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TASK : DEMIGODS

ELEANOR HATZFELD as . . . daughter of ATHENA, the greek goddess of wisdom, craft, justice and warfare . athena embodies rationality, tactics and strategy .

[tclkrefined]

this conversation had only served him to find two things: for one, to maybe stay wary about the mackenzie commander; more importantly, to definitely be wary of zehra. he'd learned to be a lot more fearful of people who could hold their anger and stay impassible, than the ones who blew up at the smallest winds. she was likely someone he didn't want to underestimate, and he respected that. "careful, i am a good clinger," he stepped away, grin still ghosting over his lips. "i will leave you to it, your grace. if you need any help with the frenchmen, you know whose name to be screaming out."

her  fingers  itched  for  her  weapon,  wishing to replace the sound of his laughter with a scream, but she wouldn't let him twist that into some victory for himself.   ❝ indeed. i'll tell him how excited you are to see him. ❞   her brother would know precisely how to proceed from there. making an example of one of the french might even gain him points with the mughal empresses. she chuckled.   ❝ oh, you misunderstand. we have far more important matters to discuss at dinner. like what direction the wind will be blowing in the morn. we barely grant mere seconds to mentions about the shit trying to cling to our boots. ❞

[tclkrefined]

how funny to think she had found these same hedges so mortifyingly suffocating a few nights ago, and today, they offer such a welcoming solace that the sight of them alone has something in her chest decompressing. it is the perfect spot. no one shall blame her for carrying her guard into a maze with her, given the current threats they were all under. the walls of green were tall enough that they could talk and be without being seen or heard. and anyone approaching would announce their presence with footsteps over the grass. it's also funny that she's more excited for the prospect of being with alistair inside of a plant-made hallway than she ever has for any other suitor who may have invited her to an opera.

his question has her laughing. "i did not manage. i threw a tantrum and held onto emine for dear life until we found a way out. i was seconds away from yelling for you." she looks over her shoulder, as if checking that no one is around, though she knows so. they're far enough in already to be lost to the outside. "i am glad you joined me this time," the smile that pulls on her lips is one she saves just for him. her hand reaches out, fingertips trail over his palm hesitantly before taking his hand in hers. they've done far worse than holding hands ( the memory sits heavy between them, she's sure of it ), but this still feels brand new. sparks buzz up to her elbow from their point of contact. "i have much to tell you," she starts, unable to hold all of the information she's been sitting on for any longer, since not properly talking to him the last few days. her best friend, her confidante, long before he was ever her lover. "for starters, on how gisela and i may have almost gotten ourselves slashed open, during the food fight. i suppose she told you already?"

closed starter ›› @tclkrefined

featuring ›› eleanor.

location ›› outside, near the maze.

he would not believe himself to be a man who enjoyed frivolities. not in the face of near-constant threats lurking around every corner. when would the next one come? would he be prepared? he & cailean had yet to perform their grand heist; a plan in the works, but would it be enough? & perhaps it was due to these questions, tumbling throughout his mind, that he was willing to entertain going through a maze.

it helped that he knew: no one would see them walk together.

"... how did you manage this at night?" he recalls standing outside the hedge, hands on the sword pommel, staring down the entrance, but being instructed to remain, as eleanor wished to endure it herself. she emerged victorious and with, what seemed, to be another potential friend. considering how fractured some of the relationships have been of late, this gladdened him. but still. always there was that pervasive kind of suspicion. he glances to her hand, down at her side. despite their kiss, there still is a shyness to him. atypical of him. perhaps he even begins to flush. it must be the cold, the furs from his armour are packed away in the armoury like a spoil. "i can't tell which way we're doing in this broad daylight, much less in pitch black."

[tclkrefined]

"speak for yourself. i shared a womb before birth, i'm quite comfortable sharing," eleanor retorted, a snort to her voice that betrayed the honesty of her statement. any of them knew she'd grown up quite possessive of her things, a spoiled brat of a teenager that threw a fit every time she found that someone had used her favorite hairbrush. "you're both my baby brothers!" despite laughter still lingering, she stopped in her tracks, arms that were positioned threateningly towards him now falling limp by her sides. she didn't consciously notice the change in her brother's mood, but they had grown up together, so closely entwined. the lack of sparkle in his eye was enough of an indicator that the game was no longer fun, for whatever reason. the hatzfelds were no masters of words, but they could read each other like wild dogs, on behavior alone. "alright, you were the one who came bothering me first. don't get crabby on me now."

there  was  no  denying  the  hatzfelds  were an odd breed even amongst their fellow germans. in the distance he could hear people still complaining and despairing over the fight that had accompanied dinner, and here the two of them, laughing as if the voices were only their parents complaining about the antics of their children.   ❝ have you forgotten who we are? hatzfelds don't share. ❞   each of her steps forward were mirrored by him stepping back.   ❝ baby brother? is ruby behind me? ❞   the rest of her words then registered, and his eyes lost some of its brightness despite his grin remaining.   ❝ go bother someone else, eleanor. ❞

[tclkrefined]

The guard seems to hesitate on whether or not to let them through, and Eleanor does the same; there is a falter to her step, her eyes wide for a moment before she hurries off after the prince, seizing the opportunity like a mouse running from a boot. "It is just a walk!" She reminds them, equal parts petulant and wary that one of them might change their mind and follow suit to drag the prisoners back inside. It doesn't happen immediately, so she tries to keep her shoulders away from her ears and keeps herself close to Joaquim, for the sake of keeping up appearances of this alliance. "I was growing restless in there, as well," she sighs. "I believe we have met, have we not?" Possibly while Eleanor was at her closest to Spain, in her almost betrothal to Damian. "My younger years are so far gone, memory evades me. But... Joaquim Ortiz, is it?"

"You should be careful, your highness, walking hastily is apparently a crime these days. New laws must have been approved under France's new rule," one he clearly looks down at, judging by the mocking tone of his voice. "Well? You aren't going to stop the two of us, are you?" With another's presence to back him up, he feels emboldened, and decides to walk past the soldier to keep up appearances, ignoring the trepidation in his chest as he makes sure the hand closer to his weapon stays still. "Every day I feel less like a guest and more like a prisoner."

[tclkrefined]

CLOSED for @espionisms (risa)

along the garden, through some of the prettier flower paths, dera paces. the sun had risen with the heat common to this land, brightening up the endless fields around them, and things have never felt so darkened. cloudy, uncertain, like the suffocating feeling of being stuck in a sandstorm. the newly hung portraits on the hall were a screaming message no one could miss, and dera wasn't one to look away. things are brewing, building, threatening to spill, she can feel it on her fingertips. she can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing, but she's leaning towards the latter.

a familiar back catches her eye and she quickens her pace to reach them, before either of them have a chance to hurry off the other way. "your pretty cards foresaw thailand and france's alliance, i presume?" her voice drips with sarcasm, a dozen assumptions hidden under the question.

[tclkrefined]

CLOSED for @bxrnfrxmashes (Kalyani)

Dera was no commander of the Egyptian forces, but she was a strategist by heart, a Ratsifi by blood. There was nothing that could keep her from tending to their military matters as if they were her duty, even if there was no obligation written into her marital contract. Given the current chaos of the last few days, she sent for Kalyani, and waited patiently inside of the Egyptian quarters for the visit. "Come in," she announced, when there was a knock at the door. "Close the door behind you."

[tclkrefined]

CLOSED for @gloriousncss (Tatiana)

It was fair to note that stress had managed to get all of them in a bit of a twist. Dera wouldn't say the wrath that burned through her veins was anything special, born from an anxiety rooted somewhere deep in her chest, seeing all of the clashing happening. She was far from cowering away from war -- if anything, she yearned for it. But not being in control of it, anticipating a strike at every turn, that was not what she'd expected from the scenario she'd dreamed of ( the one that ended with Egypt coming out victorious over all of them ). So it was only fair, and customary, that she searched for Tatiana one particular late evening, hoping to find something to soothe her soul.

"I hope you are not busy," she greeted, after her knuckles knocked on the open door to the medical wing Tatiana seemed to be working on. Her eyes searched the room, making sure no prying ears were too close. "Do you have a moment? There is an... ailment I would like to discuss, and I know no better healer."

[tclkrefined]

TASK : DEMIGODS

DERA BADI as . . . daughter of FREYJA, the nordic goddess of love, fertility, beauty, sex, war, death, gold, and magic . patron of cats .

[tclkrefined]

LAURA HARRIER ph. Adrian Martin Hourglass Cosmetics, January 2024

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aranya's eyes were distant, but there was still some fire behind them, some unbridled strength that eleanor knew to recognize in her friend. even being here, sitting under the scrutiny of all of these people and not shedding a single tear as she spoke of her children, she showed more strength than all of the kings and queens present combined. "they will," she reassured, though she had unsteady ground to stand on. it was hard to be sure of anything with so much uncertainty, so many threats, looming above them. "i am not the queen of germany, so my kingdom's fate does not lie with me," she said, with a certain heaviness, "but wherever my hand may reach, it will be reaching for you. you have an ally in me. we must find the murderers responsible for these attacks and they will suffer." she sighed. "you are impossibly brave, anya."

there  was  not  a  minute  of  the day where she didn't want to burst into tears. here especially. she watched as people went about their days, smiling and laughing, and wanted to scream. only she couldn't. her focus must remain fixated on her goal; tears would blind her if she allowed them to flow freely. it didn't stop her chest from aching with each breath, as if her own body was questioning why it continued on. her gaze lowered as she nodded.   ❝ they . . . ❞   the sensation of eyes upon her was a believable excuse for why her voice faltered. when she looked back over at eleanor, dark eyes were distant.   ❝ i want them to pay, eleanor. i want to find them, all of them - those who planned this and those who carried it out, and i wanted them to suffer. ❞

[tclkrefined]

Gus chortles at that. "Poor men and whole kingdoms, I see," he points out. Not that he's any sure he can crack a joke about Hisashi's exile and still keep a friendship at the end of it, but he's taking a shot where he sees the opportunity. His grin is still bright. "Good thing I'm neither."

The tonal shift once Midori's name is spoken is so quick he could almost miss it. But it was there, a flash of something else, the bitterness that slipped past and into his words. Gus knew what it was like to be haunted by some very living ghosts, too. "She's really changed, then? I have yet to see for myself," he huffed. "You two talked? You must tell me more."

“See, I should find that comforting, but somehow it just makes me think you’d hurt me in other places.” His grin makes it obvious he doesn’t actually believe that, but he’s never been good at letting an opportunity go. Besides, if he stopped joking around he might have to have an honest, intimate moment with someone, and that was unacceptable.

“Lucky for both of us a make a point of only making an enemy of poor men.” And of being exiled from entire nations, but there’s no reason to dwell on that.

Hisashi flinches at the name. Cool exterior braking for a moment. “I saw someone who looked an aweful lot like her. Some fine lady. But it was not the Midori I knew.”

[tclkrefined]

Oh, how the bridges are burned. He could've played nicer. Gus knew he could've marched into these quarters in a much different light, played the knight in shining armor and tried to fend off the French army, and maybe that would've saved him from losing the recognition on another friendly face, but oh, well. He already had enough history with Scotland, he could afford to see a few pouts turned up his way. "You've lost your brother? You Scots and your damn family issues," he hummed humorously, looking around the room again, still pacing carefully. Joanna gripped a small jewelry box, and he could turn his attention to that, but there was little point. Even if she was hiding something important there, he had more morals than actually getting physical with a woman ( a princess, no less ) for a few pretty earrings. It'd be embarrassing to grapple for a lady's jewels. "I shall get word to him of your distress, if I see him around. I still have work to do here, however," he moved to a chest, running a finger over its surface before glancing back at her. "Just clothes here, I presume?"

Her skin crawled at the suave and sweet facade that had begun to fall at her feet before her. Perhaps, on her travels, Joanna had trusted more than a few people far too easily. With her shoulders tensed, she ripped her hand from his after his patronizing pet to her fingers, the hand where her wedding ring should rest. "Arriving with the French doesn't make you seem like my friend," she hissed, marching over to a jewelry box on her nightstand and applying just enough pressure to raise suspicion in that direction. Divert their attentions away from the thing you are worried most about, Zehra had told her. "You won't find what's valuable to me in here," she prefaced, hand gripping tightly around the box, "You want to be a friend to me...?" leaning in as though she had some deep, dark secret to tell, "My brother doesn't seem to be present here," she feigned the look of a damsel in distress. If Calan was even half the fighter Joanna was, he wouldn't even flinch under Gus's trickery, "I've not a clue where he might be or if he's alright... and since I am confined here, if you could find him for me, I would be most grateful..."

[tclkrefined]

Eleanor had been doing a lot of walking lately, strolling around the gardens for some fresh air, ever since the palace had started to feel more suffocating than ever. It'd been bad enough coming here and seeing the party the Mughal Empire had thrown "for the deceased", now with the addition of new threats, things felt heavy. Few presences seemed to offer her soul any solace -- she considered herself immensely lucky that one of them appeared at one of her walks. "Isolde, my darling," she breathed out in relief, soft smile already gracing her lips. If being around her brothers always brought out the worst of the childish tendencies in her, being around Isolde was the opposite; she felt like a kid in all of the better ways, as if they had no bigger worries again than picking which stuffed animal would be joining them for fake tea. She waved a hand dismissively at the curtsy, and squeezed her friend's hands in hers. "You know I hate the formalities. I've been... well," the word came out choked, as if her throat had been trying to keep it from fully coming out. Eleanor sighed, knowing the lie was easy to spot. "Stressed, quite frankly. But faring. How about you, dearest? It's been a shame we haven't spoken in a while."

Closed starter: Isolde Fultz and Eleanor Hatzfeld (@tclkrefined)

Setting: the gardens, gazebo

Isolde opened a wicker basket and began to take items out: plates, a teapot, china cups, silverware, and cakes and sandwiches until a full tea was set up. Once upon a time, she and Eleanor had their own tea parties as little girls and now, in this far away land, Isolde had set up another. It had been a turbulent time for her friend, Isolde knew, having lost her father and the crown she'd thought to inherit; even Isolde had been shocked when Elias had been named king rather than Eleanor queen. Still, with such grief surrounding the family and the threats from abroad, the siblings would need to stand together, even if their hearts weren't in it. First though, it was high time that Eleanor had a moment of peace. Isolde smiled broadly as her friend came into view and rose quickly in order to drop a curtsy. "Your highness, my dear friend...how are you doing?" she asked, taking Eleanor's hands in her own.

[tclkrefined]

gus will admit, he's only a mere opportunist -- he doesn't know exactly why dancing around the marketplace would put the princess in a bad spot, but he'd made his assumptions when she'd come over begging him to keep silent. he doesn't know much about royal life necessarily, who knows what kind of bonker rules they'd been setting up for themselves this whole time? it had seemed that sneaking out for some fun would be too uncouth and lead to bad press. "do you? prefer dealing with the outcome? then so be it," he shrugged casually. "you were the one begging otherwise, so i tried to bargain you a deal. i'm simply an honest man."

did he have anything better to do, of course not. "nah. slow night." no one to go after, no job to see to completion, he was content to just laze around until something else came up ( and something else had ). "do you have better things to do than coerce honest men into silence?"

" a favorite past time of mine, truly. " aurora remarked, though the words were completely. it was her favorite thing. dancing, most of all. she loved to dance, be it in a crowded ballroom or here in the streets with the commoners. aurora loved the way it made her feel.

his words made the crown princess immediately frowned, and her brows furrowed. " and i don't make deals with blackmailers. " she retorted back with an eyeroll. " go off and tell then, i rather deal with the outcome then fall prey to your games. " this was an often habit of hers, her father would not be surprised in the least to find aurora beyond palace walls in the middle of the night — but aurora would rather not deal with the headache of getting caught and being placed under house arrest for the remaining of her time in the mughal empire. " do you not have something better to do ? " she asked.

[tclkrefined]

CLOSED for @heirlccms WHEN: after the search & subsequent fight with the French army

Nerves flourished around them all, heightened and buzzing. The stress spread around the hallways like a mist, infecting anyone who dared open their doors and breathe it in; or it was brought in by the French men as they turned every chest and jewelry box upside down. Anger burned fast and bright in the very center of her chest, her shrill voice had ordered them away to the best of her abilities -- which was to say they had merely laughed in her face, if anything, and continued their so-called search. But her wrath didn't have space to grow for long. She held it herself, pinched its wings between her fingers and left it to buzz uselessly in hand like a trapped bee, because Achillas had been the one throwing himself into action.

Concern unfurled in her chest, spread over tingling limbs as she watched blades get drawn. There was an equilibrium to them, Achillas and Dera were an ever present push and pull of power, but there had to be stable ground to stand on. When he found himself losing his temper, she had to be the one holding the fort. At least when it came to impulsively pulling a sword at the face of snarling Frenchmen who would surely waste his life without much remorse. She held her head high and kept her pose unwavering until they had left their sleeping quarters ( her husband miraculously unharmed ). There, in the wake of their bedroom being torn upside down, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"As enticing as it may have been to watch you protect our family, I would rather you not get yourself murdered," she murmured, her voice sharper and colder than she intended it to be, tension of the fight bleeding onto her mood now, despite her tendency to always soften before him. "Achi," she called, the sound of loving nickname apologetic in its tone. Her hand found the crook of his elbow. "They will pay. Are you well?"

[tclkrefined]

LADY JESSICA & LETO ATREIDES Dune (2021) dir. Denis Villeneuve