< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
< updated calendar > The Fortuna calendar has been updated in the "Other" lore section! This includes a document which displays the calendar for you to see, making it much easier to understand.
< moving map > The first functional map has been released in the News section! This map is also interactive, allowing you to drag and drop between points in order to determine distances. This is the first iteration, and there's more and better to come!
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< human lore update > Humans have been updated with TWENTY-FIVE subraces/subcultures which add numerous options, and a little extra lore and flavour.
< magic lore update > Magical Lore has been enhanced with the addition of a post on Magical Education. From Beginner to Expert, this is how you learn the spells.
< a change to member groups > Member groups are now based on storyline! You can change your displayed storyline by editing the settings in your profile.
Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Post by Thomas Dunn on Mar 22, 2017 15:36:30 GMT -7
When he saw her, it was like everything had fallen into place. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her. She looked... The same. Of course it had been years - but years meant little to someone like her, especially not if she was well-fed. And if she was here. Here of all places - with him of all people -- sitting up at that table? Tom was blown away. His shoulders knocked back a little as his breath caught in his throat, and his posture slipped in the chair he had made his way over to after Red had scampered off. The boring old hag he'd been trading words with followed his gaze, and likely thought his reaction was one of a man in lust, and she chuckled and whispered to her husband. But this wasn't lust, this wasn't something so trivial and worthless. This was something greater than that - something greater than love -- greater than any feeling.
Because it was White.
She was there, plain as day, and then he had Red (a different version, of course, but Red nonetheless) here with him; Green and Black back at the hospital; a new army of his other creations; Blue and White were all he had been missing. Blue he now knew existed, and he now had Lord Woodrow to hunt for her - a boon of their new partnership. White... He couldn't have known she would be here. It was fate, just as it was fate that Blue would be on that boat; and it was fate that Violet would find him, so that she could find Black. The world wanted his innovation. The world wanted the ACACIA Project. Who was he to deny it?
"I beg your pardon," He finally managed, his posture returning to him as he returned to his conversation. The woman smiled and tapped her nose knowingly, and simply waved off his worry. "Oh my dear, not a worry at all. I've been known to turn a few heads like that in my day, too. Though-- you know who that woman is, don't you?" Opportunity. Once again, Tom smiled, and invited it.
"No, actually. Though it does seem like you'd love to tell me, and I'll be glad for hearing it," He charmed, dimples pressing his cheeks as he scooted his chair closer for the conspiratorial gossip the old hag was about to offer. She raised her brows excitedly and did nothing to lower her voice as she shared, "Her name isn't known, the darling is an enigma, though from what I hear she's quite special to Harel. Always seen with him - but not like the Black Cloak gentleman. She doesn't wear a uniform, so most think she's definitely not one of his servants, and not a Black Cloak. What I've heard is that she's his daughter from before the revolution." Tom barely held in the roll of his eyes, this woman knew nothing, "So if you wish to charm her, you might just have to go through Elias - and he seems to have a rather firm hold on her--"
"As a good father should!" Her husband punctuated, his chest puffing and his red cheeks brightening more, Tom laughed along with them and had to agree - a father needed good control of his child. But Elias Harel didn't own White. He did, and he was going to make his claim. Perhaps not tonight... But soon. His eyes floated back towards her, his wandering gaze curious to know if she had spotted him just as he had spotted her. If she remembered the way that he remembered.
Post by Violet Macar on Mar 22, 2017 16:20:44 GMT -7
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It had taken a lot longer than she had planned to get inside. Perhaps she was used to less authoritarian federal break-ins - or perhaps she was just getting old - but it had been a challenge. The shadows were few and far between (note to self: desert sunsets are later than in most other places), and since there was literally no one out walking the grounds that wasn't a guard, there was little she could do for shapeshifting with so little research beforehand... Sometimes it was better to play it safe. Still! No matter how long it had taken, she had eventually succeeded.
And now, she just had to find Elias Harel's office - or whatever desert dictators called their base of operations. The bonus was that inside there were plenty of people milling about, and rich snob was one of her tried and true characters. Once she had located the 'powder room' Violet had made her full transformation...
Lysandra Evangel was a well-dressed High Lamini woman who seemed to reek of status. Her dress was suitably tight for the more alluring figure Lysandra had compared to the unabashedly pudgy Violet, and jewels of ruby and emerald draped her frame and offered her a light jingle with each step. A shawl draped around her arms - the kind of piece that worked as an accouterment as well as it worked to block bright light when draped over her head, and her quill manifested into a ruffled silk clutch. Taking one last look at herself, she admired the fluttering length of her new eyelashes, the pout that naturally formed her lips, and the cosmetics that she had magically shifted her skin to look like. Shapeshifting was awesome - and it was times like these that she simply had to admire her handiwork.
With the business of shifting done, Violet winked at Lysandra in the mirror, and made her way out of the powder room. The halls were mostly abandoned now - the telltale voices from the hall letting her know that the main event was beginning. She'd need to be stealthy, she'd need to be charming, she'd need to be--
Scarlett? Despite the question in her mind, there was no real question that the girl she spotted at the other end of the hall was Scarlett Dunn. Without Tommy. Without anyone. Children occasionally got lost and wandered about, Violet would have to admit, but in places like this she found parents tended to keep their young strong-armed at their side. If the girl got caught she could just as soon be put in chains as lead back to the feast. There was no way Violet (Cool Mom of the Year™) would let her sort-of-kind-of-a-little-bit step daughter get in that sort of trouble. And so, keeping to the shadows...
tagged. Violet Macar | words. 359 notes. poop post. Sorry ):
[attr="class","redpost"] Red heard Papa’s moment of reverence; Papa was clear as day, no matter how far from him she was. Perhaps because he was her father, and she loved him dearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of metal he’d implanted into her brain.
In any case, three hallways away, she heard it:
White.
Her sister even hovered into her vision, from Papa’s steely eyes. She was beautiful, in the way that her sister Green was, too; unassuming, delicately lovely without knowing it.
The urge to turn back was strong; find her sister, bring her back to their slowly-growing family. Red loved her already, and she was sure –
Scarlett?
The thought was clear, directed at her – it seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place from where, and knew better than to turn over a shoulder to see who had thought it. Then they’d know, wouldn’t they? Her mind whirring, wishing she had Papa here to guide her, she did the only thing she could think to do: keep walking steadily on, hoping they would loose interest or approach.
But, despite the confidant click of polished mary-janes, the girl was twirling a strand of auburn hair ‘round her finger anxiously.
A corner was approaching. Maybe, as she rounded it, she could get a glance –
But it was only some lamini noble, one Red was sure she’d never seen before. How did she know Scarlett? Had Papa - ?
Mid-thought, the girl nearly ran right into a pair of guards glaring down at her seriously, obstructing the hallway she was attempting to sneak through.
“Oh – I’m so sorry, I was – um – where’s the bathroom?”
But it was nowhere near as convincing as earlier, smile sheepish rather than winning, hands wringing.
They said nothing, glared. Thought: dumb little brat. If she thinks a smile will get her through this hallway, she’s stupider than she looks.
“I’ll – um – look this way – ” she began, hesitant; but the taller and darker of the two guards spoke, then.
“Who are you here with, girl?” And he thought: spies come in all sizes...
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Last Edit: Mar 22, 2017 21:04:04 GMT -7 by Deleted
Post by Violet Macar on Mar 23, 2017 13:00:29 GMT -7
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Violet heard the voices of the guards before she saw them, and stopped in her tracks, pushing against a wall and melding with the shadows. A moment later, however - as the guards seemed insistent with Scarlett to the point of danger - she knew she couldn't just stand there. This wasn't just some kid, it was Scarlett.
Violet took off her shoes and held them in the same hand as her clutch, put on a smile, and stumbled out of the shadows and into view of the guards. She moved with a falsely champagne-heavy stumble, drunkeness often acting as a solution to her problems.
"Scarlett dear, you can't just run ahead of-- oh! Oh my," Violet giggled a little, but worked to keep a straight face at the guards as she approached and grasped Scarlett's shoulder with her free hand, "I am so, so sorry gentlemen. She really, really needed to-- (Violet shifted to a whisper)pee (and back to full voice) and I couldn't keep up in these heels." She lifted the shoes she was holding, their four-inch heels making it quite clear that running wasn't going to be very easy. "I am so sorry--" She squeezed Scarlett's shoulder, shifting her gaze down to Tom's sweet darling girl, "Scarlett dear, say you're sorry to the nice man."
"This is your daughter?" The guard asked tersely, clearly noticing the physical differences between the two. Scarlett with her red hair and freckled white skin - her human features - and Violet (Lysandra) with her teal Lamini colours that very clearly weren't anything close to human. The grip on his weapon tightened, and Violet just laughed, "Well, not biological. Excuse you, but just because I can't have them, doesn't mean I don't love her as much as if I did! Now--" She was suddenly harsher, her smile gone, her laugh dissipated - Lysandra was being serious, "The powder room, if you please. You wouldn't be so horrid as to want a little girl to just... Wet herself in the hall, do you?"
Suddenly, as if leaping out of a shadow (and, with a quick glance into the woman’s thoughts, that appeared to be exactly what had happened), the lamini woman was there, again, now shoe-less and stumbling. It was all an act, a brilliant one, and Red did her best to keep her eyes wide and her smile sheepish as she spun sky-blue eyes between the woman and the guards, ears pricked for the lamini’s thoughts. Who was she?
The answer was swift, obvious; Violet.
Red almost rolled her eyes. How hadn’t she guessed?
”-dear, say you’re sorry to the nice man.”
Dutifully, with all the obedience of a proper noble’s daughter, Red tucked her chin to her chest, twined her hands in front of her, spun back and forth, a child’s gotta-pee dance.
“I’m sor – ”
“This is your daughter?” The guard barreled over Red’s contrite mewl, at which she sported a pouting frown.
But Violet dodged him expertly, playing the role well enough that she nearly fooled Red; and would have, if the girl couldn’t read her thoughts.
In a fit, the girl flung her hands around her ‘mother’, face contorted.
“I’m so sorry, mama, I promise I won’t run ahead again! I just really had to go...”
And it certainly looked like she did; her feat did a mad shuffle, back and forth and back and forth, legs bowed together. She did a few little bunny-hops for good measure.
They were convinced.
“Go on, then. Third door on the left.”
And they parted, letting the two into the narrow hallway.
Red dashed ahead, playing at childlike absentmindedness, promise already forgotten.
But she knew Violet would follow; and, when she did, Red was ready.
Papa wouldn’t want her to tell Violet about her powers, and so she spun on a heel once they were a safe distance, eyes cautious.
“Why did you help me?”
She figured – to look convincing – she’d better examine the false form of the lamini.
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Post by Violet Macar on Sept 11, 2017 7:08:30 GMT -7
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It had worked! Ah, she might have been too old to be sneaking about in the hot desert sun on a fascist compound, but she certainly still had a certain je ne sais quoi when it came to talking her way out of trouble. "Thank you dears," She smiled winningly, patting one of the guards on the cheek to little response. That was how you knew they were like, totally evil. Oh well, not every heart could be won!
Starting down the hall, she looked down to Scarlett to urge the little one on, but she was already skipping down and towards the lav. Violet cast one last smile at the men before stumble-dashing her way after the girl, narrowing her eyes as Scarlett went right past the bathroom. Come now darling--! Perhaps I need to teach her espionage-- one has to at least pretend to keep the ruse-- But of course, Scarlett couldn't hear Violet's frustration. Well, not as far as Violet knew, anyhow. So Scarlett skipped on, and Violet had to follow, hoping the dullard guards had found something else to watch.
Just as Violet had caught up, just as they had lost earshot of the guards, just at the perfectly perfect time, Scarlett turned and rounded on her, suddenly questioning. Well, at least Tommy had taught her not to just trust strangers. Who knows what kind of person Lysandra Evangel was? Of course she was the kind of person Violet was - a pretty awesome person, that was - but she could have been any kind of horrible woman for all Scarlett knew. And so, Violet stood patiently as Scarlett observed her, curious what kind of instincts the girl had. "Why did you help me?" She asked, a fitting question. But then: "Who are you?" which was never going to get an answer.
"A little girl being accosted by a pair of heavily armed men? They may be guards, but that does not excuse them from cruelty... And in this country, cruelty is the plat du jour. Besides," Violet smiled and bent at the waist, fanged mouth quirking in a smile, "Us girls ought to stick together.""
Righting herself suddenly, Violet - or rather, Lysandra - eyed her way down either hall. The guards had moved on in their patrol (good) and the two were left alone, the distant sounds of the feast muffled from their distance. "Now, here's my question: What in the world are you doing so far from your mother and father, hm?"
Post by Markus Woodrow on Sept 26, 2017 20:00:38 GMT -7
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[attr="class","mwoody3"]A PREDATOR OF THE SEAS
[attr="class","mwoody4"]CURING THIS OCEAN DISEASE
[attr="class","mwoody5"] He had very much come to enjoy Pelagia's presence, and particularly the measured way in which she always spoke. Every word had a purpose, and he could clearly see that purpose playing out in front of him as she charmed Adesola Meixner. First, he could see how cleverly she had honed in on the woman as the person of interest. While it was true that Elric held more responsibility in the affairs of Atton, Adesola was the true ruler, and was one of the only women whom Woodrow truly saw as being fit to lead much of anything. Perhaps that was because of the weasel that was Elric, a waste of a man. If Adesola had married a stronger man, Woodrow could have preferred her to adhere to the true life of a woman. With Elric? Well, there needed to be someone with a crown who acted like a man, for the sake of Fiamont. In fact, that was another thing he quite enjoyed: Pelagia's comments to the wastrel proffered veiled insults, further emasculating him as he attempted to be anything but a breeding tool of his wife. At least the Stallions of Aurcaele had the honour of skill, wit, and athleticism. Elric was just convenient, which made him altogether worthless.
Unfortunately before Pelagia could charm Adesola further, emasculate Elric further, and entertain Woodrow further, Elias made his presence known. How long had he been there? Woodrow would have liked to admit he knew. The man was a bit of a shark, and Woodrow felt a (jealous) brotherhood to him in many ways. He wanted justice as Woodrow did, and while they had their differences on precisely what justice meant, the core was the same. And if nothing else, Woodrow could respect the way the man fought for his beliefs. It was unfortunate that he would need to remove the man from power soon.
"We shall," Woodrow answered, turning his head to smile at Pelagia, enjoying the closeness of her pressed against his waist, and the way that the soft smell of her hair and wings wafted to him as he shifted, "Adesola, Elric, I hope we shall continue our discussions afterwards."
"Of course, Mark," Adesola smiled courteously, "I believe Lord Xista and I will have much to discuss." And with that, she broke free of Elric's possessive hand and strode purposefully to her place, her children forming a line behind her like ducklings as she passed them by. Elric gave the two a nod before following as well, attempting to use longer strides to catch up and walk beside her, but he failed by several feet, Adesola finding her chair and sitting, ignoring his attempt at pulling the seat out for her.
"Why Adesola chose him, I'll never know," Markus whispered to Pelagia as they made their own way over, Woodrow enjoying the way people watched them. He was sure people would be trading gossip about Lord Markus Woodrow II and Lord Pelagia Xista, and at a more fevered pitch than they had after their dinner months ago. Woodrow had no problem with such talk, not this time, anyway. He still hadn't found Tehodis, and so Pelagia would be a suitable enough replacement, at least until he and Tom found his Kina prize once more.
Woodrow held Pelagia's chair for her, and then took his own place. He found it interesting how Elias had placed Pelagia directly next to himself, and Adesola on the other side. Of course the Meixner family was large, so that made sense enough for him - but he might have guessed at himself at Harel's right... Though he could not blame the man for wanting to sit beside two beautiful, and powerful women. What more could make a man look strong, commanding, and virile?
Post by Elias Harel on Sept 26, 2017 20:26:32 GMT -7
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[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] Once everyone was seated, Harel took his eyes from the crowd, and moved them to the guests at his own table. He went through the Meixner family, greeting each one personally. No, the negativity was not them. Then to Marion Nickell, she was merely bored. The Torans-- not negative, but close. He could sense the ice from Toran, obviously influenced by the many hideous beasts who inhabited his country. Next, Lord Woodrow. Previously Woodrow had been his prey, but now he was merely chum. There was no game in it, not like in the woman he had seated to his right.
Pelagia Xista was an impressive woman, and her intentions were difficult to read. They weren't simple. No, they were multifaceted, layered, and Elias enjoyed the challenge in dissecting them. Only Arzuul, Sabela, and his wife knew how important Pelagia was to him, and there likely weren't many more who saw Pelagia as more important than her Queen. Not yet, at least. No, for now... Pelagia Xista was but a cocoon. Soon she would become the moth, and he would happily be her flame. Death and life needed one another, after all, to hold any meaning.
"A pleasure to meet you, my sister," He offered, giving her his hand in the hopes of reading her intentions more clearly through a touch. She accepted, and though it was well-concealed, his Goddess' blessings told him what he needed to know. There, right there. Negativity. It was not hatred, nor murderous intent, it was simply... Discomfort, dislike, and displeasure. She had not accepted his hand of want to connect, she accepted it for propriety. That was too bad. He admired her. He held her hand firmly, his eyes connected with her's, pupils in their usual shape, and gave her his most extensive greeting of them all, "I am as pleased to meet the savior of Atton as I am to meet a familial Aasimar. May the sisters Ayniea and Streike bless us both. It is my deepest honour, Lord Xista."
With that, Harel sat down, acting as the cue for the meal to commence. Servants poured from the doors, bringing with them massive trays of plates that they used to serve every table except for the u-shape of the head tables. The meat featured for those plebeians was pre-sliced, decorated with aplomb, but paled in comparison to the display piece put before the obsidian table. It looked more like an animal than it had when it was alive, but one could still make out the human features through the strange pose and the delectable char. It was a centaur, a young one. Veal. It's legs were bent underneath it as if it were merely sitting, and it's human torso was bent back at an extreme angle, the elbows bending the wrong direction and making the form look almost like a massive chicken. It was roasted to perfection, and would taste just like horse - for, as Elias would always insist - beastfolk were animals, not mortals.
The head chef of Elias' palace made an impressive show of juggling knives and fire and cutting the creature up, serving a perfectly cut and sized portion to each of the leaders, and their children except for the Toran's, who were granted a plate of food with no meat present, Elias being well aware of their vegetarian lifestyle. When each plate had their cut the chef bowed to the leaders, then to the crowd, and offered a booming: "Buen provecho!" Permitting everyone to begin eating after they applauded his performance, and as the servers carried the remaining slices of the meat to the others in the 'u' of the head table.
Sabela watched passively as the food was brought out to great fanfare. Not her food of course - her prey was mingling here somewhere, and once dinner was finished she would begin the hunt. For now she stood behind the main table, her sharp gaze scanning the room for her prey, and for anyone who could pose a threat to herself, Elias, or any of the guests at the head table. This was an important dinner for Muerte, and Elias would surely stand for no unnecessary interruptions.
People from all over the world were here, some more or less important than others but all important enough to be present for this occasion. She recognized some from previous events and reconnaissance, and some she had never seen before. She would have to study up. A man a woman off to the side, the man pinching the woman's behind playfully as they found their seats, were a minor but up and coming duke and duchess. A younger gentleman to the side, watching the crowd much like Sabela was, was a prominent military commander. Her gaze settled briefly on a trio, an older couple and a middle-aged man; she recognized the couple, but with the man she drew a blank. Near them was another couple, an aasimar woman and her wife who Sabela was fairly certain came from Liesdro. Everyone was breaking up now though and settling in for dinner. There would be more time for mingling after the meal.
The chef began to make a show of slicing the meat. It was a centaur, young enough for the meat to be supple but big enough for a substantial meal. Sabela knew Elias was making a point with it, and she wondered how everyone would take it. Would they eat the centaur? What difference was there, really, between eating it and any other creature? It would taste just like horse. Sabela didn't see much of a difference, and Elias was here to show everyone that there wasn't. Beast-folk were just that - beasts. And this was how beasts were treated.
Post by Pelagia Xista on Sept 30, 2017 16:15:02 GMT -7
It certainly didn't go unnoticed by Pelagia where she had been seated. Placed directly to Harel's right. In any other situation it could have been seen as... interesting, to be sure. The right hand of the host of any event was often the place reserved for the person in the room the host deemed as most important. But in this situation, Pelagia only found her placement to be that much less pleasant. She already possessed a low opinion of Harel and this whole damn country. Muerte was a revolting place, an affront to Pelagia's aesthetics and values. She also already believed Elias was simply trying to worm his way into the big leagues of the world with his move to join the treaty. And so, there was no doubt in her mind that placing her next to him was little more than a poor attempt at getting close to her, to try and earn her good graces as well. Mayhap Woodrow had not been as tight-lipped about future plans as he damn well should have been, or maybe Elias truly was placing a high value on her role in bringing peace to Atton.
She allowed Markus to lead her to this unpleasant seat, but of course let none of this discomfort be displayed. If nothing else, it was nice to have a seat that she was sure Woodrow would have wanted to have for himself. Their relationship was currently such that she wasn't going to gloat over it, of course, not when they were getting along so swimmingly. But... the internal satisfaction was quite nice. It was just one of the small things that made this evening bearable.
She folded her wings behind her neatly as she settled into this seat, busying herself with scanning the faces of the people in the room while Elias went about conducting his individual introductions. Most of it was was standard fare, though he stopped for a few extra words here and there. But it was when he reached Pelagia, offering his hand, that she felt... interesting.
It wasn't so easy to describe. She took his offered hand for little more reason than it being what formality demanded, and met his greeting with her typical graceful smile, but it was only upon actually making contact, her eyes meeting his, that she felt it. What exactly was it? She couldn't be sure, but for the spell of a moment during which they joined hands, Pelagia felt as though her dislike of the man was slipping away for just a moment, replaced by... intrigue. Ah, yes, that was it. This unfamiliar sensation was that of actually taking an interest in someone whom Pelagia had completely written off mentally.
But why?
Perhaps it was in how he spoke to her. His greeting to her was longer than the others. The words felt as though they carried more weight. Perhaps it was him calling her his sister. She supposed she recalled, in some back recess of her mind where unimportant facts were placed, that he was an Aasimar as well. One of Streike, Ayniea's sister, and her bane. Perhaps it was merely the fact that despite herself, despite her inherent dislike of the land of death and those associated with it, there may have been some truth to his words, for she certainly felt some sort of... connection. She would admit to having felt a similar sensation when she dealt with the demon, Ichabod.
None of this, of course, overpowered the feelings of discomfort and dislike she held for the man in front of her, but it did, if only for a moment, seem to assuage them.
Elias took his seat when he was through with Pelagia, and she took her hand back with an unpleasant feeling in her gut. She resisted the urge to frown, which is what she very much wanted to do. She did not like Harel. And she did not like that, for a mere instant, she had almost been made to feel as though she had an equal. Thankfully, even if any of her displeasure had been present on her face, the attention was not on her for more than a moment, because Elias's team of chefs and servants began to enter the room at that point, beginning the quick and efficient process of serving up everyone's food. Pelagia allowed herself to be lost in momentary distraction during this process, her eyes closed as she took a moment to meditate. Meditation was what allowed Pelagia to regain any lost composure whenever she felt it was even mildly shaken. Connecting herself to Ayniea, renewing her sense of purpose, her conviction.
It took merely a few moments of this to make her feel herself again, all whilst Elias's head chef rambled on about whatever slop he was about to feed them. And then she opened her eyes and took in the sight.
The reaction was almost instant. Her smile dropped. She wouldn't have tried to keep it in place no matter what act she was affecting, not when me with this. She felt her heartbeat quicken, she felt as though some of the color was draining from her skin. She had just had a moment of communing with the Goddess of Life, and to see this immediately afterward... Her fists clenched. It seemed as though many of the people around her didn't even quite recognize what it was they were being fed. She saw King Toran making a disgruntled face, as though he at least could somehow tell, as though he had some sense of it despite no sight to tell him.
Pelagia stood from her seat, and she did not do it gently. She shot up with such a force that her heavy chair was knocked back, toppling over, and the clatter drew the attention of everyone at the table. And when she spoke, it was not just the table but the whole room whose eyes were on her.
"What is the meaning of this." Her words were almost quiet, but in the silence that ensued after her standing, there were none who missed them. They were harsh words. Edged words. Her gaze was fixed on Elias with a sense of righteous indignation. Her wings were no longer folded, instead extending and almost bristling. She was sure the feathers of the longest pair may have been tickling at Woodrow's face, but she could hardly care. "What is the meaning of this, Elias Harel?" she asked again, this time in a stronger volume. "You would presume to bring Muerte into the side of peace, and you would dare to serve us a centaur to dine upon?"
As the words left her lips, she heard the reactions. Not all in the room seemed bothered, but there were definitely hushed whispers now, some sounding clearly shocked. She could see the expression on Toran's face change considerably. Her words only grew louder as legitimate fury seeped into her voice. Whatever she may have been, this was not something Pelagia would abide. This was an affront to Ayniea herself. She could have destroyed Harel over this. Would that there were not so many eyes from all around the world on her at this moment. Instead, she jabbed a finger at him accusingly.
"A fiend such as you, who disgraces the very sanctity of life, has no place speaking of peace with other nations. I will not accept your bid for entrance."
And with that, she turned and marched, her heeled shoes making a furious, rhythmic click as she strode boldly across the dining hall, past the tables where various guests were looking at her with stunned gazes. It seemed as though the world stood still as they watched her, and when she smashed the silence of the room with the slamming of the door that led out of the dining hall, she could hear voices suddenly picking up from behind it, as though her exit had broken the spell.
"Summon my carriage," she said to the first guard she encountered, leveling him with a murderous glare that left no room for argument on the matter. He nodded and made for the entrance of the palace. Pelagia was left with little choice but to wait an extra few moments before she could actually take her leave of this place.
She wondered if Markus would come after her. Or Adesola, who had wished to speak further with her. She wondered, traitorously, if her actions just now had hampered her goals at all, but quickly dispelled that notion; to allow such a thing as dining on a centaur to go uncalled, unnoticed, would not win her the respect of her people. And, more importantly, it would disgrace Ayniea. That was one thing Pelagia would never allow. And she fully intended to make good on her statement; this Peace Treaty, while now having the active and worldwide support of Markus Woodrow, was not his treaty. It was Pelagia's. It was Feofil's. It was Erik's, and it was Xanthe's. It was within their power to deny Muerte entry if they so chose. Pelagia would insist upon it. Feofil would side with her easily enough, especially after hearing of what Elias had dared to serve. Erik was a Beastfolk as well; even he would side with her for once. And while Pelagia had no clue what Xanthe's stance on Beastfolk was, she doubted the woman would approve either.
And even if Woodrow didn't agree with her decision, he had signed a contract. He had made a legally binding promise to support Pelagia and her treaty. It was not for him to decide if Elias deserved entry. Sure, perhaps he could pull his connections with Fiamont and Aissic; those had never been specified in the contract, and he didn't have to bring them into the fold at all. But Pelagia suspected that, after what they had just witnessed, she wouldn't need Markus's support anymore. They would willingly join the treaty of their own accord.
After all, she doubted that Nickell and Meixner had any interest in their public believing that they supported or condoned the actions of a man who ate Beastfolk.
The skin OTHERWORLD was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
FORTUNA-RPG was created by MELLIE. Images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders. Please DO NOT take anything without the owners' permission.