Fabricant451

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Thirstboys gonna thirst.

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

"I held the door open for a female type once and she didn't say thank you. What a cunt. They don't want a generous guy like me."

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

Wasn't sure if the royal family name was the same as the sister character so I put it the same anyway but I can change it.

Queen Rhoslyn of Slibah

_{{ ”Despite what my husband claims, he does not rule all of Slibah.” }}

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| Name |

Rhoslyn Hardin, nee Chetwynde; Her Majesty Queen Rhoslyn

| Nickname |

'Your Highness'
'The Black Rose'

| Age |

32

| Gender |

Female

| Sexuality |

Bisexual

| Kingdom |

Slibah

| Alliance |

Why, the King of Slibah, of course. Perish any other thoughts.

| In Depth Appearance |

No one can deny the beauty that Lady Rhoslyn possesses even as she enters her middle age of life. Had she not been claimed by the king she would have no shortage of suitors despite her house's standing. There's a graceful presence about her aided by her height which almost puts her on par with the king at standing height without the aid of heels. Her hair is finely brushed and maintained with an ebon luster that does a fair job at hiding the slowly encroaching signs of aging. Her face is striking, with expressive eyes marked with emerald green pupils, and skin soft (though hardened over her marriage) and porcelain in sheen. Her figure, oft hidden behind the finery of dresses and attire befitting those of regal standing, has lost some of its younger, youthful curves though she remains rather healthy. Rhoslyn has a mature beauty about her and it is her belief that she still remains the envy of women in Slibah and beyond. Roses do not wilt easily.

| Habits |

Glances.|| Rhoslyn, perhaps because of her position in life, has a tendency to look down on those that demand or request an audience with her or her husband. Its subtle, and she might not even be aware of it herself, but there's always a subtly incline of her head and a narrowing of her eyes that she gives when boredom or disbelief strikes. It has caused some to find her arrogant, or condescending.

Singing.|| More often than not humming, Rhoslyn has a tendency to hum or sing a few bars of a song when she is by herself (or with her ladies in waiting) or lost in thought. She once had a more renowned singing voice but she has not sung so sweetly in some time.
There's still some soothing sound to be heard there, but it's a more husky melody.

| Hobbies |

Gardening.|| The Queen enjoys flowers, be it as a gift or just an adornment. As such she insisted that a garden be installed on the castle grounds. She often maintains it personally though select servants have her permission to tend to it in her absence.

Games of Chance/Skill.|| An acquired hobby, to be sure, but one that she has developed a slight affinity for. She has played her husband in chess before but often she prefers games not about strategy but that illusive lady known as luck. While not one to gamble funds or the like, she is not above playing a game to pass the time. And the stakes depend on her mood. But of course, given her position...she is quite familiar with winning.

| Likes |

Theatre, with a fondness for dramatic performances
Flirtation. It's a game she excels at, either to the chagrin or delight of her dearly beloved.
Writing. She was taught to read and write as part of her grooming and though she finds reading for extended periods of time to be absolutely droll, she does find the art of note writing to have a certain appeal.
Banquets at Court. While not one to indulge in food to excess, there's something utterly divine about a celebratory banquet. Be it the music-like noise or the finer wines, the Queen can be counted on to appear when a banquet is held in Slibah.
Fine Things. And not merely material goods, of course.

| Dislikes |

Gossips. So many lords and ladies at court have tongues that simply flap about. Perhaps she will get someone to see said tongues removed.
Drunkards and Ale. Men who cannot hold their ale should not drink it, nor should soldiers on the battlefield be given ale before a battle.
Ale is the drink for lushes. Wine is the drink for proper ladies and gentlemen.
Her Sister-By-Law. The mewling child is ignorant of the ways of court.
Upstarts. A polite way of saying she despises when people presume to step above their means and bounds. There's something to be said of those who achieve it through merit, but those who are on the low rung of the ladder playing above their lot is a pathetic sight.
Tournaments. Rare is the tournament for anything other than males feeling the need to stroke their egos rather than themselves for a change.

| Fears |

Her Husband. Specifically his lack of empathy. She fears that he can do more harm than good, but she also understands that often rulers like him are needed, especially in trying times. She doesn't fear him deeply, and though she knows it's doubtful he felt the same there was love there - perhaps in the early days as is the case with many a newly crowned queen. She mostly fears what he could represent,
but by the same token she is glad to be on the right side of him.

| Personality |

While roses are quite beautiful they also have thorns and this can be said of Slibah's 'Black Rose' as well. Though not nearly as extreme as the king, Rhoslyn can be quite thorny - speaking with barbs and well spoken and chosen words. When it comes to king and queen,
many will agree that Rhoslyn is much more fair when it comes to day-to-day dealings, but of course the Queen's advice is often just noise as far as the ruling men are concerned. Rhoslyn is not simply a dutiful, figurehead queen; she involves herself in the politics and problems of the realm and will not simply be quiet when the king is speaking. Her voice will be heard. Jack may not have ambitions,
but Rhoslyn certainly does.

It's difficult to trust Rhoslyn even as she's shown to be far less harsh than her husband. And it's perhaps for the best, as Rhoslyn is not above duplicity and manipulative language in order to get what she wants. It's rare that a deal made with Rhoslyn will be beneficial to anyone other than herself in the end. It might well have been the duplicitous nature that has made her an effective queen. She understands the games the men play and how to manipulate the board to her favor. Nothing she does is done without consideration. The King rules Slibah. But the King does not rule all of its citizens.

| Background |

No one was expecting Roslyn to ever become queen. She wasn't groomed for nobility or even for court, despite her coming from a somewhat noble house - the Chetwynde's who were a sworn house to a larger family. Rhoslyn was surely going to be a tool in a political marriage, a means of increasing her house's own standing. She certainly had the look, noted as being the beautiful one of the Flower Children: those being Marric Chetwynde's three daughters (And one son) who were each named for different flowers and said to be as sweet.
Even his son was noted to be beautiful though it was unlikely he would be a suitable heir given the son's noted 'degeneracy' for laying with men.

The Flower Children were means for Marric to bring some more standing to his house, perhaps to be more than just a smaller house with a decent, if tiny, claim of land. He was banking on his eldest to marry the head of one of the larger houses in Slibah but it was Rhoslyn that caught the eye of the man who become king.

Rhoslyn remembered when the news of the king's death reached the ears of the people, for at the time Rhoslyn was a lady-in-waiting,
sent to the capital by her father on the possibility of catching the attention of a noble. Rhoslyn only had her beauty and her singing voice and certainly she had her suitors, but Rhoslyn was not interested in lords that looked as old as her father and even more round in the middle. That might have made her arrogant, but she had always been one with ambitions - and those ambitions didn't fall in line with simply doing what her father wished.

Rhoslyn of course heard the rumors of the king's death and whether or not she believed it was irrelevant. In what was both her biggest error and greatest play, she requested an audience with the new king in a poor attempt to use the rumors to her advantage. She received a lesson in nobility and politics that day. Perhaps it was her beauty, perhaps it was her boldness, she couldn't exactly say but even with her grave miscalculation and insult - that being attempting to blackmail the king of all people - she wasn't sentenced to prison or death. She counted herself lucky.

She counted herself even luckier when the pleasure of her company led to a proposition.

What girl would say no to a crown, even if it was offered not with the childish notion of true love. Such was the way of the world. It was unusual, a girl from a family of no real renown being made queen, but it provided a decent narrative to the masses. Rhoslyn was quite radiant and many within Slibah bought into the false belief that their new king married not for political power but because of his heart being claimed. A marriage for love rather than a marriage of convenience. A king needs a queen, and Rhoslyn would do for that.

It wasn't without its adverse effects. Marric Chetwynde, hearing that one of his daughters was to be queen, demanded an audience and more territory so his family could be a true noble house. His execution for insolence was the day before his daughter's wedding. In the years since their marriage, Rhoslyn has stood by her husband even through things that she didn't always agree with. But as far as royal marriages go, it could be worse. The worst thing she's lost, other than her innocence, was her singing voice. There are worse things to lose.

She could be joining her father, as an example.

| Extra |

I've always liked the aesthetic of the jazz age if not the uh...unfortunate parts.

@HushedWhispers

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

@Fabricant451

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

The last one is you for wanting to play the wife of my character.

@Bishop

It's not a want moreso a need for a queen.

Also I haven't had sweet dreams since I was a kid.

SUNCREST HEIGHTS | A Slice of Life Apartment RP (Full)

I'll have a post by...

let's say Thursday.

That way if it's earlier I look good and responsible.

@Fabricant451

HAH!

I look good and responsible now don't I!

If anyone wants to disturb the Vern feel free.

SUNCREST HEIGHTS | A Slice of Life Apartment RP (Full)

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"Shit."

The sun had only just made its way into the sky and already this day was finding ways to slap her in the face. Vern woke up at her desk, ostensibly called her work desk but more often than not was used for anything other than work; this wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep at the desk and thus woke up with a stiff neck and a slight headache, but this was one of the first times where she woke up in a small pile of dried caffeinated beverage. It was fortunate that she hadn't been working on her pages last night since it was likely they'd be ruined now. That didn't stop the folly of her decision, namely sleeping next to a mostly full can of Pepsi, from biting her in the ass. Or, as the case was, sticking her face to the desk. Vern's first act that morning was slowly dealing with the stinging pain that came when having to literally peel skin out of a puddle of pisswater pop.

That was going to leave a vibrant red mark.

Vern's work desk was like a warzone. Empty soda cans lined around it like trophies, with greasy snack food bags strewn about, though plenty of those lined the floors along with wrappers from hamburger places. When she was younger and living with a room that was a different sort of messy, with clothes and papers all around, her grandmother often compared the room to a sty. If only gran could see Vern's room now. A pig's sty was probably more inviting to the average person. Vern didn't think it was so bad. For one thing more of the floor was visible than wrappers, and there were still plenty of cans and packages in the garbage bin...just that there was no longer any room for anything else. It could've been much, much worse. It had been worse before, at the apartment she was living in before Suncrest. Buncha controlling assholes at that place.

With her face unstuck and her eyes adapting to the much too early wake up time, the memories of the night before slowly came back. She stayed in. Of course she did, it was a Saturday night. She did some pages. Drank a six pack...though not of beer. Ordered some take out. Didn't tip the deliveryman. DID tip the girl on the computer a crisp ten dollars for the show. Downed a few more. Left the television on. Passed out without pants on. That explained the attire, the same shirt she wore on Friday being her present clothing, complete with stains that were probably there even before she put it on.

"Wild night." Vern yawned to herself as she reached for the white box of Chinese food that was just sitting there near her desk. "Still fresh." There was a plastic fork sticking out of the box of fried rice with extra egg and though it had been out all night, Vern still took a bite. It didn't go down easy, and the rice was...crispy? Cold, clammy egg and cold beef. Not the most nutritious breakfast but hunger worked in mysterious ways. She took a second bite and nearly hurled. Then she took a third bite and decided that even she had her limits.

Vern set the Chinese box aside, it'd be thrown out when garbage day rolled around. She didn't want spoiled take out smelling up the room and ruining the pleasant odor of hamburger and sugar that permeated the room presently. And with her mind on sugar, Vern stood from her desk chair, stretching her arms above her head, and sighing at the chub on her arm. Another thing her grandmother would have complaints about. Best not to dwell on it. The pantsless artist crossed the gap from her desk to her bed, specifically to the mini-fridge that sat near her bed...for those late night sodas and early morning chugs. "What? No no no. FUCK!" The fridge, as Vern opened it, was empty. She just put a twenty four pack in there on Friday.

It was Sunday!

Vern didn't plan on leaving today, but what other choice did she have? Her fridge had to be stocked. It was the only way she could live. And work. And be responsible. The corner store wasn't terribly far but it still meant having to be a functional adult and changing into clothes that weren't three days old. People could always tell. Maybe the shop was open now. Maybe she could get there, grab some cans, and maybe have time for a breakfast sandwich. Extra egg.

Tossing her stained shirt to the floor, Vern picked up a purple t-shirt also from the floor. After giving it the sniff test, she put it on, then took it off when she saw a much more noticeable stain covering up the funny little graphic on the front. Another shirt, red, was given the sniff test, passed, and put on. There was a hole on the bottom right, but no stains that Vern could see. Good. An old pair of shorts made up for her lack of pants. "I look like a reverse tomato." Her shorts were a rather ugly green and with her red top she lamented the tomato comment with a slight grin. Had she grown? She remembered those shorts going to her knees but now they barely managed to get past the thighs. It was fine. She was just popping down to the shop.

Grabbing her purse, or rather her wallet, and keys, Vern left the safety and comfort of her room, closing and locking the door behind her. Keep the head down. Keep walking. Surely no one would bump into her.

I found a can of olives in my pantry

Eat them.

This is why health insurance exists.

One Piece: Eternal Pose (OPEN)

I should have a Romi post before week's end.

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

Haha. Wonders why no one has taken the Queen of Slibah yet.

@HushedWhispers

Hold my beer

(High Casual) An Age Old Feud

@Pundii Littlefinger

*poofs out*