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What if *I* was the small creature all along?
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O . O staring
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OooooooOooOOOOooooooOOOOOooOoooooooOOooOOOOoooOo
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5 yrs ago
V.1.26 (House of Caecilius Iucundus); 4091: Whoever loves, let him flourish. Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.
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The border was quiet. It has been for a while now. There was a time, not too long ago, in fact, when Commander Mardex had led the far left flank in the Meratid conflict, that he had hoped for a bit of quiet. Now it crushed him from within. Look at him! Was he not still a warrior? Did he not still serve with the same zeal, the same passion for glory, as he did when Rughoi was yet the farmer-king, who rose up against his dracon oppressor and led his people to victory? Questions like these plagued his mind, as he sat under the cover of this large pavilion built along the Talon Pass. Surrounding him were commanders, chiefs, and handfuls of captains, warlords, and kobolds of other titles, enough to nearly pack the tiny space full. He knew well enough that lower-ranked officers, both within the imperial system and without, were crowded around the tent outside, listening for every scrap of conversation that might imply a decision.

Between them all, sat the very reason for this near-secret meeting. A book, bound on leather and thick enough that it required two of the strongest legionnaires to carry it. A book recording the history of human nobility tradition, and the titles used within the human empire across the sea. They had all read it, they who surrounded the low table. These were most, if not all, of the major players in the burgeoning game of politics within the imperial army. It was very possible that no three people in this inner circle kept the same title.

"I call this meeting to order," Commander Mardex said, staring at the pages. "Let us hear some preliminary thoughts." Shouts of dissent immediately followed, challenging his right to call the meeting to order, followed immediately by questions regarding the necessity of this meeting and the risk of threatening Rughoi's legitimacy. "I promise you, there is no threat to His Might's hold over us. He is unquestionable, that we know without doubt. This is merely an . . . agreement. Between us. To cement our power within the court and to centralize the kobold peoples within His Might's order." Mumbles, both sarcastic and concurring. At least they daren't say anything to his face.

"I agree. We are the most loyal out of anybody to Rughoi's vision of a free kobold people," said Chief Vajra, standing up and leaning on his staff. His mangled leg was on display for all to see, Vajra's final word on any who doubt his loyalty. If the rumors are to be trusted, he lost it dueling a dracon captain in the assault on Traeton. "We are aware that the military is in shambles. There is no trust, no loyalty. Look at us now. Over in the corner are Rajas, around the entrance stand the Warlords, and sprinkled around are the Underkings." Nods, nods at his words. "With this, we hope to fix all this. We hope this will finally bring the entire army together, as one empire, the way His Might intended."

"Thank you, Chief Vajra," Mardex said. "So, in short, we are assuming titles that will finally be universally recognized, as well as make clear distinctions between the ranks. So, to begin, let's look at what the book calls a 'Vasileus Vasileon Vasileuon Vasileuonton'. That would be, without question, Rughoi." Shouts of praise, as well as prayers to Arda, followed the naming of that particular title. A chant started up for Rughoi's name, but quickly fell silent. "Now, it says here that right under that . . . that, is the 'Dukoi', or the 'Dux'. They are the greatest in power under the emperor himself, and serve closest with him." Immediately, the meeting was in chaos, with each of the ranks vying for that name.

"Silence!" shouted Vajra, and they did. Mardex acceded to himself that if anyone got to be a Dux, it would be Vajra. "Now, we have decided to surrender this title. "Now, if Raj Shavan, Commander Rebat, Underking Qerso, and Raj Azarg could join us at the front." With a shuffling, they did. "Now, the six of us, together, shall be the Dukoi. We, together, hold far more power than the rest of the room combined. I think it should go to us. Any objections?" Some did, but none loud enough to make themselves known in the crowd. Rebat nodded, silently.

"If this means I may better serve His Might," he said, gravely.

"Good, we're all in agreement," Mardex said. "Dux Mardex. I think it fits. Now, as for all bearing the name of Underking, as well as Rajas Risi, Xolot, Ervan, Zati, Vaishya, and Commanders Qort, Mazant, Kezlin, and Vargan, shall be granted the next title down, the Count." It was a dracon title, and they knew it. The complaints began rolling in. "We know, alright!? We know! But recall, if you will, that Rughoi took the name Count of Traeton, to appease the dracon mercenaries. And besides, it was adopted from an early human society, so that is that." With help from the other Dukoi, the new Counts finally came to terms with their burden. "Chiefs, Rajas, Marzobans, and Commanders not previously mentioned, as well as Captains Tilx and Sabil, will thus be assigned the title of Strategos. All remaining members of this meeting will be titled Legates, and those not present shall keep their styling of Captain. Now, are we in agreement?" There were, fortunately, no objections to that. Everybody now designated Strategoi and Legates were outside.

"Good. Praise Scen, and praise His Might," Vajra said, gravely. "Everyone will, of course, keep this meeting secret. It won't do for His Might to find out immediately that everything has changed." Nobody said anything but mutters.
" . . . Thank you," Ardasa said, between breaths. She was shaken, shaken in a way she had not been in a long time. The images, they were still too clear in her head. What did it all mean? Her children . . . are they destined to fight each other, to be poisoned by fate and their own efforts, to lose the empire once again to vengeful dracon hands? "I'm scared, Kali," Ardasa admitted, after a period of silence. "Scen might not be able to protect my children from the hands of war. What if . . . what if one of them is killed? Or both of them? What am I to do as a mother?" Their haunting faces, so many expressions locked within, all bursting out before her like the colors of the sky after a rain. That, she is sure will haunt her for the rest of her life. So too would the harsh faces of the stone legionnaires, and worst of all those eyes. Eyes without a body. Eyes full of malice, hatred brought upon not just her, but all things good and living. "Please . . . I need to be left alone. Just for a bit."
@Shadow Dragon Oi. Stop pinging me. I'm always here.
"You wished to see me, grandfather?" Estazar whispered. Just earlier, she had been pacing outside those great woven flaps that separated the diadem room from the main hall, for how long she could not say. The sun stood at its greatest height when she had entered the palace. It was now rapidly approaching night. Would she be in trouble with grandfather? Would he be displeased at her lateness? Does he even recall her meeting with him? She stopped, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, in a near perfect emulation of one of the statues in the main hall. It was of the death of Vedad "the Arm of Wise Fire", who brought the Garmardom and Giyamardom under the sway of the shahdom. The statue depicted him kneeling, clutching at a spear rammed through his chest by the last Chief Bizamid "the Infidel" of the Garmardom, when Vedad and his band of converts were ambushed in the mountains. The way Estazar felt, she might as well have been pierced as thoroughly as he. The longer she waited, the more her grandfather would be angry with her, but the sooner she approached, the sooner his wrath came. Enough! She pulled the flaps aside, and called to him.

Her voice carried across the silent room, bouncing off the marble and sandstone, refracting her one voice into hundreds. The room was dark, with the blinds pulled down over the glass such that only minuscule amounts of the evening sun may enter. At the end of the room sat the diadem of Shah Demes, perched on its place so far above her. The blinds, by design, would not stop the sun from shining upon the diadem, and each of the five jewels embedded within it were alight, as if the gods were peering through them at her from the other side. To its immediate left, sat in a humble stone chair with an arm propping up his face, was her old grandfather, who in his sleeping form, looked as if dead. Perhaps he had not even heard her at all, and she could sneak off before he awoke.

"Don't bother thinking about it," boomed Shah Koudad's voice, more emanating from his still form than speaking. Estazar yelped in fright, and nearly jumped straight back into the hall. Koudad's eyes snapped open, to reveal the brilliance beneath. Harsh green eyes, rarely found in the entirety of the empire, stared deep into her brown ones. He looked less a shah and more an evil magus from the stories, here to place a curse upon her forever and ever. "I'm not stupid. I've seen the same look in the faces of my goat-brained satraps, when they come to bear ill news. Is that how you intended to carry yourself to me?"

"Not at all, grandfather," Estazar replied, breaking her gaze away to focus on the ground before him. "I . . . I've come to answer your summons, like you said. Please don't punish me, I tried my best to be here on time."

"Pull up that blind there," Koudad said, pointing. Estazar did so, letting Wise Air's sunlight wash through the chamber. "From here, I could stand and watch as you and your escort approached the palace, some . . . six candles ago." Estazar nodded slowly, squeezing her eyes shut again. In fourth a candle, this would all be over. Maybe even two stories. Then she could go back to her books and never have to worry about this again. Something in her told her otherwise. She would reach this point eventually, whether she liked it or not.

"I'm sorry, grandfather, I was scared. I know I should not be," Estazar stuttered, but Koudad stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Enough," he said. "You were scared. I know what that means. You have never met your grand-uncle Nafolosh, but he could bring a giyamardom to heel with his glare. I . . . had never realized I could possess the same presence." His face began to soften somewhat, and Estazar could see just a little bit of the grandfather under the shah. As quickly as the crack in his face opened, it closed again. Perhaps he was a magus, and could control his face with magical powers. Perhaps he intended to steal hers, and add it to his collection of bodies he puppets about pretending they are still people within. She had to get out! She had to escape! She had to . . . ignore these foul impulses. "Put your hand on the diadem," Koudad instructed, pulling her from her internal conflict.

"I cannot, grandfather. I am not shahbanu," Estazar replied, staring up at it. If the stories are to be believed, Demes was as old as she when he united the many peoples living in what is today the Kera province of Kera-Bijan. He was only a year older when he conquered the unbreakable city of Bijan and made their language the standard across his domain. However, a tired huff from her grandfather sent chills down her spine, telling her that it would not do well for her or if she were to disobey. With shaking hands, she reached for the grand diadem, running her hands first along the golden band, then each of the five colored crystals lining its face. Red for air, yellow for fire, green for water, blue for wood, and finally white for metal.

"Do you recall why a shah touches the diadem when passing judgement, but does not wear it?" Koudad asked, his hands wrapping around hers to lock them against the metal monstrosity.

"B . . . " Estazar was at a loss for words.

"You're not leaving until you answer."

"B . . . " as her finger crawled towards the white crystal, she suddenly recalled. "B-Because the shah borrows power from Demes' judgement, but may not equal him. In that manner, the shah recognizes himself as great, but not so great as to challenge the gods themselves, who granted their wisdom to Demes. Thus, it is a lesson, given to the shah every time he touches the diadem, to be strong in times of weakness, yet remain humble, even in the face of his inferiors." The words tumbling from her mouth were not hers, but rather belonged to something else entirely, borrowing her mouth as an instrument of noise. She was under his spell, he the magus, who is the true power behind her grandfather.

"Good," Koudad said, letting go of her hands. "You would be surprised as to how many of your cousins either do not know this, or have chosen to forget. Go find Satraps Abafrir and Farrodana. They have been tasked with escorting you from the city to our allies in northern Kammir, where you may avoid the daggers of our more . . . upstart relatives. Go to your room, and gather your things. You leave as soon as may be done." Estazar nodded, and nearly ran from the room, tucking her arms close to herself. She had only ever left the city of Zanateyin a few times in her life, and now she was to leave it behind. Her mind was racing with thoughts, and how many of them truly belonged to her, she didn't know.
"Hello?" Ardasa called. "Excuse me! Sorry! . . . Where am I?" The two figures didn't respond, seeming content with staring at each other. Their faces shifted frequently, from sad to angry to happy and back again. Ardasa continued to shout and wave, to no avail. These were her . . . children? Ardasa could not say. It was a gift from Arda, this prophecy, and she was honored to bear it, but she never had a head for philosophical analysis. Perhaps she could be a better servant of Arda's will should the goddess just descend from the heavens and give her the answer.

Such was not meant to be. The ground beneath her quaked, and Ardasa fell to the ground. Slowly, the ground beneath the two figures rose up, higher and higher, nearly touching the swiftly brewing storm above. Lighting crackled down, illuminating two mountains that were not there a second ago. Then, Ardasa realized to her horror that they were not mountains at all, but kobolds. Huge, gargantuan kobolds, dressed in the crude armor of the legion. Her children each stood on one of the fingers, frozen to their places, excepting their expression, which continued to change.

Slowly, the kobold legionnaires shuddered into motion. They glared at each other, keeping only anger upon their face. Their fists smashed into the other, each blow causing thunder and lightning to rip across the sky. Occasionally, the bolts would strike one of the legionnaires, knocking a chunk of stone off their frame.

Through the thick billows of clouds, two eyes shone through. They were dracon's eyes, but not like any she had seen before. Fear lanced through her, as she stared up at them, which seemed for all intents to be staring back. A bolt of lightning, differently colored, tore open the clouds, and evil grey smoke began to seep into the fighting legionnaires. The legionnaires' movements became slower and more sluggish, until they froze completely. Then, Ardasa woke up, gasping for air.
Hui-Bawa sent his cheap rental car up the road again, bumping along as it made its way towards the palace gates. He resided in a hotel quite a ways away from any of the tourist hotspots, but that still didn’t dispel the guilt in his head. He was on holiday, or at least that’s how it felt to him, and his people were funding it. Worse yet, he didn’t have a single outfit that fit the nice man who runs the nearest clothing store’s definition of “dressy casual”. The man had tried to explain it to him, but Hui-Bawa could not seem to grasp it, beyond that he didn’t have anything of that category. This meant, of course, that he had to buy some. One less meal for the hardworking Du-Wassi citizen.

Quickly, and with loud protests from the car’s engine, he managed to park the pile of scraps upon one of the designated guest parking spaces. It was a reasonable walk from the gates proper, which Hui-Bawa actually appreciated. A walk might do well to clear his head. With a long leg, he pushed himself towards the entrance, even allowing himself to hum a bit. Admittedly, the day was rather lovely. He would be a fool not to enjoy it. The song was a slow and even tune, an old folk song from home. It paired well with the endless sky and its sun.

The previous night had gone well enough for Leon. Just like he had hoped for, neither he nor Mila had drawn the eye of the ‘journalists’ if Leon could even bring himself to call them that. Sure by the time the welcoming ball was over Mila had become about as red as a tomato but this morning things should be much calmer.

As was usual, Leon found himself waking fairly early. It was a habit he had instilled in himself so that he could seize the day as much as possible. Unfortunately, here in a place not his home his own schedule was much more relaxed than normal so he had way to much free time than he needed. So, he had decided to get a nice long workout. Afterwards he had taken a shower and in order to waste time until brunch he decided to just simply take a walk around the palace. After walking for awhile Leon heard a quite pleasant tune coming from somewhere nearby.

Rounding a corner he saw a man much taller than himself. Leon looked at this man but for some reason could not place a name to the face. He felt like he had seen his picture somewhere before but he just couldn’t remember. Deciding not to be rude Leon introduced himself. ”Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Prince Leonard Fords. And may I say that is a fine melody. Do you mind my asking what it’s called?”

A voice called to Hui-Bawa, belonging to a man with a wide smile. Leonard Fords, he said his name was. He returned theirs with one of his own. Is the stranger’s garb a more proper example of “dressy casual”? It was a sharp outfit, and more importantly, fit him better than a glove. Unfortunately, the man at the little clothing store didn’t have anything that quite fit his lanky frame. So once again, he found himself in some too-small outfit, this time a hooded sweater sold secondhand from New Lincoln University, along with a pair of itchy woolen sweatpants.

Leonard was still waiting for a response, so Hui-Bawa felt it best that he give one. “An honour, Lord Leonard. I am called Hui-Bawa Du-Butha Hui-Hooseng.” He extended a hand for the other to shake. “The song, I fear, is without name, for it is a folk song as old as my people. We have never ascribed a name to it, nor any other folk songs. It is a matter of culture.”

”It is an honor to meet you as well.” He reached out and shook the larger man's hand. It was unfortunate that he likely wouldn’t be able to find that tune anywhere else. But it was Hui-Bawa’s people’s song. Leon didn’t mind. ”Well, the events last night were interesting. Did you have a pleasant first day of the festivities?”

“It was . . . certainly an experience,” Hui-Bawa said. This Leonard was a nice man, and Hui-Bawa wanted not to hurt him. Yet, as pleasant as the people were, and as magnificent the setting, the palace, much like his own expansive home, was unable to sit well within him. It was too wealthy, too arrogant, too simply much, to live this life of parties and chocolates and sparkling water. “Everything is so large here. I find myself humbled by these great towers that stretch into the clouds.” He glanced over to the palace gates, standing wide open awaiting their entry. “Come, the weather is sublime, but I would still much rather have this conversation within. Shall we?”

[Collab with alexfangtalon, who is no longer present.]
Aye, still here. Took a second job in the evenings helping out the local theater. The little time I have left over has so far gone into other RPs. I'll be with this one again soon.
Genevieve, mind still whirling, was pulled out of her half-formed plans by the reappearance of Princess Ayleanna. She had to smile at the other girl's enthusiasm, and she was sure it wasn't the carefully-curved smile that peeked from under the cover of her bangs or broad-brimmed hats in her social media photos.

But that was all right. Princess Lea was naturally disarming—and, at this point, the person Gen was least worried about embarrassing herself in front of.

"I don't think you talk too much," she said, "and you have so many guests to attend to, I'm honestly just grateful we get a chance to speak." With a self-conscious flick of her fingers, Genevieve indicated the rhinestones pasted beneath her eyes like a scattering of stars amongst her freckles. "I see we have a shared love of sparkles."

Gesturing to the wide variety of dishes spread out on the nearest table, she added, "Lord Hui-Bawa and I were just admiring the feast you've put out. You're an amazing hostess."

It was then that a diminutive young woman—looking all the tinier, standing so close to Hui-Bawa—appeared in Gen's field of vision. She recognized her as Princess—or was it Lady? the titles were unclear—Liviana Viriatus. Feeling a swell of sympathy for the other girl, but—not sure how much English she had (and therefore, how uncomfortable she might be with a lengthy conversation)—Genevieve offered up the warmest smile she could, and a small nod and curtsey of greeting as she joined their party.

“Lady Genevieve, I hate to interrupt, but are you going to introduce us?” Hui-Bawa asked. He stretched a hand out to the new woman. “Pleased to meet you. I am called Hui-Bawa Du-Butha Hui-Hooseng in my home. And you?” How curious. This woman was of a colour with himself, a stark contrast with the pale faces that dominated the party. “I hope I am not intruding upon this conversation too much. If I am rude, you must forgive me truly. I was not raised with an understanding of such things as . . . etiquette.” At the very least, he congratulated himself in knowing enough to fast-talk himself into and out of situations like these.

Another woman joined this rapidly-growing company they seemed to be accruing. It seems, despite Lady Genevieve’s previous claims to otherwise, she seemed a rather popular figure, at least in this party. The new lady called away the first, and seemed to have little interest in interacting with himself. He certainly does not fault her for it.

Lea grinned cheerfully at Genevieve. “What can I say? You can never have too many sparkles. And aw, you guys give me way too much credit. I mean, I can’t cook for the life of me! All I can do is taste stuff and be like ‘wow this is good we should have it at a party’, you know?” Lea giggled and rolled her eyes playfully at her own culinary incompetence.

Lea then turned to Liviana, who had just arrived. Her eyes quickly took in the other princess’s appearance, diminutive as she was, before-

-Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Is that a bird on her shoulder?! Oh my gosh, that’s so freaking adorable and I love love love birds so like...I am here for this?????

“Hey, Liviana!” Lea responded, beaming at her. “I love your gown, by the way. And your hair-how do you ever have the patience to grow it that long?! Oh oh oh also, your bird is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!!! Do you mind if I take a quick pic?” And before Liviana could object, Lea had whipped out her phone (which had a sparkly pink case-you know, to match her nails, which were almost always painted sparkly pink) and snapped a picture of Liv’s bird with her Snapchat camera. She saved the original image and put a cute sparkly heart filter over it, before captioning it something like ‘shoutout to Liviana V. for bringing the CUTEST bird EVER!!!!’ and posting it onto her story.

Once that was all taken care of, Lea put her phone away and re-directed her attention to Hui-Bawa. She shook his hand, grinning. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well! I’m Lea Lynton. And no worries, you’re definitely not intruding on anything!” Lea gave him a sheepish smile. “If anyone’s intruding, it’s me.”

“I hope you all are having fun, by the way,” Lea said brightly to the entire group. “I wanted to do like, a water slide or something. Or a moon bounce. Wouldn’t that have been so fun??? But my mom and sister said no.” Lea mock-pouted. “Oh well.”

Liv had exactly half a second to figure out who she was speaking to before she was suddenly bombarded by the whirlwind of excitement that was Lea. At least the Aciran princess didn’t even blink at her awkwardness, just plowing right through it with more enthusiasm than should be entirely possible. And asking far more questions than Liv could hope to answer, even in her native Latin.

After several seconds of blinking hopelessly in the direction of Lea’s phone camera flash, and internally panicking at the thought of being featured on Lea’s Snapchat!!!!, she managed to straighten her thoughts out into words enough to reframe her focus to the conversation. The greeting died on her lips, though- of course Lea was already onto a different topic, she always was, and in this case the topic was socializing with the mountain of a man standing beside her.

Nervously, Liv peered up at him, offering a slightly terrified smile. She had not been close enough to hear his introduction, but his accent and overall appearance suggested he might well have been from one of the southern kingdoms - she struggled to remember places and names from the textbooks she’d once fumbled through, but could not come up with anything concrete. And she certainly wasn’t about to ask him his name, afraid he’d take it to be offensive. She vowed she would do nothing to cause him offense - not when it looked like he could crush her in one fist if she angered him!
Lea’s chipper dialogue was nothing short of confusing, as ever. Liv barely managed to puzzle it out, getting quite tripped up on the notion of a ‘moon bounce.’ Seriously, what’s a “moon bounce?” she wondered. But she didn’t trust herself to say it out loud, instead murmuring something in Latin that sounded vaguely like an apology and pulling her ancient Papyrvs phone out of her clutch, quickly thumbing into Alopix (the firefox knockoff that Athenian electronics came with, complete with a cute fox icon) and typing in the words ‘moon bounce’. As one would expect of Athenian search engines, further “refined” by Lusitanian content restrictions, very few results were returned. Specifically, only one that wasn’t total garbage- a sped-up video of some Aciran moon satellite launch from literal decades ago.

That made perfect sense. She snapped her phone case closed and frowned slightly, wondering what kind of party Lea had been planning on where there would have been an actual rocket ship.

Genevieve thanked every god she could think of that Princess Ayleanna—Lea—was one of the least pretentious, most easygoing people she’d ever met. Gen had barely had time for a flash of secondhand mortification and a scramble to figure out how to help Hui-Bawa before Lea had cheerfully introduced herself, without offense or fanfare. And then she was on to the next thing.

Next to Hui-Bawa, Liviana looked not only tiny, but genuinely petrified. Genevieve decided to let Hui-Bawa field Lea’s questions for a while, stepping around him to come up next to the smaller girl. “Christopher,” she murmured, “may I have my phone please?”

Smoothly, Christopher produced it from an inside pocket, and Genevieve held up a finger in what she hoped was the universal gesture for, “One minute, please,” offering up an apologetic smile. One quick Google search confirmed her guesses about the native language in Liviana’s country. Gen used the translate function to type out what she wanted to say and hoped it wasn’t too garbled.

She held out the phone to Liviana. The message on the right said, “Latine Non est bonum esse meum doleo. Spero te non puto me rude et hoc modo loquitur ad vos. Quod est nice est in occursum tibi ago, Filia Reginae. Nomen meum est Genevieve.”

In English: “I am sorry that my Latin's not better. I hope you don't think I'm rude for talking to you this way. It is nice to meet you, Princess. My name is Genevieve.”

Hui-Bawa considered Lady Lea’s words for a second. Nobody seemed much interested in responding, so he felt perhaps he ought. “Both sound delightful, Lady Lea,” he said, stroking his chin with an idle finger. “But think of the poor guests. They make such an effort to arrive at your lovely estate dressed in fineries of cloth and metals. A waterslide might ruin their hours of hard work!” He tilted his head back and laughed at his own comment. “Apologies, truly. My brother tells me I am not humorous. He is in no capacity incorrect.” He glanced over at Lady Genevieve. She seemed at the moment occupied with their new acquaintance. That leaves him with their excitable host. “So, this party is yours, then? I am honoured that you found the time to speak to a humble man such as myself. This home, it is the size of a village in my home, and so magnificent besides. You must tell me everything about it.”

Lea threw back her head and laughed at the point that Hui-Bawa made. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” she said, chuckling. “But a girl can dream, ya feel? And your brother is wrong! Who says that you aren’t funny? I think that you’re pretty funny.” She flashed him a mischievous grin.

“And yep! I mean, normally I’m not all about balls and fancy schmancy tea parties and whatever-I would have totally preferred a moon bounce-but this is aight.” Lea paused for a moment and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I don’t understand why it’s always fancy shmancy like this, by the way. Like, I’m getting married, so what? But don’t worry, we’ll have some less formal stuff later on.” Another cheerful grin.

At Hui-Bawa’s comment about the palace, Lea rolled her eyes with the same good-natured humor, again. “Oh, gosh, this place is pretty much a village in and of itself, not gonna lie. Like, my sisters and my parents and I obviously don’t need this much space to live. But you know, we’ve got some boring meeting rooms and stuff. The first floor-the one we’re on now, actually-is basically a museum at this point, though obviously it’s closed to the public right now thanks to the ball. I think our libraries are pretty dope, but holy cow it’s really easy to get lost in them if you aren’t careful. Hit me up if you want, like, a map or something.” Lea laughed, more to herself than anything, wondering how in the world she’d be able to draw up a map of the libraries. “But yeah, I think my favorite part about living here is the fact that we’ve got enough space on the palace property for animals! My mom and sister let me make some cool animal refuges and stuff by the forest. It’s dope.”

Liv peered up at Genevieve, quirking her mouth as she studied the words. Latin Google Translate was known to be absolutely dreadful (as she had once found out, by trying to ask Edwin to pass the salt at a state dinner - and instead inadvertently asking him about a dead relative!) but having the English written out as well was very helpful. That said, she was still hopeless at verbalizing her thoughts. It took her several seconds before she dared open her mouth, testing the words awkwardly as she spoke them.

“It - is okay. I - I.. the fault is of me - didamnate, verba? - English. I - reading is more easy, of English, sed-” She cut herself off, shaking her head and very nearly burying her face in her hands as her cheeks flushed.

Gods damn it all, why was she so stupid?! Everyone else was doing just fine with the language of Aciras, and here she was, her accent so thick and awkward and the words not making it out of her fat ugly mouth without being horribly butchered. It was no wonder no one would want to marry her. Gods. Father was going to be furious, she just knew that some reporter or another would call her out on her lack of spoken eloquence and then it would be hell to pay when she returned home. All the words were there, they just would not get out of her head and onto her tongue and out into the air in an orderly fashion. Which of course would mean that no one else would see them forming, and would rather just assume her an idiot.

She just prayed that Genevieve would understand. Picking her own phone out of its clutch for what felt like the hundredth time, she flicked her text size setting to the biggest possible, then opened a note document and started typing. It was awkward and slow, but the words laid themselves out much better when she didn’t have to worry about pronunciation and inflection too.

Apologizing, the English to me is ... unkind. Such it is that I can hear and understand; speech is nonetheless challenging. I do learn but slow. To read is best. Apologizing again - I am happy to meet you, Genevieve.

She prayed that the other princess wasn’t judging her for needing to look back at her phone for the spelling - such letter patterns simply didn’t happen in Latin and the last thing she wanted to do was offend someone by misspelling or pronouncing their name! - and also prayed that the judgement didn’t extend to her intensely concentrated expression.

Dammit, she was trying her hardest. To friends I am called Livi or Liv, and I should like to be called a friend of you. From which kingdom are you? If it is permissible to ask.

(Collab between: @lady horatio @ayzrules @Amethyst @Bloonewb)
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