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Post by Viktor de Winter on Jan 18, 2013 15:05:35 GMT -5
Viktor stood at the edge of the room; and fought to urge to make a blood scene. Everyone around him was laughing; and enjoying the bitterly too sweet drink that was favored in this parts. Something light; cold and tasted of part water; too much spice; and just enough good quality ale to make a head spin if they were light of weight. The drink was a bloody reminder of how different his forced home was; and while he was not bitter for his exile--hell; he was a king now thanks to that bad decision--it was ironic.
The light fizzing drink was meant to help keep one cool in the late light heat; rather than the thicker harsher stuff of the north that could warm a belly from one drink. He wore only a shirt with his pants; and boots; while up north they’d put men in this and push them into the cells for disobedience. Without laying a hand on a man; they could break him.
He was watching the queen; and ageing plumb woman; who seemed to get along with everyone. She was however; beginning to look for her daughter’s entrance; and soon she would wonder why she was not at the ball yet. His men needed more time to get the girl away; and Viktor had the job of being the distraction. When it appeared the queen was going to go find out what was keeping the child; Viktor pushed from the wall and knew he had to interfere.
As he moved deeper into the room; people stared; for he wasn’t of their like. He had not cleaned up his appearance either to soften the blow. Lifting the glass as he walked he crossed the room and drank it quickly; before stepping in the queen’s path. Lowing the empty glass he tossed it to a noble man’ giving him the option of catching it; or letting it shatter at his feet. He clapped his hands slowly; letting the echo of one clap rebound the large--and now silent--room before he clapped again. “I must give credit; where credit is due;” He told her; and held his hand wide to gesture to the all the rich flipatry. “You do know how to entertain a guest.”
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Post by Lady Sybbyl de Bors on Jan 23, 2013 19:00:22 GMT -5
Sybbyl looked up at the steps again, and took a slow deep breath. Where was she? Syrin was late for her own coming out ball, and Sybbyl was trying not to worry. Surely, she was nervous! Yes, she must be nervous. Perhaps she could not pick out flowers for her hair, or feared they would not hold the night? At her calming breath, Sybbyl decided to give her daughter just a half hour before going up there and finding out what was taking so long.
Syrin had seemed excited for tonight, and perhaps that has turned to nerves. Taking a small sip of the wonderfully refreshing wine, Sybbyl played hostess while mentally marking the time. Her husband had excused himself and a few of the noble men to discuss something of importance. He had half an hour too before she would pull him here for the first dace which he would partner his daughter in.
Everything needed to be perfect! Which was why, a half hour later she excused herself and made her way toward the steps--only to be stopped by the must vulgar looking of men. He had markings on his face and hair that looks to have not been cut nor brushed in ages. AND his rudeness! Uncalled for! “Even the uninvited ones.” Her eyes looked toward the guards behind him, who stood at the ready to move forward if she but lifted her hand. Glancing behind her she gave a nod to a man who rushed off to find where her husband had buried himself in politics at. When she face the man again, she spoke with the voice of a queen, and one whom had ruled for many years. “Clearly you forgot you manners as well as your grooming. One bows before a queen.”
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Post by Viktor de Winter on Jan 25, 2013 22:12:42 GMT -5
Viktor chuckled at her accusation of having no manners; and no grooming. He had not though he was so under dressed until he came here. But then he really had not cared. ignoring her insults; he instead focused on her title; for it was his opening to give his as well. Everyone might know his name; but not many knew his face. After tonight; they would know both.
"Peasants might be in awe enough to bow; and this overly primped nobles might fear your husband enough to do it too;" He was being insulting; and knew it would keep everyone's attention here. No one was thinking of the little girl up in her room. Reaching forward he slowly took her hand and lifted it to him lips; just to annoy the armed men behind him. "But I am Viktor de Winter; and a king bow before no one." His voice dropped to a lower tone in the end; more serious and threatening.
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Post by Lady Sybbyl de Bors on Jan 27, 2013 12:35:31 GMT -5
"You are no king!" She hissed at him, and then looked back at one of the guards, "He was warned not to return to this land, and if he did it would be under pain of death." Looking toward the murder who had refused to die Sybbyl continued her words, refusing to let this vile man ruin her night---Her night! Looking up at the steps she became grateful that Syren had let to come down! This was her daughter's night and this . . . . this . . . this horrid man choose it to make a stand?
"You are murder, and you were sent to the north to either live with the rest of your kind or die. We do not like excusing people, but you were given a chance. Coming back here served you no purpose! If you wanted to play king you should have done it back in your snow. There you might have some false power, but here you are still nothing but the common criminal that values gold over lives!" Something she had never understood! People in these kingdoms fought and died for gold! For power! As a Mage she had never learned to value it above the wealth of the heart! It was why she loved her husband! He did not value gold, but wanted peace for his people and for them to thrive!
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