Amethyst

《 R W B Y 》

Okay so full disclosure I have approximately six fanteams and a handful of unassociated characters from RPs on my other account. I have too damn many OCs so expect me to draw up a couple or three CSes before I find one I’m happy with.

《 R W B Y 》

Woot!

《 R W B Y 》

Interested! I think RWBY is what I need to get out of my creative slump.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

Domitia Viriatus & Liviana Viriatus

“Liviana, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Domitia called, pounding on the bathroom door for what felt like the hundredth time. (In truth, it was only the thirty-sixth such interaction this morning.) “What’s taking so long?”

“Go- just go to brunch without me, please. please.” Liv whimpered in Latin. From the sound of her voice she was clearly standing very close behind the door but refusing to open it.

Dom knew what this was about. Precisely four minutes and thirty-three seconds after the live coverage of the welcome gala had ended, Liviana’s cell phone started ringing. It was midnight in Lynston, which meant it was six-thirty-seven in the morning in Lusitania (Yes, Lusitania is one of those places that insists on having its own timezone, and not on a half hour like a sensible kingdom would, rather being precisely twenty-three minutes slower than Athenian Standard Time. Just to make them mad.) It also meant that their family had stayed up all night to watch the coverage, which meant in turn that they were likely grumpy.

Liv had dashed up to the room and locked herself in the restroom, but Dom could hear the shouting through the phone and the wall – if not well enough to make out the rapid fire Greek and Latin. The family certainly had a lot to say, given that Liv hadn’t emerged until nearly 3:30, and had crawled into bed and into Dom’s arms altogether wordlessly, curling up against their chest and badly feigning sleep.

She still hadn’t said a damn thing about what the problem was, but Dom figured they could guess as the bathroom door opened once more.

Liv looked, to put it politely, rather like a grandma. Not a trace of makeup was on her face, her eyes visibly puffy and red from the night’s phone call, and what little of her hair was visible seemed to be plaited and pinned tightly to her head to minimize its dramatic effect. Her long tunic was a plain grey-brown-pink color (someone more romantic might have called it ‘mauve’) of thin linen, shapeless around her frame, and surmounted by a half-sheer veil in a cream color, which draped over her head and shoulders, collecting on the left side of her body. Her stare was firmly fixed on the floor.

“Grandfather said something to you, didn’t he?” Dom extended their arms to their young aunt, catching her body against their side. Without looking up, Liv nodded, dumbly wrapping her arms around Dom’s waist and burying her head even further, so there was no chance of catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

They pursed their lips, wondering. The last thing they wanted to do was make things harder on their aunt. “Does the something extend to me? Do I need to change?” They wore a very simple short sleeved (and decidedly Aciran-styled) dress, in a neutral green color, with grey leggings, a (legit, thank you!) pair of Lusitanian legion combat sandals, and a men’s-fit grey suit jacket over the top of it all, unbuttoned. Their hair was fluffed up in its usual disarrayed bob (and eyebrows fluffed to match), and their trademark three-dot eyeliner on point, but otherwise they wore minimal makeup.

Liv looked them over briefly, cursorily, but buried her head again before she would meet Dom’s gaze. “No. You’re Britannia’s problem now. We’ll have to see what the tabloids there say, but they quite like you from the initial coverage. According to Father. And at the end of the day he- doesn’t have a say. Edwin-“ she swallowed, blinking rapidly. “Edwin is your… keeper, at least, as Father sees it. And Ed seemed to adore the way you two matched last night, especially while you were dancing. I could see it in his eyes. He- really likes you, you know.” She deliberately refused to meet Dom’s gaze. To change the subject, she quite abruptly asked, “Where’s Ana?”

I really don’t know how to respond to that. After a goodly amount of time, Dom simply ruffled Liv’s hair (gently, so as not to move the veil.) “She took Qvi out and went to go find food for herself. I sent her with her notebooks, she’s going to meet up with us after brunch for lessons.”

Liv nodded, peeling away from Dom’s side and crossing the room, picking up her cello case and easing it across her shoulders in one smooth motion.

“What? Where are you going?”

“To practice. Isn’t that obvious?” Liv turned on her heel, quickly walking out the door before she could do something stupid like break down and cry, again. She made it halfway down the corridor before the tears started, sniffling and biting down on her lip in an effort to stifle the sounds as she hurried up a flight of stairs, finding a room that seemed unused – maybe more of a breezeway between a few other rooms, but there was no one and no furniture to get in her way here, at least not obviously seen.

The folding stool was taken from where it was strapped to the back of the instrument case (never before had she been so glad to have brought it, finickiness of getting it on the airplane and all) and quickly unfolded, her instrument quickly tuned and soon settled. Though she hadn’t practiced in nearly a week now, what with travel and preparations, it took only a short time for the instrument to be warmed up and playing well. She had neglected to grab the folding music stand from the room, of course, so she didn’t even bother to fight with the sheet music, closing her eyes and visualizing the notes to her favorite concerto streaming out in front of her, fingers finding them nearly-automatically.

---

Damn that Livi. Dom saw her go, of course, but made no move to follow- perhaps it was the sniffling sound that just barely reached their ears, but they knew their aunt needed some alone time. On a good day, interrupting Liv’s practices would earn you a glare. Today it would probably incite a meltdown.

Dom turned smartly and descended the stairs, expertly remembering their way through the Aciran palace (which, though more spacious, was still not as confusing as the Lusitanian one, what with the thirteen different imperial expansions that had been done and later half-reversed on it!) soon walking into the parlor where the brunch was being held. They found themself a spot at a corner of the table, one that was as yet unoccupied, and there set up a perch to watch the other royals interacting.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

Domitia Viriatus

_{Interacting with: Elias Kokinos @morningstar1399, Edwin Drakewine @darkwolf687}

A faint rush of color graced their cheeks as Elias pointed out (amusedly, it seemed) the semantic difference of sparring and dueling. Dom inclined their head to him. “Forgive me. A linguistic difference, I suppose; we address both as the same in Lusitania.” A duel was only fatal if you were sloppy.

A razor of a smile crossed their lips, becoming arguably more pronounced when he mentioned Dafni. They’d heard of Dafni Kokinos, of course – who hadn’t? A princess, and an Olympian. And… kind of beautiful.

Thankfully, they were saved from the conversation, and the thought, by the arrival of none other than their betrothed. Try as they might they couldn’t stifle a laugh, inclining their head with a florally eloquent greeting on their tongue, which slipped away for a moment as he produced gifts.

Liviana had sidled over at some point, even Dom’s powers of observation not keeping track of their aunt’s quiet movements, and stood now slightly off to the side, peering up at Edwin with poorly-disguised adoration in her wide blue eyes.

Poor Livi. She would have done so well with Edwin… but she has a chance here. Not stuck like I would have been. Dom pushed the thought out of their mind, accepting the offered memory card with a smile and a surprisingly-especially for themself-graceful bow in the ostentatious Brittanian style. The card was quickly tucked away in a pocket in the padded material under their chestplate – by far the least awkward pocket to access in polite company.

At the remark about the FF they let out a tired sound, some cross between an acerbic laugh and an exasperated sigh. There had been so many interviews and speeches, quotes dredged up from dozens of appearances and thrown together in newsletters to make it seem as though Dom had been doing nothing but singing the organization’s praises.

For a moment they stood quietly, not getting in the way as Edwin offered Liv and Elias their gifts. But with that pleasantry out of the way, they inclined their head to Edwin, stepping a bit closer and extending their hand to clasp with his in a gesture of affection – belatedly remembering that it was not the feminine person’s place to initiate a display of such. But, it was too late for them to retract it.

There were so many things they wanted to ask him, more than a few of which were related to the betrothal that had been very raggedly and hastily arranged upon their last state visit. That said, they could not very well think of a diplomatic way to ask when the wedding had been set for, or if it had even been set at all.

“I trust the journey was uneventful?” they asked him at last, the formal English heavy and awkward on their tongue.

---

---

Liviana Viriatus

_{Interacting with: Edwin Drakewine @darkwolf687, Ayleanna Lynton @ayzrules, Genevieve Anders @lady horatio, Hui-Bawa @bloonewb}

Liviana was used to even her niece not seeing her, and felt only a small stab of sadness as the taller person’s gaze slid right over her no fewer than three times. She’d only left her perch behind the orchestra upon seeing Edwin (though her face warmed at the thought of anyone calling her out on it) and carefully made her way through the crowd to greet him.

The gift of music was graciously accepted, the memory chip quickly tucked away into her clutch. Edwin’s next words, however, made her feel as though the floor had tumbled away under her feet.

Her father was not going to be happy with the Britannian prince. That much money (in itself more than the organization’s yearly funds had been in nearly a decade!) meant publications, advertisements on the internet and maybe even on television, travel funds for speakers to go to schools and city senates, and, of course, the handful of yearly scholarships that would send brilliant young women abroad for their educations.

So many possibilities.

Tears started welling up, though she bid them to stop before they ruined her eyeliner – a handkerchief was pulled from her purse and she delicately dabbed at her eyes, beaming up at Edwin. So many words that she could have said to thank him bubbled up, getting stuck just behind her teeth and fighting to get out.

No. Silence. Father told you not to embarrass him. You can’t speak well enough to adequately convey your thanks, either. The words died on her tongue and she swallowed them, hoping she didn’t look the part of a totally blubbering idiot, and very deliberately stepped closer to him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his side, knowing he would be able to feel her tense shoulders and entire body shaking.

She stepped away after a long moment, peering up at him and hoping that had conveyed her message. Offering him a tiny, awkward curtsy, she stepped a respectful distance away and was then confronted by another problem. Qvi was no longer on her shoulder.

Gods damn that pretty little creature, she thought. As she cast around the room in search of the bird (Knowing that it had likely just taken off in frustration at the hug, or perhaps to relieve itself) her gaze settled on none other than the gracious hostess – Lea.

Gods, who was that with her? She didn’t know their names, of course she didn’t know their names – her father had not deigned to tell her such trivial information – but he was a veritable giant.

Timidly, the diminutive princess crossed the room – bringing her fingers to her mouth and whistling out a quiet string of three notes. It was echoed from somewhere in the glitzy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, though she couldn’t turn to look, knowing the lights would make her dizzy. She whistled it again and there was silence, but soon a grudging flapping of wings surrounded her and Qvi lightly settled on her shoulder, letting out an irritable chirp.

Just in time, too, as they came face to face with Lea and the prince and princess that Liv didn’t quite recognize. The tiny girl dipped a small curtsy, curls swishing around as she did and tumbling over her shoulder- thankfully the shoulder that didn’t have a bird on it. “Ave, Lea!” she chirped, a bit louder than she initially intended, eyes going wide just a moment later and her hand instinctively coming up to cover her mouth. After a split second, her thin shoulders slumped, the hand being forced to move to a strand of her hair as though casual fidgeting had been the intention all along.

oh gods oh gods you’re so loud and annoying oh, gods father is going to kill you if you manage to annoy Lea, Endovelicus save you if he sees you being this much of an idiot…

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

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.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

Liviana and Domitia

The palace staff had been nice enough in getting them settled. If they had objected to the …eclectic luggage that the Lusitanians brought, their comments had been kept to themselves. Originally the plan had been made for the two to have separate rooms, just across the hall from each other, but within just a few minutes all of Liviana’s belongings had ended up in Dom’s room. They shared a room and a bed not even half this size back in Lusitania, after all, and both knew it would be better if they had at least one thing to stay consistent while they were here.

Liv had taken to the washroom to get dressed for the ball, having dragged a chair in with her to boost herself up to the mirror. Between the orchestral music playing full-blast on her Papyrvs and her intent focus on her eyeliner, she did not hear the clattering kerfuffle occurring in the room itself as Dom got ready.

Had she heard such a thing, she might have been mildly concerned. But, she did not hear it, and so she continued to focus on her makeup, on the heavy layers of blush and lip color to try to make herself look less like a ghost. Shimmery gold eyeshadow, layers of mascara, and a delicate coral lipstick finished off her look.

Her curls were combed, spritzed generously with water and lightly oiled in a diluted rose oil, to force them to lie mostly evenly in their cascade down her back. The front strands were braided, pinned back with a pair of gold laurel leaf combs. Though the event likely called for a proper updo, Liv had neither the time nor motivation to coax her hair into such a thing. Besides, her stunningly long curls (hanging down to her thighs) might well make a more dramatic impression on their own.

As she clambered off the bathroom counter, shedding her oversized tunic to put on the gown she had chosen, she felt a wash of anxiety. The gown was midnight blue, embellished heavily with gold – all the maids back home had sworn that the blue would make her eyes all the more brilliant, but she was worried of wearing such a strong color. Still, it was either this dark blue or white – she dared not wear pink to such an event, not with Ayleanna’s love for it. It was doubtless that the Aciran princess would be wearing something flashy and pink, and Liv didn’t want to steal her thunder. Or rather, be completely shown up by her. But anyway, wasn’t it a social custom somewhere that one never wore the same color dress as the host?

liv’s dress

The gown fit her snugly, in part thanks to the generous pads sown in at all the pertinent parts, to give her the illusion of a feminine figure. It was modest enough, the midnight chiffon covering almost all of her chest and shoulders, and the ‘sleeve’ (such as it was, from the artful draping of the material in the back) would cover most of her bare arm. With that being said, she still was wary- people back home would call it a scandal if she dared go with her hair uncovered, or with her other arm still bare.

She put the thought out of her mind, donning liberal accessories to take her mind off of it. A simple gold necklace, ever present when she went out, with a crescent moon pendant on it. Laurel leaf ear cuffs that climbed up the edges of her ears without any dangles – given that she did have a pet bird, she was often wary about anything that could be tugged off in beaks or tangled in claws.

A variety of dainty gold rings adorned her fingers, and a golden arm cuff on her bare left arm. She stepped into the shoes she’d brought (gold-toned strappy sandals, in a traditional Lusitanian style,) took one final look in the mirror, steeled herself, and opened the door, stepping out into-

…A perfectly ordered room, at first glance. Qvi took off from her perch, settling on Liv’s bare shoulder and immediately beginning preening. Ana had definitely done some work on the bird, who’s feathers were glossy and bright and extra vibrant, having been slightly enhanced by the various semi-permanent vegetable dyes that were in fashion amongst bird owners in Lusitania. A bit of gold dust had been brushed along the dark edges of Qvi’s primary feathers, rendering the bird quite dazzlingly shiny.

“Did I do okay, lady Liv?” came a timid voice. Ana, the girls’ maidservant, looked up anxiously from her embroidery work. “It was a bit of work to get her to hold still.”

“You did very well, Ana.” The voice was not Liv’s, but rather emanating from a –

… suit of armor.

….
Gods damn you, Domitia.

Liv fought to keep her expression blank as she sized up her niece. Dia wore their officer’s armor, a piece looking like it had waltzed straight out of the sixteenth century. Burnished black steel, ornately filigreed with the ever present laurel branch motif in brilliant gold. Their helm was molded in a fairly stereotypical knight’s shape, made of the same burnished dark metal, and had a close-cropped plume of tyrian purple rising from the point and extending down the back of the helm.

They looked like a badass.

…
A badass from the sixteenth century, but a badass nonetheless.

“Dia, I don’t know about the helm. It’s not a masquerade.” Liv finally said, in quiet Latin. “How is Edwin to recognize you if you hide your face? Or our gracious hosts, for that matter?”

The suit of armor gave a heavy sigh, hands reaching to pry the helm from its head. Ana rushed to take it, setting it on the dresser with a heavy clunk.

Dom had done their makeup, at least. Bold black eyeliner, winged out well past the corner of their eye, with three small dots along the underside of the eye, and a thin white line along the top to really make it pop. They had heavily contoured and highlighted their face (which quite frankly didn’t need it) and painted their lips in a bold, bloody red.

Their hair had, perhaps, been pinned back – but being in the helm, for however short of a time, had tousled it. They saw that in the mirror at least, and cursed, reaching for a comb and forcing it to lie flat against their head once more.

Liv grimaced. The armor was… a bold choice.“Are you certain you do not want to change, Dia? I worry that you might… draw the eye, moreso than you are comfortable with.” She asked, softly.

Dom stared at her. “Liviana, I’ll be forced into those pretty dainty gowns for the rest of my time here. I’m here to make an impression. I graduated the academy with the right of any Lusitanian centurion; the right to wear my insignia at court. You know damn well Father won’t let me do it more than once; he doesn’t even know I brought it from the armory.”

Liv sighed, but knew there was no point in arguing with Dom once their mind was made up. Plus, if the argument continued any longer, they would have been late for the ball.

Knowing they had won the argument, Dom scooped up the leather belt on which their ceremonial rapier and dagger hung. It was tradition, of course, that Lusitanian commanders be adept at fighting with any manner of gladius, and any one of five variants of spathae, but Dom had always had a thing for the more elegant and ostentatious renaissance rapier. The rapidly darting, stabbing fighting style had been more suited to their body shape than it had been for many of their classmates. So upon their graduation they had a rapier commissioned for them, one with an especially ornate handguard, made again in the twisting laurel and ivy motif.

Liv thought to object to the swords, or perhaps to the fact that – Epona save them, Dom couldn’t even move without a faintly echoing clank! But she held her tongue. Her elder niece was not ever to be trifled with, but certainly not about matters of appearance and presentation…

They descended the stairs without incident, and stood before the gathered nobles and press. Liv fought the urge to bury her face in her hands- what a picture they must have been, a child with a sparkling bird on her shoulder, and a stubby suit of armor sans helmet.

Dom seemed unfazed, only the brilliance in their eyes and color on their high cheekbones betraying their embarrassment at how they stood out. In perfect, nearly accentless English, they greeted the hosts and swept into a surprisingly delicate, shallow bow, nudging Liv into a curtsy beside them.

With such formalities addressed, and a brief and cursory assessment of those few who were already here, they both endeavored to find themselves a quiet corner. Liv quite easily found her own, perched conveniently near one of the side doors (the better to let Qvi out to take care of her business – the bird was house trained, yes, but such a tiny creature needed let out often multiple times an hour) and near enough to the orchestra that she could nearly make out their sheet music.

Oh, how her hands itched for the cello, laid out on the bed upstairs. She knew it went against all social protocol, but at the same time… she was here, and unbetrothed. It was Dom that everyone had eyes on; surely they’d understand if Liv snuck away to join the orchestra, right?

She made a mental note to ask the concertmaster, after the ball, if they had need of another cello or violin for the next week’s festivities. She began mentally constructing those words, at times pulling her Papyrvs smartphone from her delicate gold clutch to make certain she had conjugated her words correctly. Writing in English was hard but doable, but speaking it was… not remotely so. It was partly for this reason that she had found herself this corner – her eldest brother and father had made it perfectly clear that she was not to embarrass them in any way while she was here, and not being able to converse elegantly was precisely one of those embarrassing things.

Dom, meanwhile, found themself near to the refreshment table, close enough to the reception area to hear all the newcomers’ introductions, and to seek out their betrothed when he arrived. They did their best not to look suspicious, having seen the men in suits standing quietly in the corridors and being altogether too interested in the weapons strapped to their belt.

Social events had never been their strong suit. Even Edwin, the Britannian heir to whom they were supposed to be wed, had commented wryly to that effect once. The two of them had reached a sort of understanding, the weight of tradition heavy on both of them and their conduct at their few state visits to each others’ homes. Plus, Dom had seen first-hand that the Britannian military were at least as …ostentatious in presentation as their own. To be honest, they were quite eager for their husband-to-be’s arrival, simply so the two of them would compliment each other’s ostentatious and archaic aesthetics.

That said, they hadn’t had a formal meeting since the engagement had been announced. It had been a state visit where it had been arranged, but the results of the discussions didn’t come until some months later at home. It had seemed, going into the arrangement, that Liviana was the favored candidate to be his wife, an arrangement that Dom almost would have preferred. Edwin was an honorable man for certain, but nonetheless the thought of ‘wifely duties’ and all those traditions that Britannia doubtless had as Lusitania did… such thoughts turned their stomach.

They took a deep, shaking breath, clearing their mind from such unpleasantries and instead focusing on the lovely people surrounding them. Though the clamor of the receiving line had been too much to really focus through, they now clearly saw those who had come in before them. Ayleanna herself looked a confection in a glitzy and… fluffy pink gown (oh, how Liv’s face had fallen to realize that she couldn’t wear her own signature pink!) just dripping with golden accessories.

The delightful Rhiannon Cadfael looked stunning, in a gown of deep green that made her hair look like fire and eyes shine like amber. Dom could appreciate the color green, so often overlooked especially in Lusitania, but all tones of emerald were just lovely – the right balance of delicate and powerful, natural and yet intentional. And they very much suited Rhia, Dom noted, a faint color returning to their cheeks. They made a note to strike up a conversation at some point, though perhaps not in the confines of this event.

Genevieve Anders wore a demure gown of steely ocean blue; the shade suited the girl’s rather …mysterious existence, as well as her complexion. Dom had to appreciate that. Though they did not know much about the Marisian princess, from their scrutiny they could see nothing other than a perfectly pretty, proper noble.

The Burnley sisters were interesting, the younger following her elder sister at a distance, dressed in a style that Dom could easily tell was to distance herself from the dramatic look of her older sister. It was rather ironic, really- that same assessment could have been passed off on Dom and Liv’s arrival.

Dom’s sharp eyes continued across the gathered people, the majority still servingfolk and press. For a split second, their eyes locked with the dark gaze of one Aulus Crispin. He afforded them a tiny salute, but did not otherwise acknowledge or move towards them, instead continuing to converse with the palace servant he was interviewing.

“Damn it.” They muttered, quietly. Crispin was well-known for his …romantic turn of phrase, in prose turning Liv and her chronic illness and stunted growth into a ‘gentle maid blessed by forces Endovelican and prized then by Diana’s silver grace’ and Dom and their host of issues into ‘..that which gentle Proserpina’s light has blessed and cursed in alternation’. And while to some extent it was nice to have their glaring faults for once not on display, Aulus’s regular romanticization of them and likening them to ancient heroes has left Dom to …question his reporting ethics. The man could probably find a way to glamorize slavery.

…Wait…

The thought put a bitter smile on Dom’s face as they turned their gaze once more to the receiving line.

tl;dr

The Lusitanians get ready. Liv wears a respectable gown and worries about standing out, then realizes that Dom is wearing their fucking knight’s armor. Qvi the sparrow makes an appearance as Liv’s fashion accessory for the ball; Liv disappears into a corner to stalkerstalk the orchestra people and hide from the spotlight, Dom awkwardly finds themself a corner, tries not to suspicion the palace guards despite the fact that they have a (mostly) ceremonial sword and dagger on their belt, and internalmonologuerambles about the people they see.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

*screeching in the distance*
MASQUERADE! Masquerade! Cue everyone from Lusitania having a slight identity crisis bc yeah it’s history and Italian at that but also gods it’s still such a modern and immoral idea.

You’ve got my NPCs already submitted.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

Oh, short character writeups, derp, I needed to do those.

Liviana: Fragile princess with confidence issues who is struggling to be accepted in (and accept) her kingdom. She’s a social media activist and musical prodigy, but professes to excel at only one thing: keeping her head down.

Domitia: a former princess who masqueraded as the crown prince for the formative aspects of their life and now finds themself traumatized and stuck in a limbo between their two identities, both personally and socially.

Anton: Everyone’s Favorite Asshole, an obscenely rich businessman with as much sense as he has dollars. He can be cruel, and is at times a victim to his inferiority complex, but deep down you will find a caring young man - caring enough to take in an errant Luxemi princess and a stray kitten.

NPC - Ana: A shy girl who’s only purpose in life has ever been to serve. She sometimes stands at odds with the tutoring provided by her “employers” Dom and Liv; she’s supposed to exist to make their life easier, not take up their time.

NPC - Aulus: A stuck-up Lusitanian nobleman who will become excessively, and poetically, loquacious at any given moment - and has found his calling as a pro-imperial Lusitanian reporter.

Also ohhhh thanks @madmonarchist sorry I’m stupid dfxjcgslhc.

When Royalty Collides (#YIKES)

Also just so you know @madmonarchist I can not see any of your posts on the empireofgoldentears tumblr, on either desktop or mobile. I'm following you and everything.

(That said, Tumblr has deactivated my account two (2) times now and I can't see like half the blogs I used to follow, for some reason. <_<)