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warrior paint
Topic Started: Jan 23 2012, 09:33 PM (204 Views)
Samuel Oliver Abbot Collins
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[ * ]
The travel from Bristol to London wasn't necessarily a difficult journey. Many traveled much farther away; some from the south of France and Spain -- despite this notion, Samuel still felt the fatigue of travel that always came over his person when his family journeyed across the countryside of England to attend Court. They had arrived at their town home a week prior to the event in order to settle in among the bustle again. Bristol was an uprising center of commerce, but it would never be what London was. For that, Samuel was thankful, because he enjoyed his long walks on country lanes, particularly in Spring, when the fields exploded into ribbons of petals, and he walked through the flowers and thorns without feeling.

Samuel was the only boy in the family. His mother had birthed three boys that hadn't lived, and two girls that died shortly after he was born. He had a sister that married a commoner and sailed off to America, but the only remaining children of their lineage was he and his sister, Audrey. He often wondered if their ghosts wandered around the house. But then he wasn't certain about which house they had died in.

On the evening of the King's birthday, his mother was in an uproar, trying to prepare Audrey for the evening. She was hoping to marry her off as soon as possible. The annual ball that the King held was the perfect breeding zone. More dames went home betrothed than any other time. It was all together too dangerous for a man with money to see the diamond's in a woman's eyes.

Four hours later, Samuel was unfolding himself out of his carriage; he was wearing a new suit that he hated, a mask he could not see out of, and crumpled up pieces of parchment with lines of a bad epic poorly written upon them. It felt like every masquerade he had been too, though the King made sure to be much more grandeur.
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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia returned to her country home from France only a few weeks prior to the King's Ball, having been called back specifically to “come out” as an eligible bachelorette (or debutante, if preferred) and to wither away as a part, though rather small, of the King’s Court. The planning had been elaborate and quickly executed: dress fitting, rigorous dance lessons, proper etiquette quizzing; all except the dressing being very unnecessary.
Admittedly, coming out at the ripe age of 18 years old was a bit late. Some of the girls in her neighborhood had come out two years previously, but they were either unmarried still or trapped in advantageous marriages that lacked satisfaction. Sofia was glad to be neither. Her parents had sent her to France over three years ago to be “finished” in the [second] finest Court in the world. Her father had spent time in France before being stationed in the Italy, where he met and married her mother.

Naturally, Sofia loved a party (after all, the French Court had been the biggest and best), but the greater expectations of the festivities were tiresome already. Sofia simply had no desire to marry, now or ever. Her years of freedom had changed her. The ability to do whatever (and whomever) she wanted had opened the door of the gilded cage, and she was determined not to be shut back in.
Alas, she knew it was imperative that she go, not simply for herself, but more for her parents. They were by no means poor; her father being a gentleman whom the King had shown favor, and her mother a Baroness from Naples, but having only one child, and a daughter at that, wasn’t exactly an asset. In order to maintain their wealth, they needed a man linked to the family name. Bah. Besides, in order to be fashionable themselves, they had to have a fashionable daughter. Oh, duty, be damned!

Her dress was on (the simple white shade of it making her giggle), her hair curled and piled atop her head, and her mask was in [long gloved] hand. The maid came into her room, curtseying slightly. Sofia glanced at her, twirling the mask in her hand. “Yes?” she asked politely. “Your mother is expecting you downstairs, Miss Morland.” Sofia sighed, and nodded. “Thank you, Emily.”
She waited until Emily slipped back out before she stood up from her vanity table. Sofia assessed herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw, being rather vain, but she wasn’t shallow. She appreciated the gift of beauty that had been bestowed upon her, even when it felt like a curse. She twirled a curl around her finger and let it fall softly near the side of her face. Perfection.

Sofia slid her feet into the dainty slippers that were so very ineffectual for anything else, and hurried from the room. She accepted a cloak from Emily at the door, regardless of the fact that the day was bright and hot, and hurried out to the waiting carriage. There was a possibility that she would need the warmth by the end of the very long evening.
The trip to Court was quick. They lived on about 30 miles from Town. This always seemed strange to her. The scenery changed so abruptly. The sprawling hillsides, country homes, poorer family farms morphed in the blink of an eye into cobblestone, crowded skyline of complex architecture, and loads of people. All of London seemed packed together, if it truly was not, but their carriage never saw the downtrodden parts of the city. They passed posh townhouses, the grand parks, and elegant shops that sold the finest things in the world.

Sofia sighed, looking out the window. “Don’t frown so,” her mother chastised in her heavily Italian accent. Sofia gave her a cold look. “I’ll do as a please, mother,” she replied back. “Now, now, let’s not ruin the evening before it even begins,” her father intervened quickly. Sofia glared at her mother for a moment before going back to look out the window. The palace came into view, carriages already waiting to be emptied, and before she knew it they were stopped. The door was opened, her father exited, and she and her mother were helped down to the graveled drive by a footman.
Pulling up her skirts delicately, Sofia marched ahead of her parents, her mother hissing for her to put on her mask. She moved up the steps quickly, slipped past the doorman, and moved to the cloak room. She tied her mask on hurriedly, feeling rather silly, but growing excited just the same. She gave her cloak to another gentleman, a number being passed back to her in order to pick the right one up, and she emerged back into the main hall. She glanced around, not knowing anyone. The girls she had known before were mere faces in a pool of memories. They rippled out as she tried to catch their reflections, and were lost. She caught her parents mingling, rolled her eyes, and headed for the ballroom.
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
Kiernan studied the pale-faced portraits in a corridor that lead to the ballroom from the library. None of them were similar to the explorers that had visited her homeland. They were fat, portly looking men and women covered in jewels and rich cascading fabrics. It was astonishing that any of them could walk with that kind of weight upon them. Her own dress was much lighter, less of a hassle, though it had taken the maids several hours just to dress her. They were lost upon her hair, so she had fashioned it herself into something that the other ladies were wearing. Her mother and father had already joined the King and Queen in the ballroom at the throne, but they had excluded her from that position so that she could socialize. According to her father, it was the King's birthday, and he wished to have about him foreign allies on this day to celebrate. Apparently they were allies. There were many things that Kiernan didn't know.

Luckily, she didn't have to worry about the unknown. Her brother was next in line to rule, and Kiernan was free to be unburdened. However, the fact that she wasn't married seemed to leave many of the women in the castle aghast. Life as a woman was tiresome and difficult.

The door opened and interrupted the calm that had descended upon the room. A man slipped through, as if trying not to be seen. His eyes were blue and his hair was jet black, and he carried a thick book in his arms. He passed her quickly and dispersed as though he had never noticed her existence. Odd.

Kiernan entered the ballroom at last, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of people that had suddenly corralled into the large room. The celebration had not begun, but she noticed that everyone was wearing a mask the way she was. The man that had gone past her had not been dressed for a public celebration at all -- he neither wore a mask nor dressed in dazzling fabrics. Intriguing as it might have been to her, she focused instead on what she had been preparing for. They'd given her many lessons on how to dance, dress, walk, and eat. These rules of etiquette seemed far more complex than what she was used to, but then, she was used to her own.

A man sidled up to her and held out his hand, but in shock, she rejected him and moved swiftly away, which promptly caused her to bump into another person. She was immediately embarrassed.
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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia had been evading her parents once again, but the ballroom was somehow too small! Her parents fluttered from couple to couple, and person to person, while Sofia fluttered as far away from them all. At the moment, they were chatting up some boring looking young man. Her father kept glancing around, Sofia filled with paranoia that he was trying to place her.

She ducked behind caterers with their trays of food and drink, stood behind groups, and taller gentlemen as she flitted towards the refreshments. Assuming that she was more than halfway across the room from her parents, she paused for a moment, trying to place them (yet still remain invisible). Sofia was unable to locate them, which she took for a good sign, before being distracted as a man huffed past her, nearly brushing her skirts with his shoes. It was then that someone really did bump into her.

Looking around sharply, Sofia’s features relaxed when she saw it was a woman, and a dark woman at that. Sofia felt an immediate affinity with her, seeing as Sofia was the second darkest woman here and it was always the case it seemed. The natural olive complexion her mother had passed along was always attracting unwanted negative attention, and usually from pale faced females. Sofia smiled knowingly. “Refusing one gentleman means refusing them all,” she said playfully. "Doing so at a ball can be very boring."
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
"I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse," She said in a rush, breaking into a half-smile at the woman that she had bumped into. She was sure that she would be excluded from this rule, though, considering she was very foreign -- more foreign than a Frenchwoman or a Spanish one. Her kingdom didn't even attend balls this way. Certainly her immediate failure would be ignored, and she would be forced to dance with all of the pale-faced gentlemen.

Her kingdom danced, to be sure, but it wasn't customary. They usually hired dancers that did such things for them. She supposed that this was what the King pictured. His people coming forth and dancing for him -- it must have been quite visionary to view from his throne. There were similarities. But home felt so far from this world.

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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia smiled again, saying, “We’re women: it’s always both.” She glanced around quickly, keeping a wary eye out for her parents and their would-be-suitors. Thanks to the masks, though, the only thing that could signify a good-looking gentleman was his dress style and personal manners. She'd have to get much closer to see their eyes. It was always so interesting to see how big of a difference a nose could make on a face.

Her attention returning, she continued to glance over this lady, wondering who she was and where she was from. Naturally, she’d seen people of her complexion before, but not often here in England. Sofia suddenly felt sympathy for her. If she wasn’t from England, she must feel so alone. The ballroom was full of pasty faces, their blue veins poking out upon whatever flesh they showed. “Tell me, where are you from? I do hope you don’t find it entirely rude of me that I assume you are not native-born. Although, I must say, you speak English very well. better than my own mother, and she’s been here for over a decade.”
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
"Thank you. I am from Yoruba," She explained. "I've been practicing most of my life. I had an English tutor." She wasn't sure if she should have revealed that she was apart of the royal empire or not, but she was sure considering her parent's placement with the King, that it was perhaps obvious what she was. They had arrived in England with a few weeks to prepare for what they were supposed to do. English court was immensely complex. She had been immediately placed with the Queen's ladies, but then forced into long stretches of dance lessons and etiquette tutors. She had never felt like a peasant before, but she imagined this was something like it.

There were men trying to catch both of their interests. One man walked around the woman before her several times in an attempt to catch her eye. It was a curious thing, this mating ritual. She wasn't sure why there were so many rules for women when they had no rights. Why go through such lengths of formality when they were merely ornate decorations on the hand of a gentleman? It seemed absurd. Why not just buy them if they were so worthless?
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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
“Really? West Africa, if I remember correctly? That’s fascinating!” Sofia paused for a moment. Smiling slyly, she added, “You must be of special importance to the King, if you are here. Pray, are you one of the international royalties?” A part of her wished that this woman would say no. Sofia hated paying obeisance to royalty (or anyone for that matter), but she knew it was customary and expected. This was part of the excitement of Masques, though, the not knowing for sure. Being so new to Court made this game particularly challenging for there were those at Court that one was expected to know, even if their face was covered.

Sofia was resolutely ignoring the men that kept circling the two of them as they spoke. Their faces blurred, nearly making her feel faint. At times, these “gentlemen” could be frightening. In their eyes you could catch the flash of possession, as if they truly bought into the belief that women were merely theirs for the taking. Sofia had learned this quickly at the French Court. They acted polite, all formality and manners, but if they caught you alone, it was something else. The circumstances were no different here.

The Court had scared her at first, the scheming and licentiousness, but it had made her stronger. She’d had to learn to adapt, to take control of the situations and the people, and she had. She had owned those men more than they would ever own her. Sofia had spun them tightly around her finger, snapping them off once they thought they were winning. She’d never romanced with any well-born men. They were pompous, uncouth, and pedantic. At least the groomsmen and lesser noblemen were more modest. She picked her conquests carefully, but never trusting them completely. Sofia made certain that she could ruin them, and told them as much in order to silence them. To say the least, there hadn't been many to make it so far.
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
"Yes," Kiernan replied, smiling. Not many knew geography well enough to place her location. She had spoken to some of the other ladies in waiting, and they had stared at her for a long moment, before turning away feeling awkward. "I am," She said. "Though do not feel a need to pay respect to me the way your people do. I find it bizarre."

On her arrival day, she stepped out of the carriage and they whisked her family into the throne room, where many nobles were waiting to greet them. They had all bowed for such an incredibly long time. And the servants and guards stopped anything that they had been doing in order to bow or curtsy, it was unnerving. If she stood up to put a book back on the shelf of the library, she was promptly removed from the task as a servant took it upon themselves to do it for her.

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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia laughed, utterly enchanted. “Oh, I like you. I have a feeling we will get along perfectly.”

Yet while Sofia hated paying respects, she still felt compelled to do so. It was a hard urge to fight. She sighed inwardly as she realised that she’d been conditioned to some degree. Bother.

“My upbringing will not allow me to do so, I fear.” She curtseyed deeply, an elegant motion from start to finish. “Your grace,” she said as she came up. She glanced around. “Since no one is here to introduce me, though, I’ll do it myself: Miss Sofia Morland, at your service.” She winked.
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
She provided her own curtsy, though it was rough by comparison to her extraordinary one. Her smile was vivid and wicked. She felt like a revolutionary plotting to overthrow a tyrannical government. Perhaps it was the tyranny of common men that she wanted to undo, but nevertheless, she felt an immediate closeness to Miss Sofia Morland.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," She said, flourishing another pathetic curtsy. "I am...oh. Princess, would be your title. I am Princess Kiernan Omehia."
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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia giggled. “Oh, it must be simply dreadful to possess such a title. I have no knowledge of royal custom within your country, but here and on the greater Continent being a Princess is a very hard role to fill. They are mere pawns in a game that they aren’t even allowed to play. They are bred to have ‘accomplishments’ that bolster their ‘value’ as a queen, only to go thousands of miles away, to never see their family again, and be treated terribly by a man they do not love.” Sofia laughed again. “Although, perhaps I am being over pessimistic by focusing on the bad aspects alone, and finding none of the good. Tell me some good, won’t you? Call my bluff.”
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
"There aren't many positive aspects of being a Princess," She admitted. "In my country, we do not take the throne, though we could be beheaded for tyranny just the same. But the monarchy in my country won't survive the Republic uprising that is coming for us. It won't be in my lifetime, but it will come. It has already begun reaching surrounding city states."

Her father made it sound like some sort of plague. She wasn't sure why it threatened the monarch so much whenever there were many monarchies that had less power. Governments changed. People changed, and the sooner people recognized and adapted to it, the better they were.
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Sofia Caterina Morland
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& her eyes were wild
[ *  * ]
Sofia’s eyes were wide, but a smile spread across her face. “That sounds thrilling, but aren’t you frightened? What if the people are able to rise against you and your family before you think? After all, the people of France overthrew their monarchy hardly two decades ago. Are you going back to your kingdom or are you destined for the Prince here?”

Her eyes drifted towards the royal family for the first time since she had arrived. The heir apparent was not in view, though, and Sofia wondered if he was already dancing with prospective mates. A flash of defiance ran through her, and she thought, I could catch a King. It was a fleeting thought, but she knew in her heart that it was true. She just lacked the interest to do so. Sofia wasn’t of the breed for marrying into royalty, but it had been done before. The mention of beheading reminded Sofia of Anne Boleyn, the noblewoman who had lived in the late 1500s. She’d usurped a queen, but lost her head in the end. A powerful woman’s fate.
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Kiernan Simone Omehia
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[ *  * ]
"Our people are happy currently," She said. "We are kind. We serve our people the best that we can so that they feel comfortable with our monarchy. But the transition will occur, perhaps not with war, but it will happen."

She had yet to meet this 'prince' that was perhaps the purpose of their travels here. It would make sense that she came over, but her brother remained at home. There wasn't a bride for him here.

"I-" She was a pawn. Her father had sold her. "Oh. I suppose."

Kiernan was foolish for not realizing it sooner. Her mother had not been upset by their visit. Her father was so kind, surely he would not plot behind her back? But perhaps England had something to offer Yoruba. Perhaps that forged alliance was needed, and the approval of the people was greater than his daughter. In a sick way that made her feel as though she had been forced to feel that way, she could understand it and almost accept it.
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