easily guessed. It was better and safer to torture a healthy person rather than one close to death. After all, killing a hostage would result in nothing. Torturing might get them information, although, again, Leonidas hated the idea of torture.
Walking slowly and carefully down the long hallway of prison cells, Leonidas paused at each one, looking inside. He passed by Alvere, lowering his gaze respectfully as the Royal Guard member spoke to a girl. Finally, Leonidas reached the female elf's, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze rather unhappy. He didn't speak for a few minutes, only glared at the wall. Finally, he dared to meet the elf's gaze, saying in a calm and mildly friendly tone, "I didn't get your name, elf. Considering all we've been through together, I deserve to know at least that." The last part was slightly tainted by dark humor, but Leo kept his professionality, narrowing his blue-green eyes.

♚

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[Dark.]

Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ Aᴇʀᴏɴ ᴏғ Sᴇᴜʟɢʜᴇᴍ
Currently;; Talking to the Princess| Tagged;; Alvere, Min, Evan

Aeron watched as the King's body was carried away by the brothers. The Queen followed, her skirts ruffling out behind her. Aeron sighed, watching them until they disappeared from view. He would say his own goodbye's later. The Prince turned on his heel, pushing the large Castle doors open with the flat of his palm.

The entrance hall of the castle was large, with multiple corridors leading off the chambre. Seulghem's banners hung from the rafters and it made for a lasting first impression. However, the grandeur was lost on Aeron; he knew no different. The Prince had barely set two feet through the doorway when he was accosted by a pair of handmaids; one sloshing a pail of warm salt-water, the other brandishing a cloth. Before he realised what was happening, they began dabbing his face, removing all traces of dried blood and cleansing his small facial wound. Grinding his teeth in irritation, Aeron witheld his protest, instead flickering his blue eyes onto the man approaching him.

"Uncle." Aeron regarded the man cooly, watching as he bowed in greeting. His mother's brother, his Uncle had also been his father's chief advisor. Aeron didn't particularly like the man. If it wasn't for the familial ties, he probably wouldn't have anything to do with the man. His Uncle stood up, dismissing the handmaids that were fussing around Aeron. His voice was authoritive and sly. Be gone. I must talk with the Prince.

The handmaids obeyed immediately, almost dropping the bucket in their haste. The scurried away, disappearing down the nearest corridor. Aeron drew an arm up to his face, wiping away the excess water with his sleeve, "No need to snap at the staff, Uncle." Aeron said coldly. The man dismissed his comment with a bat of the hand. Trivial, my Prince. Or should that be King. Now to discuss more pressing matters. Walk with me. His Uncle turned, walking down an ajoining corridor with long strides. Aeron sighed before following, this couldn't be good. Once they were in a more secluded area, his Uncle stopped, turning. An unnerving glint was in his eyes. A little bird informed me that the Princess is amongst your company. Aeron frowned nodding his head, "Then your little birds are correct." The advisor smiled, They are never wrong. You are to marry the girl, in three days. That leaves you a day for the funeral and the coronation.

Aeron's jaw had slightly dropped at this point, his eyes narrowing, "Do I not get a say in things!? 'Suppose I don't want to marry yet! Least of all to that.....that.." His Uncle smirked, Yes? Aeron ground his teeth in irritation, "That Istoth scum." His Uncles face was making him angry. He could almost imagine himself punching it... Hastily, Aeron turned, walking away; feeling his Uncle's smirk growing in his wake. This was a marriage of convenience, and one that he was fairly sure would not sit well in the eyes of the Seulghem commoners. He would be marrying Istoth, marrying his father's murderer. The taste soured even his mouth. Besides, Aeron was not the type to be tied down, least of all to someone who probably hated his guts.

He was nearing the inner entrance to the dungeons. Aeron sighed, now was as good-a-time as any to checkup on the hostages. Wrapping his fingers around the iron handle he lifted the latch and allowed the door to swing open. A lit torch sat in a sconce near the door and he lifted it, holding the flame out infront of him. Aeron descended down the steps slowly, the torchlight flickering and casting shadows around the small stairwell. Finally, his descent opened into the small corridor that made up the dungeons. At the far end, near the main entrance, Aeron spied Alvere, talking to a foreign-looking women. Perhaps the Tarrawan trade emissiary whom his father had been treating with recently. He had not had the pleasure of meeting her yet - perhaps an introduction would be in order.

Aeron set off down the corridor, however someone caught his eye in the first cell he came to. He turned to glance down at the Princess, his torchlight flickering over her. She was curled up on the floor. For a moment, he wanted to say something snide about the marriage, however he held his tongue. Hopefully the thing would not go ahead anyway, so there was no need for her to know. He found himself looking at her from a potential-wife perspective. Sure, she was beautiful, and had she been from Seulghem, he would have not contemplated making her one of his 'conquests'. However potential life-partner and fellow ruler. Please. You'd have to be mad...wouldn't you?

Aeron shoved those thoughts from his mind and cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little gruffly, "You're lucky I don't have you on your hands and knees, scrubbing down your cell with a toothbrush." His torchlight flickered over the walls and floor, showing off all her charcoal doodlings. Evan. Not Evangeline? Interesting. A smirk played on his lips, "Evan? Isn't that a boy's name?"

[duckworth]

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ＥＶＡＮＧＥＬＩＮＥ
Princess Evangeline "Evan" Blythe
female | eighteen | Isoth
tagged: Aeron
in her cell
speaking to the prince
no crush & single
❝ If we don't end war, war will end us. ❞
- H.G. Wells
format © vita.anima

Evangeline's eyes flickered open when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. They were coming towards her cell, she could tell, as the footfalls grew louder and louder. She couldn't say she was surprised to see the prince. In fact, she had almost been expecting him. She figured he was here to gloat, and so waited patiently for him to rub her captivity into her face. The gloating never came though, and although the prince was looking arrogant as ever, there was also a layer of unhappiness underneath all that overconfidence. Somehow, she didn't think it was from the death of his father. It was too hidden for that. Evangeline didn't think Aeron would bother hiding his grief from his father's death, considering he had been showing it pretty obviously ever since the end of the battle and the discovery of the body.
Blinking, Evangeline pushed her thoughts away as the light from the prince's torch temporarily blinded her. Her eyes watering a little bit, Evangeline looked away from the light source, instead focusing on the prince's face. She furrowed her brow, frowning slightly at his comment about having her scrub the floors of the cell. She was hoping he wasn't serious, and that he was just making jokes at her expense. Shrugging, Evangeline offered a small, humorless smile at the prince, the smirk not quite reaching her eyes. "Wouldn't you agree that there's really no reason to clean a prison cell, of all places?" The smile grew to something that actually touched her face, her eyes gazing at Aeron with something other than anger for a change. "If clean cells really matter that much to Your Highness, you're very welcome to come in here and scrub the floors yourself." Evangeline's smile faded and she looked away from the prince, feeling sick to her stomach. As much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to hate the man. Sure, he had killed many Istoth soldiers, and was probably going to punish her severely for what her kingdom had done to Seulghem, especially considering the death of the king, but she just couldn't. She just couldn't hate Prince Aeron, as much as she knew instinctively the hatred that ran deep like bloody rivers throughout the two kingdoms, permanently separating them from peace and sentencing them both to war for what seemed like forever. She supposed it was because Evangeline could recognize him as an actual person, as someone hurt by the death of his father rather than an enemy and captor, like how the other hostages probably viewed the prince.
Evangeline had almost forgotten about the presence of the prince before he spoke again. Others may have been intimidated by the tall and impressive man, but Evangeline found herself surprisingly indifferent towards him, despite all that he had done to her and her fellow hostages. To be honest, Evangeline almost treated him like an acquaintance, definitely not a friend, but not quite an enemy either.
Meeting his icy blue gaze again, Evangeline offered another shrug when he questioned her nickname scribbled over the walls of the corner she was sitting in. "It's my nickname. I chose it as a child. Evangeline can get hard to say sometimes, can't it? It sounds a bit too stuffy and formal sometimes too, for my taste." Evangeline wasn't sure why she was talking so much to the prince. It seemed that every time he bothered to pay attention to her, she ruined it by babbling like an idiot. Evangeline blamed it on the injury clouding her mind and making her heavily delirious, which was true. She felt nauseous from her broken ribs. She reminded herself to ask about healers later, if the pain got too great for her to handle. She was nearing her limit already, having to withstand all that agony. "Mind you, only my parents and close friends really call me that. I let my handmaiden call me that as well. You're certainly not allowed to call me Evan, at least not without me frowning disapprovingly." Evangeline noted his smirk, but kept a straight face herself, instead settling to raise an eyebrow.
Reaching up, she took her helmet off and untied her hair, allowing it to tumble around her shoulders. Her hair, slightly dirty and dusty from the battlefield, had streaks of blood in it, almost dry. It wasn't nearly as shiny as normal and was full of tangles from not being brushed since yesterday. But her snowy, platinum-blonde hair still had the unique beauty to it, and Evangeline absentmindedly combed out the dirt using her fingers. Evangeline's hair was pretty distinctive because of its pale color. Most had darker hair colors, from brown to black to earthy reds. Even Evangeline's parents had brown hair, but somehow she had turned out with un-matching platinum-blonde hair and brunette eyebrows.
Her gaze flickered back towards Aeron, and a serious expression grew on her face. Her sharp and observant eyes raked over Aeron's expression, and she asked curiously, "What's bothering you, Aeron?" Evangeline didn't bother referring to him as "Prince". She didn't really think he deserved her respect, although she really should have been played nice with him, considering her current position.

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[norm]

⌜ xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo ⌝

ＢＥＩＮＥＴＨＩＥＬ
ｃａｐｔａｉｎ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｇｕａｒｄ

______________________________________
age: twenty two
gender: female
kingdom: istoth
rank: captain
mood: tired
action: keeping to her self
somewhat leonidas
________________________________________

“ＴＨＥ ＴＲＵＥ ＳＯＬＤＩＥＲ
ＦＩＧＨＴＳ ＮＯＴ
ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ ＳＨＥ ＨＡＴＥＳ
ＷＨＡＴ ＩＳ ＩＮ ＦＲＯＮＴ ＯＦ
ＨＥＲ， ＢＵＴ ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ
ＳＨＥ ＬＯＶＥＳ ＷＨＡＴ
ＩＳ ＢＥＨＩＮＤ ＨＥＲ．”

― Ｇ．Ｋ． ＣＨＥＳＴＥＲＴＯＮ

⌞ xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo ⌟

Beinethiel grasped the water canteen into her bound hands. After taking a few grateful sips, she heard Leonidas saying something motioned towards her. She raised her brow and nodded curtly. "Thanks." It came out as a mumble but, her pride was to much to say it any louder. A look of intense dread spread across her face as the foot soldiers dragged her and the other hostages to a horse-drawn cart. She was roughly shoved into the corner of the wood cart and she hugged her knees tightly. Beinethiel closed her eyes for the rest of the long, bumpy, and hate filled ride to the castle. The she-elf was dizzy and was somewhat dazing off when they came to a stop. She had learned to push out the sounds of hateful commoners long ago so that wasn't a problem. A few new guards came and half dragged and half showed them the way to the dungeons. As the door clang shut behind her, she pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned against the wall corner. Beinethiel rubbed her pounding eyes with a heavy groan. As voices and footsteps filled the dungeons after a while she didn't bother to even look up at who was coming. When they footsteps ended in front of her cell the elf turned at gazed up at the guard. Leonidas. After listening to him speak she scoffed when he asked for her name. "I'm not sure you do deserve to know my name." She paused, hiding a smirk. "After all you did shoot me twice with an arrow." A smile peeked from her lips and traveled across her features. "Beinethiel."

[Dark.]

Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ Aᴇʀᴏɴ ᴏғ Sᴇᴜʟɢʜᴇᴍ
Currently;; Talking to the Princess| Tagged;; Evan

When Evangeline looked up at him, she seemed just as thrilled to be locked behind bars as Aeron could expect. He could fully understand; if it was him been held in one of Istoth's cells he wouldn't have been particularly thrilled either. Hell, if it were him behind bars, Aeron would be kicking off like an untamed beast and giving his gaulers a headache. The way he looked at it, the Princess should actually be grateful of her accommadation. Rumour had it that the Istoth dungeons were much worse, like a living purgatory. It was well known amongst Seulghem soldiers that death was a kinder mistress than capture.

Aeron almost laughed over her comment about cleaning the cells, settling for a lopsided smirk. Rather ironically, these cells were regularly cleaned. Interragations tended to get a little bit messy at times and there was only so long the smell of blood could linger before it began to fester. Besides, these cells were usually reserved for petty Seulghem criminals, theft and suchlike, and his father had always wanted to keep up a 'forgiving' appearance. Of course, for those who had to pay more serious crimes there were the Black Cells, Seulghem's worst kept secret. Located in a tunnel dug deep beneath the Black Lake, the cells were little more than open graves. You were sent there too rot. Aeron had only been down there once, when he was just a young boy. He had been playing hide and seek with the Court jester and had accidently locked himself in. After tottering down the black tunnel for a while, Aeron had been hit by the screams of lost men and the stench of blood and death. It had taken half a day for the Court to find him; white as a sheet and crying his eyes out. Aeron had not been down there since; even the thought sent a shiver of dread up his spine.

An actual smile seemed to crossover the Princess's face as she suggested that he should be the one to come and scrub the cell. Aeron had raised his eyebrows at the remark. As if she were in any position to be making remarks like that. From where Aeron was stood, it seemed very much like she was the puppet and he held the strings; one tiny snip of the scissors on his end and that was it, metaphorical death. In fact, Aeron may have come up with some snarky comment had Evangeline's smile not faded. As her head turned away, Aeron frowned slightly, feeling slightly quizzical. At that moment, Aeron would have gladly given a silver peice for her thoughts. Then again, if it were him it would probably be something like "how am I going to get out of here'' or ''am I going to die''.

So Evan was a nickname? It sounded too..well...boyish for Aeron's liking, but what could he do? He could hardly order her never to use it again. Aeron himself had never had a nickname, so he didn't particularly see the need for them. Call it ignorance. However it was what Evangeline said next that really made Aeron grin, "Oh so I'm 'certainly not allowed' to call you Evan, eh Princess?" he found himself letting out a teasing laugh, "Well I guess you're going to be frowning disapprovingly a lot more then 'Evan'. Be careful though, if the wind changes you're face could stay like that." It sounded weird on his tongue, saying Evan. He added in a mumble, "And we wouldn't want that now would we?.."

Aeron watched as she took her helmet off, allowing her hair to cascade down her shoulders. Huh. It really is as platinum as they say it is. He remarked to himself. He'd removed her helmet in the heat of the battle, but hadn't really stopped to notice her haircolour. He didn't have much time to dwell on it as she directed a question at him. Momentarily caught off guard, he quickly adopted his signature smirk and flickered his cool stare back onto her. What's bothering you, Aeron? Ha. If only she knew the half of it.

Aeron raised an eyebrow once again, his voice serious, "I thought I told you earlier that's Prince Aeron or Your Royal Highness." He was clearly stalling. One million and one things were bothering him. His father's death, his mother's well-hidden grief, the fickle mob, the four hostages that he still had no idea what to do with, his fathers upcoming funeral, his upcoming coronation. Quite frankly his head felt like it was about to burst. Yet the thing at the forefront of his mind as he stood on the other side of the bars was the fact that, if his advisors had their way, in three days Evan wouldn't be in a cell; she would be in his bed. Aeron ground his teeth, deciding that a mixture of the first bothers would be the best to go with. His tone came across defensive, which surprised even him, "The King is dead, Seulghem is a bubbling pot and I have four hostages to decide what to do with. What do you expect?!" Aeron took a step back from the bars as one of the Master Healers entered Evan's cell to treat her. He glanced over to where Alvere was before looking down the cells at the other hostages. They would start with the dragon-girl first, see what secrets she would cough up.

[sparky246]

Min Rowanaway
Female|20 | Shapeshifter
Trade Emissary | Currently staying in Seulghem

Min smirked. She liked this man. He had spunk. "I'd like to see that happen," she taunted, green eyes gleaming. Min watched the healers enter Ryder's cell with baited breath. As the healers began their job, Min relaxed; she wasn't dead. Aside from the prisoners, there was the aforementioned Guard to deal with. Sensing she wasn't going to win this battle, Min bowed her head once in a gesture of respect.
"All joking aside, you have a valid point. I'll leave for now, but there's no guarantee I'll stay away." Grinning, Min brushed past Alvere with a chuckle. "See you some other time," she offered kindly. As Min ascended the stone stairs, her footsteps echoed off the walls. Looking up, Min could just barely see the ceiling. It frustrated her to be so far away from the sky. On her island, Min lived in the trees. In either form, she could skip from branch to branch with the ease and agility of walking on the ground. Upon walking into the entrance hall, the murmured conversation halted for a few moments, then resumed haltingly. Min scoffed at the women with their tight corsets and restricting shoes; they could never track a group of thieves and successfully destroy them.
Whispers could be heard from a gaggle of young girls hiding in the corner. Min looked over to find them all staring at her. Silence ensued for a few moments, broken when Min bared her teeth and hissed, as she would when in feline form. They all jumped, one even letting out a shriek, before scattering. Chuckling to herself, Min wandered off towards her chambers.

(Tagged: None)

[duckworth]

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Princess Evangeline "Evan" Blythe
female | eighteen | Isoth
tagged: Aeron
in her prison cell
talking to the prince
no crush & single
❝ If we don't end war, war will end us. ❞
- H.G. Wells
format © vita.anima

Evangeline said nothing for a few minutes, gazing at the prince with an odd look on her face. She even ignored his crooked little smirks, half-smiles that were, as always, ridiculously cocky. If I ever make it out of this cell, I'll smack the arrogance right off of his face, Evangeline thought grumpily to herself, aiming a glare at Aeron. Her frown only deepened when Prince Aeron called her "Evan", which she had instructed him very clearly not to do before. Then again, it wasn't as if she was in any position to order him around. Prince Aeron clearly had the upper hand, like he always had since they first met on the battlefield. The frown disappeared and her gaze softened when Aeron laughed. Was that a teasing note she detected? Aiming a curious glance at the prince, she shrugged and smirked when he commented something about her face staying in a permanent frown. She heard a soft mumble from him, she barely caught his muttering, but she could have sworn he said something along the lines of not wanting that to happen. This time, her smirk widened so that you could actually see her teeth, the corners of her large eyes crinkling as she smiled. It was surprisingly sincere, and the first time Evangeline had smiled since her whole ordeal had started, and it felt like ages ago she had felt so relaxed. It was weird, speaking to the prince so casually. More than weird, actually. It was more like crazy, finding peace in her enemy and captor. "What's that I hear? Do you prefer me when I'm smiling?" Her smile grew a little bit and she let out a soft laugh, cut short by the pain in her ribs. Grin fading, the brief, relaxed happiness left her face and she grew serious again, eyes narrowed. "I have to say, I prefer you when you're laughing. You're a lot less insufferable when you're happy, Aeron." Evangeline paused, her voice changing into sarcasm as she added, "Sorry, I meant to say Your Royal Highness, Prince Aeron. Or should I say, King," Evangeline realized her mistake right after she said it. Her brow furrowed and she looked away from Aeron, glaring at the ground. "... Sorry. I meant it when I said I was sorry about your father dying. I... I didn't want that to happen." She met his gaze briefly before looking away again, unhappy once more.
When Prince Aeron answered her question regarding his worries, she wasn't surprised at his response, but rather, the way he said it. A defensive tone, Aeron began yelling, which made Evangeline's eyes widen. She didn't feel scared, just uncomfortable. Sitting back a little bit, Evangeline wanted to say something in response, but was distracted when a healer came in. She recognized the healer's outfit as one of a master healer's, and she was surprised Aeron had bothered to give her such special treatment. Then again, he wouldn't want his hostages dying, would he?
Waiting patiently while the healer worked his literal magic, Evangeline gritted her teeth as he chanted underneath his breath. It was a weird feeling indeed, sometimes hot and sometimes cold, but to Evangeline's great surprise, it actually worked. When she lifted up her tunic a little to check out her ribs, she saw no trace of all of injuries. No bruises, no fiery pain anymore, nothing! It made her laugh for the second time in her cell, probably the last place she'd expect to feel so happy. The happiness would fade away pretty fast, but for right now, Evangeline just felt glad that she wasn't injured anymore.

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Leonidas "Leo" Gorgon
male | twenty | Seulghem
tagged: Beinethiel
guarding the prison cells
watching over Beinethiel and the healers
no crush & single
❝ When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die. ❞
Jean-Paul Sartre
format © vita.anima

Leonidas raised an eyebrow when the elf, now he knew her to be called Beinethiel, scoffed and looked at him. He was surprised when she smiled at him, so surprised that he almost smiled back at her. Almost. Keeping a straight face, Leonidas raised an eyebrow, his blue-green eyes sharp and observant. "Beinethiel, eh? Well, Miss Beinethiel, looks like your healers are here. They're about to fix my mistake, I see."
Leonidas stepped back while the master healers entered her cell. He kept an eye on them while they worked, using magic to heal her two arrow wounds quickly. Normally, their magical master healers weren't used for hostages, but Leonidas figured that the prince would want to have the prisoners be nice and healthy so that they could survive any torturing. Blinking, Leonidas kept a hand on his sword, in case Beinethiel tried to make a run for it while the master healers helped her. He just hoped the proud and capable elf wouldn't try to strangle them or something. Master healers took a while to train, after all, and that would just be a waste of an intelligent and useful life.

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((Ah, so much WB for Leo. ;w;))