Private &nbsp; Lend yourself for a single night

Fauvel Astier .

The beginning of the end.

That is the feeling that with joyous warmth flowered deep within the chest of the Ambassador. This night, to be spent in celebration of an unexpected pact, could prove to be the tilting stone that would end the reign of fear and caution in her home-world. Of course, the feeling was not allowed to grow and expand, for the night was still young and it had been many years since Palm-Imer had learnt to not thrive off of wishful thinking. More often than not, habit would always kill pleasure. Tradition and custom, in their importance and need, were the chain that stopped progress.

The news of the agreement had been taken well by her people, the acceptance of the Sovereign a surprise but a respected one. Her Queen may not have shared her views, but not even someone of the opposition like the Ambassador and Heir was could deny the admirable grip that the Queen held over the love and trust of those she ruled. Feyd-Serit, in her almost thirty years as Sovereign, had established herself solidly in her station and no small amount of daring decisions would see her image shaken from it. There was much to be learnt from the woman, and although Palm often found herself being critic of her, the admiration and respect held for her liege was insurmountable. And as such, escorting her was nothing short of an honor.

This was the first time in many years, well before Palm had reached adulthood, that the Sovereign found reason enough to leave the safety of the Consors system. The fact that the reason was a celebration and not a tragedy brought immense happiness to the monarch. Her Ambassador's recount of the beauty and wonders of Ilyria had been accurate, the Sovereign was more than pleased with the arrangement and looked forwards to meeting the two monarchs of the planet they were now to call a partner.

Earlier in the day, and before the arrival of the geminian cohort, their gift had been delivered and presented. Usually the Queen would have taken on the task herself, but given the dimensions and nature of the statue it had been the wiser choice to have it shown and placed before the banquet began. The gesture was meant only for the eyes of the monarchs, and there was no need to encumber the beginning of the celebration with it.

Finally, dusk had fallen upon the palace and time had come for the geminian Queen and her contingent to make their entrance. The Sovereign was wrapped in a gown of fine gossamer silk, a soft pinkish tone highlighted by golden accents and embroidery. Her stark white hair was carefully arranged in a series of braids that held it away from her face. Behind her and to her sides stood four more people. The first was a man, well in his years with graying hair and a well trimmed beard. One of the High Tribunes of the geminian council. The remaining three were Ambassadors, and the first among them was Palm.

Unlike her counterparts, the woman was not wearing their distinctive jeweled mask. The reason behind this was simple, by request of the King she was to be the official ambassador of Illyria and so she had kept her face uncovered. Her own dress was one of black velvet, masterfully encrusted with crystals and precious stones as though the mask that would have hidden her visage had been spread through her clothing. This time her hair was kept down, cascading down her back in soft waves until it reached her waist.

Their Queen was presented and they advanced after her, until they reached a suitable distance from Queen Alessandra and King Adron. The Ambassadors and the High Tribune bowed respectfully to the foreign monarchs, while the Sovereign offered a charming and confident smile. "The honor and pleasure is mine, your Majesties. May prosperity shine its glory upon Illyria and its rulers, and may we all meet a better and marvelous future." Her bright light-blue eyes glided softly through all the Illyrian nobles present before returning to the King and Queen. As the music resumed and the banquet began, the Sovereign walked elegantly to join with Alessandra and Adron. Now near them, the black rose sitting regally in contrast to the white braids of her hair was evident, the crowning glory of the Sovereign's outfit for the night. "What I had heard about your planet seemed too good to be true, your Majesties. But now I see the praise was more than well deserved, allow me to commend you. You have done better by your planet in two years than many have done in a lifetime of ruling."

Xobos Yakieer · Aug 10, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria.
Wearing: Formal Eye Mask, Ceremonial Dress, Knight Saberstaff
Mental State: Silent.
Tags: |

Palm-Imer |

If one was to tell Xobos that at one point in her lifetime, she would be comfortable at parties and gatherings, there would have been a very deeply held disbelief in the Miraluka. She would have spat in their face, or told whichever of the voices that dared to suggest such a thing to take a hike for the night. Which..they couldn’t exactly do, and would more than likely earn her a painful and vision filled evening, but it would’ve been worth it. There was not a kernel of belief in her body that she would be comfortable to show her face at gatherings again after her banishment.

She also wouldn’t have every expected the voices to go silent for such a long time. Yet here she was, stepping out of her speeder, prepared to enter into the hall of the King with her head held high and mind devoid of the constant bickering. They had not spoken since the..incident in the mines, leaving her alone with her thoughts for the first time in years. Longer than she could have ever remembered. Whatever was in her head, they were not gone. Their presence was heavy, as always, it was just their voices that were missing.

It would be a topic that would be on her mind the entire time she was here at the gathering. Her thoughts should have been on happier times, more successful ones, having come out of those dark mines alive. But then again, no one could have ever called Xobos an optimist. The silence unnerved her, as if something was holding back a dam of mental attacks that would cripple her if it bust. The only hope that she had was if there were answers that could be found before it all came crashing down.

Still, her mind did wander slightly while into the great palace. Being greeted by an usher at the front door, she was shown to a table not too far from the King and Queen, sat with other lower level aristocracy. Greeting them with a small smile, Xobos took her seat just as her master began his toast. A toast to a continued prosperity for their world. The accords were a good thing. To see Illyria beginning to reach out in foreign relations in such a way brought a proud smile to the knight’s face. Her home was stretching it’s legs, and that could only mean more prosperity for the entire galaxy.

Xobos held the red wine high when the toast was given, bringing it to her lips soon after. Adron could pick a good wine, credit where it was due, leaving Xobos happily to enjoy multiple sips of the sharp drink. For a brief moment, she considered making her way over to the King and Queen, but decided against it, at least for now. She and Adron would have a moment to speak, that much was to be assured. Better to not interrupt, to allow the proceedings to go on however they were planned. Taking another sip of her wine, she watched as the red liquid swirled in the flute, and did her best to not let mind wander to the emptiness of her mind. There would be answers, eventually, and all that could be done now was to seep herself in the moment and attempt to forget.

But when a part of your life had been taken so quickly, without any warning, distractions typically did not work all too well.

Seren Maeve · Aug 10, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria
Wearing: X X
Tags:

Xobos Yakieer

Dressed in red, the dark creature glided among the nobles gathered for the evening's affair. Whether she was looked upon with uncertainty or disdain did not trouble Seren's thoughts. Her attention was taken by a cheerful praise or a quiet, inquisitive inquiry about an order. Perhaps Titan's Point was a humble place in the grand scheme of things, but it was one committed to its craft. Rather then let it wallow in neglect as so many industrial sectors did, the red-haired woman had made discrete inquiries and established various agreements contingent upon an intricate web of arrangements. In the end the factories had been overhauled, their safety improved and morale boosted; what's more, the rate of production increased fifty percent. Though Seren liked to point out to long-standing customers the quality had improved just as much. Fewer defects resulting in less maintenance would allow the city's clientele to grow as it should.

Her warm eyes turned in the direction of the Chamberlain and the royals presiding over the banquet. Naturally those of this world welcomed the next, and vice versa. The evening was to celebrate this little relationship and so all eyes were dutifully turned to observe the goings on. Naturally, Seren joined in on the toast. To do otherwise only invited nobles to grow perturbed -- perhaps not now, but certainly later. Much as she rather not waste time powdering someone's nose, their negative interest in her could affect Titan's Point. Humble as it was, it supplied Seren her own means of production for far greater things few had the pleasure of witnessing in full.

The food was certain to be delectable, which she would no doubt sample, but Seren was hardly starving for it. Her diet was more particular. A nice, red wine sated the taste buds, however. Apropos for the occasion.

After a moment, the Sieur of Titan's Point found pleasant company nearby. Someone, perhaps, Seren might enjoy speaking with. Her mining town might not be something worth salivating over, but it was not completely barren just yet. It was worth surveying at least. With that in mind, Seren rose to claim a seat closer to

Xobos Yakieer , the King's trusted? apprentice.

"Good eventide, Sieur Yakieer. Does the evening air do you well? The night passes swifter in pleasant company."

Srina Talon · Aug 11, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria [Aries Malvern's Quarters - Balcony]
Tag:

Darth Empyrean

Silver eyes poured toward the low hanging moon. Bathed in the light of the sun it seemed ethereal in such a way that made it feel like an illusion. How could one velvet sky hold so many star-lit diamonds and not feel heavy? Srina was uncertain. She swayed back and forth on one of many balconies of Dragonne Palace with Azurine City offering a soft glow from the world down below. Her arms were wrapped neatly around the young heir to the Illyrian throne, his head tucked into the crook of her neck, while he mumbled nonsensical things. Half-awake, half-asleep, he made his little proclamations and the wintry woman could only bury a ghostly smile against the crown of his head.

Barely old enough to walk without aid—And he was already making demands. He was certainly his father’s son.

“Close your eyes, vinimo (little one).”

Aries fussed but curled closer despite himself. He wanted to stay awake but she could feel him begin to relax while his breathing evened. When she visited Illyria, she often found herself occupied with the youngest member of the royal family. He could do no wrong. She taught him as much as she could. A little Echani between his Illyrian and Galactic Basic tutelage. Respect, manners. Soon enough she would introduce him to a sword. Wooden—Of course. The Queen would not forgive her for handing her only child sharp objects. Srina scoffed internally.

No Echani youngling would be coddled so. But, he was Illyrian. Srina would abide that.

Grudgingly.

“…One day you will be too large and willful for me to hold. I won’t be able to protect you, nor, will you want me to. Perchance would you consider remaining this size forever?”

Her soft words were woven on the whispering wings of a satin white moth. Fluttering by, swiftly, before it disappeared into the emptiness of night. Aries wouldn’t have understood even if he had been fully conscious to hear it. The careful sway of her form ensured that he would sleep. He would drift amid a sea of comfort, protection, and unequivocal love. It was uncompromising. “No…”, she sighed delicately, shifting the child a little higher. “I do not think you would. Even if you could.”

He was always in such a hurry. First in his age group to walk, crawl, and speak.

There were Illyrian guards outside the doors and below the balcony. They lined the halls in neat little rows. She could feel them. Anxious—With hearts that went pitter-pat every time she passed. Her reputation seemed to have proceeded her, though, it was no doubt amplified from the morning duels she held with their liege. Alessandra was the Queen in this realm, of which there was no dispute, but Srina was something else entirely. She was not beaten easily and pity was a lost concept.

The gentleness that existed within her seemed to be reserved for a fair few.

Should someone attempt to harm the child that bore her namesake? They would find themselves questioning their very existence in short order. The Dread Queen had earned her hated moniker long before Aries had been but a gleam in his fathers’ eye. Did would be enemies think that Adron and Alessandra had chosen her to caretake Aries out of favoritism? Hardly. If someone crossed her with this youngling in her arms? Nothing would keep them safe. Not their will, not their masters, and certainly not any feeble attempts at combat. They saw a winsome creature swathed in white. Pristine and perfect—Beautiful as the dawn.

Certainly, not a challenge.

They would not see the deep dark cold that lay beneath the surface. They could not harm her. They could not run. Could not flee—Could not hide. The Confederate Exarch would not be defied. If they countered her desires… The remainder of their brief mortal spans of living would be an orchestra of misery. By sword and moon, she swore, that she would make a game of them. Those who had been made could be unmade. She would follow them unseen and smother any spark of joy they managed to find. They would never know the touch of a lover, a breath of rest, or a moment’s peace.

The common rabble were not wise or worldly enough to fear her as she should be feared.

They would learn.

Thoughts that had taken a dark and spiraling path seemed to break the surface when a gentle snore rose from the little prince. As if she had come up for air from a drowning pool—She breathed. He breathed. The moonlit woman felt a swell of contentment that warred with the Sith corruption that dwelled within. The diminutive Echani held so much anger. So much hatred.

The recent Agent Wars had only solidified her true nature.

Her eyes closed briefly as contentment settled and slowly began to simmer inward. It seemed that her charge was truly asleep. Her arms felt stiff and numb as she reached over the gilded bars to place Aries down on the feather-filled mattress. It took a moment to disentangle his fist from her hair but she managed it. For one who had so little skill with people; children seemed to glom to her like nothing else. Srina moved a hand and a soft blanket rose of its own accord to lay gently over the youngling. He curled inward with a dreamy, cooing sigh, before popping his thumb in his mouth.

Delicate hands rest on the bars of the bed to secure them so he wouldn’t roll out.

The Echani moved back toward the balcony and a precise pull on the Force lifted her so that she could sit along the railing. Music wafted up from the party below in jovial notes but she couldn’t quite feel it. There was an ache that she didn’t know how to acknowledge. A sense of loss and longing. It wasn’t new. Srina had lost many things since leaving Eshan. This was pointed. She drew one knee up and rest her cheek against it while lengths of white-gold hair fell down her back like a river. The white of the fabric she wore was thin, but plentiful, with a halter-styled neck and cut-outs along her sides.

It was more Echani than Illyrian. Even then, not quite.

She inhaled deeply before exhaling slow. Srina could feel something pulling at the edges of her being. The world seemed to fray and blend. For a moment; she thought it to be Adron calling her.

A familiar scent told her otherwise, even if, she couldn’t see who it was yet.

Maliphant.

Fauvel Astier · Aug 11, 2020

"A matter of Repute"

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City.
Wearing: X.
Tagging:

Seren Maeve

The invitation to the banquet celebrating the newly formed treaty had been an unexpected surprise for the Young Lady of House Astier. It had been a bit past two years since disgrace saw it fit to destroy the foundations of her life and see the firm grounds upon which she had proudly stood crack beneath her feet and send her spiraling into a dark pit, where all there was was hatred, contempt and dishonor. She was the child of a traitor, after all. And the sins of her father had already proven they would outlive their perpetrator for a long time, perching over her shoulder like vultures awaiting for her own will to give so that they may feed upon her corpse once she met the same fate as Lord Léon, his wife, and three eldest children. Fauvel would allow no such thing.

It would have been easier to ignore the summon, safer to remain tucked away within the ancient walls of the Widow's Wail and see the night through protected by the cold darkness of her chamber. But what image would that give? Reputation, sadly, was never built on what one intended to do. And in this life that all Illyrian nobles lived, reputation was everything. Fauvel was too stubborn to acknowledge the slight fear that showing her face among the other nobles in such an occasion inspired. Her cold expression and iron will made it easy to forget she was barely more than a child. And even then, she did not fear for herself, the Young Lady was well past fretting for her own well being - a sad thought coming from someone so young -, she feared this night going wrong and bringing more shame to her House.

This evening she would present herself in a fine dark dress, with practiced poised and measure words. She would bow her head to the monarchs her ancestors had refused to acknowledge, and she would bare the stares and whispers that followed her with solid intent. Strength, even if faked, was sufficient armor. The court would not see her cower for crimes that were not of her making, they would never again see an Astier with broken will. This she had promised years before as her family was publicly executed. Blood Reign, one day, would forget this perilous present and rise once more. If all her years were spent to this purpose, then so be it. Her efforts had begun two years before, they would continue through this banquet.

Her tourmaline eyes watched as the foreign Sovereign was announced and made her entrance, swiftly taking in her form as well as that of those who followed her. The King, Queen and Sovereign exchanged words of prosperity and good-faith, and Fauvel raised her glass in toast. Hope had never been her strong suit, but the Young Lady could see the attractive of it. Illyria and Geminidae would prosper because their leaders willed it so, not because of destiny. The same would apply to her downtrodden House, if she proved herself a worthy liege.

Her attention was then shifted to the voice of a woman. Fauvel had been sitting near the Sieur of Garde Noir and Knigh of the Court, Xobos Yakieer. The voice, however, belonged to the Sieur of Point de Titan, Seren Maeve. Strictly speaking they were both below her station as Magnate, yet given the circumstances Fauvel would not be surprised if even the lowliest members of the nobility carried more esteem and influence than she did. After all, the only reason she had been invited tonight was because she delivered a traitor to the Court. That did not mean much when one was regarded as a traitor themselves.

Her rose eyes settled on Sieur Maeve, "I am sure this must be a welcomed change of pace for Sieur Yakeer," Her serpentine voice was pleasant and clear as she addressed the Lady of Point de Titan, then her gaze carried on to Xobos. "Word travels fast. I've heard of your feats at Garde Noir's mines, the people speak of the Mistress of the Shadowcats. Impressive." She commended the noble. The Lady of House Astier was ready to be dismissed or even ignored, it would feed the deep anger in her heart but it was to be expected. Not many were willing to converse with her nowadays.

Adron Malvern · Aug 11, 2020

ILLYRIAN WAY

Tags:

Palm-Imer

Alessandra Creed

When Alessandra's question was poised at her husband he could not help but offer her a knowing smile. There was one individual who knew of all of Adron's dealings, those born in the light or darkness. Alessandra was his sole confidant and partner in all the dealings and plots he placed into the galaxy. Some of these dealings were actively supported by her while others were merely to her knowledge. When the honored guest of Illyria, the Queen Feyd-Serit, approached the main table in the banquet hall the first thing that the King took notice of was the black rose attached to her beautiful dress. It was a specially cultivated rose, grown from Adron's own gardens in the royal palace. However, like all things crafted from the hands of the Sith Lord Darth Malphas, it served a distinct purpose.

"Have I ever not been ready, my Queen?" He finally replied to her words before settling his eyes on his approaching guest. The woman before them was one Adron had done some basic inquiry into. A competent Monarch, beloved by her people, yet she was missing something rather distinctive that was required in those who sought to take on the mantle of leadership. Still, as the woman spoke the King of Illyria listened with a receptive attitude.

"Illyria is a dream, a dream and a wish." The King said to the woman. There was no mistaking the pride behind the King's words and he did not even attempt to hide it. "It is a wish. A wish that the galaxy will finally shift and turn into an age where civility, society, and prosperity and seen as the necessary currency of the realm. In two years it has come from being a savage world with little in the realm of technology and order. Now law and science are the two leading trades on the world. Yes, we have done so much in two years, however it is nothing compared what we will do in ten years. With the world of Geminidae beside us, I have no doubts we will raise ourselves to the peak of the Galactic Economy." He said, raising his glass to the Queen once more.

No sooner than his words had come to a finish did he recognize the all too familiar face of the young woman,

Palm-Imer . As stunning as ever, she had a certain presence about her that proved to be far more impressive than the Queen's. "This accord would not have been possible without the help of your representative." He directed towards the Geminidae Queen. "She has served you well."

"That being said, please tell us more about your homeworld and your people. My wife has only had the luxury of my explanations of your kind and your ways and I am sure my Queen would appreciate hearing of it from a more knowledgeable stance." The King invited the Queen and her agent, Palm-Imer to take a seat beside them. The table was subtly curved to allow conversation between the four to flow a bit naturally. The moment the group sat down the Banquet attendents approached the table. They would offer a fine listing of wines, spirits, and hor dourves for the group to partake in if they wished. Adron had ordered a fine wine that was popular in the Inner-Rim. It was a matter of seconds before his glass was being filled with a blood-red wine.

He waved a hand at the servant in dismissal before turning his eyes to Alessandra for a shallow moment. His hands reached out to brush against hers. Yet, the soft clinking of metal could be heard as their wedding bands connected. The momentary connection was brief, yet it caused him to smile at the woman nevertheless. So, he turned his attention back to his guests. "Ah." He said, gesturing a hand to beautiful rose sitting on the woman's dress. "You received my gift, wonderful." He said, a smile coming to his face, one that was genuine and filled with all the happy things that people loved to see on another person's face. The King had quite a remarkable ability to show a faux sense of happiness.

"The Illyrian Rose is not to be underestimated. It is san incredibly hardy flower and will survive for years after it is plucked." He turned to his Wife, a single hand washing over her form as he spoke. "Like my wife it is a beauty that can only be found by eyes that are in search for something truly extraordinary. Keep it close to you, for there are none like it, your Majesty." He said.

Xobos Yakieer · Aug 11, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria.
Wearing: Formal Eye Mask, Ceremonial Dress, Knight Saberstaff
Mental State: Silent.
Tags: |

Srina Talon |

Recognition was never a trait of her apprenticeship with Adron. She was expected to complete her duty and move on to the next task. Keep her head down, boots to the road, and blade to the chest of any enemy that threatened them. She had gotten used to it. It had become ingrained in every part of her being. Faceless, unrecognizable, and silent. The three traits she prided herself on during her time with the King. But ever sense taking on the moniker of a royal Knight of Illyria, she had been surprised to see how many of the aristocracy who would have never spared her a second glance…mostly not spare her a glance still. Some did though, especially once the acts of Garde Noire had spread.

It still managed to unnerve her a slight bit when two members of the aristocracy seemingly focused on her. Xobos was used to blending into the background, certainly not being the subject of both these unknown member’s advances. She turned to the darker skinned one first, as she had been the first to speak in her direction. “Good evening…ah, I apologize.” Flashing the woman a slight smile, her shoulders shrugged in an apologetic motion before continuing. “I am still..new, to all this. Who might you be, and how would like me to address you? You do seem like you would make the night more..pleasant as company, so I would like to be correct in addressing you.”

With that question still lingering in the air, Xobos turning to look toward the other woman that had addressed her. Her smile grew slightly, genuinely, at the sentiment. Brown locks swept from side to side as her head shook, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. “I can say that being back here is..less deadly, though I will not lie to you that I am much more comfortable in my armor than feeling so…….exposed, in this formal wear.” It felt nice to open up to people. The only interactions she had with others during her time underneath the King was with other apprentices, and it was rare for those to be anything more than a mutual agreement not to slice the other to bits.

“I appreciate your compliments, greatly. It is not often to be..recognized for the feats the force allows me to accomplish.” She started, then stopped, holding up a hand in the fair woman’s direction. “I apologize again, but I have the same problem in this conversation as our other guest here,” motioning to the vampire to her right, she allowed the pause to linger in the air for a moment before continuing. “I wish to be able to address you correctly. Can you tell me how to do so, please?” This conversation was something that Xobos desperately wanted to continue, yet was fearful she would scare one, or both, away with her lack of aristocracy..ness. She was not forged in the fires of leadership meetings and town halls, and could only hope to fake it until she, well, hopefully made it.

Seren Maeve · Aug 12, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria
Wearing: X X
Tags:

Xobos Yakieer

Maeve sat still as Yakieer sought to find her stride in the conversation. Before there was opportunity to assuage the young woman of her worries, however, a third approached; and so began the dance once more. Albeit this one seemed inclined to tout Yakieer's accomplishment straight off. Golden eyes regarded Astier in turn as she spoke.

In due course, the dark Sieur's attention turned to

Xobos Yakieer once more. "I'm too old for titles," she began with a casual glance out toward the crowd about them, "but for appearances, Sieur Maeve is best." Slowly she learned in, her eyes fixed on Yakieer's face. In a softer tone, she added, "Seren Maeve." After she straightened back up again, her eyes turned to regard Astier as well. "Of Point de Titan. A town of hard working mountain folk able to manufacture a great deal for their size. As we continue upgrading the factories I have hopes it will expand in the not so distant future."

With a soft, practiced laugh Maeve allowed the moment to breathe. When she resumed her voice was soft once more to avoid carrying, "Have no fear for your state of attire, Sieur Yakieer. Between these walls even the thickest armor would be ineffectual to the sharpest, most nibble of tongues. There are many here that have forgot the trials one like yourself survived. Quite admirably, as I hear."

Fauvel Astier was also known to Maeve, though the woman did not make to steal her introductory moment. Perhaps the tongues had wagged against her favor quite effectively, but the woman was not dead yet. There was still opportunity for her to rise again, and being remembered as someone that didn't respect a Magnate's moment of flair wouldn't do well in the long run. Such a simple thing that could carry so much social weight.

Fauvel Astier · Aug 12, 2020

"The Invisible Battle"

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City.
Wearing: X.
Tagging:

Seren Maeve

The Young Lady carefully held her glass between her pale fingers as she offered her attention to the two women. In the past, when her heinous father still kept his head attached to his neck and she shadowed his every meeting and reunion, it was mostly men that occupied the lordships and held the highest titles. This, apparently, had been one of the changes brought on by the subjugation. Now it was females that seemed to have the numbers. Maybe it was for the better, but only time would tell. The words of Sieur Yakeer brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

Fauvel had been born an Illyrian noble, like hundreds of Astiers before her. This life was all she knew, and part of that was acknowledging that this gatherings, meetings, even idle conversation, was a battlefield. More nobles fell to clever scheming than they did to swords, there were soldiers for that. The only difference between one and the other was that within these halls enemies whispered and most were never seen. But of course, tonight didn't seem to invite such things. Tonight the scheming was not among the lowly nobles, or at least so did her instinct indicate. The pale lady took a sip of her wine, silently agreeing with Sieur Maeve's words which resembled her own thoughts.

As a child, Fauvel had spent hours learning about the other nobles. The sigils of their banners, their words, their lords and heirs. Of course most of her knowledge was useless now, many of them were dead and forgotten. The immigrant nobles were more of a mystery to her, Xobos Yakeer was easy to recognize simply because all had heard of the Miralukan royal apprentice, appointed Sieur. Knighted for executing traitors. It would be a lie to say the memory of her own family's execution did not bring a bitter taste to Fauvel's mouth, but even more incorrect would be to assume this was the result of care for her dead parents and siblings. They had deserved that execution, for being self-absorbed fools. Yet their death was also the sentence of her House, and this she did regret.

"The correct form of formal addressing would be Magnate Astier," her Illyrian accent was thick, roping through her words elegantly. "or Lady Fauvel, if you prefer. I am impartial to both," She explained. Had she been in Xobos' place and if her ancestors still lived, Fauvel would have received quite a lecture if not worse for forgetting formalities. However, truth was she had always perceived protocol as just inert decorum whose only purpose was stroking egos - her own included. Useful, certainly, but tedious and time consuming.

Her rose eyes then settled once more in Sieur Maeve. "That is good to hear, Sieur Maeve. I had not received news about Point de Titan for quite some time, how encouraging that you hold such expectations for the future. May you see them realized," She raised her cup slightly towards Seren in a small toast before drinking a sip of its contents. Of course, she could not say the same of her own province. Right now all that Fauvel could worry herself with was surviving this year and not be ripped apart by the waiting hands of the Illyrian Bank. Not all realities were hopeful.

Xobos Yakieer · Aug 14, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria.
Wearing: Formal Eye Mask, Ceremonial Dress, Knight Saberstaff
Mental State: Silent.
Tags: |

Srina Talon |

Seren Maeve |

It was very interesting to see how different aristocracy handled their title situations. The one to her right, apparently Sieur Maeve, seemed to take it very casually. Perhaps this was how some of the members near her region were like. Hardworking folks that didn’t really see the reason for the titles too much, and would rather let their words do the talking, as the vampire’s teasing seemingly made notice toward. But before she could make any mention of what the woman said, the other member of the conversation made her voice heard, and Xobos respectfully looked over to listen to what she had to say.

The Magnate did seem to be much more formal in how she wanted to be addressed. It could be upbringing, but it could also be the fact that both her and Sieur Maeve were technically below the other woman, despite both being older than her. Not that Xobos minded much. It was the way of things, and she was just learning how to deal with this flow. She allowed a small smile to grow on her face, peaking at the edges of her lips while she looked from one woman to other, giving a headbow to both. “I appreciate you both humoring me. Unlike you two, I assume, I haven’t had the luck of studying the structure of these things for years, or grow up in it. My beginnings were much more….humble.”

Her words trailed off near the end, unconvincing in their nature. In truth, Xobos really remembered very little of her childhood, or early teens, but had just begun to fill in the blanks. That was, the blanks around the horrible visions of the night she got banished after burning down the village. “Regardless,” She started, shaking off the fog of those memories. “I am extremely happy to be here, and to learn more about this life from people such as you two. And Sieur Maeve,” Her smile grew into a smirk as she looked over to the vampire. An eyebrow rose in a teasing manner, choosing to play right back at the little game she had started. “As good as words are, I’ve seen many more men and woman fall by the use of my blade than any of my words have ever slayed.” Her smirk faded slightly as she reached for her flute, sipping lightly on the white wine within. This night was beginning to turn into a much more enjoyable experience than she had thought it’d be coming in.

“So,” Starting, setting her flute to the side. “what are your towns like? It’s been very interesting learning of the different regions of our beautiful home.”

Seren Maeve · Aug 14, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria
Wearing: X X
Tags:

Xobos Yakieer

Maeve lifted a glass to meet the Magnate's toast. Only when Xobos finished her own response to the two of them did the dark woman remark, "Point de Titan will grow. It would grow faster if I had a steady supply of material and finances, however." As though this were all merely in response to Xobos' question, the vampire among them continued, "We are a town set upon the slopes of the mountains with forests surrounding us. A bit of that natural beauty was hidden until our largest factories were overhauled to address pollution. I have attendants occupied with invitations for our people to visit and enjoy being away from the larger cities. Perhaps construct homesteads for seclusion."

As for the town itself, however, "As work and visitors increase, the town itself will grow in amenities as well. I have architects and city planners preparing for such an eventuality. Sprawl is a nasty consequence of those not planning for the future. For now, we have a thriving marketplace and sturdy live space for our residents." Aside from the factories the town wasn't terribly remarkable yet. Not that Maeve was anxious to change that -- more a desire to attract material, designs, and social connections to continue construction on her inventions.

"In a word," Seren added, "it is humble." Her eyes fixed on Xobos in particular in that moment. "Because you need not be today what you were yesterday. All things have a beginning."

She did not immediately respond regarding Xobos' comment about words and blades. If the conversation steered back to it or focused on it, she would. To speak of two subjects at once, however, was not graceful. And if there was something the people in this hall expected of all of its members it was grace. Inefficient as that philosophy when exalted to an extreme.

Fauvel Astier · Aug 15, 2020

"A pained memory"

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City.
Wearing: X.
Tagging:

Seren Maeve

Fauvel listened patiently as the two noble women spoke, not needing to force her attention for they had both caught her interest. A rare thing, for the curiosity of the youngest Astier was more often than not hard to attract. This however, was not only mere personal interest but the possibility to establish connections.

Fauvel knew better than to abuse the feeble, almost non-existent tolerance that the Court and nobility had for her at the moment and would not think of pushing any relevant topics herself, but if they asked...well, that would certainly be a welcomed surprise. For the time being, it did seem like the conversation could evolve into something more substantial, but the Young Lady would settle for the mere enjoyment of not being cast aside. Beggars can not be choosers, and despite the many privileges that had always adorned her life the phrase did apply to her in more ways than one.

She could not pride herself in knowing much about the life of Xobos Yakieer before her arrival to Illyria, her knighting and her being appointed Sieur of Garde Noir. Thus, the words of the woman even if vague were taken in and neatly filed within the folds of Fauvel's memory. Stories of advancement such as the one she suggested, growing from humbleness to greatness, were very rare. It made them all the more admirable, specially in the eyes of someone that would dare say they could identify with the struggle. Of course, Fauvel had never known true need, but in her eyes one who was born poor and hungry and remained poor and hungry throughout their lives still held more honor than those who had fallen so gracelessly from their station as she had. Rising, as Xobos Yakieer had done, was her only purpose and remaining comfort.

"Well said," The velvet-like voice was heard once more as Sieur Maeve finished her statement. Most provinces had room for growth before the subjugation, and after it the limits were simply blown away. It was very much a race, and this race benefited Illyria immensely. Of course, while some could run with all their might, others were restrained by wrongly tied laces and pesky obstacles. The pale lady found herself in the last group, regrettably.

"As for Blood Reign, we stand as one of the oldest provinces in Illyria. Ours is a dark land, heavily wooded and perpetually clouded. The sun shies away from it." It was not only because of the clouds that Blood Reign was known as a dark place, but Fauvel felt no need to give room to the rumors and legends right now. "In the past our main trade was banking and finance, currently decayed and struggling for reasons I do not need to mention. Hopefully one day it will grow once more," There was no bitterness in the slight allusion to her house's fall that she was forced to make. Only the flame of determination in her eyes to see this fate corrected.

Xobos Yakieer · Aug 17, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria.
Wearing: Formal Eye Mask, Ceremonial Dress, Knight Saberstaff
Mental State: Silent.
Tags: |

Srina Talon |

Seren Maeve |

Even in talking to the other women for just a few moments, Xobos was quickly realizing just how far behind she was in terms of knowledge about how to run a town. Concepts such as architects, sprawl, and natural growth were all practically foreign to her. It was the process of turning her mind from a very inward, single person focus into something that was applicable to running a town full of people. Thankfully, she still had Zax around, but still knew that most all of the decisions would end up landing on her. Having that many lives in her hands when it was an ability that she did not feel as though was strong was nerve-racking to say the very least.

That made this conversation all the more interesting to Xobos, and fulfilling to listen to. Mentally, as the vampire continued to speak and drop more and more knowledge, she found herself taking mental notes. If anything, this other town could at least be somewhat of a blueprint for Garde Noire’s own growth, despite their productions and such being somewhat different. At least they were producing things.

This could not be said about Lady Fauvel’s town. A banking town didn’t seem very comparable to a blue collar, down to earth mining village. Credits did make the world work and run, but nothing would be built without the materials to do so. Then again, how could miners be paid for their work without credits? Despite their differences, they all had their place in this world. Everything worked together to become something better. Illyria was a beacon to that, at least from what Xobos had seen so far.

“It is very nice to make both of your acquaintances.” The newest Sieur of the group said with a slight raising of her flute. “It’s nice to meet some of the other aristocracy in a setting where it is…easier to talk. Especially for someone such as myself who isn’t exactly..used to this whole thing. I strive to learn, however, as I also strive to make Garde Noire the production juggernaut it’s former Sieur thought it could be.” The former owner of the town saw Garde Noire with the potential that Xobos was attempting to realize. Three of her nine mines were already open, and with a few more, they could be mining all of the materials to create durosteel without having to import anything. After that, they could beginning building their own factories to actually go about creating it. All that was needed was a very extra pushes and turns in the right direction.

Seren Maeve · Aug 17, 2020

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria
Wearing: X X
Tags:

Xobos Yakieer

Maeve looked over at Astier with a warmth to her smile. Blood Reign. Such a pleasant place to live. More so than many others given its dark setting, and the name alone made a woman like herself feel at home. There was nothing wrong with indulging in speculative talk. Well, the other nobles might frown upon 'gossip' and 'fanciful tales.' Only because they hadn't been properly introduced to reality.

As for its present... problems, Maeve would like to help, though being such a humble Sieur with only a single town it was unlikely she could fix the Magnate's considerable issues. Though she had managed to turn things around at Titan's Point by not following proper channels. Verbal arrangements between a network of individuals all unaware of one another had worked just fine. When it came to royalty or those that thought themselves such that was a bit more complicated. Still, there was no need for Blood Reign to collapse in on itself. Maeve wouldn't mind a little cottage there to get away from the sun.

"I have enjoyed the company of such fine and noble women," Maeve echoed Xobos' sentiments. "Though, being bold, I must caution you not to feel 'at ease' in surroundings such as these." Her voice was kept low, just between them, as her eyes glowed beneath the banquet room's lights. "Many smiles conceals blades that deliver mortal wounds, but leave no mark of their passing. Find those you trust, and guard what you say around the rest." Seeing how young Xobos was, and being new to this lifestyle, Maeve felt it necessary to issue such a warning before something unfortunate happened. Her mining town might be humble now, but that did not mean no one would bother trying to claim it -- now or in the future.

Even her new friends might be more than they seemed. Though that was always the challenge in this world -- figuring out who you could trust. Worse, was determining who you could trust to keep your secrets even if your relationship were to break down; though that often depends on the reason for the separation.

A light tap on her lips, the dark woman looked between the two. "Though I will not propose business here while we eat and drink together, let me just say the three of us might be of use to one another. Discretely, at first," she acknowledged regarding Astier's position. Who was to say is such an arrangement might work? Maeve was curious to learn more of this sordid business to determine whether it was as dire as the rest made it seem, however.

Fauvel Astier · Aug 17, 2020

"The Strenuous Art"

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City.
Wearing: X.
Tagging:

Seren Maeve

What she had initially feared would be a long, silent and bitter night was proving her initial expectations very wrong. Fauvel was in fact enjoying herself. Not one very prone to expression, this could only be noted by an observant gaze capable of perceiving the curiosity in her eyes and the faint, almost non-existent smile on her pale lips. Among her many lessons were found those dedicated to not allowing her gestures and expressions to tell more than they should, but on this occasion they had nothing to hide except for her satisfaction and interest. A few words shared with the Sieur of a land were worth more than a ton of rumors spread by who-knew-whos among the people. Yes, the people were the foundation that allowed nobility to rise. There was no high without a low, and as such keeping them happy was paramount. But when it came to matters of reliability...not much could be expected.

She nodded her agreement at the words initiated by the two women, the smile stretching slightly on her lips. It was very unusual sight, and even felt foreign to her. Fauvel didn't find many reasons that merited her contentment in the present. "I share in the sentiment, good conversation is regrettably scarce. It is a welcomed and pleasant experience to cross words with capable and promising nobles such as yourselves." The young Astier took a sip of her flute, the wine a treat to her sense of taste. She kept her silence as Sieur Maeve spoke, and once more she found the words of the Lady to be accurate and wise. Even if she was not unfamiliar with their message, she too would commit them to memory. It was never to be publicly acknowledged, but it was no secret that being so early in her years Fauvel still had use for guidance and insight.

"Sieur Maeve speaks truth. Hidden motives and silent actions are the language of the court, caution and wit are the only suitable armor." She kept her response short and quiet, ensuring the topic would not go on long enough for it to catch the attention of more people. Nobles were to know the dangers of the nobility, but never to voice them or recognize their existence. It was a strenuous art, acting as though one was untouchable when in truth even breathing in the wrong direction could destroy you. But then again, few things about nobility were easy. Material comforts and power could quickly pale in comparison to its dangers if one didn't keep an iron grip in their position.

A bright spark seemed to reach the Young Lady's rose eyes at the next words issued by the vampirika. This conversation became more and more promising by the minute, such a wonderful surprise. Of course, Fauvel was no fool and knew her position maimed her reach immensely. To this day it was risky for another noble to see their name associated with her own. You will be judged by the company you keep, so the old saying said. "I would be delighted to see your suggestion come to fruition, Sieur Maeve. But you are right, these topics have no place in this celebration and I would not taint the pleasure of your company with business talk." Words tailored to both convey the fact she was indeed deeply interested in the prospect of business and a polite, courteous dismissal to maintain appearances. Her eyes then returned to Xobos.

"Sieur Yakieer, I would very much enjoy hearing the story from the hero herself if it would please you to share it with us." She said, referencing her encounter with the shadowcats at Garde Noir's mines. After all, the tales the people told had been quite striking. While she did not doubt that the feats narrated where well within the Knight's abilities, Fauvel was very intrigued to hear it from her point of view.

Fleur Valencia · Aug 18, 2020

CELEBRATIONS

Location: Dragonne Palace, Azurine City, Illyria
Outfit: XOXO | Hairstyle
Tags: Raphael Boucher |

Srina Talon |

Xobos Yakieer |

Seren Maeve

Fleur was late, as some would say. Late to a dinner, yet it could not be helped. Meetings with the Royal Constable and of course Viscount Raphael Boucher had gone on far longer than expected. For the plans for the new military base to be built upon Valencia lands, had seen to it that the three had been stuck inside four walls for hours on end, as they discussed the nuances of the minor details. As it was, the meeting had to be continued tomorrow, for construction was to begin as soon as possible. Land recommendations, foundations, square feet of land required. Facilities to be built and even base standards. The minimum requirements and even going over the recommended maximum. Budgets and even potential costs. Not to mention that the architectural designs for the overall layout.

Everything was moving at a fast pace and the newly appointed Viscount had found herself buried under a mountain of paperwork.

Not that she at all minded. With each detail that had been presented, it had given her a chance to deploy her business like mind to the task at hand. To demonstrate her extreme attention to detail and the bottom line. Finance was one of her strengths and she felt that today had been a rather insightful look into the future at hand. It had also presented her with a chance to create a distraction from the recently uncovered information and to push the issue somewhat to the side. To focus on numbers, rather than a personal issue; an issue which involved not one house, but two. A potential scandal that had to be dealt with in a very delicate manner.

However, upon this night, it was not meant to be a time to deal with such an issue. Instead, as she entered the chambers of where the banquet was to be held, the woman was dressed in the colors of her house. Blue and silver. Except this blue leaned towards a dark blue and wings of jet black adorned her pale back and gently brushed against the floor. Her natural golden blonde locks were pulled up off of her pale face, while a blue and silver bow adorned the left side of her head and pinned into the braid that swept along the side of her head, only to be pulled into the shinyong bun at the back.

Quietly she paused just inside the door to gently smile at the usher, while she bowed her head to the King and Queen. Although at a distance, she never dreamed that she would even get close enough to them at this point in time. Vibrant blue eyes shifted her attention then as she turned slightly to view her companion that had accompanied her. However, it was almost a given that he had, for they were working on the same military project together and her gaze shifted over Raphael’s appearance for a brief moment. Some would say that they didn’t much look alike, but the subtleties were there. Something which only a very few select would ever be able to pick up on; if they knew the species well.

For Fleur looked almost exactly like a Diathim. Yet, she was half Sanguinius Vampirika. Her true father, the one responsible for gifting her with such blood, stood beside her. A fact that was almost strange and alien to her. Would she call him father one day? Perhaps, but there was danger that lurked in such knowledge and so such knowledge was to remain between father and daughter. ”Viscount Boucher. Shall we go find our seats at the table? It already seems as if the celebrations are in full swing.” The woman said with another soft smile as she listened to the many different voices and the music that played in the background.

Alessandra Creed · Aug 19, 2020

Location: Draggone Palace [Banquet Hall]
Wearing: X x X x X x
Seated Beside:

Adron Malvern
Tags: Raphael Boucher |

Fleur Valencia |