[center][h1]VENERA NIKOLAYEVNA OF RUSTAVYA[/h1][/center] [hr] Vera sighed as her attendants wandered about the room, preparing her attire for the evening, one attendant in particular presently adding some waves to her golden hair as she sat in front of the vanity. The heir of Rustavya was displeased, she loathed extended events solely for the purpose of follicking. In all honesty, her entire family did, they all refused their invites, but as the highest ranking member of the family, outside of the king, Vera was forced (commanded) into attending, one must keep up diplomatic relations in an ever more globalized world afterall. She hated weddings. They were all the same. Pledge this, vow that. As the dothraki say, a wedding without at least three deaths is a dull affair, and most weddings Vera had attended in all her life had none. Alright, all of them have been death free thus far. Except one, which was an almost wedding and does not count. A story for another day. In any case, Vera found weddings to be maddeningly boring. She prefered cabinet meetings, diplomatic negotiations, tours of ISB facilities in the frozen military bases of Sibírj, not small talk with people she barely knew. She knew [i]of[/i] them of course; the spy agencies of Rustavya were very diligent in their work, some may say too diligent, and she was provided with a detailed and extensive account of everyone who would be present. Their views and hobbies interested her little, she would much rather be debating tax law with the Minister of Finance. However, the exasperated princess’s mood perked up a little when her phone vibrated to notify her of a video call, the icon of the dark haired man with a ridiculously sharp jawline making her smile softly. Sliding the little green circle across her screen, she immediately addressed him Rustavyan. “I still don't understand why you couldn't come.” Her caller chuckled, his stupid (pretty) face shining brighter than the sun. “It's simple,” he said, “they only invited royals and I’m not one. Vasya didn't get an invite either.” “That's because he's not a prince.” Vera retorted, before sighing again. Nikita Yusupov could always improve her mood, but reminders of his friendship with her half-brother immediately soured it. “Where are you anyway?” she asked, observing the surroundings in the background. “Tsar Gorod,” Nikita said, switching to the camera’s view to show her the bridge his driver was passing through. “There’s a cosmonautics conference being held at Petrograd University tomorrow.” Vera groaned in annoyance. “I’ve never hated you more in my entire life!” she said, leaning back to petulantly cross her arms. Here she is, stuck on the other side of the world having to make small talk, and he gets to hang out with literal rocket scientists. Nikita smirked. “I know, I’ll buy some knock-off moon rocks you.” “You better.” Vera let out yet another sigh, at this rate she could provide enough carbon dioxide for every tree in the world. “How’s Yelena, I thought she was going to sulk with you.” “She dropped herself off at Zima Palace, apparently she’ll be using Natalia for comfort now.” “Hah, good luck with that.” said Vera laughing. “Natalia’s colder than me.” “I know. Yelena also told me to remind you to make sure that Princess whatever of whatever, her words, doesn’t touch Erik. Ideally, they shouldn’t be breathing the same air.” Vera lazily waved her left hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, “she already sent me texts. 78 of them to be exact. She even tried to reason with me by bringing up Alina Radonova.” Nikita shifted uncomfortably, his quick expression of unease not missing Vera’s eye. “That’s not the same thing as the Princess of…um...” “Notia.” she finished, “I know, but it did work. I related. And it’s not like there’s much else for me to do here anyway, may as well keep an eye on her precious little soldier prince.” “I’m sure you’ll find something to amuse yourself with, you love politics.” Nikita quickly replied, attempting to change the subject, exhaling in relief when Vera let him. “This isn’t politics, it’s a party for a child. A lot of parties for a child. Vasya is better suited for this kind of thing.” Nikita snorted. “Better suited for setting everything on fire. You know he’d cause endless problems for people, probably get himself killed too.” “If only.” said Vera wistfully, before sighing yet again. [i]Time to play diplomat[/i], she thought to herself. “Make sure you give me a detailed report on the conference.” “Yes, Your Highness,” he said, giving a mock salute, before his expression soften. “Aōhon iksan,” he said, speaking in an entirely fictional language, which warmed the Rustavyan Rrincess’s frozen heart like no phrase in Rustavyan could. “Ñuhon iksā,” she said in return, flashing him a bright smile before ending the call. “Idiot,” she muttered fondly, leaning back in her seat to allow her attendants to finish her makeup before dressing her. Her makeup was simple, a light coat of eyeliner, a pale silver eyeshadow, nothing too extravagant or eye catching, though she did opt for a dark red. To give off the vague impression that she’s ready and able to kill a man. Her hair was done up rather simply too, just two braids running along the side of her, meeting into a small rose design in the back, but her was decorated with the diamond and pearl tiara which once belonged to her mother. Her gown was the real spectacle. Two tones of winter blues, made of light flowing material, and decorated with crystallized embellishments. It gave off a very winter princess, and considering the climate of Rustavya, appropriate. Luxurious as it was, Vera didn’t know who designed her gown. Fashion was always Yelena’s thing, Vera’s style choices could simply be summed up as [i]“Tsesarevna like, Tsesarevna wear.”[/i] Her jewels on the other hand, Vera was acutely aware of who was responsible for them. The literal gems of her country, Vera was adorned with Fabergé creations, with the sole exclusion of her tiara. The Fabergé’s had given her the matching Scheherazade set; a long pendant and dangling earrings made of custom-cut plaques of lilac jasper and mounted on borders of gold and silver, set with white and pink diamonds, and fine white pearls. The set was paired with the Nymphéa Bracelet, created in homage to Monet’s waterlilies and the art of the original Fabergé. Set in platinum, yellow and white gold, and silver, the diamonds are coloured white, blue, yellow, violet, and black, and are surrounded by rubies, aquamarines, alexandrites, amethysts, fire opals, moonstones, paraiba tourmalines, tsavorites, spinels, and blue, pink, violet, and padparadscha sapphires. Her ring, however, while another Fabergé creation, did not come selected with the outfit. Resting on her right index finger, it was a gift from Nikita, the Forget Me Not Ring. A tiny field of densely clustered forget me not flowers, mounted in gold and silver, the flowers are set with white, blue, and pink diamonds, violet sapphires, alexandrites, moonstones and fire opals, and their leaves and stems are set with emeralds, their centers set with rose diamonds. After she slipped on her silver heels, Vera appraised herself in the full length mirror. She didn’t lack self-confidence, but she wasn’t particularly prone to vanity, however, she did look darn good. She might die of boredom tonight, but at least she’d leave behind a stunning corpse. [hider=Vera’s Outift] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/b445b6f8e1f1658cf419f0954565b11a/tumblr_pjvaniG5Gp1y1jsgzo3_1280.jpg[/img] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/25a3fc0d21eeb671d455668ce39116fa/tumblr_pjvaniG5Gp1y1jsgzo1_1280.jpg[/img] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/0f2691381805f62afa6079e550766f39/tumblr_pjvaniG5Gp1y1jsgzo2_1280.jpg[/img] [hider=dress in full] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/e16ccf6fb3519e186b03b3858b5fbbf4/tumblr_oyjfl8hLzQ1uwz7ceo1_1280.jpg[/img] [/hider] [/hider] As she followed her guards down to the ballroom at the appointed time, Vera attempted to take in the architecture of the palace, but she was biased. No one was ever going to top the style of the old Tsars, so why bother. Okay, fine, Veredunians had some nice palaces, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to any of their faces. Before they ran into people, Vera plastered on her well practised sweet Crown Princess Venera expression; the key to a fake smile is to avoid it being too tight nor too soft, give off the vague impression that you care, while making sure somewhere in the back of their mind, they remember you have an endless supply of weapons of mass destruction, and that dissidents have a habit of… [i]disappearing[/i]. Show the beauty, and only give glimpses of the iron underneath. As routine, she greeted the Aciran royals, addressing first the regnant Queen, and her consort, then the former Monarchs, and lastly the young royal. She said hello, but did not bow nor even slightly lower her head, she doesn't bow for her own father, and she certainly isn't going to do so for foreign royals. In her defense, no Rustavyan would bow to other royals either, so there is that. Vera repeated her rehearsed lines about their lovely palace, and ever so polite and courteous servants. She even avoided making a rude comment about some of their more idiotic (her words) politicians. She congratulated the young Aciran Princess on her upcoming nuptials, and then immediately set out in search of some vermouth, or really, anything with a high percentage of alcohol would do.