[center][h1]VENERA NIKOLAYEVNA OF RUSTAVYA[/h1][/center] [hr] Vera retired at the earliest possible convenience during the ball, not so early so as to seem rude, but she was certainly not staying up til the wee hours for frolicking. She had work to do. Well, she didn’t, technically, but she always was a micromanager, and finance budgets were a delight. She was quick to change out of her clothes and jewels when she returned to her room and toss them aside, with the exception of her crown and ring, before looking over the budget on a tablet by a window, illuminated by moonlight. All very romantic, just with legislative papers, and minus the recipient of her affections. After she finished looking it over and sent back her desired changes, she read through emails sent by her Ministers of Foreign and Internal Affairs, just general updates about key persons and organizations of interests, nothing serious, unfortunately. If there was something like a coup d’etat or rebellion on the forefront, she could go home to deal with it. She was slightly tempted to ask Nikita to stage another Yusupov rebellion, but that thought was ridiculous, and would complicate things far too much. He was already branded as the son of traitors, lest she ask him to become one. Despite the nuisance, an extended foreign trip full of pointless frolicking about was far more preferable to another Yusupov rebellion. She sighed, before moving over to the bed with her tablet. It was early morning in Rustavya, far too early for anyone to be awake, but, if she remembered her programming correctly, Русtавя1 would be rerunning last year’s Голубой огонек, and Sergey Lazarev’s voice was always a nice one to fall asleep to. Settled into the sheets, she barely noticed the servants cleaning up her mess and turning off the lights as she nodded off. The Rustavyan princess did not wake at any hour on the dot. She never did, mornings were her mortal enemy, and she loathed them. Oh sure, she always showed up to her appointments on time, but in between the aforementioned appointment and getting the woman out of bed? She was not a trooper, she was cranky, and uncooperative, and very much insufferable. There were some tolerable days, ones where she was even nice, but this was not one of those days. Vera was not happy to be woken by sunlight beaming through her window the next morning. Her maids had opted to pull the windows open, a well learned routine, shaking Vera awake by force usually results in biting and/or thrown objects, sunlight on the other hand provides a groan, a grumbled; [i]“it’s too bright, have Vronsky fire a nuke at it”[/i], another huff, and a turn to the opposing side of the bed. Her tablet had died over night, to be expected, she’d fallen asleep around the time Sergey was singing Новый Год. And as usual, a maid handed her, her phone just as Dominika Vororina, head of her personal guard, came in to update her on the status of her security, and generally just to do her job. Tuning out Dominika, Vera rolled onto her back, she was awake now, so the curtains were drawn again to spare her from it’s neverending assault (and her maids from a persistently crabby mood). The daily security assessment was irrelevant; Vera trusted Dominika to handle anything that came their way, and she was far more preoccupied with the personal messages she had received yesterday and overnight when she was too busy frolicking and squeezing some work in. As usual, there seemed to be an infinite number from Yelena, annoying taunts from her brother, ever the businessman, Vlas was curious about the cuts of the various diamonds and gemstones worn by others, and of course memes and jokes from her ever disinterested cousins, but first to be opened were the splendidly adorable and infuriating ones from Nikita. His cosmonautics conference was going well it seemed, bastard even sent her pictures of goofy poses in front of a new model of Pluto. He did fulfil his promise of a knock-off moon rock though, plus a witty comment and autograph from her favourite cosmonaut to go with it. He sure does know the way to a girls heart. “Ma’am,” said Dominika a little harshly, pulling Vera out of her little day dreamy world, “if you could please pay attention today.” Vera pouted in turn. “What does it matter Dominika, you’ll kill anyone before they can get anywhere near me.” “True,” Dominika conceded, “but it’s not a physical threat. Well, it’s not particularly a big threat at all politically either, but perhaps you should take a look at this paper, it’s an Aciran tabloid, the Lyston Daily.” Vera rolled her eyes, and honestly, felt quite betrayed, [i]how long had you been working for me Dominika?[/i] she thought. “What could a rag such as that possibly contain to either interest or hurt me?” “It concerns your friends.” she said, handing Vera a newspaper. “Well, friend, and barely tolerated companion.” Sighing, Vera took the paper and skimmed through the contents, feeling her blood boil. “Game of thrones? [i]GAME OF THRONES?[/i] It’s A Song of Ice and Fire you uncultured swine!” she shouted, tossing the papers across the room, and scatting them over the floor. Though her servants didn’t jump at the display. They were used to this. Largely speaking, their Princess was a calm, rational person, but when it came to her passions, she was, well… passionate. “Every time some stupid plebeian calls my most beloved series game of fucking thrones, 3 years are shaved off my life.” Vera huffed, very much crossing her arms and pouting like a child. “Yes, ma’am, we’re all aware.” Dominka recalled a poor newbie ISO guard trying to connect with Vera over it once. The guard was swiftly reassigned and never seen in the capital again, though, from the trauma he received that day, Dominika was certain he’s pleased to never have to step foot in Vokshod again. Growling, Vera reexamined the section about her friends(-ish). “I also don’t appreciate this nonsense about Yelena and Erik. I presume we can’t simply… relocate this woman, say to siberia?” Dominika simply shrugged. “We could, but not quietly. Otherwise I already would’ve done so. I still could deal with if her if you’d like, but wasn’t the reason you were commanded by His Majesty to attend instead of the Grand Duke to avoid such a diplomatic incident?” Vera sighed. “That’s true. Hate him as I do, my father still is King, and I cannot simply disregard a genuine command. But keep an eye on this paper, particularly so that I don’t have to lay my eyes on this trash ever again. Send a report to Sokolov, Gagarina, and Volkova as well. This doesn’t print in Rustavya, if it can’t be completely avoided, make sure to report it as a personal attack on the Crown and those dear to us. And be sure pull any press access this company may have, and deny them and all extended relations entry into the country. Block their website too. Rustavya does not take kindly to this form of [i]journalism[/i]. It’s an insult an otherwise noble profession.” Dominika nodded, deciding to keep her comments about Vera’s treatment of genuine journalists to herself, she’d bring it up later once the Princess’s Game of Thrones rage was out of her system. After another nod, this time in form of respect instead of “mission-accepted”, she made her exit to fulfill in a timely and succinct manner. As for the Princess, she pettily blacked out the bit reading Game of Thrones, before rereading the paper yet again, more attentively this time; viewing it as a poorly written report by an inept local mayor trying his best to force herself to get through it. It was trash, just as she had initially thought, and not particularly coherent. Well, not to her at least. She didn’t understand all the fuss about a hat. The meme Natalia sent her last night about Coriolanous was far more hilarious. The end of the piece did make her laugh though. [i]“Team Venera’s BFF”[/i], Yelena would not like that. She had fame in her own right. She is no one’s daughter, sister, nor friend, she is Yelena Fabergé; supermodel, humanitarian, and budding actress. Tossing the paper aside, Vera finally rolled out of bed to get ready for the brunch. It was only breakfast, in the midmorning, but she was the official representative of Rustavya and trousers and a blouse simply would not do. It was a semi-formal occasion, not a meeting of the Royal Republic Council after all. She opted for her mauve dress, it was light and simple, relatively speaking, Thin traps, a nice little v cut in the back, and decorated with elaborate beads and flowers running down it. She even remembered the designer this time, Giorgio Armani, though only because Yelena had dragged everyone to Armani’s show. She chose less jewels this time around, well, she decided to go for nearly none. One didn’t need to break out the Fabergé originals for eggs and muffins, though she did wear the forget-me-not ring again, but for sentimental reasons. And, course, some diamonds needed to adorn her head. Just a simple band, nothing too elaborate nor heavy, but shiny all the same. She kept her makeup simple, light and breezy, well, as light and breezy as Vera could get. Just a pale eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, and what's the point of lipstick if it's not a shade of murder red? [hider=Vera’s Outfit] [center] [img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/0bc1afbf59b4bda80cad6b36e1018938/tumblr_plep48n8GN1y1jsgzo1_500.png[/img] [/center] [hider=also her ring again, it’s really pretty okay?] [center][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/3c51d2eccdd4634f59bac4cbc2d659d7/tumblr_inline_plepdwUIN31vlja53_250.png[/img][/center] [/hider] [/hider] Once dressed, Vera didn’t actually head down to the brunch until a bit later. Vokshod was 8 hours ahead, meaning all the news channels would be reporting the events of the day, and there was a propaganda bill she hoped the Duma would overturn. It was a stupid law anyway designed by the former Minister of Internal Affairs. Also, she didn’t want to be too early to the brunch. It’s too early to socialize with strangers! After watching the news for awhile, she decided to brace herself and go through all of Yelena’s texts. And Vasily once called her a jealous hoe. Confident as she is, Yelena was, expectedly, not pleased about Erik and [color=FireBrick][i]“Princess whatever of whatever”[/i][/color], as Yelena texted, being anywhere within the same vicinity of each other. She was, expectedly, irritated by the tabloid too. Vera assumed she got a copy before they pulled it. Or someone from ISO informed her. Or possibly Erik himself. [indent] [color=FireBrick][i]First of all, there are no teams. I’ve already won bitch.[/i][/color] [/indent] Ah, Vera could envision the brunette now. If this were Rustavya, they would probably be in Vera’s study in the east wing, Vera pouring over some document as Yelena paced around ranting and correcting every small incorrect fact, even typo, as well as pulling out a random book and giving it to vera in guise of “helping” with her work. The book was always completely irrelevant, the stack of books was a nuisance, but it made Yelena feel better, so whatever. [indent][color=FireBrick][i]Second, tf does she mean by “Team Vera’s BFF”, I have a name. And it’s worth more than her entire fucking paper.[/i][/color] [/indent] That’s actually true. The Fabergé’s have a networth equal to a few small countries combined. In Rustavya, their wealth is only second to Vera’s, mostly because her wealth is the entire country’s wealth (there is a big gap between their networth’s though). [indent][color=FireBrick][i]Also, where tf does she get off not using titles? I don’t care if it’s trash, respect your rulers.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Okay, you may not be their Queen, one day, but you’re royal![/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]And did you see that stupid thing about a catfight? Bitch please! And I know you’ll say something like “cats are too good for this”, or whatever, but like it’s so stupid anyway. Has she seen me? I love Erik, but I don’t need to fight anyone.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Okay, maybe Empress C one day.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Also, bitch, the fuck?!!?!!! Why didn’t you wear the black dress! It goes with the egg pendant, and has that Targaryen/Sauron’s-dad look you like.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Speaking of your dragons, did you see the thing about game of thrones? Like urg, read a fucking book.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Also, the fuck is that shit about a hat? That is so a massive runway faux pas from like a decade ago.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Also, also, some good news, Vasya’s latest gf dumped him, called him a bitch as she left. She’s our new best friend.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Also, also, also, did he seriously not interact with her at all? I mean, I trust him, but I still don’t wike it.[/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i]I’m not one to talk, but holy fuck you need to chill.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Yeah, you’re not, so shut up.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Actually no, gimme details on what’s going on. [/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]He told me he’s going to talk to pw, he trusts her, but I don’t know her at all. She could be a Catherine loyalist like you.[/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i]I am not, I’m just a fan![/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i]And Idk it’s morning here I haven’t talked to anyone except Dominika and the maids.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]Then fucking go! I don’t wanna be mean about his friend, so I’m not talking to him right now.[/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i]“You just called her Princess whatever of whatever like 30 times!”[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]GO. DEAL. WITH. IT.[/i][/color] [color=FireBrick][i]pwease...[/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i]Urg, I’m a bad bitch, you can’t order me around and then try to pull at my heartstrings.[/i][/color] [color=LightBlue][i](I’m going, I’m going)[/i][/color] [/indent] Stretching herself out a little, Vera made her way down to the tea parlour or wherever. She had a guard escorting her of course. She did notice the nearby library, and made a note to herself to get to it asap, though in the meantime, she did have an important reason to stick around brunch for a bit. And it kept buzzing her phone. [indent][color=LightBlue][i] Don’t annoy me so early in the morning! [/i][/color] [/indent] She texted Erik back. She was serious of course, but purposefully didn’t explain exactly what about his text was annoying her. [i]Let him stew and suffer for a bit[/i], she thought to herself. When she finally got to the brunch, Vera was displeased. Like any normal human being, she certainly adored chocolate, but this much and at this early an hour (any time before 1pm is too early), not to mention the truly horrific colour scheme. If she were a commoner, she might regurgitate. But Vera was Vera, she simply sighed inwardly, plastered on her princess mask and looked for some bagels and a drink, before deciding to seek out Erik. No man on earth is truly worthy of Yelena, but she hated to admit he was indeed a close second. Even if he wasn’t, Yelena wanted him, for more than simple fun, and it would be the height of hypocrisy for Vera to deny Yelena’s right to choose her partner given Vera’s own love life.