[IC] When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

[BurningWaterfa]

Akio and Aito Bai

Akio and his brother Aito had only arrived a couple hours before the ball. They had spent the twelve hours before that on a plane and it was exhausting. You could see the tiredness in Akio’s eyes but his mother would die before letting him go see other royals like that. His mother wasn’t here but her workers were. Each twin had two assistants, one unpacking, and one working to put the boys together for the ball.
Akio was of course excited. Talulia never got much communication with other countries due to it being mostly cut off. He was excited to see friends he hadn’t seen for years as well as make new ones. He wasn’t looking forward to his betrothed though. It had only been a few months since the agreement between Talulia and Luxieme had been made that he would marry the princess. It was meant to benefit everyone because then Luxieme gets the help they so desperately need and well his mom would get to have both her kids be kings instead of one.
Akio couldn’t help but laugh at that thought. He knew his brother, Atio, had no desire to rule despite being the smarter of the two. Atio wanted to go off and be a doctor which actually made Akio happy. Aito was obviously passionate about it and Akio wanted to rule the country that he loved. He would just have to convince his brother to tell his mom about his refuting the throne, come out to both of them as gay in return, break up an agreement and possibly an alliance and convince his mother that he was good enough to lead. Easy?
There was no time to think about this all now though. He had a ball to attend and Asa his assistant, doing his hair and makeup, reminded him of that. He was being forced into this shirt and that vest and this jacket and that tie and then sat down in a chair as Asa made his face not seem tired and his hair actually look nice. It was always down and a pushed up style was not meant for him or his brother.
When he was finally ready he stepped out into the hall and saw his brother. They were practically matching. It was crazy. Their mother always insisted that they dressed the same like people wouldn’t know they were twins if they didn’t. It wasn’t hard to tell that they were twins though. In fact it was hard to tell them apart. There had been multiple occasions where a picture of Aito had been taken but it was Akio’s name in the paper and vice versa. The fact that their mother forced them to wear matching clothes didn’t help that situation at all.
“What is it with mom and always making us match?” Akio said as he sighed and walked up to his brother.
Aito was leaning against the wall, clearly ready before his brother had been. “I don’t know Akio? I think she finds it cute and maybe more put together.” He told him and pushed off the wall. He walked downstairs with his brother and looked at him. “Ok Akio, so the plan is that we go in, congratulate Lea, converse a little, introduce yourself to your betrothed and then we leave together and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Akio nodded in agreement. It had been a long plane ride and immediately going to a party was going to make them even more tired.
As they reached the bottom of the steps, they stood by each other and waited for their introduction. Akio walked in first, being the eldest, followed by his brother. They both greeted the king and queen before they each took one of Princess Lea’s hands and kissed the back of her hand while bowing. “You look beautiful. Thank you for inviting us to this wonderful event” said Akio.
“And congratulations on your engagement” added Aito. They then walked into the room together, going to stand almost in the middle of the room since it looked the least crowded since many of the other royals seemed to almost be hugging the walls.

Akio Outfit

Aito Outfit

[MorningStar1399]

A N A S T A S I Y R O M A N O V A

^{G R A N D P R I N C E o f G L A V N Y A}

Attire

And yes, he is aware he is wearing 3 different patterns

FC

FC: Clement Becq
Slight change: his hair is a bit longer

He honestly wished he had the ability to sneak off and bury himself in Tumblr or perhaps find a room in which he could practice ballet rather than pretend he was going to be king at some point and would therefore need to try to make friends to possibly make alliances in the future, or that he would need to prove to the world that Glavnya was to be taken just as seriously as any other country being represented that night. Yes, there were problems that they needed to address, but they would get there. Hopefully before his reign could begin.

”I should not be the future king,” Anastasiy had told his mother. ”That was Anatoly. He should be the one who will succeed Father.”

But the terrorist group The Niet and their five bullets said otherwise, and thus the late Grand Prince Anatoly Romanova and his pregnant wife Karina were dead.

A year in the grave and Anastasiy was still upset. This was his brother, and his brother knew that he didn’t want the throne. He just wanted to dance. But someone decided he was no longer going to dance, and thus for the last year he had been cramming extra lessons on diplomacy and politics. And tonight, at the welcome ball to set off the festivities leading up to the wedding of Princess Ayleanna Lynton to Prince Zhou Mei, the crash-courses would be tested.

The entire world was about to be represented, it seemed, and Anastasiy had to try to leave a lasting positive impression on it.

And possibly gain future allies.

No pressure.

”What would you have done, Anatoly?” he asked the portrait of his brother sitting on the vanity in his guest quarters at the palace. ”Would you have been frightened, nervous, ready to tear yourself to shreds like I am?”

He looked at the confident smile, the mustache over his brow, the one Arseniy had threatened to shave off so many times, the blue eyes (the left of which held a fragment of brown), and the rings on his left hand, and Anastasiy knew.

”No, you would not have been nervous. You would have made friends with everyone and been the hit of the party. Hell, you might have even ended up being the one getting married in the end if you weren’t already.”

Anastasiy shook his head. ”But I’m not you. I was just supposed to be a ballet dancer. I wasn’t supposed to be future king.”

The grand prince eventually stood and looked at himself in the full-length mirror a few feet away from him. A navy blue three-piece suit, with the jacket covered in a silver floral pattern, met a white collared shirt secured at the neck by a blue and silver cravat tie. The pants were tight, like the tights he was so comfortable in. His boots were black, with silver floral decals on the sides, and had a heel to them he hoped no one would care about. With these boots on, he was a good inch and a half taller, which was honestly unnecessary. On his right ring finger was a white gold ring with a mottled blue stone, engraved in which was the sigil of his family: the roaring lion beneath a crown. On his left pointer finger was a simple platinum band with a pattern of square swirls. His dark curls were down, save for small sections from either side that were pulled back into a half-bun, though a few strands hung loose at his hairline to keep from looking completely awkward.

He had been advised against wearing a crown, so instead there were tiny silver pins that looked like the tiniest of flowers spread throughout the top of his head and framing his small bun. A touch of black eyeliner on the top lid and white on the bottom lid completed the look.

Two bodyguards glad in black suits with white gloves followed close behind him, there only because of the recent threats by The Niet (as well as the actual attack on his late elder brother’s life). He was announced, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was presenting the right image. For many, this was the first time they were seeing Glavnya’s new crown prince, and he felt he’d just ruined Glavnya’s image forever.

No, don’t think like that, Anastasiy forced himself to think. This is who youare, not your country. Do not forget that, and do not let them forget it either.

He approached the hosting royal family and bowed, offering a greeting and a series of compliments before stepping away and looking around. So many people were already milling about, talking as if they knew people. There was a flicker of recognition as he saw a girl with red hair and freckles talking to a woman in a gown with roses at the bottom - Genevieve of Maris and Mai Mei of Liang - wait my friend lives in Maris…I wonder what she would think if she knew I met her princess - but he couldn’t place why he felt he knew the princess of Maris. He’d never met her, nor ever been to Maris. He had no reason to know her. He pushed it aside for now.

A flash of gold caught his eye again, and he looked over to see a man in a…honestly breathtaking gold suit with floral embroidery, rubies glittering in the light, and what he could only imagine was lovely blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. This man was beyond words beautiful. Anastasiy gasped as he was struck by the sudden almost unwelcome image of the man pushing him against the wall and furiously making out with him, his knee against Anastasiy’s groin. The Glavnyan prince blinked a few times to attempt to make the image go away. If memory served, this was the prince of Castillya, which would make things impossible. Though damn the fact that first person he found himself sexually attracted to in a while was an untouchable god. The man he was talking to was also rather attractive, he realized, though the medals on his jacket made him think of Anatoly.

Anastasiy found himself looking down awkwardly. He looked up, around, anything. There was a man with purple pants talking to a servitor with bright blue hair. A—wait, the purple pants…didn’t they belong to the lead guitarist of The Mutiny? Decidedly not Anastasiy’s usual music taste, but surprisingly good. He wanted to ask, but he was afraid of interrupting their conversation. A clanking caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but cock his head at the sight of someone in a suit of armor. A conversation starter for sure, he thought. Still, he decided it could also be a sign that they didn’t want to talk to anyone, and thus Anastasiy found himself wandering in the direction of the blond, Alejandro Aguíla de Agustín, and his dark-suited companion, Erik von Rothschild of the Empire of Veredun.

Formidable friend, if I have my identities correct.

He didn’t exactly want to interrupt, but the blond was too pretty not to try to get a better look, and perhaps this would afford him a better look at the princess of Maris to try to figure out why he thought he knew her.

[lady horatio]

(interacting first with @ayzrules, then @Bloonewb)

Genevieve considered her answer carefully—though Mai's own admission at taking some time to adjust to Aciras made her a bit less self-conscious. "I don't think I've been here long enough to get much of an impression," she said, "though you are right about the weather being different. On the warmest days of the year, most parts of Maris don't break out of the low twenties—that's...probably the low seventies here." She paused. "Do Acirans use the metric system? I can't believe I didn't think to check."

Her smile returned, and she shook her head. "Not that it matters. They're just two ways of saying that there's a reason my country produces so much wool."

Her brain was searching for a clever segue when there was the unmistakable sound of her own name being called out in a booming, unfamiliar voice. Genevieve froze, momentarily startled and suddenly very aware of Christopher standing behind her, poised for a threat, however unlikely. She turned, looking for the source of the cry, and found it because several other faces had turned in the same direction.

It was at least mildly better than finding all of those pairs of eyes turned on her.

Now looking decidedly abashed was a man she faintly recognized, pressing his hand to his forehead as another woman—whom, Genevieve supposed, could be easily mistaken for herself, if a person didn't have a clear idea what herself looked like—retreated. Genevieve wasn't one-hundred percent certain of the man's identity, but she thought she had a good guess—a social butterfly, she was not.

To Mai, Gen offered a small, quicky smile and a head-tilt of apology. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

She didn't wait for an answer, quickly but carefully making her way toward her possible acquaintance. Gods, he was tall, putting even Mai Mei's spiked heels to shame. Gen herself was not particularly short, but she found herself quite dwarfed.

"Excuse me," she said, "but is there any chance you're looking for me?"

[DracarysBitch]

VENERA NIKOLAYEVNA OF RUSTAVYA

---

Vera sighed as her attendants wandered about the room, preparing her attire for the evening, one attendant in particular presently adding some waves to her golden hair as she sat in front of the vanity. The heir of Rustavya was displeased, she loathed extended events solely for the purpose of follicking. In all honesty, her entire family did, they all refused their invites, but as the highest ranking member of the family, outside of the king, Vera was forced (commanded) into attending, one must keep up diplomatic relations in an ever more globalized world afterall.

She hated weddings. They were all the same. Pledge this, vow that. As the dothraki say, a wedding without at least three deaths is a dull affair, and most weddings Vera had attended in all her life had none. Alright, all of them have been death free thus far. Except one, which was an almost wedding and does not count. A story for another day. In any case, Vera found weddings to be maddeningly boring. She prefered cabinet meetings, diplomatic negotiations, tours of ISB facilities in the frozen military bases of Sibírj, not small talk with people she barely knew. She knew of them of course; the spy agencies of Rustavya were very diligent in their work, some may say too diligent, and she was provided with a detailed and extensive account of everyone who would be present. Their views and hobbies interested her little, she would much rather be debating tax law with the Minister of Finance.

However, the exasperated princess’s mood perked up a little when her phone vibrated to notify her of a video call, the icon of the dark haired man with a ridiculously sharp jawline making her smile softly.

Sliding the little green circle across her screen, she immediately addressed him Rustavyan. “I still don't understand why you couldn't come.”

Her caller chuckled, his stupid (pretty) face shining brighter than the sun. “It's simple,” he said, “they only invited royals and I’m not one. Vasya didn't get an invite either.”

“That's because he's not a prince.” Vera retorted, before sighing again. Nikita Yusupov could always improve her mood, but reminders of his friendship with her half-brother immediately soured it. “Where are you anyway?” she asked, observing the surroundings in the background.

“Tsar Gorod,” Nikita said, switching to the camera’s view to show her the bridge his driver was passing through. “There’s a cosmonautics conference being held at Petrograd University tomorrow.”

Vera groaned in annoyance. “I’ve never hated you more in my entire life!” she said, leaning back to petulantly cross her arms. Here she is, stuck on the other side of the world having to make small talk, and he gets to hang out with literal rocket scientists.

Nikita smirked. “I know, I’ll buy some knock-off moon rocks you.”

“You better.” Vera let out yet another sigh, at this rate she could provide enough carbon dioxide for every tree in the world. “How’s Yelena, I thought she was going to sulk with you.”

“She dropped herself off at Zima Palace, apparently she’ll be using Natalia for comfort now.”

“Hah, good luck with that.” said Vera laughing. “Natalia’s colder than me.”

“I know. Yelena also told me to remind you to make sure that Princess whatever of whatever, her words, doesn’t touch Erik. Ideally, they shouldn’t be breathing the same air.”

Vera lazily waved her left hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, “she already sent me texts. 78 of them to be exact. She even tried to reason with me by bringing up Alina Radonova.”

Nikita shifted uncomfortably, his quick expression of unease not missing Vera’s eye. “That’s not the same thing as the Princess of…um...”

“Notia.” she finished, “I know, but it did work. I related. And it’s not like there’s much else for me to do here anyway, may as well keep an eye on her precious little soldier prince.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something to amuse yourself with, you love politics.” Nikita quickly replied, attempting to change the subject, exhaling in relief when Vera let him.

“This isn’t politics, it’s a party for a child. A lot of parties for a child. Vasya is better suited for this kind of thing.”

Nikita snorted. “Better suited for setting everything on fire. You know he’d cause endless problems for people, probably get himself killed too.”

“If only.” said Vera wistfully, before sighing yet again. Time to play diplomat, she thought to herself. “Make sure you give me a detailed report on the conference.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, giving a mock salute, before his expression soften. “Aōhon iksan,” he said, speaking in an entirely fictional language, which warmed the Rustavyan Rrincess’s frozen heart like no phrase in Rustavyan could.

“Ñuhon iksā,” she said in return, flashing him a bright smile before ending the call. “Idiot,” she muttered fondly, leaning back in her seat to allow her attendants to finish her makeup before dressing her.

Her makeup was simple, a light coat of eyeliner, a pale silver eyeshadow, nothing too extravagant or eye catching, though she did opt for a dark red. To give off the vague impression that she’s ready and able to kill a man. Her hair was done up rather simply too, just two braids running along the side of her, meeting into a small rose design in the back, but her was decorated with the diamond and pearl tiara which once belonged to her mother. Her gown was the real spectacle. Two tones of winter blues, made of light flowing material, and decorated with crystallized embellishments. It gave off a very winter princess, and considering the climate of Rustavya, appropriate.

Luxurious as it was, Vera didn’t know who designed her gown. Fashion was always Yelena’s thing, Vera’s style choices could simply be summed up as “Tsesarevna like, Tsesarevna wear.” Her jewels on the other hand, Vera was acutely aware of who was responsible for them. The literal gems of her country, Vera was adorned with Fabergé creations, with the sole exclusion of her tiara. The Fabergé’s had given her the matching Scheherazade set; a long pendant and dangling earrings made of custom-cut plaques of lilac jasper and mounted on borders of gold and silver, set with white and pink diamonds, and fine white pearls. The set was paired with the Nymphéa Bracelet, created in homage to Monet’s waterlilies and the art of the original Fabergé. Set in platinum, yellow and white gold, and silver, the diamonds are coloured white, blue, yellow, violet, and black, and are surrounded by rubies, aquamarines, alexandrites, amethysts, fire opals, moonstones, paraiba tourmalines, tsavorites, spinels, and blue, pink, violet, and padparadscha sapphires. Her ring, however, while another Fabergé creation, did not come selected with the outfit. Resting on her right index finger, it was a gift from Nikita, the Forget Me Not Ring. A tiny field of densely clustered forget me not flowers, mounted in gold and silver, the flowers are set with white, blue, and pink diamonds, violet sapphires, alexandrites, moonstones and fire opals, and their leaves and stems are set with emeralds, their centers set with rose diamonds.

After she slipped on her silver heels, Vera appraised herself in the full length mirror. She didn’t lack self-confidence, but she wasn’t particularly prone to vanity, however, she did look darn good. She might die of boredom tonight, but at least she’d leave behind a stunning corpse.

Vera’s Outift

dress in full

As she followed her guards down to the ballroom at the appointed time, Vera attempted to take in the architecture of the palace, but she was biased. No one was ever going to top the style of the old Tsars, so why bother. Okay, fine, Veredunians had some nice palaces, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to any of their faces.

Before they ran into people, Vera plastered on her well practised sweet Crown Princess Venera expression; the key to a fake smile is to avoid it being too tight nor too soft, give off the vague impression that you care, while making sure somewhere in the back of their mind, they remember you have an endless supply of weapons of mass destruction, and that dissidents have a habit of… disappearing. Show the beauty, and only give glimpses of the iron underneath.

As routine, she greeted the Aciran royals, addressing first the regnant Queen, and her consort, then the former Monarchs, and lastly the young royal. She said hello, but did not bow nor even slightly lower her head, she doesn't bow for her own father, and she certainly isn't going to do so for foreign royals. In her defense, no Rustavyan would bow to other royals either, so there is that. Vera repeated her rehearsed lines about their lovely palace, and ever so polite and courteous servants. She even avoided making a rude comment about some of their more idiotic (her words) politicians. She congratulated the young Aciran Princess on her upcoming nuptials, and then immediately set out in search of some vermouth, or really, anything with a high percentage of alcohol would do.

[ayzrules]

I S A B E L L A D E L R E Y E S

---

Princess Isabella Cotilla del Reyes of Evalusia was not happy, to say the least, to be stuck with Doña Augustina.

Augustina Dominga Eleuterio was formally there to make sure that the attendants that had been set with Isabella to Aciras were doing what they were supposed to do. But Isabella was no fool, and some small part of her was offended that her father thought she was stupid enough to believe that story. No; Augustina's husband was a sniveling brat that had somehow wormed his way into King Gabriel I's good graces. Isabella knew that her father knew that Don Eleuterio was less than useless; she suspected that he only kept him around because he liked hearing his every word parroted around. Or something like that.

In any case, his wife was much smarter than that, though she hid it well; as any good Evalusian wife should, according to her father. Isabella had no idea what King Gabriel I had said to Doña Augustina, but she imagined it was something along the lines of "make sure that my daughter doesn't find away to overthrow me so that Evalusians can have actual individual freedoms and so that we will continue doing everything like they did two thousand years ago when Jesus died for our sins. Oh, and if you fail, I'll kill your husband and have you banished."

So, yeah. Having Doña Augustina around would make things considerably more difficult, but Isabella would manage.

The navy-blue gown that Isabella had picked out for the occasion had been sewn by hand back in Evalusia. Although it was certainly not conservative enough to be ever worn at home-and here, Isabella resisted the urge to let out a bitter laugh at the word "home"; that palace, with all its unpleasant memories, was the only home she'd ever known-Isabella had fought tooth and nail for this gown, and she intended to make good use of it, thank you very much.

The long sleeves and expensive blue satin were nothing too far from the norm. Nor was the delicate, understated embroidery and beading that decorated the sleeves and bodice, or the high collar.

What had almost gotten her kicked out of the palace was the narrow, plunging neckline. Isabella had insisted that the seamstresses add it in, based on images she had seen from the most recent Fashion Month using the atrocious Evalusian internet connection (even in the palace, they were not afforded luxuries such as Google Chrome. They were still on Internet Explorer, and if that wasn't a sign of how damn backwards Evalusia was in terms of modern technology, then Isabella had no idea what was).

Her father was not supposed to find out about the neckline. But he did, and they argued for hours. Isabella eventually won him over, spinning a bullshit story about how the world already viewed them as a Catholic backwater and her showing up in a nun's robes would do nothing but reinforce that image, while her father basically confirmed that they were indeed a Catholic backwater by yelling about how no "respectable woman" would wear something of that sort, how she was showing the entire world that she was nothing but a sinful whore, or whatever.

Anyway. Point was, Isabella had won that argument, and it was very rare that anybody won anything from her father, so she cherished the victory, even though it was tiny and insignificant compared to the victories he had won over her.

The rest of her outer appearance mostly adhered to Evalusian standards of stuffy conservatism; her hair was pulled up in a simple but elegant bun and decorated with glittering diamond hairpins, although her make-up was heavier and bolder than what she would have worn at home. Her father would have never permitted such a dark shade of red for her lips, for instance, and Isabella had a feeling he wouldn't be too keen on the bold eyebrows and mascara that she had decided on. Whatever.

Doña Augustina had protested the entire time that Isabella was getting ready, fussing over the neckline and the eyeliner and the heels, but Isabella ignored her, for the most part. Five hours of hearing "your father this, your father that" was more than enough to make Isabella lose her patience, however.

"Doña Augustina, just blame it on me if my father throws a temper tantrum," Isabella snapped, not bothering to look away from the mirror as she added a couple finishing touches. "Dios mío. Is a little peace and quiet really so much to ask for?!"

Doña Augustina shut up, and Isabella let out a long, slow breath. It would do nobody any favors if she showed up at the ball already irritated.

Isabella opened her jewelry box-the same one she'd had for her entire life-and drew out a pair of diamond earrings that matched her dress. Her fingers lingered on the jewelry box for perhaps a moment too long as something inside her gut twisted violently.

Against her will, she remembered the note she'd found in that very same jewelry box, the day after Elena allegedly committed suicide. Wait for me, was all it said. Isabella could remember her older sister's neat, immaculate handwriting with painstaking detail, even though she had immediately ripped the note to shreds and then burned those shreds, because if her father suspected that Elena was alive and if he suspected that she was in contact with revolutionaries the way that Isabella suspected, then he would stop at nothing to kill her.

Isabella had long known that her father cared nothing for her or Elena. Elena was worth less than nothing to him after they discovered that she could not speak, and Isabella was only worth as much as whatever alliance she could secure with her hand in marriage. But her father doted upon their older brother, Gabriel II.

Isabella rarely saw her brother, these days. He was some kind of commander in their father's military. She supposed that it was easier, this way. As far as she knew, Gabriel II had nothing wrong with Gabriel I. Which would be a...problem in the future. Probably.

When Isabella deemed herself presentable, she picked up her silver clutch-chosen to complement the diamond earrings and hairpins that she was wearing-and took one last look in the mirror before turning towards Doña Augustina. "Stay here," she ordered coldly, in a voice that left no room for argument. She was a spy, a spy for her father, and Isabella had no intention in letting her follow her around wherever she went. "I will be back in a few hours."

"But, Princess-"

Isabella ignored her and strode brusquely out the door.

Of course, she couldn't guarantee that Doña Augustina wouldn't slip out during the ball, but she knew that the first thing the other woman would do was search through her belongings. Isabella thought she was a fool, to think that she was careless enough to leave anything potentially incriminating lying around in her luggage. She destroyed any form of written communication almost immediately, after all. The only reason why the aristocratic revolutionaries that were plotting a revolt right under her father's nose had not yet been discovered was because they were very, very careful.

She arrived at the ballroom. Princess Lea, in all her sparkly pink-ness, immediately beamed at her. "Princess Isabella! You look so gorgeous," she gushed as Isabella dipped into a slight curtsy directed towards the Aciran royal family.

Isabella smiled politely, though she knew that there was no way the expression reached her eyes. "You are too kind, Princess Lea. You are as lovely as always," she murmured in response, stepping past her and into the ballroom proper. Isabella was aware of her lilting accent as she spoke-the r's too drawn out, the s's too soft, the vowels too breathy-though if Lea or Queen Cecilia noticed, neither of them said a single thing.

Isabella took a deep breath and steeled herself, letting her gaze flit from one end of the ginormous room to the other. Isabella had never met most of the people in the room-why would any of them want to associate themselves with a dictator-king who forced his citizens to live according to the word of a book written two thousand years ago, after all?-but for all his shortcomings, King Gabriel I knew the value of digging up dirt on potential friends and foes. And so Isabella would have wagered that she was just as, erm, educated about the other invitees as they were about her.

Rhiannon Cadfael of Wales was near the main entrance, as were the princesses of Notia. Isabella had no opinion regarding the three of them; all of them had been coddled since birth, with everything they could have ever wanted handed to them on a silver platter. She might have been interested in Rhiannon, had she been male and therefore a potential husband, but alas, she was already betrothed to Prince Quentin Houston of the Texas Sovereignty.

....Who was, as Isabella soon deduced, not here yet. She could not say that she was surprised; everything that she had ever seen about the prince made her think that he was the complete opposite of her in every way, shape, and form.

Princess Alexandra of Castelleve was dressed in a black suit, and Isabella thought she was remarkably similar to the protagonists of the few absurdly popular Aciran young adult novels she'd been able to get her hands on when she was thirteen or fourteen. Elena had adored those heroines, all spunk and stubbornness, but Isabella thought that they had neither substance nor subtlety. And, quite frankly, she found them stupid.

Yeah, okay. Princess Alexandra would probably not appreciate it if Isabella said that to her face.

The two Lusitanians were together, a bird perched on the shoulder of Liviana. Isabella arched an eyebrow at the suit of armor that Domitia was wearing, but made no further comment on the matter.

A red-haired princess rushed past her, towards an extremely tall prince. She guessed that the princess was Genevieve Anders, and the prince Hui-Bawa, whose country was in an analogous situation as that of Evalusia's. He had her sympathies.

She recognized the platinum blond hair of Prince Yu Liang of Weifang, talking to a red-haired prince whose features Isabella could not make out from her viewpoint. Prince Diederik Isidor seemd to be conversing with a member of the palace staff, Princess Mai Mei was standing by herself with a glass of champagne, and Isabella thought that she recognized Prince Alejandro's annoying voice as she walked past a couple paintings hanging from the wall. Was she just imagining it, or could she still hear the Castilyan lisp in his voice, despite the fact that he speaking English instead of Castellano?

The person he was talking to, however, made Isabella pause. It was Prince Erik von Rothschild of the Veredunian Empire. Her sharp, sea glass-colored eyes quickly flashed in their direction. Was he aware that his grandmother provided most of the technology needed to censor the Internet in Evalusia?

Was he aware? And furthermore, did he have any power over that sort of thing? Isabella could not be sure-she guessed that he did not. But she would watch, and wait. It was the only thing that she could do.

Isabella ignored Prince Anastasiy Romonova and the two Talulian princes (who seemed to be almost identical) in favor of Princess Venera of Rustavya; blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing what Isabella thought was an ostentatious amount of jewels, Princess Venera was one of the other invitees who gave Isabella a reason to pause. Her father, Isabella recalled, had sold a massive amount of weapons and tanks to King Gabriel I. Weapons and tanks which were still in use, Isabella knew, enforcing his oppressive polices over all of Evalusia. She clenched her jaw, almost imperceptibly, and forced herself to move on.

Isabella found herself near the main entrance, again. She procured a glass of champagne for the sake of keeping up appearances, and glanced to her left to find Princess Hye-ri of Haneul. Isabella knew of her; another princess who had been coddled from birth, whose popularity was evidenced by her frequent television appearances.

There was nobody who was more different than Isabella in the entire world. Nevertheless, she gave Princess Hye-ri a polite smile, and tried to quell the uneasiness stirring in her gut.

(Interacting with @Garden Gnome)

Isabella's dress

[bloonewb]

Hui-Bawa spun around to find another girl, of similar features to the one he had mistakenly called for. His features broke into a nervous smile, and he hoped beyond all hope that he really looked like he was smiling. Memories came back to him of a time when he and his brother were posing for a camera, and he looked closer to someone on the verge of sneezing than the proud relative of the Hui-Basada.

"Lady Genevieve, I hope?" He asked, holding out his hand to shake. "Perhaps it was a mistake for us never to exchange photos. I am called by my people Hui-Bawa "Du-Butha" "Hui-Hooseng". We have been in communications these past weeks, but I am sure I do not need to remind you of such things."

The party continued to move around them. As people danced and strode about the room, their jewels caught his eye in the glaring light of the sun through windows, both clear and stained-glass, and both flung its intense rays into his eyes. He could barely see the person standing before him, much less spot a face in any part of this immense crowd. Could the sheer power that money and glittering stones possess outshine even the sun itself?

"Forgive me, I am not used to such an . . . environment," he muttered, holding his other hand before his face to block some of the light out. "Glass is not so common in Du-Wassi. Do you think that we may talk outside? Or, in some other part of the palace?" He doubted he would be able to hear her response anyways. The commotion in the halls dissolved all the conversations going on in the room into a mush of sound and speech. "Do you know of any place that might be appropriate? I may have arrived a little late." A little was not quite the ride level of magnitude. By the time he had arrived, driving up in a run-down fourth-or-fifth-hand car that looked almost comically out of place alongside the long rows of supercars, the entire place was packed entrance to roof.

Hui-Bawa couldn't help but notice that Genevieve was minuscule, as much as everybody else was at the party. In fact, Hui-Bawa suspected he stood a head above nearly anybody in the entire room. There were certainly no Hui-Eehi present, either from Du-Wassi or one of the other newly decolonized countries. How did these tiny northerners manage to conquer the world? He hoped he was reasonably sure he was not thinking out loud, as he often did. It would be accursed for him to ruin his reputation with his acquaintance at all, much less within the first minute of them meeting.

[Sugar and Spite]

Raven Aster Willow

The dress.

---

---

Raven had flown in from Mirenia early this morning, bringing her best attendant, Aria, with her. Upon ariving, she settled in quickly. Long flights had always made her feel a little off, meaning the first item on the agenda was a shower. (Usually it would have been a nap, but she had taken one of those on the flight.) After being scrubbed and dried, the princess flopped down on the bed lazily, lost in thought.

Here she was thousands of miles away from Mirenia, and there was no telling what her father had in store next for his people. Another mass execution when the men refused to work in the mines like last week? Raven didn't blame the people. There was no riot. There was nothing but peaceful people sitting outside the entrance to the mine, attempting to save their lives by not working that day. Everyone knew that mine was on the brink of collapsing. Everyone. And still, the king had punished his subjects. All to harshly, in his daughters opinion. But there was nothing Raven could do except shout at her father until she became queen, and all this ever did was make him laugh.

Picking up her phone from the bedside table, she quickly read through the noted she had accumulated on the totals attending Aciras these next few months. Out of the whole list the ones who sparked her interest the most were Erik, Mai, Akito and Aito, and Yu. Why? Because they just seemed interesting. Erik with his military, party boy ways. Mai, with her love of red, and last but not least, Yu - he just seemed friendly. The twins just seemed adorable.

Soon, it was time to get ready. Denying any help from Aria, the young woman dressed herself. Her dress was long sleeved, dark green and floor length. Door footwear, she had decided to go with a simple green wedge. Her hair was curled into lose ringlets.

Making her way into the receiving line, she waited patiently until called. A short greeting went out to the royals of Aciras, Raven making her way to the middle of the ballroom as she surveyed her surroundings. As luck would have it, the twins had made their way there too.

Approaching them, Raven forced a tentative smile. "Akito, Aito. I am Raven, crown princess of Mirenia. It is an honor to meet you both," she said, offering her hand for them to shake.

[alexfangtalon]

---

The Ford Siblings

---

"How are you STILL not ready? How long are you planning to take?" Leon stood in his sister's guestroom waiting for her. He had finished getting ready hours ago in his uniform, the standard issue as until he had his own child he would be kept from military service, in hopes that they'd be able to arrive early. But he would have no such luck as Mila had decided to wait until about an hour ago to even begin to get ready. Largely in part to spite her older brother. "How long was it again that you waited to tell me that father was forcing me to come? Oh, yeah. An hour before the plane was leaving!" It was safe to assume that Mila would not let this go. Even though they had been in Aciras for approximately 36 hours.

Leon had known for a week that father was sending Mila along with him to Aciras. Mainly because he was the one to ask their father to send her. The only reason King Herrick had agreed was because Mila had recently turned 16 and it was time for her join in on the social functions of other royalty throughout the world. Meet other royals and introduce herself to the world. Leon had been to a few of these but this was quite literally the first time Mila has left the borders of Krieg-Königreich. Having it sprung up on her didn't help matters. "OK. Yes, I should have told you sooner. But I knew if I had you would've had more time to throw a hissy fit. Giving you a limited time to pack caused you to focus on that instead." With that response Mila gave Leon one of her signature death glares, which surprisingly enough had become a meme about seven months back.

The Crown Prince of Krieg-Königreich retreated from this short-lived battle and made his way towards his room. Within his guest room, Leon finds his best friend and bodyguard, Bartram, looking over the dossiers of the other royals which Leon had been studying since they arrived in Aciras. "You really went to town on the studying, didn't you? You need a hobby man." Leon gave off a slight chuckle. Both of them had spent the majority of the past week pouring over the dossier's but Leon did use up a few pens in the process making notes. There was already a used up highlighter in the wastebasket by his desk. "Well, there is a lot of royalty here, and my father wants me to try and make 'friends' with as many of them as possible." Friends being the operative word. "Well, might as well look over them again while we wait for the princess to finish getting ready."

---

Mila looked in the mirror one last time to make sure every hair was in place. That there were no blemishes on her skin. That ... that _...that "Stop freaking out Mila. You've got this. They are all just like you. Just teenagers and adults who are royalty for one reason or another. No need to be nervous. You're only meeting a lot of powerful people for the first time and there is absolutely no chance of making a fool of yourself. No pressure."

Mila groaned at herself. She really needed to stop talking to herself when she got nervous. Mila looked down at her dress and made sure there were no wrinkles that she had overlooked before. She took a few deep breaths and decided to finally face the music.

She left her room just as Leon exited his. "Was just coming to check on you again." Mila eyed her brother but this time it seemed to lack the usual ferocity it normally held. "Look, there is no need to be nervous. Nearly everyone you are about to meet has gone through this before. Just be yourself and you'll do fine."

---

The two soon found themselves waiting in line to be announced. Once they were announced the two split up, much to Mila's chagrin. Leon set out to find his betrothed. It was probably best to go to her as soon as possible so as to avoid any lecherous individuals trying to make something out of nothing. He found his future wife standing alone beside a refreshment table. Might as well change that. "Hello, Princess Mai. I hope your trip went well."

Mila, on the other hand, was solemnly roaming around the room. She made sure to keep the smile on her face but the girl was deathly afraid to start up a conversation with anyone. Especially since the only person she really knows here is her brother and his betrothed, and she wasn't about to walk into that Land of Awkward. However, as she was looking around trying to avoid most people she didn't pay close enough attention to exactly where she was walking and bumped into someone. Not hard enough for either of them to fall over but enough to catch both of them a little off guard. "Oh my ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you." Mila looked to see a girl she didn't recognize. But that's not what shot her nerves at the moment. What was making her face start to turn red was the fact that right beside the girl was Princess Ayleanna. Mila began breathing a little bit faster hoping that they weren't the kind to get upset easily.

[Garden Gnome]

s more and more dignitaries arrived, the ballroom became noisier and more crowded. Hye-ri was starting to feel more and more out of place, as just about everyone was dressed in western dressing. To make things worst, she was clad in such a bright and vibrant set of pink and purple that made her stand out so much more had she been in more subdued colours.

After the obligatory greetings were done, she moved herself closer towards the main entrance, she needed some fresh air to calm herself down, and entrance with the doors open right now would be the closest she can get to some form of fresh air as she reminded herself for the hundredth time that things were fine and she was doing great.

Honestly, she can lost track of who-was-who very early on, and as more and more people arrived, Hye-ri just about gave up on trying to figure out to see if she could remember who actually was who. She figured that if she needed to know them, it might actually come to her later on. Well at least she wasn't a lost cause, as she did know a handful, such as Princess Lea, Prince Erik, and Princess Mai. The rest?

Well, they will come to her later. Or not. We shall see. She sipped the glass of champagne she had in hand, as she took further glances around the room. It was then that she caught the eye of another princess, she had to be a princess, what with that simple yet regal look about her. Come on, brain, who is this? One, two, three seconds passed before the name came to her. Isabella!

Isabella Del Reyes! Evalusia, that was where she was from.

Hye-ri didn't know much about Evalusia or Isabella, but she did at least remember who the princess was now. Returning her smile with a polite one of her own, she too tried her best to quell the uneasiness in her gut, not realising that her counterpart was doing the very same thing at that very moment. From what she knew of Isabella, the two of them couldn't be more different. They didn't have any similarities nor did they have any common interests, but this event was more than simply meeting people who you could be friends with.

[Ezmeralda]

Ivelynne actually almost fell, but managed to catch herself. Heels and not being prepared were a nasty combo. She turned and smiled to the young lady, "Oh, it's alright! It happens. I suppose we should move our rumps from the doorway huh? ...Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the girl's face turning red and her eyes were sort of twitching a little towards Ayleanna. Ivy smiled again, "There's no need to be scared, Lea's a peach and I'm certainly not going to be offended by a little bump."

She took the girl's hand and looked around, spotting the beverage/dessert stand. "Perhaps a glass of water or something would help calm your nerves? Maybe a snack?" she asked, guiding her over to the table. Ivy let Mila's hand go and folded hers in front of her while she waited for the other girl to calm down a little. When she seemed to have calmed down a bit, Ivy smiled again, "My name is Ivelynne Burnley, but you can call me Ivy. May I ask your name?"

[MorningStar1399]

E L I A S K O K I N O S

^{P R I N C E o f P Ó L E M O S}

Attire

The red is the color of his cape, the lion the shape of the gold fastener; Dafni’s attire has his laurel crown

FC

FC: Modified Gonçalo Teixeira
Slight change: his hair is actually almost shoulder-length

^{w i t h a p p e a r a n c e b y D A F N I K O K I N O S , _{P R I N C E S S o f P Ó L E M O S}}

Attire

She has elected to ignore tradition for fashion, which is acceptable; Elias is just being extra and stating his heritage with more pride than he probably should. Both are wearing the displayed laurel crown (Elias’ is not pictured but it looks exactly the same)

FC

FC: Bianca Santos

Elias was entirely grateful his elder brother wouldn’t be present. Parties of any kind with Stefanos there had the tendency to get bloody or would leave the middle child incredibly tense and unable to enjoy himself as he waited for an attack that might never come. He was, however, incredibly grateful his younger sister was going to be there. Dafni got along well with Lea, and would get along well with others, too. Plus, her status as a multiple medalist (silver and gold) from the last three consecutive Olympics would likely fetch her plenty more attention.

Damn overachiever, Elias thought as he watched his sister walk into the common area of their shared suite. Unlike him, she was dressed modernly in a two-piece gown of a dark violet, one she’d call by a name he would gladly forget within two seconds of her telling him. He watched as she adjusted silver sandals despite her wrists jingling worse than bells, raising his brows as she attempted to slip a knife in the laces.

“Pretty sure they won’t be allowing weapons in there, Daf,” he said in Pólemesian.

She frowned but pulled the fancy blade from her shoe and set it down on the table. “You don’t think they’ll notice the knife on my thigh, do you?

He gave her a look. “Trust your combat skills, Olympian.”

“Aye aye, captain,” she teased with a mock salute, removing the knife tied to her leg and letting her skirt flutter to the ground again.

“Hey, that is commander supreme to you, not captain.” Elias warned lightly, wagging his finger at her. “And I do not take my rank lightly.”

“Yes, anyone can tell you’ve more than earned your status, Mister ‘I-Won’t-Wear-A-Suit.’” She shook her head. “You’re about to stand out terribly.”

Elias sighed, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Her modern dress, with her dark hair in complex-looking braids on her head and stuck with pearl pins and framed by her gold laurel crown, and his traditional chiton and red cape with gold lion-head fasteners and his own gold laurel crown atop his shoulder-length hair, couldn’t have been more different. His hulking frame and her lithe athletic build were both on display in their revealing attire, and they knew it.

“My little sister,” Elias said, arm wrapping around her waist supportively. “All grown up. When did she become this beautiful young woman?”

Dafni smiled, and patted her brother’s arm. “There, there, brother.” She snuck out her phone and opened up the camera. “Picture time?”

After taking more pictures than they likely needed to (some serious, some goofy-faced selfies, and there was definitely one Charlie’s Angels-style photo taken by one of their attendants), Elias and Dafni left their guest chambers and made their way to the ballroom.

Immediately Dafni was excitedly taking Princess Lea’s hands and squealing with her in excitement. The two exchanged hugs and took selfies on each other’s phones, at one point dragging Elias in with them, the gold sparkles on Dafni’s cheeks glinting with the flash, and after Elias bowed and offered a traditional Pólemesian hand wave greeting—wrist rolling so the palm faced up as the hand was brought out towards the recipient—as well as the necessary congratulations, he managed to drag his sister away.

Dafni was quick to snag herself a glass of champagne while Elias took a glass of red wine, though it was immediately rejected. Not strong enough.

A familiar voice caught his attention, and he looked across the room to find exactly who he expected. Memories of sunrises and sunsets, of chariots and swimming, and of some of the last days of happiness he could remember, were contained in that long blond hair and infectious grin. Despite how much it hurt, that month of summer had been too good to forget. But his friend and once-lover (it was but a fling, Elias, remember that) seemed occupied with…wait, that’s Erik, from the party that one time. Maybe I should say hello anyway…no, bad idea, they’re having a conversation on their own. Let them talk. You can find them later.

He continued to look around, and at some point raised his brows. There was someone in attendance…in a suit of plate armor. Is that…Domitia Viriatus of Lusitania? If so, that in the corner must be Liviana, the…aunt. Confusing family.

He left Dafni to her own business, knowing she’d find a way to occupy herself and would be checking in at various points through the evening, but decided to approach the refreshments table to pick up some kind of pastry—he didn’t care until he tasted chocolate—in order to more reasonably strike up a conversation with Domitia.

Elias stood to their left, facing the crowd. “So the stories are true,” he said plainly, then looked their way. “The armor is a bit of a giveaway, I suppose. A well-deserved accomplishment, even if others will not recognize it.” He finished his pastry, licking his fingers before looking at them again. “Do you still spar?” he asked.

_{interacting with @Amethyst}

[ayzrules]

A L E J A N D R O A G U Í L A D E A G U S T Í N

---

"Well, what's the verdict? Did I impress the mighty eyes of Prince Alejandro of Castilya?"

Alejandro grinned widely at Erik. The two of them had become acquainted with each other, yes; having the Veredunian prince around at parties was great fun, even if his taste in alcoholic beverages was less than...fashionable.

"Oh, Erik darling, surely you know that you can make anything work, with a face like that," Alejandro's grin widened as he winked cheekily at the other prince. So what if Erik was 1) probably straight, 2) rumored to have a girlfriend (according to a couple of his birdies, anyway), and 3) betrothed? A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone. In fact, if Erik was indeed as straight as Alejandro thought he was, then a bit of flirting was less than harmless. And Erik was attractive.

"I myself would not have gone with something so deliberately...simple, no, but I must say, Erik, it works delightfully well on you," continued Alejandro, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I am, of course, of the opinion that a little more jewelry can never hurt, but I see that you have your own kind of sparkly accessory." Alejandro nodded at the medals pinned to his jacket. "Very shiny. I approve."

"The journey to Aciras was pleasant enough, I suppose," Alejandro said in response to Erik's question, casually inspecting his nails (which were painted with a light sheen of gold, to match his eye-shadow and suit). "Dreadfully boring, though. Would it be wrong of me to assume that you came by sea?" Alejandro gave him a questioning glance. "I, unfortunately, was in an airplane for a few hours. The trip itself was fine. But it is terribly difficult to nap and keep one's hair in order at the same time, as I am sure you are aware of."

Alejandro winked playfully, taking a sip of the bubbly gold liquid in his glass. A few more familiar faces had appeared-namely that of Prince Elias Kokinos, and his younger sister, Princess Dafni. He caught them entering the ballroom out of the corner of his eye, and he reached up, almost instinctively, to adjust the rubies dangling from his ears. He had worn those same rubies the first time that he and Elias had...the first time that they spent time together, if one understood his meaning.

Alas, their short-lived fling was a thing of the past. Alejandro had broken it off because it simply would not have worked, one way or another, and he knew that the two of them had changed since the last time they had been together. Still, though-Alejandro could not help but to remember that single wondrous month of cool water and humid air and heady Pólemesian wine.

Forcing himself to return to the present, Alejandro discreetly swept his eyes across the ballroom once more; Princess Venera had arrived, as had Prince Leonard and Princess Isabella. He was sure that he was missing a couple, but from his vantage point, he couldn't see any others.

Alejandro re-directed his attention to Erik. "So, you are enjoying yourself thus far, I presume?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face as he gestured towards the empty champagne flute in Erik's hand. "I must say, Princess Lea knows how to throw a party. Though I am sure that you and I have both attended parties that were more, well...loud."

(Interacting with @madmonarchist)

[lady horatio]

(A collab between @bloonewb and @lady horatio)

"Yes, of course," Genevieve said, automatically reaching to take the extended hand. (It swallowed hers.) "It's so nice to meet you in person."

She felt a pang of sympathy as she took in Hui-Bawa's obvious discomfort, the way he shifted in a suit that didn't seem to fit him quite right—a stark contrast to all of the outfits around them that had clearly been custom-tailored, if not custom-made. She'd felt like a fish out of water ever since arriving in Aciras, but her unease clearly paled in comparison to his—and, with her silly rhinestones and stupid trademark lipstick, she had also clearly gone about handling it differently.

"It's not what I'm used to, either," she offered, feeling inadequate even as she said it. Hoping she wasn't too obviously breaking some rule of etiquette—or, worse, that she did not offend him—Genevieve took Hui-Bawa's arm, turning him toward a set of open double doors. "I'm sure it's a little less crowded out on the terrace, if you think that would work?"

x—x—x

The outside was nearly as garish as the inside. Hedge mazes, large as the building itself, dominated large portions of what seemed in all respects to be the palace's backyard. It was true, as Genevieve had said, that the terraces were in fact less densely populated. Marginally. Everywhere he looked was a new face, as carefree and happy as a child.

"I am certainly glad I found you," Hui-Bawa said. "I was getting quite lost. The house of our host is the size of a village. Are all the homes of the northern wealthy the same way?"

x—x—x

Genevieve felt another pang and just barely held back a wince. She was no Princess Ayleanna, but she still had to count as one of those wealthy northerners that baffled him so.

"I couldn't tell you for sure," she said. "This is my first time attending a function like this outside of my home court. But I would assume so, just from the pictures I've seen." Genevieve hesitated, then added, "Lord Hui-Bawa, are you all right?" She was starting to worry about a possible panic attack. "I'm sure I could find you some water, if you need it. This place is a lot to take in."

x—x—x

"Water would be nice, thank you," Hui-Bawa said. In truth, he was becoming quite thirsty. He awoke early in the morning to work out the affairs involved in visiting foreign lands. Renting a car, a suit, getting the proper directions, all made the day pass by rather quickly. He could not recall having had any water since he awoke in the morning. Judging by his very rough guess, it was anywhere between mid-morning to the early afternoon. "Why, do you happen to have any on you at the moment?"

x—x—x

Genevieve startled. "Well, no, but--"

"Allow me, Princess," Christopher said, treating first Genevieve, then Hui-Bawa to a brief bow. Genevieve's stomach turned, but she nodded and allowed him to go. He disappeared back inside for a few moments, leaving her alone with a man she knew only through reputation and a chain of faceless emails.

"They have to be serving something in there besides champagne," Genevieve offered, to fill the silence.

Christopher reappeared with a crystal glass in hand, ice cubes clinking in something that fizzed. "I'm afraid they only had sparkling water on the tables, my lord," he said, offering the drink to Hui-Bawa. "If that doesn't suit, I'd be happy to ask one of the staff for help."

x—x—x

"Thank you very much, Lord . . . " Hui-Bawa said, lifting the glass to his lips. His mistake for not looking within the glass first. He took one sip of the clear solution, and spit it back out in shock. Whatever this was, it certainly was not water! "I'm terribly sorry, Lord," he said. "Forgive me, truly. If you would be so kind as to tell me why this water is . . . breathing?" He gave the glass a shake, watching in near wonder as the solution bubbled merrily away with a hissing noise.

x—x—x

"It's just Christopher, my lord—"

Christopher never got the chance to correct Hui-Bawa, his self-deprecating smile switching to bemusement as the other man almost choked on his drink.

"That's why it's called 'sparkling,'" Genevieve interjected quickly. "Though the more common word is just 'soda water,' because they use the same process to put the bubbles in soda. I'm so sorry it wasn't to your taste—I don't much like it, either." Genevieve was actually fairly convinced that no one truly enjoyed sparkling water, and that most people were just too proud to admit it.

She bit back a dismayed frown. This was not how she'd imagined her first meeting with Hui-Bawa to go, if they ever met at all.

"Please, my lord," Christopher said smoothly, extending a hand, but refraining from actually taking the glass. "Let me go back and find you something better while you and the princess talk."

x—x—x

"Please, do not worry about it in the slightest, Lord Christopher. I will be perfectly alright," Hui-Bawa said, setting the cup down. Was this man a servant? "Sparkling water, eh?" He let a chuckle escape his lips, which quickly turned into a booming laugh. "Never doubt the ingenuity of the human peoples! Ha ha! My brother, he would love something like this."

Hui-Bawa took a minute to compose himself, and turned to face Genevieve. "On to more serious matters." He smoothed out his suit, as far as it might perhaps be smoothed, and continued. "On behalf of countless families in the city of Du-Tunka, I would like to thank you for your caring nature." He shuffled about on his feet a bit. "You are probably curious as to where your donation is going, yes? I would expect nothing less. It was . . . generous."

x—x—x

Christopher's professionalism slipped as he let a smile escape. Genevieve's professionalism stayed intact—which was good, else she probably would have kicked him. As it was, she was too busy hoping the heat she felt climbing up the back of her neck, prickling her cheeks, wasn't obvious under her fair skin.

"You're more than welcome," she said. "Your reputation speaks for itself—I never had any doubt that you would use the money to do whatever you thought was best to help your country." Swallowing, resisting the uncourtly urge to drop her gaze, she added, "There's only so much I'm able to give each year, so I always do my research first. I wish I could give you more."

x—x—x

"I have spoken to some of Du-Wassi's top economists," Hui-Bawa said. "They think that with your help, they may save the entire city of Du-Tunka, and its population of one million souls, from the ravages of yellow fever. Many of my countrymen are a little . . . close minded, and fear the pale skin. I laugh to think that their lives are owed to one." He let the moment stand for a second, an easy grin touching the corners of his mouth. "But, we have all day to talk about serious matters. At the moment, I think a lunch is just lighthearted enough to think about for the moment." With that, he offered his arm for Genevieve to take.

x—x—x

In a bit of a daze, Genevieve took it. She was glad for the support as they made their way back into the ballroom.

One million lives?

Heat rushed under her skin a second time—excitement, nerves, frustration, and still that lingering bit of shame. Just what could Maris accomplish if their altruistic efforts extended beyond one princess's yearly allocation of her birthday money?

[madmonarchist]

Erik von Rothschild of the Empire of Veredun

Once more, Erik laughed.

To be quite frank, Erik really didn't think he was all that attractive. Most people in Veredun looked like him, well those in central Veredun anyway. Tall, lean, blonde hair, blue eyes- these were very common features in Veredun. So common that Erik hardly got a second glance from most people. When he did, it was usually for his behavior as opposed to his physical appearance. As a result of this, he often found it amusing how people from other kingdoms found him attractive. But a compliment was a compliment after all.

"Oh that's mighty praise coming from you," Erik remarked with a grin.

Alejandro was renowned for his eclectic fashion and his bold choices in the fashion industry. While Erik wasn't one to keep up with fashion, he did accept that Alejandro knew a thing or two about style. His entire knowledge of fashion came from either Anastasia and Adelaide, or Yelena. And because of Yelena, Erik had been trying to keep up with fashion.

"Oh I'm sure," Erik answered with another chuckle when Alejandro began to comment on the simplicity of his outfit. "But unfortunately, I'm just not as bold as you are."

Very few people could carry off bold prints and jewelry the way Alejandro did. Actually, Erik had never quite met anyone else who could. But he was glad the medals were somewhat appreciated. Had it been up to Erik, he'd have worn just one or two. But because he was representing Veredun in an official capacity, he had to look the part. He could hear his grandmother's stern voice ringing in his ears at the very thought of the subject. And it was not a pleasant sound.

"The sea is my mistress after all," Erik answered with a wide grin. "Although, I am sorry to hear that."
Hair was one part of his appearance that Erik was actually invested in. It was not that his hair was particularly tough to manage, but prolonged exposure to the oceans and it's salty, humid air had a way of drying out his hair. A few months after joining the Veredunian navy, Erik found that his hair was starting to turn increasingly dry and brittle. It had started to loose it's natural luster. And really, who liked dull hair?

"The sea breeze has its own way of ruining the texture of your hair entirely. It's so hard to keep up," Erik began. "As soon as I got here, I had to deep condition my hair twice- once with a leave in conditioner, and once with a hair mask," he continued, briefly pausing to finish the last sip of his champagne.

"And while we're on the topic of hair, my sister actually introduced me to this great leave in conditioner. Works wonders on my hair. Remind me to introduce that to you," he commented with a brief nod.

Once more, Erik switched out his empty flute of champagne for a fresh one. The bubbly liquid was far too sweet and light for his tastes. From the corner of his eyes, he watched Vera walk around the crowded ballroom. If Erik craved something stronger, he was sure that Vera did too. Almost every time he'd seen her, she was either drinking strong- vodka, or wine with a high percentage. Depending on the situation. That was one thing they shared in common- both of them liked their drinks strong. Well, that and Yelena.

But Erik's attention flickered back to Alejandro when he heard him speak.

"So far so good," Erik answered with a wide grin.

He had to admit, this was not what his usual parties looked like. The parties Erik hosted and attended were quite informal, and rather... wild. The atmosphere was a lot more relaxed and energetic, the music was far a lot louder and energetic, alcohol was stronger. It was just fun. Although, if Erik was around the fun quickly got out of hand. The last party he ha attended somehow began in one of his mansions and ended in a zoo. Now, Erik had no recollection of how and when the party moved. All he knew was that he woke up in the bear enclosure, fast asleep on a large brown bear. But clearly, this was not one of those parties.

"Well, what can I say?" Erik began with a light chuckle. "I know how to have a good time."

While this was not really Erik's scene, he knew that he would be the only one of his siblings and relatives who would actually come. As did Juliet. Every one of his relatives was far more serious, a lot more involved with their work. Even Anastasia who technically was a celebrity was preoccupied with other things. Of course, most of these things involved finding ways to undercut Juliet and take the throne for her self, but she was preoccupied nonetheless. And it wasn't that Erik wasn't busy either. He was. He really did have a lot to do. But he needed this- he needed to get away from Veredun. Get as far away as possible, and this time the Navy just didn't do. He couldn't be around anything that reminded him of Veredun, not now. He needed this break to recompose himself before he returned. And if the break involved reuniting with old friends, drinking alcohol and having a good time in general, who was he to say no?

Erik's Outfit for the Ball

Erik's Tuxedo

The Veredunian medals of honor that are pinned to Erik's tuxedo. The medals reflect his royal heritage, noble rank, title and rank in the Veredunian navy.

@ayzrules

[ayzrules]

M A I M E I

---

Mai turned at the sound of her name, the delicate champagne flute dangling from her fingers as she finished taking a dainty sip of the bubbly liquid. Her eyes alighted on none other than Prince Leonard Ford-her betrothed. He was in a vaguely familiar gray uniform; Mai recognized it. She had seen him wear something similar, before.

She smiled a polite greeting at him. "Prince Leon, it is a pleasure, as always. My trip went well enough-a bit on the longer side, of course, but it was...pleasant. And yours? I trust that it went smoothly as well?"

Something in Mai's gut twisted as she took in his choice of attire. Of course Leonard had chosen to come decked out in full military regalia; would he really be a prince of Krieg-Konigreich if he did not? Mai knew that there were other princes and princesses in attendance who were either currently serving in their kingdom's military or had done so in the past-take Erik von Rothschild, for instance. He was a captain in the Veredunian navy, but he hadn't shown up in uniform.

Mai forced herself to let it go. She had known from the start that Leon would indeed show up wearing his uniform, so any subsequent judgement on her part was just useless pettiness. Besides, she would marry Prince Leon one day in the not-so-distant future. Might as well start getting used to it.

Well, at least he is not obviously much younger than I am, anymore, Mai thought to herself, wryly, as she took in the rest of his outer appearance. When the two of them first met, she had been sixteen, while Leon had been eleven. It had been more than just a little bit awkward; Leon was but a child, at the time, and Mai...well, Mai was not legally an adult until she was eighteen, but she felt that she had been more or less an adult by the time that she and Leon interacted with each other for the very first time, in more ways than one.

Turning her thoughts away from such, ah, unpleasant things, Mai carefully assessed the people who had arrived so far. She could not find Princess Mila Ford, but she was sure that Leon's younger sister was around, somewhere-the two of them would have come in together, Mai presumed. Princess Genvieve had disappeared with the prince from Du-Wassi, and out of the corner of her eye, Mai noticed the two princes of Talulia, Aito and Akio Bai, the younger prince and the princess of Polemos (Dafni and Elias Kokinos), as well as Princess Isabella del Reyes of Evalusia and Princess Raven Willow of Mirenia. Whether or not there were any other newcomers, Mai could not say-they were not within her line of sight.

Prince Elias Kokinos, of Polemos, Mai mused to herself. Why do I feel like he and Alejandro....know each other? Alejandro has mentioned the Polemesian prince before, that I am sure of, but other than that...Hmm. I do not remember why I know that, but I can ask Alejandro later, I suppose.

Mai gave Prince Leonard another polite smile. "Is your sister here, as well? I have not seen her yet; do tell her that I say hello, in the event that I am unable to find her during the ball."

(Interacting with @alexfangtalon)

[BurningWaterfa]

Akio and Aito Bai

Interacting with @HaleyTheRandom

Akio and Aito were talking to each other about how tired they were from the long flight. Neither of them ever slept well on planes so they were both extremely jet lagged from the 12 hour flight to the kingdom which had only landed a couple hours before hand.
The boys heard a voice and quickly turned to the girl in the green dress. Aito held out his hand first and shook Raven’s hand. When Akio went to shake her hand he smiled and sighed. “I don’t mean to be bother, but my name is Akio. Aito is the only one with a T in his name.” he mentioned in his best English. He was also embarrassed. He didn’t want to call out a princess on not knowing his name. Him and Aito already looked similar and if wrong names helped people figure out who was who then why should he correct them. Akio looked down at his shoes as his brother quickly took the lead.
”It is nice to meet you Raven. As said, we are Akio and Aito Bai of Talulia.” He told her with a smile, sounding much more confident in the English language as well as overall. ”I must admit that I’m not very educated in your kingdoms history. Would you mind enlightening me. I can’t promise my brother will stay too long though. He is waiting to meet his betrothed.” he informed the girl as he smiled at her.

[OfWindAndRain]

Princess of Mamlakat Assalhra,

FAREEHA ISIS AMARI

The Outfit

Fareeha hated people.

Well, not all people. She just hated mostly everyone. And that was for a simple reason: they were terribly, terribly boring, and average. They weren't amusing, or even original.

So while she wasn't particularly looking forward to dealing with a thousand and a half egotistical members of royalty... she'd happily take it in favor of leaving home for a spell and getting away from the increasing pressure of her parents and tutors, her studies and her... well, politics. But internal ones. These external politics with a bunch of grown children from the countries across the seas is relatively removed, and largely... well, somewhat irrelevant to her. They had no real 'neighbors' because Mamlakat Asslahra is a giant island, surrounded by international waters... so if a prince or princess gets a little offended, eeeeh, it's mostly alright.

So here she was, marching through the hallways of an admittedly impressive castle and palace, to greet her host.

The pinkest, most girly, most... disgusting excited and happy Princess that Fareeha has ever seen. So much pink. Why is there so much pink. But nonetheless, the Princess Lea's effect on the normally stoic 'Snake Queen,' as the internet community called her, was apparent-- Fareeha couldn't help but a slightly miffed sigh and a smile breaking out on her face, as she-- gracefully! mind-- marched up to her hosts, dressed smartly and handsomely instead of prettily or regally.

It was a quick exchange, however, with the hosts of the Aciran kingdom-- just a compliment on how Fareeha could never pull off such a beautiful gown, a warm smile-- that she was quite unused to but let it slide-- and respect given to all the hosts.

Then the woman was out on the floor, sighing for just a brief moment at getting the most formal part of this out of the way.

Scanning the room, Fareeha concluded... that she knew next to no one here. Reaching up to the silent and still form of her ball python, Farih, curled around her neck inside of her collar, she gently stroked the snake's head, feeling the girl shift slightly as her head came up to meet the pets.

[shylarah]

Valentine/Edelessa of Luxième

Her Highness Crown Princess Edelessa Sofia Valentine Blanchefleur had run out of the initial reception the first moment she could possibly manage to do so before vanishing entirely for several hours thereafter. She turned up again too late to make it to the ball in a timely manner as well, much to the chagrin of those responsible for ensuring that she did. In the end she shut the door to the room where she was dressing to dampen the noise of their damnamble fussing. She was only going to show up at all because Anton had asked, after apologizing and promising he'd figure something out. Of course that's what he said last time, she thought uncharitably, checking her eyeliner in the mirror and turning to look at the dress laid across her bed. She shivered. The sheets smelled like laundry freshner -- she'd have to figure out a way to deal with that before she went to bed, but not right now.

The dress itself was nice, a dark blue the color of midnight. It was neither tight enough nor short enough to be the classic black cocktail dress, but it was close enough, with a sarong-style wrap edged in a subdued ruffle layered atop the skirt and a close-fitting top. The gently ruffled collar was of the same material as the border, silk of midnight shot with sapphire. It widened enough to cover the tops of her shoulders where the short sleeves parted, a very cute style. And if she was at home, maybe she'd have enjoyed wearing it. As things stood, she dreaded stepping outside her room.

Anton had waited for her, and she was both pleased and annoyed to see him. Valentine had not yet forgiven him for the mess they were in, and he was vain enough that his presence would destroy any chance she had of slipping in the door without being announced. Just having him announced would put so very many eyes where they might stray to her.

Unless....

She stopped where their path forked, the main way leading to the front door of the building and the other heading around to one of the ornamental gardens that surrounded it. "Distract them for me?" she pleaded, eyes fixed on the illuminated entryway, lights bright in the beginnings of dusk. She waited long enough for his reluctant acquiescence before hurrying off down the other branch of the walk.

It wasn't far enough into the night for the guests to be done greeting each other, and Valentine was all but alone outside as she waited, checking her watch on its silver bracelet. Five minutes, he'd said, but the seconds ticked by so slowly. At fifteen seconds before the time she approached the door, intending the flow of conversation to cover whatever noise the latch might make. It worked beautifully. A couple people noticed as she slipped inside but nearly all of them were immediately distracted by a man announcing the arrival of his highness Andronikos Telesphorides of the Athenian Federation, and his various other titles. She moved away from the door to find a corner where she could be a wallflower for the rest of the evening, letting her gaze run over the crowd as she did. That one could only be the prince from the Texas Sovereignty, wearing business casual and a hat that screamed cowboy. And there was someone in a suit of armor?! Maybe those two would occupy enough attention to let her skate through unnoticed. The fellow in Pólemesian attire was similarly eye-catching, and were she not so anxious Valentine would have admired the outfit. He looked like something out of one of her games -- so did the person in armor, actually. She wished she had that kind of courage, to put herself on display like that, but the mere thought made her shaky.

The green suit of one the Talulian twins drew her eye, especially as Valentine was on heightened alert for the pair. Akio Bai of Talulia was the man she was to be foisted off on, and she was not at all ready to face him. He and his brother looked nearly alike, and were standing near the dance floor in the middle of the room. At least their attention seemed to be elsewhere. She would have to thank Anton later, for agreeing to help. She was certain that if she'd come in the front way she would have panicked and fled. As it was, she already wanted to. So many people! She'd done a little research into the guest list on the flight over, but she'd been secure in the knowledge that she was there to support Anton's endeavors, and that little attention would be paid her. How wrong she'd been! She would have done more between the welcome ceremony and now, but the thought had been pushed out of her mind by the surprise engagement. Not like you are going talk to most of them anyhow, she reminded herself, trying to even out her breathing. It was hard to mess up names if you never tried to use them.

She eventually tucked herself by a gathered curtain and did her best to blend in with the fabric. It was a poor effort, given that the curtain was crimson and her own attire dark, but if she kept her face hidden perhaps she would be mistaken for a shadow and left alone. Or perhaps a bodyguard. It was a slim chance, but the best one she had. Above all, she hoped that Prince Akio would not recognize her. She'd not been at the ceremony long, and she'd managed to keep herself from ever being put in the spotlight directly. She'd been all but forced into wearing her hair up, too, so she looked somewhat different from normal, even with the peekaboo bangs. Maybe that would be enough. If she was lucky.

[madmonarchist]

E R I K & A L E J A N D R O

---

Alejandro nodded solemnly at Erik’s comment about his own hair. “Oh, I can imagine,” he said, mock-shuddering at the horror of it all. “And I would be quite delighted if you would, darling Erik,” he continued, winking cheekily at the Veredunian prince. He took his conditioner very seriously.

Alejandro wholeheartedly agreed with Erik’s comment. The other prince definitely knew how to have a good time; Alejandro himself had been a witness to that fact on numerous occasions. “So how is the rest of your family doing?” asked Alejandro, mostly to make small talk. “Do any of them have an inexplicable love of less fashionable beverages like you do?” His voice was as light and playful and teasing as anyone would have expected out of the frivolous younger prince of Castilya.

“Of course,” Erik assured Alejandro as he took a sip of his champagne.

And as soon as the topic of family came up, it took everything in Erik not to roll his eyes. How was his family doing? Well, let’s see- his cousin killed his brother and his grandmother most likely had something to do with it. And since he couldn’t actually confront her, it was decided that it would be best for Erik to physically leave Veredun while he processed all this information. And the second latest development in his family life was the fact that he somehow had an aunt in Rustavya, who happened to be the minister of public health and had a son who was previously involved with his girlfriend Yelena. So essentially, his cousin for all intents and purposes had been previously involved with his current girlfriend. And if that wasn’t already disturbing then the fact that Anatole was actually a great person was. He probably should not be so close to his girlfriend’s ex but by God, Anatole Koltovsky was just so cool. But yes, for the most part Erik preferred not to consider how they were doing.

“I think they’d all rather kill themselves before allowing beer within 100 feet of them,” Erik admitted with a quick smile.

Oh, he’d pay to see any one of his relatives touch beer. With the exception of Ferdinand and Juliet, literally all his relatives had a strict ‘no peasant’ policy which extended to the food and general culture of the working classes. It was either wine, spirits or hard liquor and nothing in between.

“I’m pretty sure you’d approve of their tastes more than you do of mine,” Erik added.
Now Erik didn’t entirely lack glamour. He quite enjoyed the occasional indulgence but didn’t quite like the attention that usually came along with it. His relatives, however, were a different story. Despite being notoriously private, almost everyone he was related to was incredibly indulgent. Anatole included. Erik was absolutely sure that the glamorous Castilyan prince would find their general lifestyle to be much more suitable to his. For the most part anyway.

Alejandro laughed at Erik’s comment about his family and beer. “Well,” Alejandro began, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “and I mean no offense, of course, my dear Prince Erik, but perhaps your family simply desires to become inebriated more quickly.” He threw a cheeky wink in the Veredunian prince’s direction. “Vodka would be far better suited for that purpose, mmm.”

Alejandro had never met the rest of Erik’s family, but there was plenty of controversy surrounding the current ruler of Veredun, Empress Catherine. Erik’s grandmother totally seemed like an expensive wine and champagne kind of person.

“As for their tastes...well, I cannot say that I object to their fashion choices. Or yours, for that matter. Though I, personally, prefer clothing with a tad more life to them.”

I do wonder, Prince Erik, how your grandmother reacted when she found out about your Rustavyan girlfriend, Alejandro mused silently to himself. And whether or not this Rustavyan girl cares that you are to wed Princess Talya. Unless, of course, the two of you do not intend to get married at all…

“As long as it's not from Rustavya,” Erik answered with a light chuckle.

Veredun’s relationship with Rustavya was strange. They were not outright allies or enemies. It was no secret that his grandmother despised Nicholas, but Erik could have sworn that there was a time that Catherine was on fairly good terms with Rustavya. Back then, the Rustavyan queen was present as well. Now, Erik had no idea what happened to her- he was too young when she disappeared and quite frankly, Erik was not interested to find out why either. It was just one of those things that you let go off. Until now anyway. His relationship with Yelena and his aunt in Rustavya had piqued his interest in the rather suspicious disappearance of the Rustavyan queen off late.

As Erik heard Alejandro’s comment about his clothing, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh I’m sure you do,” Erik remarked with a wide grin. “You have the personality to carry it off- I really don’t,” he added.

It’s true, Erik thought to himself. If Erik had to compare Alejandro to an animal, it would be to a peacock: proud and flamboyant. Now, Erik was no introvert. One could argue that he was exceedingly extroverted. However, the difference between Erik and Alejandro was the simple fact that Erik wasn’t as flamboyant as he was. Erik liked his indulgences and luxuries of course, but they were nowhere near as glamorous as Alejandro’s. But that hardly meant that both of them couldn’t have a good time together. In fact, Erik couldn’t remember one time when he hadn’t had excessive amounts of fun when Alejandro was around.

Alejandro, for the most part, ignored Erik’s offhand comment about Rustavya (though he did dutifully file it away as more proof of tensions between the two kingdoms), instead choosing to look Erik up and down, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes as he did so. “Erik darling, you simply must allow me to help you find something to wear, one day.” He beamed at the other prince. “There was this gorgeous suit that would have worked quite well on you at this past Fashion Month, you know.” He gave Erik another cheeky wink. “I suppose you’ll draw the line at make-up, which is such a shame, but…” he trailed off, an amused expression on his face.

“Anyway, I must say that I was quite pleased to see that you were also invited to Aciras. Things are never boring when you are around.”

“Maybe one day,” Erik agreed with a light chuckle before flashing Alejandro a strained smile. Make up was pushing it a tad bit far, Erik thought to himself silently.

“But speaking of Fashion Month, I do need a translator. You see, I need to pick up a gift for a woman with exquisite tastes and I hardly think that she’d appreciate anything I were to give her,” Erik added with a wide grin, picking up a fresh flute of champagne from a passing by tray.

Taking a sip of the champagne, Erik grinned at Alejandro’s comment. “Right back at you,” Erik began.

Alejandro practically twinkled at him. “Oh? A gift for a woman? You, my friend, have come to exactly the right person for that,” he said, beaming at him. “You will, of course, be amenable to providing details about her, of course? One can hardly choose a gift for somebody else without knowing the slightest thing,” Alejandro continued, his eyes filled with playful mischief.

Alejandro flicked an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve, flicking his gaze around the room for the second or third time before turning back to Erik. “You and I will also have to investigate any noteworthy Aciran celebrations while we are here in Lynston, naturally,” he said, matter-of-factly. “The last time I was in Lynston was quite some time ago, so I am afraid that I am not entirely familiar with the area at the moment.” He paused, grinning at the other prince. “Have you ever been to Aciras before?”

Erik simply grinned in response. He knew Alejandro was the right person to ask. If Erik wanted, he could have very easily outsourced this project to someone else- procuring a high-end gift was not so hard. But he wanted this to be a lot more personal.

“Of course, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with all the details you need,” Erik agreed as he brought the flute of champagne to his lips.

“I have,” Erik answered with a light nod. “But it was a long time ago. So, I’m afraid that I’m not the right person to ask either,” Erik admitted.

Being in the Veredunian Navy was great. Erik got to travel pretty regularly- often sailing around the world for various naval exercises. Of course, not all the places he went to were great, but some most certainly were breathtaking. Besides, every new place was a new adventure, right?

Alejandro nodded, thoughtfully. “I see. Well, there is this one wonderful hair salon here in Lynston-it’s owned by a friend of my cousin’s actually-and I could ask the owner for...details.” He shrugged, a wry expression on his face. “Or we could ask Princess Lea, of course.”

It wasn’t that Alejandro thought that Lea’s events were boring, no, but Alejandro had always found that it was much easier to pry interesting gossip (among other things) out of somebody when they were raging drunk at a night club. And although wild parties were terrible for his clothes, it was always fun seeing who wore what on a night out.

Erik nodded lightly as Alejandro spoke, occasionally bringing the flute of champagne to his lips.

“That sounds interesting,” Erik admitted, raising an arched eyebrow at the Castilyan prince’s mention of Princess Lea. Truth be told, Erik really had no opinion about her- he knew of her of course, but he had never previously interacted with her before this event. But he was guessing that Alejandro had, and based on that expression, he didn’t seem to have the highest regard for her. Either way, it was most certainly not Erik’s place to get involved in such situations. He tried his best to live a drama-free life and aimed to continue to do so. Therefore, he said nothing and continued to sip his champagne.

Alejandro made a noncommittal sound in response to Erik, taking a sip of his champagne. “Well, I suppose I shall be on my way,” he said, a slight undercurrent of mischief in his voice. “I would not want to keep you from socializing with the others. I will be seeing you around, yes?”

Erik nodded, flashing Alejandro a wide grin.

“See you around,” he said, raising his half-empty glass of champagne.

And with that, Alejandro flounced away (some might have said that skipped away would have been a more apt description), his eyes alighting on Princess Hye-ri, of Haneul. Alejandro had not met her before, but they both followed the other on social media, and Alejandro thought that her outfit was very unique.

“Princess Hye-ri, if I am not mistaken?” Alejandro said amicably as he walked up to her, flashing her a dazzling grin. “It is quite a pleasure. I must say, I do very much love the colors you are wearing.” He paused, a tad over-dramatically. “And where are my manners? I am Alejandro Aguíla de Agustín, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance!”

(Interacting with: @madmonarchist @ayzrules @Garden Gnome)

[Amethyst]

Andronikos

A faint knot of anxiety had wormed its way into Anton’s stomach, and lingered there resolutely. Here he was, on the world stage, ready to be presented to royals and nobles from all around the world.

And he’d agreed to ‘distract’ them, somehow, to let Blue arrive in peace. His mind scrambled for some way to make it happen without embarrassing himself, which was likely not going to happen – the best distractions are the embarrassing ones, after all. He tugged the pressed and starched collar of his dress shirt – pure white, under a darkest blue suit finely tailored to him and embellished with the tiniest of gold embroideries. He and Val looked a pair together, as had originally been intended – to dress them as matchily as siblings or – as dates.

The corners of his mouth twisted up, half in a grimace and half in a wry smile, but he could not continue his train of thought as he was announced to the assembly. Plastering a smile on his face, he strode quite briskly down the receiving line, holding his chin high and trying to resist the urge to hop up onto his tiptoes surrounded by all of these tall people. His shoes were specially designed with inserts to lift his heels an inch or so off the floor, but even so he was comparatively dwarfed.

“Congratulations on your engagement, Ms. Lynton.” He said quietly to Lea, not looking at her directly.

Fuck. That wasn’t distracting enough. That was remarkably uninteresting, in fact.

He swept into a bow, an unnecessarily elaborate one that was (once) the Athenian tradition… in approximately the fourth century, but it was fine. The press would spin it to be his appreciation and respect for cultural roots. And it would theoretically draw the eye of most.

If it didn’t, his certainly brusque – Standoffish and mysterious, he corrected himself – mannerisms absolutely would. He rose from his bow quickly and turned on his heel, to enter the ballroom proper. He snagged a glass of champagne, with a curt word to the servant bearing the tray, and took up a vantage point in a corner of the room, seeking out a group to join in with; ideally the loudest and flashiest of young royals.

---

---

Domitia

_{Interacting with Elias @morningstar1399}

Dom had a few minutes to reflect on the stupidity of having worn their armor. Under the lights of the ballroom it was quite quickly getting warm on the inside – and it had been sized for them in an altogether different condition, and was already weighing painfully on the points of their shoulders and collarbones. There would be bruises there in the morning, for certain.

Really, it was just altogether too heavy. They hadn’t worn it in nearly three years, not since their graduation – their father and grandfather had prohibited it and even threatened to have the suit melted down if they ever made themselves visible in it.

They shook their head, reaching for a passing tray of something that looked like a fruit punch that they prayed was nonalcoholic – they almost never drank, even at home where it was the norm, and certainly would never at social events in foreign countries. Taking a sip from the cup, they willed their fingers to stop trembling and the waves of dizziness to recede.

100. The number burned into their head as they sipped the punch. no, mark it as 150, better to overestimate. The black spots that had been dancing before their gaze flared and then faded, the ringing in their ears that they hadn’t consciously recognized subsiding too as the sugary drink immediately flooded their system.

They took a shaking breath, blinking their eyes rapidly to ground themself. A man in a chiton and flowing cloak was approaching, though for several moments it seemed he was more interested in the treats laid out nearby. Elias Kokinos- Dom would have recognized him anywhere. A man they had always idolized, one they weren’t sure even knew of their existence.

The floor seemed to go out from under them as the tall man looked them over and made a comment about their armor. Several times they blinked, trying to find words without appearing the idiot. At least the query of sparring was a relatively easy one to answer.

“I do, though I fear I am out of practice.” A thin, rueful grin crossed their features. “Most people at home do not wish to duel with ‘the girl’, unfortunately.” They gave the man a long look, sizing him up as an opponent - certainly a formidable one, towering over them, built solidly and well-muscled. Their only hope in a duel would be that his bulk made him slower, though such a thing was certainly not guaranteed.