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[color=808080][color=ba8f1a][b]#ba8f1a[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/w7k70F9][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [color=068b8c][b]#068b8c[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/cNmOL5I][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]cavern ballroom[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The heir of House Ganasen always relished the chance to partake in a celebration, but was surprised by the lavishness and quaintness of a Storvane feast. The rock-hewn, cavernous interior made the festivities feel like some lurid affair more than a grand celebration. Of course, Imran would not complain regardless of which this turned out to be. For now, he would settle to fulfill his role as the dutiful son. He stood up straight, one arm held out for his sister as they followed the procession into the hall. He had a polite smile stretched across his lips, his eyes taking in the sights as his mind wandered. His gaze did fall to the other lords and ladies, lingering on them a bit too long before flicking towards the next set.

[color=068b8c]”Try not to be as forward as you are with your courtiers, dear brother.”[/color] Zhara’s tone was as clipped as it was quiet. Her eyes remained fixed forward, her own fake polite smile on her lips hiding the bite of her words. One hand smoothed the skirt of her dress [color=068b8c]”You are, by your nature, our best chance at making advances.”[/color]

Imran's smile faltered for a mere moment, a fiery sting in his gaze as he glanced at his sister for a moment. He took a beat to settle the flurry of vitriol that rose in his chest like a rogue wave. It was best to let her have her fun, while she could. [color=ba8f1a]”It is not like you to surrender so quickly.”[/color] There was humor in his whispered words, diverting and guiding his sister to her assigned spot at the table with the grace of a much more honorable gentleman. [color=ba8f1a]”I'm sure there is a lord here desperate enough to endure your bile for the rest of their short life.”[/color]

Zhara smiled politely in response, her eyes lingering on the faces of the other ladies who were approaching their assigned spots near the Prince. The corner of her mouth curled up into a smirk as she saw how far she was placed from the favored son. It didn’t take a genius to understand the implication, one she had been warned of by her own mother. Independence, intelligence, and industriousness were traits that didn’t suit the ideals of a woman whose only skills involved lying horizontally, or so the Duchess had said on the procession into the keep. Zhara knew full well she would be considered an undesirable match for Dorian, but knew well not to discount the machinations of anyone in the room. She was here for the formality alone, as far as she was concerned. She would take the opportunity for leisure as it came, before returning back to the waves that rocked her to sleep. Life chained to the crown would certainly prove more a sentence for her than she was willing to entertain.

Those thoughts were far too raw to share in passing whispers. [color=068b8c]”Oh… you are not strong enough to hear my harshest critiques, Imran.”[/color] It was a quick and simple deflection, another light barb to encourage her brother to just pull her chair and leave her be. It seemed rather effective, as she nearly tripped over the hasted steps of her older sibling. They arrived at her seat rather quickly, and Imran was gracious enough to at least slide out his sister’s chair just enough. Zhara offered a polite bow of her head in thanks, running a hand under her dress as she settled down. Imran slid the chair forward just enough for her to settle in, looking up to offer a flirtatious grin to the other ladies for a mere moment. Zhara, on the other hand, offered the other gathered ladies a polite bow of her head.

Imran did have a princess to charm, or at least attempt to. He gracefully stepped around the ornate chairs as he rounded the end of the table, catching a glance of the Princess Rhea with the eldest Járnbjørn. Their exchange seemed remarkably intimate. The game had already begun, it seemed, and he had missed the chance for the first move. As he continued, his eyes briefly locked onto the eldest princess Maeve. She bore the regality expected of a Storvane, a bemused smirk crossing his lips as he noted how manicured her appearance was. He wished he was lucky enough to have a chance to dine with her, just for the opportunity to chip away at the poised guard she would clearly have raised. Instead, Imran continued to circle the table until he found his station, sitting himself down in his seat and immediately lifting his empty glass to the side wordlessly. A servant approached cautiously, filling the cup as the Lord’s gaze fell across the table to Princess Rhea. He lifted his chin proudly, speaking with a warm confidence. [color=ba8f1a]”I see Lord Járnbjørn has put the rest of us suitors at a disadvantage, Your Grace.”[/color] The smile and mirth made clear he was in high spirits, unbothered by Elrik’s bold flirtations so early in these meetings; if anything, It made the sport far more interesting. [color=ba8f1a]”I cannot blame him, I must admit. Your laugh has brightened the arduous journey to your lovely home.”[/color] [/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] rhea [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Maeve, Rhea, Elrik, Dorian [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] None[/color]
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