[center][h1][b][color=DAF6C7]Ríoghnach "Riona"[/color][/b][/h1][color=DAF6C7]Time:[/color] Daytime, Sola 24th
[color=DAF6C7]Location:[/color] The Primitus Church of Sorian
[color=DAF6C7]Interaction(s)/Mention(s):[/color] [@Helo][@princess][@TpartywithZombi][@Lava Alckon][@SilverPaw][@FunnyGuy][@Rodiak][@Potter][@Apex Sunburn][/center]

Riona fixed the lordling with a long, hard look, her eyes traveling over his figure as if searching for any shred of evidence to support his claim of being fashionable. His fashion sense wasn’t bad, she had to admit—he kept up with the latest whims of the nobility well enough, and he hadn’t completely abandoned tradition for the sake of trends. But the careful blankness of her face revealed nothing. [color=DAF6C7]“If that is what you must tell yourself to sleep at night…”[/color] she said at last, her gaze sliding away to some distant point. She let the implication hang in the air between them.

The arrogance of the man, thinking he was doing her a gracious favor with his talk of olive branches when he couldn’t even be bothered to remember her words from one moment to the next. Did he really not understand what the problem she had with him was, [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5388717]even after she’d laid it out as plain as day?[/url] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5509877]Even Shehzadi Nahir had practically drawn the Lordling a diagram,[/url] but apparently his ego was too impenetrable, his skull too dense.

[color=DAF6C7]“Gods spare me from fools and slow-witted lordlings,”[/color] Riona muttered, letting her maid’s mask slip. But Lordling Smithwood was too busy prattling, and she doubted he’d even noticed. 

He was critiquing the shoes she’d left, in excruciating detail—too gaudy, too dull, unbefitting a man of his stature, on and on. Except for the lion slippers. He liked those. Because of course he would.

[color=hotpink]“I cannot understand why Lady Morrigan finds this an appropriate remedy, the burden of correcting unruly servants should not fall upon guests. This would never happen in Varian. Have I offended her somehow?”[/color]

Clearly, he didn’t expect Riona to answer, but she gave him one anyway. [color=DAF6C7]“Is it not obvious, milord? She’s waiting for you to snap. See how much you take after your father when that happens.”[/color]

Out of nowhere, the Lordling began rattling off demands about rearranging his room. Riona could only stare, incredulous. Why? What’s the point? Was this some stupid power play?

It was. 

One condescending lecture later, he strode on, so pleased with himself.

Technically, she had followed his orders about the shoes to the letter. It wasn’t her fault the young lord hadn’t specified what kind of shoes he wanted. A mistake he seemed determined to repeat, given his vague instructions about the furniture. Riona smiled to herself. [color=DAF6C7][i]Oh, this is going to be fun.[/i][/color]

Brushing down Menace, on the other hand, would be a welcome respite. She’d encountered the stallion before, helping in the stables. Prickly at first, Menace had a sweet side once you learned the trick of him. Nothing like that insufferable rider of his, she thought with a snort. Maybe she'll slip Menace an apple or two next time. He deserved it for putting up with that ass.

Inside the church, Lordling Smithwood asked, [color=hotpink]“Refresh my memory, do you worship His Royal Majesty as if he were the embodiment of a god or because the King is divinely chosen?”[/color]

Riona bit back her first response. [color=DAF6C7][i]I don’t.[/i][/color] But she couldn’t say that out loud in church, could she? So instead she recited the official line. [color=DAF6C7]“It is believed that the ruling family were chosen by the gods to lead the kingdom, blessed with perfection by Zivita himself.”[/color] Then Edin became king and his god-complex demanded that he specifically should be the object of worship. [color=DAF6C7]“Ever since His Royal Majesty ascended the throne, some have started preaching that he is more than just chosen. He is a mortal god. Born of divine blood, an avatar of Zivita himself.” [i]Blah blah blah. What a crock.[/i][/color]

As Lordling Smithwood’s attendant, Riona didn’t sit next to him, but stood against the wall near him. From her vantage point, she got a clear view of those who assembled. 

The Monets’ presence came as no shock. The real gut-punch was seeing Count Calbert. His own daughter was still out there somewhere, lost or worse, and here he was attending some stupid ceremony. Priorities, indeed. Maybe Cal had the right of it after all.

Princess Anastasia was with, what Riona could only assume was her new fling, Shahzade Farim. All thoughts of Darryn had clearly been wiped from her pretty, empty head. Darryn… Still missing, still gone. Each hour that passed without a word from him coiled the dread tighter in Riona’s gut, a sinking feeling that something terrible had happened.

Riona also spotted the Vikenas. Nerves played across the Duke’s face, but there was courage there too. Why else would he be attending this event? Lady Charlotte hovered at his elbow, but her attention seemed focused on jotting notes on a journal she carried. Of what, Riona had no clue. She just hoped that Edin’s sycophants were too enraptured by the ceremony to notice one noblewoman neglecting her most holy of duties—fawning over her blessed sovereign.

A trace of a smile ghosted across her lips at the sight of Shehzadi Nahir, memories of the last night’s dance returning to her. But the warmth flickered and died as quickly as a snuffed candle when Wulfric walked into view, his presence an icy draft that seeped into her bones and snaked around her throat. The smile faded into a taut line.

Four unfamiliar faces caught Riona’s eye. Three were complete strangers. The other, Riona recognized vaguely as one of the Shehzadi’s many servants. Four very different, but very dangerous people. It was all in the way they moved—the coiled alertness of their posture, the calculated precision of each step. They were weapons, honed and deadly. (Of course, the literal weapons strapped to the foreign duo were also a dead giveaway.)

She watched silently as the assembled took their seats. 

Then, the ceremony began, and Gods, every second of it was torture. Riona wanted to rip her ears off, listening to that stupid f**king song extolling Edin’s virtues and supposed divinity. To gouge her eyes out so she didn’t have to witness the farcical spectacle. 

But why stop at harming herself when the true objects of her hatred were right here, within reach? The very people she despised most in this world, all gathered in one place. It would be so easy, whispered a voice in her mind. She could do it now. Here, in this church, while they celebrated the glory of these monsters. What delicious irony it would be. And the best part? The Gods wouldn’t lift a finger to stop her.

Because if the Gods were real, if they truly cared about their chosen, they would have acted long ago.