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In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
RĂ­oghnach "Riona"

Riona was still fuming mad when the first melodrama of the still early night finally reached its anticlimactic conclusion. Honestly, the guests could have done the world a favor by slaughtering each other. Especially that Leo Woodworm, or whatever that redheaded bastard’s name is. Over polished the floor her a**. What did he know about cleaning? I bet he’s never cleaned his own damn room. How dare he try to shift the blame to us! Who the f**k does he think he is? Riona continued to spew all sorts of profanities in her head as she silently waited for waste to be dumped on the ground. Because that was what many of these nobles were, overgrown toddlers prone to temper tantrums. Sure, there were decent nobles out there just as there were atrocious commoners. Riona had lived long enough to know that people were a multitude of complexities, but it also didn’t change the fact that the King of Caesonia attracted equally rotten people to him and since he refused to interact with commoners unless it was absolutely necessary, that only left nobles around him. So Riona's claim that there were a lot of terrible nobles in Caesonia was not unreasonable. Doubly so given the kingdom’s knack for murdering or banishing the good sort.

Riona had just come to the decision to over polish every square inch of Lord Smithwood’s quarters when the ballroom doors opened, revealing that Callum’s plan to hide out in the library had failed. Why he thought no one would find him in his arguably most favorite part of the castle was beyond her understanding. She and every Caesonian servant paused what they were doing to bow to the princes as they approached their parents.

While King Edin was widely feared and despised by his servants, they were divided in which prince they supported: Prince Wulfric, Prince Auguste, or Callum. Riona was one of the few outliers who didn’t support any of the princes. She’d prefer that none of them become the next king. The Danrose legacy could die in a ditch for all she cared. In fact, she hoped it would.

Out of the three brothers, Riona disliked Prince Wulfric the most. Not because she knew him on a personal level to dislike him –if anything she knew very little of the eldest son–, but because he was both King Edin and Queen Alibeth’s favorite and the next in line to the throne. That was reason enough for Riona.

The Second Prince, Auguste, was not too bad. He was one of, if not the friendliest of the Danroses. She’d never seen him mistreat a commoner unless provoked and he was lenient on the servants. He, however, lacked the courage to stand against his father. For all that talk about equal respect, when it came down to it, Riona believed Prince Auguste cared more about bringing honor to his house than happiness for his people.

… But more than that, she was terrified of him.

The crazed glint in his eyes and the euphoric smile on his face while sparring mirrored the predatory smile King Edin had when he watched his prey struggle helplessly against the inevitable; the sadistic satisfaction derived from knowing that their fate was in his hands. Excruciating pain shot through Riona’s stomach every time she saw that smile so, she avoided Prince Auguste to avoid remembering.

And then, there was Callum. The one Danrose she, much to her own disappointment, liked. An amazing feat considering Riona tried to kill him many years ago.

Over a decade ago, Callum had fallen gravely ill. The young prince was bedridden for days, even weeks, and many feared the worst. One night, when the castle was short-staffed, Riona was ordered to deliver a jug of fresh water to the prince’s room. It was supposed to be a quick job. She’d be in and out of the room before anyone's attention was drawn to her. She never found out why, but he was unsupervised when she arrived.

Riona recalled staring down the boy by candlelight, wondering why he wouldn’t just die already. One Danrose was more than Caesonia could handle, it didn’t need more of these wicked creatures roaming its lands. Perhaps, she thought, she could slay one while she had the chance. Although she was just a girl herself, it was weak and smaller than she was. More importantly, no one was there to stop her. She could do it.

Riona climbed onto the bed and straddled the boy, careful not to put any weight on him until the moment was right. She slowly reached over to wrap her hands around his neck. All she had to do was clasp his neck and lean on him with all her weight. She’d watch him thrash and struggle, like it did. She would stare him straight in the eyes, like it did. And she would smile as life gradually left his body, like it did.

Her eyes began to sting more and more every second, and her breathing became more ragged. She could do this. Regardless of its form, it was still the spawn of a vile monster. There was no need to feel sorry for it. Riona prayed to her family for the strength to vanquish it. But before her prayers were heard, the tears that could no longer defy gravity fell from her eyes onto Callum’s face. His eyes fluttered open and there was a moment of absolute stillness.

Looking back on it, Riona still had the chance to strangle him then and there, but him waking up before she could do the deed startled her so much that she bolted out of his chambers. She waited for the royal guards to apprehend her for days, but that day never came. At one point she thought that the reason why the prince hadn’t reported her was because he was still in a stupor when he saw her. If so, he might have thought that she was a figment of his fever induced imagination.

Her wishful thinking, however, was dashed the next time they crossed paths. Callum recognized Riona almost immediately, but in an unusual turn of events, Callum confessed his disdain for his family, particularly his father. That shared hatred for King Edin became the foundation of their strange amity.

Ever since, the prince and the servant have been on friendly terms. Though Riona still struggled with the fact that he was a Danrose, she started to see Prince Callum as Callum. She learned to care enough about him to cover Callum’s tracks after his antics whenever she could. Her herbalism knowledge, which had previously been limited to more hazardous concoctions, expanded to encompass remedies for the times when Callum was too stubborn to tell anyone that he was feeling sick that day or when he hurt himself from more dubious activities.

Now, she was comfortable enough around him that when it was just the two of them, she allowed herself to lower her guard slightly. They would then talk like friends would… but they were not friends.

They couldn’t be friends. For both his sake and hers.

To befriend him was a betrayal.
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Interaction(s): Lorenzo @FunnyGuy; John @Conscripts

There was a juvenile, even ingenuous, quality to Duke Vikena. From the manner in which he entered the ballroom to accepting Ryn’s handkerchief without a second thought. He did not seem to question Ryn’s motives. Instead, he simply accepted the handkerchief as a thoughtful gesture, nothing more, nothing less. Ryn got the impression that with Duke Vikena, what you saw was what you got. Honesty. A rare breed amongst the nobility, especially as the active head of a dukedom. It was most likely one of the reasons why the "true" bluebloods looked down on him. Ryn, on the other hand, found it admirable –to remain as innocent as he was, despite the surrounding aristocratic cesspool.

But he saw more than that on the duke’s face. Dark forlorn eyes, an ever-present gloom that covered his features no matter what expression he made, the fleeting moments when he seemed to be in a happier place that was not "here" in time or space. …The faint smell of someone who had a habit of overindulging in substances that dulled the pain.

All of it made Duke Vikena look so fragile. So frail that one wrong move would crumble him to dust and the breath of bystanders would be strong enough to blow it all away.

Ryn suspected this was exactly why Lady Vikena eyed him with open suspicion. Her scrutiny felt like thin needles poking tiny holes into him. How could he blame her? Ignoring for a moment the cutthroat environment in which they found themselves, even small children were taught not to accept items from random strangers. It was only natural to think that Ryn had an ulterior motive. As her father’s stalwart protector, his well-being was her top priority, because she loved him and he loved her. Duke Vikena’s last tether to this world.

After wiping away all traces that he was weeping just a hand full of minutes ago, the duke offered Ryn’s handkerchief back, “I can have this cleaned off if you’d like.”

Without breaking the smile or batting an eye, Ryn took the soiled handkerchief from Duke Vikena, "I thank you for the offer, Your Grace, but there is no need to concern yourself with that, you already had a trying evening. I wouldn’t want to trouble you with such a trivial task." Ryn folded the handkerchief so that the cleanest parts were facing outwards before slipping it into one of the outer pockets. "I hope you are feeling well. Would you like something to drink?" Before the duke could answer, Ryn quickly added, "Water, perhaps? I’ve heard that the body becomes dehydrated after crying." As enticing as it must have been, alcohol was the last thing the duke needed.

In his peripheral vision, the count noticed a man wearing a brown tailcoat conversing with Lady Vikena. Ryn thought he heard the name John Williamson uttered, but before long, Lady Vikena announced her temporary departure, "Gentlemen, I am going to find something to eat. Let me know if you would like me to bring anything back."

As much as he wanted to introduce himself beforehand, to start the process of alleviating the wariness she had of him, Ryn decided that it was better to let her be on her way. She too, had quite the stressful start to the night. It was only fair that she had time for herself and not be constantly guarding her father. Besides, it appeared that she delegated that task to someone else until she returned.

Ryn turned to properly face the brunet. John Williamson, John Williamson. Ryn repeated the name in his head before he clapped his hands together once he remembered where he came across the name. "Dr. John Williamson! From the Varian Royal Institute of Science! Savior of Kolonivka?" Ryn walked over to the doctor and offered his hand for a handshake, "I knew I recognized that name from somewhere. I’ve seen quite the number of medical supplies sent to you when I was working at my family’s business. It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name." Ryn shook Dr. Williamson’s hand enthusiastically but made the effort to shake gently. He wanted to avoid accidentally hurting the man. For these hands were more valuable than any item in the ballroom combined. They were the hands of someone who saved lives on a daily basis, come rain or shine. No amount of gold could, or ever should, replace such a precious gift.

"I didn’t know you were invited! It’s–… Oh!" Ryn released Dr. Williamson’s hand, backing away and turning so that he was able to face both the doctor and the duke. "How terribly rude of me, I never introduced myself have I?" Ryn bowed, the previous casualness dissipating as he did so, "I am Count Fritz Hendrix. Up until recently, I was just but one of many merchants, so please forgive me if I do forget the proper etiquette. I have much to learn." He looked up to first smile at Duke Vikena, "It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Duke Vikena," Ryn then redirected his smile at Dr. Williamson, "Dr. Williamson."
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Interaction(s): Lorenzo @FunnyGuy

A smile spread across the Count's face when the Sultan announced the final verdict: dinner, once a week with the family. Ryn could think of worse fates than a weekly dinner. Then again, given the temperament some of the Sultan's children displayed, it was perhaps too early to claim that it was a merciful sentence. Nevertheless, the matter was settled. There were no fatalities or serious injuries. Since Duke Vikena was held accountable, it was unlikely that the servants' punishment would be as severe as it would have been if the blame had been placed solely on them. They would still be punished, of course. A Lord made a complaint that was never retracted. Nobles tended to forget to do so, but those tasked with keeping the staff in line were not prone to forgetting complaints. If there was the slightest possibility that the servants were at fault they needed to be disciplined, because apparently, the mere possibility that it could have been their fault… was enough to be their fault. It wasn’t the best way to start the evening, but like Duke Vikena’s sentence, it could have been worse.

Ryn should have prepared himself to resume what he was doing before this entire fiasco happened, but he found it difficult to move his feet forward. After a few failed efforts, a sense of panic slowly crept into him. He was able to do it before, what was so hard about it now? Perplexed, he lifted his hand to see it trembling. Ryn scoffed at himself. Whatever it was that carried him from the carriage to King Edin's feet abruptly lost its effect after being disarmed by the unexpected event. It was his music recital all over again. He closed his eyes.

'What’s the matter? Got stage fright?'

Little Ryn opened his eyes as he turned to see his sister come into view. They were standing off stage near one of the wings. She smiled and reassured him, 'Relax, you’ll do great. We practiced so much for this day!'

On his other side, his brother teasingly added, 'And if you mess up, we’ll be sure to laugh at you.' His sister lightly punched their brother, 'OW! Geeze, all I’m saying is that even if he messes up there’d be a next time! And we’ll be able to laugh about today.'

Will there be a next time?

'Always.' The gentle fragrance of honeysuckle and magnolia that followed his grandmother filled the library, mingling with the smell of old books. Her hands caressed his head, 'As long as you live, there will always be a next time.'

Ryn took a big breath in, attempting to fill his lungs with the scents of a bygone time. Even though the smell was nonexistent in this room, the very thought of them calmed him. He let his hand fall back to their original position and he looked back at the options in the ballroom. There were so many options. So many factors, both known and unknown, to consider. So many decisions to make. What if he makes the wrong choice?

'Oh lad, sometimes I wonder how you get anything done with that over thinking of yours.' His grandfather shook his head and tapped his walking stick against Ryn's shoe, 'Nothing changes if you don’t take the first step.'

At the end of the day, it was why he was here. To take the first step and bring change to the stagnate state of affairs. Even if he was not successful, he wanted to have left a path that made it easier for others to follow. And to do that…

He took a tentative step forward.

'Excellent! The first is always the hardest!' His father beckoned him to take another.

Then he took another step.

'Don’t forget what you learned, Ryn.' This time his mother corrected his stance, 'In court, everyone is watching and judging you for even the most minor of things.'

He adjusted the third step.

'Confidence, Ryn! Confidence! You got to have so much of it that you ooze it!' The twins followed behind the black tigress which escorted her mistress as she walked away to greet Prince Wulfric. They snarled and pretended to claw at Ryn in mock ferocity. One said, 'I hear these people can smell weakness.'
'Like sharks smell blood in waters miles away,' the other interjected, 'Rawr!'
'Silly, sharks don’t roar.'
'Oh.'

Every step after, Ryn made sure to keep his head held up high. When he reached his mark, Ryn was Count Fritz Hendrix again.

He bowed once, to indicate that he was sorry for walking between the Rulers. As he did so, his gaze was drawn to Duke Vikena's condition. The puffy red eyes and tear-stained face made Ryn pause to think what his next action should be. He turned to face the Sultan.

'After me,' Tej said.

Ryn bowed his head low, arms crossed at eye level, and thumbs facing down, as had those who came before him did. What followed after the formal bow were words that sounded completely foreign to those born and raised in the Northern Kingdoms. Some close enough to hear may have feared that another noble was about to humiliate everyone again by "singing" to the Sultan.

"<<Peace be upon you, Enlighted one. Your Excellency.>>" He nodded towards the Grand Vizier, before looking back at the Sultan. "<<Pardon the intrusion. Pay me no heed. I am but a nameless wind, here to whisk away a person who may need some time to recompose themselves. It would, however, be remiss of me not to greet Your Majesty and Your Excellency.>>"

In Alidasht, there was an antiquated formal way of speaking when directly addressing the Sultan and their kin known as the "golden tongue" which was characterized by its melodic structure. It was not singing, or at least, this manner of speech was not considered to be singing in Alidasht, but Ryn could see how it may have appeared like he suddenly broke into song. In ancient times, it was said that it was a requirement to be able to talk in this fashion if one wanted to commune with the Sultan, for it was believed that the common tongue was far too barbaric for their ears to bear. This practice died down over time; while the golden tongue may have sounded beautiful, it lacked practicality and served more as a barrier rather than a bridge between the ruling class and their subjects. Remnants of this tradition could still be heard during ceremonies and some forms of entertainment.

'Why should I learn it then?'

Little Ryn looked up at the older man. Tej met the boy's gaze with a smile, 'Because it feels nice knowing that someone made an effort to learn about the culture.' Ryn noticed how Tej didn’t say "my culture" and pointed it out. The smile on Tej's face faded as his eyes shifted to the side. 'My family has not set foot on Alidasht for generations. I only know the culture because my mother taught me, she because her father taught her. How can I possibly claim it as my homeland?'

Anywhere you want to be is home, Tej.

"<<Despite the unexpected mishap, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here. If fortune favors me, it would be an honor to meet you again. Until then, many blessings upon you.>>" Ryn bowed in the Sultan’s direction, then turned to face the Danroses and bowed to them as well.

After properly dismissing himself, Ryn proceeded towards Duke Vikena. He smiled as he pulled a handkerchief from his inner breast pocket and offered it to the man. "If I may be candid, Your Grace, it may be in your best interest to wash up a little."
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

What separates a man from a beast? It was a question that scholars puzzled over for centuries yet failed to come to a unified answer. Some claimed that it’s the capacity to have a soul. Some said it’s intelligence. Some argued that it’s the sins of man’s forefathers. The initial two answers were absurd notions to Ryn. In his 29 years on earth, he has seen plenty of people who were best described as soulless and learned that intelligence was situational. Although he could not fully agree with the last sentiment either, it was something that he found himself mulling over time and time again. Were people no more or less than the sins of their forbears? Was there no way to absolve themselves for a crime they themselves did not commit? Or were they forever duty-bound to carry the burden, to add more to it and pass it on to their children? For the cycle to continue till the end of times? Do you, "King" Edin, feel them too?

Ryn’s pitch-dark eyes studied the two monarchs in front of him while he introduced himself as Count Fritz Hendrix. They were, for the most part, just as the rumors described them. From the ostentatious clothes he wore to the way he managed to look down at everyone while sitting on his gilded throne, King Edin exuded hubris and entitlement; the peacock of Caesonia. But underneath the vibrant feathers, Ryn thought he could see a scared man peeking through, frantically surveying the ballroom for any signs of danger. Not the kind of danger which posed physical harm, no. There were plenty of guards to protect him from that. He was scouting for the kind of harm that would tarnish his reputation as king or jeopardize his authority.

Was this something he did all the time, or was it just for this occasion? Ryn could not even begin to imagine living a life in constant paranoia. Seeing enemies and weakness that can be used against you in virtually everything. Then again… perhaps he could. King Edin just happened to be alone in the spotlight, front-and-center, while Ryn’s family remained off stage, shrouded in darkness. Ryn pitied the King in that regard.

Stories surrounding Queen Alibeth were few in number compared to the King. The ones that did circulate around circles usually amounted to how beautiful she was. Nothing about her character. She was a work of art, comparable to the palace's decorations; something to admire from afar, and a source of envy towards King Edrin, for owning such a trophy. Ryn remembered feeling dirty just hearing the comments about the Queen, but given how passive she was in person, he began to wonder whether she had a condition that rendered her catatonic on occasion. He needed to know who she was. Not as King Edin’s queen, but as Alibeth. Was she truly complacent with how the country was governed? Did she feel anything, love or hate, towards her husband?

Ryn was in the middle of describing the gifts he brought for the Danrose family when someone announced their own arrival. "Greetings! Greetings! After an entire year's absence, The Duke of Veirmont, Lorenzo Vikena has arrived!" The declaration was loud enough to catch the attention of the three. The Duke of Veirmont's next sentences forewarned Ryn that things were about to get ugly very rapidly. And, regrettably, he was correct.

Ryn, along with many of the other guests, watched the event unfold before them in stunned silence. It took a moment or so for Ryn to register that Duke Vikena unwittingly insulted and publicly humiliated the honorary guests for everyone to see.

"At least he didn’t bring the ferret!"

Obviously, the biggest mistake Duke Vikena had made so far. Ryn suspected he was going to need his emotional support animal very, very, soon.

It was an uncomfortable place to be standing where Ryn was when the squabbling erupted between the major noble houses. He had missed his opportunity to bow out. Though he believed everyone was distracted enough that they wouldn’t notice him leave now, Ryn decided to stay put. If he was going to have to watch this, he wanted to observe at a close distance. See how they might handle this situation. Evaluate them. To start making… certain decisions.

The bravery of Lady Vikena’s selfless proposition touched Ryn’s heart. How much she must love her father to offer herself up like that. He respected that. He too would do everything within, and beyond, his power if it meant saving his family. Lady Charlotte Vikena, he mentally added her to a list that only he could read.

The situation seemed to head towards diffusion as a tall Alidasht woman, who addressed the Sultan as her father, took Lady Vikena up on her offer. The woman leaned down to say something to Lady Vikena. Ryn couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by Lady Vikena’s expression, it was nothing comforting.

The next to approach the two women was a redheaded noble. He greeted the Sultan’s daughter amicably, then said the words, "…a shame the servants have over-polished the floor. It is difficult to find competent help."

Ryn was not a servant, at least not in the way that the man was referring. Nothing he said would or should impact Count Fritz Hendrix. Yet it did. Ryn’s heart squeezed tightly against his chest as his stomach tied itself into a knot. The feeling would get worse. He knew it before it occurred. He may have been able to prevent it from getting any worse if he had resisted searching for "them". He could be wrong. It was always a possibility. They could have heard the words and dismissed them because there was no fear of retribution for doing their jobs. That the treatment of the servants in the castle were not as harsh or shuddersome as he was led to believe.

The Count’s eyes shifted away from the group towards the boundaries of the ballroom and the shadows lingering behind guests, searching for the often ignored and neglected. They were standing there quietly with skin turning paler by the second. Some, the more experienced and/or the ones unfortunate enough to be out in the open when the words passed the nobleman’s lips, stood perfectly still as if afraid of drawing any attention to themselves. Others, especially the younger servants around the nooks were visibly trembling. He saw one of the worst cases, slump to the floor after their knees buckled.

The casual statement of a Lord condemned them all. The worst part of it was that he would never know this. Even if he wasn’t oblivious to it, he and every guest in this room would never directly witness the impact of his remarks; the punishment that awaited the servants behind closed doors. Nothing but dread colored their features. All except for one.

One maid, the one Ryn had accidentally bumped into earlier, was glaring scorching daggers at the redhead from across the room. If looks could kill, no doubt the man —Leo Smithwood, he said he was— would be bleeding on the nicely polished floor by now if the wounds hadn't already cauterized. At least there seemed to be a medical practitioner conveniently at hand if the improbable were to happen.
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
RĂ­oghnach "Riona"

Riona surprised herself every year by forgetting how much she detested these annual gatherings. The preparations began months before the event, but as the special day drew nearer, the servants became busier. In addition to their regular responsibilities, the party's preparations had to be flawless. No, better than flawless. Anything less would be seen as an affront to the royal family. Even if the lack of perfection was due to last-minute alterations ordered by the King himself, his servants were still to blame for failing him. So, they all did what they could. Every demand was met, no matter how ridiculous, dangerous, or unreasonable it was. They did what they could. Even if someone was seriously injured or fell ill because of lack of sleep or overworking. They did what they could because the King didn’t make it a habit to keep useless tools.

As much as months of preparation chipped away at their wellbeing, what Riona hated the most was having to look after the guests. Fortunately for her, she was usually assigned to clean up after guests rather than directly serve them. And my, what a mess they can make. Nobles have complained about commoners being no better than animals, but even Riona has seen pigs that made less of a mess than some of these lot, especially when alcohol and drugs got involved. Riona had a sneaking suspicion that the nobles genuinely believed that they were incapable of making messes. Why would they? As far as they could tell, as soon as they made a mess, it’s magically disappeared within seconds! The servants were invisible in that way. Never noticed until they get in the way of someone.

There were more servants in the ballroom than gusts, but many of them were hidden in the shadows of the pillars or tucked away in the quiet nooks of the vast space. Alert and ready.

Well, Riona thought she was until the guests from Alidasht arrived.

She couldn't stop gawking at the grand parade that was taking place indoors. She would have thought the King had ordered a circus as entertainment if she didn't know better. Someone even clapped at the spectacle. As the parade moved along, the flower petals fluttered to the ground. Feet and paws trampled them, smushing them into the polished floor.

Riona grimaced before turning to another servant who was also on cleaning duty. They made eye contact. Without making any other gestures, Riona directed her college's sight to the flower petals on the floor and then to the animals by looking at them herself. When she looked back at the other servant, she saw the moue on their face. Cleaning smashed flowers from the floor was one thing, potential animal excreta was a whole other matter entirely. Riona prayed that the animals were housebroken, but she couldn't take any chances.

Her colleague turned to face her, and once their eyes were locked again, they shook their head, then pointed their chin at her and then the animals in quick succession. Riona glared in response before mimicking the gesture back. This silent exchange lasted until her colleague mouthed the words “please,” followed by what Riona assumed was an attempt at puppy dog eyes. She huffed. YOU, she pointed at them. OWE. The finger changed directions to point at herself, ME. The other servant gave an earnest nod.

As they slinked off to fetch extra cleaning supplies in case the animals couldn’t resist the call of nature, Riona walked over to the petals on the floor, broom and dustpan in hand. She swept up the petals as fast and quietly as she could, being careful to not bump into anyone or look them in the eyes. The last thing she needed was for one of the guests to think she was challenging their authority by daring to stare directly at them.

She was cautious, but she was only human after all. Mistakes happened. Her focused cleaning and deft dodging skills lead her to back up towards the ballroom entrance. It wasn’t that she was blind to its existence; rather, she assumed that everyone important enough to go through those specific doors was already enjoying the party. When the ballroom was in use, Servants had to use the "hidden" doors that were made to look like they were part of the walls. No one wanted to see servants hauling out the trash so blatantly when everything around them was so pretty.

She heard nothing. Well, no, technically she heard a lot of noises coming from all directions. What she didn’t hear was the doors opening. She startled herself when the heel of her foot landed on something far too soft to be part of the door. She froze in place when she felt the thing move away from her weight. Sh*t. Riona spun around and even before she saw who she stepped on, her head was bowed low as she could go, "I am terribly sorry. Have I hurt you?" She saw the expensive-looking dress shoes and the end of equally expensive-looking pants. She could feel the temperature drop. F**k. Sh*t. F**k F**k. "... Sire."

"Oh! No, no! The fault is entirely mine. I apologize, I should have been looking where I was going." The voice above her sounded chipper, with no hint of anger. "I was distracted by this castle’s beauty. It has so much history… and is in such pristine shape! I suspect I have you and the other staff to thank?"

Riona dared not look up, but the muscles in her body relaxed. "You honor us with your kind words." Keeping her head bowed, she glided to the side. "Please, enjoy everything Caesonia has to offer."

The man thanked her, but lingered a little longer than Riona had anticipated. She took a chance to move her gaze upward. Two others in respectable, but plainer attire, stood behind the man. Most likely his servants. They appeared to be equally unfazed by the accident as their master was. Which was probably the only reason why a maid stepping on a nobleman’s foot wasn’t garnering more attention. The three exchanged hushed words, before the servants left as silently as they came in.

Riona quickly collected the remaining petals around the entrance after she watched the man walk straight towards the throne where King Edin and Queen Alibeth sat. She couldn't afford to have another incident like that happening tonight.
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The wailings of a woman pierced the ears of the coachman and footmen, forcing them to tear their gaze away from the beautiful Varian coastal landscape. It was a fine day; the sky was as clear as it could be, and the winds were warm and gentle. The kind of weather that inspired people to go on walks, just to simply enjoy it. The ideal weather for travel.

This juxtaposed the shower of tears that ran down some of the faces gathered around the horse carriage on which the coachman was perched. Even those who did not openly cry wore grim expressions, as morose as a heavy rain cloud. People near the bawling woman did their best to comfort her, but each attempt seemed to only exacerbate or spread the melancholy like a contagious disease.

The coachman didn’t —couldn’t— understand what all the fuss was about. It was just another posh party. Surely it shouldn’t warrant such grief, especially as a noble. He mentally rolled his eyes as he watched the family in front of him finally calm the woman down enough to start exchanging hugs and kisses with the man the woman was weeping for. Count Fritz Hendrix. One of His Majesty’s many esteemed guests for this year’s annual gathering.

The woman, no doubt the Count's mother, was the last to bid farewell. Hands cupped her son’s face, and she scrutinized him as if determined to etch every detail of his face to memory, before reluctantly letting the Count go so that he could board the carriage.

A herd of people followed the carriages out the front gate, waving or shouting out their good luck and take cares at the Count, who in turn waved back and reassured them he would. The coachman half-expected the herd to follow them all the way to Sorian, but the group stopped short at the border of Hendrix’s estate, continuously waving at the Count and his entourage. They stayed glued to that spot even as it became impossible to tell who was in the carriage. They were still there when the carriages turned into nothing but dots on the horizon. And the escorts from Caesonia wondered if they intended to stand there forever. Until the day Count Fritz Hendrix returned into their loving embrace.


The journey to Caesonia Castle was surprisingly agreeable with Count Hendrix. As soon as the Hendrix estate was nowhere in sight, the Count properly introduced himself and his servants to the escorts, and asked for each of their names, horses included. Throughout the trip he engaged in pleasant conversations or good-natured banter with his traveling companions. Whenever they passed something of any significance, anything ranging from a landmark to the goods sold at a store, he acted as a tour guide, entertaining them with relevant information and some less relevant stories about the place or thing. On occasion, he would buy food from vendors and share it with the others, insisting that it would be a terrible waste for the escorts to travel this far and not try out the local cuisine.

Through these interactions, the escorts got the distinct impression that, despite coming from a wealthy family, the Count was perfectly comfortable mingling with the commonfolk, and that the sentiment was mutual. At one point, when the carriage passed through a town near the Hendrix estate, the townspeople who had previously avoided the carriages baring Danrose’s family crest suddenly seemed less threatened by its existence when they recognized who was inside it. Some waved or bowed slightly in greeting. Some became brazen enough to approach and knock on the window when the vehicle had slowed down or stopped for one traffic reason or another. Each time this happened, the Count enthusiastically opened the window to exchange pleasantries with the brave soul. Perhaps it was less about being brave and more about being confident that no harm would come to them. They knew they were safe with the Count. That much was evident from their expressions.


Despite the return to Sorian being infinitely more eventful than their way to the Hendrix estate, time seemed to fly by much faster for the escorts. Regrettably so. They wouldn’t have minded if the trip lasted a little longer, but the last thing they wanted was to be punished for bringing the guest late to the party.

After thanking his escorts with words and handsome tips, the Count stood outside the carriage, staring at the marvel that was Caesonia Castle. Sorian’s crown jewel was breathtakingly majestic by every measure; an architectural masterpiece in its own right. There were very few of its kind in the Three Kingdoms, so it was near impossible not to be wonderstruck by the palace's presence.

Yet, that was not what the coachman saw on the Count’s face. Not the same awe he had felt when he first started working at the Castle. No. It was as blank as a new sheet of paper. He saw nothing there, which unsettled him more than it ought to have. Perhaps because it reminded him of soldiers heading into hopeless battle.

That was when it dawned on him that this man was going to die here.

Those mother’s tears were not an overaction to her grown child leaving the house for a fancy party. It was out of despair. Sadness derived from the knowledge that she may not ever see him again. For she had sent her boy off to war.

The coachman froze involuntarily when the Count turned to face him, noticing his intense gaze. Count Hendrix studied the face of the other man briefly before directing an understanding smile at him. "I must thank you once again for the lovely ride, Mr. Brisby."
“It was a pleasure, Lord Hendrix,” the coachman bowed his head slightly. “It would honor us to accompany you again for the return trip. Until then, please enjoy your stay.
"Why thank you. I most certainly will," he nodded before addressing the other footmen as well. "I hope you all have a wonderful day."

As he drove the carriage away from the front entrance, the coachman could not help but hope that his earlier intuition was wrong; that they would indeed meet the Count again, alive and well. They were going to take him home where his family prayed for his safe return. If he was so inclined, maybe they could take a different route back, enjoy the scenery together, and mayhap try some of the local delicacies along the way.
In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In đź—ˇ Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


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