flcralhaze

[flcralhaze]

large  social  gatherings  often  left  kaito  feeling equally as fatigued as hours of sword training. a small part of him envied those who seemingly gained energy from other people as if their peers were water to their roots rather than having to strike a balance between crowds and quiet. his mother had been like that, constantly radiating, mere presence enough to draw people in. kaito swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled his mind away from his memories. he turned fully toward the advisor.   ❝ i'm sorry to hear that, my lord. i hope whatever strife exists is able to heal. ❞   sincerity made warmth slip easily into his voice. kaito knew not all wounds could heal nor all anger, mislike as he did carrying it, resolved. hopefully that was not the case but prying was not his character.   ❝ very true. ❞   he nodded.   ❝ especially when the stars are as bright as they are tonight. as nice as a ballroom can be, i've found natural beauty normally outshines. ❞

Who would've thought a day would come where Abdullah wished to be anywhere but in a ballroom filled with monarchs and the like? At one point in time, he would've used it as an opportunity to sneak his way into the good graces of every one who would listen, persuade information from unsuspecting guests, and keep his eyes firmly on whomever he was gathering information on. Tonight, however, he finds that a nervous sweat builds at his hairline and the music, relatively low and soft in nature, frayed his nerves. He finds his way out onto the balcony, making note of the emperor but not make conversation until Kaito speaks to him. The advisor plops himself down on a bench near the railing, turning toward Kaito with a roll of his eyes. "One could say that, yes - but I'll admit that I'm...evading someone who...well, let us say is not very happy with me at the moment." He takes a breath. "Besides, the view out here is far nicer than the one in there, don't you agree? Your majesty?"

[flcralhaze]

GINNY & GEORGIA Raymond Ablack in S1E3 — Next Level Rich People Shit

[flcralhaze]

{ raymond ablack , thirty7 , cis man , he / him } we are so glad to see you safe, court physician león ramos of spain ! it’s dangerous out in the world these days , but i hear that you are benevolent and erudite enough to handle it. just don’t let your stubbornness bring you down. stay on your guard , because with your secret being at risk for exposure , you wouldn’t want everyone to find out you knowingly saved the lives of rebels instead of turning them in.

basic information.

full name: león ramos. goes by: león , leo. name meaning: lion. age: thirty7. date of birth: august 28th. astrological sign: virgo. gender & pronouns: cis man , he / him. orientation: biromantic , bisexual. spoken languages: spanish , italian , english , can read latin. title: court physician of spain. martial status: unwed , unbetrothed. loyalty: his oaths as a physician , spain.

personality.

positive: benevolent ,  erudite ,  compassionate ,  affable , inquisitive , steadfast. negative: stubborn ,  workaholic ,  idealistic , overprotective , self-critical. moral alignment: neutral good. temperament: sanguine. mbti: isfj - the defender. hobbies: research , reading , astronomy.

history.

born and raised on a small farm in the spanish countryside, león's life was quiet. it was not without struggle, money was sometimes short and the weather sometimes prevented the harvest from being as bountiful as expected, but overall the ramos family was happy. león began to shadow a physician in a nearby town. he'd always been an inquisitive person and after constantly following around the doctor, asking question after question, the man finally agreed to mentor him. he proved a quick study, which meant no one was surprised when rather than inherit the family farm, he went off to university to study medicine.

he thrived at school and despite receiving an offer to work at a hospital in spain's capital, he returned to his hometown afterwards and worked alongside his mentor. a quiet life was all he wanted. later, he would say he was drawn home for another reason for it wasn't long after his return that an illness swept through the countryside. there was nothing quiet about the long hours spent trying and sometimes failing to cure people. days blended together, sleep became foreign, but eventually the last patient recovered and no new ones fell sick with the illness. león's mother and his younger brother, however, did not survive.

he fully intended to stay in his hometown. after all, so little aid had been sent when the illness was at its height, and now his father and only surviving sibling were grieving, but his mentor insisted that he could not waste his skills, a god given gift the older man would declare, when others could benefit from his medical skills. despite his reluctance, he eventually agreed after gaining his father's blessing. by some miracle, the job he'd previously turned down was still available and so, león went to madrid.

he buried himself in work. his failure to save his mother and brother weighed heavily on him, fueling him to study more and work harder so in his battles against death he would be as mighty as he could be. and as the years passed, he became a renowned doctor, known not only for his skills and intellect but also his heart. those in need and capable of travel came to madrid to see him, knowing neither lack of status or coin would result in them being turned away, and for those too ill to travel, león would journey to them if he could.

his skills were what garnered the spanish crown's attention. the previous court physician was growing older and the time to find her successor had arrived. león had never imagined the position would be his nor aspired to it, content with serving the people, but the crown chose him. in the seven years since, he has dutifully served the royal family.

commitment to his new role didn't stop león from also serving the people. he maintained his office at the public hospital and saw patients there whenever he could. life fell into a comfortable rhythm until the reckoning. the last thing león ever expected was for two known rebels to show up at his door requesting his help. despite knowing what the crown would demand, he agreed to help them. he was a doctor above all else, sworn first to do no harm. after that, more rebels began seeking him out for help; none were turned away. león knew he was doing the right thing but that didn't stop the quiet worry of what would happen if the wrong people learn of the aid he has offered.

headcanons.

official court physician, unofficial court therapist/counselor. it's public knowledge that león's door is always open for whoever needs it - be it for a wound, sickness, or simply a listening ear. he is extremely discreet, never once having shared any information, medical or not, a patient has told him, which is what has helped build his reputation as someone people can confide in.

he owns a she-cat name baya. a patient gave her to him when baya was a kitten. she has a habit of following león around the palace when she's not napping in his office.

despite appearing like a gentle giant, león won't hesitate to defend those he cares about. he might despise violence and fighting but that doesn't mean he's incapable of it. a fact that everyone eventually learns if they're around him enough because as understanding and levelheaded as he often is, he will raise his voice if he has too - something that has happened a handful of times if he's mad at another physician or feels those working alongside him are being disrespected.

secretly a big romantic. however, he has prioritized his work and buried himself in it, which has prevented him from having any serious romantic relationships.

other than medical books, león loves reading and learning about astronomy. he keeps a telescope in his room so he can study the stars and other celestial objects.

while he is a man of science above all else, he is committed to his faith. he attends mass each week and if he has a particularly rough day, he will seek refuge at church.

[flcralhaze]

❝  well,  as  long  as  it  isn't  the worst. ❞   his smile was half-hearted; no matter how many days stood between him and the day his parents died, genuine amusement remained difficult to find. war hadn't helped either. but his expression brightened easier in midori's company. a fact he was immensely grateful hadn't been altered in the past year. so many treated him differently now, but to his cousin, he remained simply kaito.   ❝ will they? ❞   he wondered out loud.   ❝ or will they turn a blind eye to the suffering their own actions have brought about and claim we have no right to mourn because they decided we deserved it? ❞   jaw clenched, anger slipping into final words. no one, noble or commoner, deserved what had happened. especially not his parents.

"Just about... Worse than those existential French plays I've had to endure. But better than those odd, avant-garde German iterations." And Midori's had to endure quite a few, during her stints in Europe. It's the only way she knew how to serve Kaito and his cause. Neither brilliant with a sword like the Emperor, or clever with strategy like her cousin. Midori defaults to the trade of people and secrets. Except, well... Kaito's heart has never been much of a secret from her, has it? With a sympathetic smile, she wonders out loud; "There's nothing subtle about what's been lost." They may find fault in the play, but it's intent? "It'll do the people some good to reflect on what's been lost." And maybe it'll do you good, too... She thinks, said as much through the squeeze of his hand.

[flcralhaze]

if  the  rebellion's  flag  adorned  the  mast of scotland's ships then the pride she exuded wouldn't be forced. unlike some of her peers, cordelia possessed a fondness for the finer things in life, pretty dresses and jewels filling her drawers, and grandness. in moderation. unlike the monarchs who'd let their greed, amongst other traits, blind them. thoughts she could not portray. the mask of a loyalist was melded to her flesh; one never knew when eyes were watching. yet no eyes felt heavier than theirs. cora glanced at cailean out of the corner of her eye, trying to decipher the expression she found.   ❝ despicable, ❞   she hissed, teeth grinding against each other despite maintaining a serene expression.   ❝ you would've thought they'd done enough mocking during the play. i won't be surprised when it continues at the ball. ❞   a shame, she normally adored parties but the bitter taste lingered in her mouth.

The ships, each grander than the next, sailed past them. Banners flew high while the cheering on land was deafening. In the past, their fleet, their pride and joy, would have filled Cailean's heart with thrill. But now, the banner of the Stuarts served as a reminder: look at what you have taken from your people. They had to sacrifice not only their power for your ideals, but their pride too. Cora's remark was innocent enough. Not so long ago, they might have laughed and added a sarcastic remark, but now they winced at her words. Was she teasing them? Did her thoughts match their own? What have you done to our country? These ships could, no - they should be ours. 'Of course, it's impressive,' their voice was rougher than they had intended. 'They are mocking us. They are showing us the wealth they have amassed, even though they know how much we are struggling.' Their eyes lingered on Cora for a moment longer as if searching for judgement in her eyes.

[flcralhaze]

humility  colored  her  bashful  smile.  no  piece of her outfit had been carelessly selected; a siren closely observed what notes best drew in her prey, and there was only one person she most focused on continuing to wrap around her finger.   ❝ no one tonight is more handsome than you. ❞   occasionally, truth did fall from her lips, calculated in the same vein as all her other actions. she blushed.   ❝ that's what i hoped you would say. the other nobles can wait until tomorrow to speak with you. ❞   one brow arched, surprise playfully exaggerated.   ❝ you did? then i must insist you show me what you've learned, my prince. ❞ 

Blair emits a low hum of appreciation, watching with giddy intent when the flowers sit prettily against her wrist. "You look perfect." She always does - even when she's tired, or bored, or cross. It's her face that he imagined in the thick of it. When Edinburgh fell to rebels, during his capture in the hands of those very rebels. Cora is heart and home, and it's undeniable that he laughs. "Most?!" He asks, incredulous. "Sweetheart, I shan't leave your side. I've adored you too long to play coy now." Life and death does that to a man, though in Blair's estimation, he would be this forthright even before Scotland's division. "I even practiced."

[flcralhaze]

how  easily  they  fell  back  into  old rhythms, time apart vanishing as if it'd never existed and they wouldn't need to soon resume their respective roles. mackenzie blood ran too thick. cordelia's muscles exhaled. her willingness to serve the rebellion didn't negate the difficulty of speaking venom about her own kin, every day pretending she didn't worry for them. a necessary role until all of scotland was free of the stuarts' claws.   ❝ it must have been a boring vacation if it drove you to try developing a sense of humor, ❞   she retorted with a roll of her eyes. her knew bumped his back in unspoken understanding.   ❝ your originality needs some work, however. ❞

mischief was a familiar sparkle in the glint of pale eyes, and isaac smirked as her weight found home settled beside him. existing in their own corners of power carved from the marble of royalty, every secret was protected by their own blood. and isaac knew each had their unique role to play. even so- it did nothing to dampen the spirit of an older brother, finally reunited with the sister he so loved to antagonize with love. " missed you? " the strageist breathed out, eyebrows raising as if considering the notion for the first time. " why- were we apart for long? felt like a vacation. " he teased, though there was deceit in his words, the sentiment behind the jest speaking volumes to their absence && it's toll it had taken. his knee bumped to hers in a quiet, subtle pass for connection.

[flcralhaze]

the  lack  of  true  response  echoed  loudly in his ears. the truth must be uncomfortable. if the revolutionaries naively thought they'd be lauded as heroes then reality had bitten back. shoulders shrugged.   ❝ you'd have to ask my brother about those decisions. ❞   stefan had desired no seat at his father's or brother's council table, politics happily kept as far away from him as possible. the benefits of the spare.   ❝ i'm quite happy with my current friends. ❞   another roll of his eyes. with whispers of poor economic conditions, the rebels were who couldn't afford to make enemies of the bank of europe.   ❝ your side couldn't even successfully take over an entire country and have already tasted defeat in another. ❞   had he been asked to bet on who would've weeded out the revolutionaries, japan wouldn't have been where he'd placed his coin. a pleasant surprise.

Cailean did not flinch at the prince's snide remark. They were used to royals like him, those who saw the world as their playground and anyone in it beneath them, theirs to toy with. Yet Cailean wondered, would the crimson drip from their fingers if they dared to look down? 'And what of those of us you imprisoned and executed for daring to speak against you?' This was a mistake. To think they would be accepted as one of them, how pathetically naive. Their father's words came to them, spoken to them when they had been too young to understand the world they lived in: they did not need to be liked or accepted, not when they could be feared, and the little play proved they were already feared. 'Did this speech of yours make you feel strong? You may think it's easy to despise me but don't forget that there are more of us than there will ever be of you. So if you know what's good for you, you might try to make friends among us rather than enemies.'

[flcralhaze]

the  ball's  glamor  shown  too  brightly  when grief and war still weighed heavily upon his shoulders, but an emperor must stand tall. kaito wouldn't stumble during the first gathering of nations he attended as emperor. he couldn't. dutifully, he conversed with the others in attendance. when his eyes spotted his cousin, however, he made his way over to her as soon as possible. ❝ i think i'll stick with the empanadas for now, ❞   he murmured, nose scrunching slightly before neutrality washed over his features again. he'd tried an olive during another meal here and had no desire to spoil his appetite again. even if the other foods that made up the banderillas would mask the taste.   ❝ are you enjoying the ball? ❞   asked despite suspecting the answer.

another day, another social event on the world stage. time that could be used for actual work, instead spent twirling on the dance floor and marveling at shining baubles. it turns suzume's stomach. but she is nothing without paying careful attention to her obligations. fulfilling each and every one. as she approaches the nearest table of foodstuffs, manicured fingernails clink against her glass. she swirls the sherry, letting the aroma waft into her nose before taking a minuscule sip. "the banderillas are best to start with. they are much lighter than the other hors d'oeuvres," she advises @classiqals @flcralhaze @ymir-heart. if idle chatter is required of her, then so be it.

[flcralhaze]

if  she  must  be  assigned  a  dance partner in her husband's absence, who was the only soul she desired to share any dance with, then the sultan would be among the more welcomed options, self criticism of his dancing abilities aside. poor company was far more aggravating in her eyes, and plenty of the people in the room possessed temperaments that would grate against hers, perhaps even warrant her feet to step heavily upon theirs. warmth slipped into her smile as malaika accepted halil's hand.   ❝ i fear you may have too much faith in my dance abilities, sultan. if these were ethiopian or tanzanian dances, then you would be correct but these spanish ones are entirely new to me. ❞   rarely venturing beyond ethiopia's closed borders meant that it'd been some time since she'd last had to learn a new dance style.   ❝ regardless, no offense shall be taken. ❞   a brief pause before she spoke with laughter in her words,   ❝ except, perhaps, towards the bonapartes for requiring these lessons. ❞

Consider him a fool for such thought, however, if he'd known there would be mandatory dance lessons, he might've sent someone in his stead. Perhaps, crowned one of his siblings their leader for the day only and hid out among common people until it was over. His mother would find him, he was sure, and yell; a sight that he wished to save the wonderful people of Madrid from. Upon approach in the ballroom by the lonely queen of Ethiopia, Halil's heart softens and a courteous, easy smile creeps up from it. He extends a hand. "Yes, it seems we have - an unfortunate turn of events for you, your majesty and an honour for me. My only hope is that my two left feet do not cause you harm or offence. I'd hate for our two nations to go to war simply due to my lack of rhythm." Was there any news? He wondered; of her husband? He doesn't ask, if only to spare her from the added pain.

[flcralhaze]

malaika  had  expected  the  murmurings  ever  since the final draft of the script had been placed in her hand, but she welcomed it. silence granted little information; true thoughts could be cloaked behind false expressions. if people sympathized with those who'd kidnapped her husband and murdered other monarchs, and chose to focus on that rather than the main purpose of honoring the fallen, then mal wished to know their identity. also wished to remind others where ethiopia stood - anger burned like the sun. the voice of her sister in law pulled her attention away from the whispered hisses she'd be listening to.   ❝ indeed. ❞   a nod.   ❝ i believe one of them was determined to be one of the leads after losing their two siblings because of the reckoning. ❞

aysha could already live without the theatre in general. something to fill time, to entertain during festivities. and she supposes this play, co-signed by her own family, serves a similar function. but disgruntled murmurings in the audience only solidify her feeling that this one is different. she can't dwell on such thoughts, though. the solomans must stand united, for malaika's sake and for ethiopia's. nor should she be worrying her pretty little head about politics… right? her head swivels in search of distraction, perfectly spiraling coils of hair billowing, "the lead actors are so… passionate, no?" the princess inquires of @balteren @flcralhaze @succiducus nearby. the most neutral statement she can manage on the subject—without too much hesitation, anyhow.

[flcralhaze]

muscles  tensed  instinctually  when  his  arms  unexpectedly embraced her. however, only a few seconds passed before an exasperated but fond smile tugged at her lips, and mal returned the hug before stepping back.   ❝ hello, blair. ❞   her worry for him quieted upon seeing him in good spirits, even if it would only last during the ball; she hoped not. reality prevented the hope from growing too loud. too much had happened to both of their nations for sorrow to not still linger, for wounds to not still be healing.   ❝ that's . . . good. ❞   malaika sighed.   ❝ what do you recommend to eat? i haven't sampled any of the dishes yet. ❞

Scots were impassioned, proud, and most of all - loud. Even a divided nation like theirs finds its spirit with an open cask of wine, and Blair doesn't let sobering reality get in the way of fun. They will have their problems tomorrow. Tonight? He's halfway to find a server for a fresh glass, when the Ethiopian Queen brings him to a pause. "Mal!" Casual, informal -- it's been too long, and Blair wastes no time to hug the regent. What? He's a warm-blooded Scot, he's a hugger by nature. "Hmm?" His ears pique. "Yes, I am. Very much so." Blair nods, like a young man being schooled. "I have eyes on all good food and drink." It's not what she means, but well... Isn't that what he means, in turn?

[flcralhaze]

it  was  a  relief  that  antonia  was good company. how terrible the atmosphere back home would've been if she'd been a bore or worse, worshipped the ground elias walked on. his brother would've been unbearable; the crown barely fit his big head as it was. stefan grinned.   ❝ i knew you wouldn't let me down! ❞   adulthood hadn't eliminated the thrill that sneaking away from guards and other members of staff brought. with a dramatic flair, he gestured down the hall.   ❝ please, lead the way. ❞

Perhaps it was sharing the experience of being the spare, of feeling at times like a powerless trading card, but Antonia felt far more comfortable with Stefan than his brother. Her guard has been up every moment in Germany, but it felt a little easier to allow her brother-in-law to see her space.

"I can do you one better!" Antonia said with a warm smile "España is not within this castle. To truly see my home we need to get outside the walls. Luckily I know all the easiest routes for two royals to slip out unnoticed."

[flcralhaze]

normally,  he  took  great  care  in  keeping his image as golden as the coins that filled the hatzfeld coffers, but his smirk only grew sharper. no reason to play nice when the scot had made their opinion on all royals clear. yet stefan still feigned contemplation as he took another drink.   ❝ perhaps some light reading is in order, sir. to refresh yourself on the difference between fighting a war and sneaking around like rats to murder unarmed people in their homes. ❞   he chuckled, the sound blending in with another wave of cheers from inside the theater.   ❝ even so . . . i don't recall hearing of a peaceful division of scottish lands. i wonder how many men have you sent to carry our your killings. ❞

The evening air was not cool enough to soothe their anger, which was boiling dangerously close to the surface. While laughter from the theatre spilt into the night, their vision darkened from the edges as the last bit of resolve slipped through their fingers. If those living in the comfort of a palace thought they knew loss, knew death, they would soon come to a rueful awakening. 'If we are murderous villains, what does that make you?' They did not shout, even when their hands shook with restraint. 'I have watched your side sit on your bloody throne while killing those below you for centuries. You have sent people, desperate for coins to feed their families, to wars to carry out your killing. So what if we fight back for once?'

[flcralhaze]

❝ why,  of  course.  ❞ other  than  his  brothers, he was confident that no one could match, never surpass, his skills when it came to social gatherings - be it integrating with the crowd, a chameleon cloaked in charm, or finding an advantageous position to drink and observe.   ❝ and since i'm a good brother, ❞   he poured some wine from the bottle he'd grabbed into a goblet and passed it to elias. stefan's chuckle was accompanied by a small scoff.   ❝ no place will ever compare to our schloss. ❞   german gold meant there was no reason to settle for anything less than the best.  ❝ but this place is acceptable. ❞

@flcralhaze | Stefan and Elias, The Welcome Ball

"I see you've found the good stuff." Not that their gracious hosts wouldn't splurge on the best of the best for the Hatzfeld's. They are allies, after all. Family through marriage, even if Elias' new wife is the personification of the seventh circle of hell. But he's admiring more than Stefan's choice of wine. Rather, the perfect corner; where one can hide, whilst keeping a steel eye on the rest of the party. "It's a nice place." But there's always a but, and it comes with a passive aggressive smirk. "Not as big our schloss, though." And what are the Hatzfeld's and the Germans, if not proponents of 'bigger is better.'

[flcralhaze]

brown  eyes  softened  and  lips  curved  upwards. if anyone would go to the effort of not only selecting a flower but weaving it into an accessory that could adorn her wrist it would be blair stuart. he almost made the game too easy.   ❝ it's not corny. it's sweet, ❞   she reassured,   ❝ and i would be honored to wear it. ❞   her eyes never left his; eyes that were so open. she should find it pitiful, she did, but the thought didn't carry as much expected venom. cora mentally shoved it aside. instead, her free hand reached out for his, entwining their fingers.   ❝ so long as i can share at least the majority of the dances with you then tonight will be very special. ❞

@flcralhaze | Blair and Cora, The Welcome Ball

"I thought it could go with your gown." The delicate flower looks small and delicate in his large hands. The petals and greens melded together, forming an intricate pattern. Blair is no artist. Certainly not learned in the intricacies of women's fashion. But chivalry is an art learned from his late father, and careful consideration from his mother. "You don't have to wear it. It's rather corny, I admit." With a sheepish shrug, he reaches for Cora's wrist. The same one studied and known, for all the years they circled each other. Meant to be, he thinks, if only life and politics hadn't gotten in the way. "Just -- I wanted something special, for tonight." God knows the last time they shared anything, without the looming gloom and doom of the reckoning.

[flcralhaze]

in  the  theater,  malaika's  eyes  only  rested upon the stage for the sake of appearances. the performance, despite helping fund it, was of little interest to her; the reactions of those around her was what the queen's other senses focused on. many gifted her with precisely what she'd hoped the event would bring. some of the support could be false, forged by those who knew better than to cause waves, but the discontent rang truer. the friends of tyranny made themselves known. her muscles tensed. anger made her chest burn. after subtle glances were made and mental notes taken, malaika slipped outside for a breath of fresh air. she shook her head.   ❝ i don't, no. ❞   brown hues calmly observed the man before her. ethiopia's queen had stood tall since she'd set foot on spain's shore, not proud per say but assured, strong, equally as capable despite her husband's absence.   ❝ it has grown quite loud in the theater, as if some wish to drown out the grief and suffering certian actions have left in their wake. ❞

open starter -> capped @ 3!!

setting -> outside of the propaganda play, intermission

any gender, kingdom, nobility status, etc!!

there as a subtle form of security, though dressed as the nobility he wore proudly, su-jin's ears were pricked for any sound of alarm - but had heard more than he'd bargained for in being so alert. whispers of disgruntled, unsettled nerves had swept the theater. those who had sympathized with the revolutionaries && made apologies for the tyranny of the rebellion... they found controversy with the direction taken in a play meant to honor the fallen. he bristled, a burning sigh coiled in his chest, until finally the fresh breath of air just outside the playhouse was met with relief. eyes flickered shut - but only for a moment. footsteps approached, there in the darkness of the shadows.

another, seeking reprieve from the controversy? the growing tension between the theater seats? exhaling long && slow, collecting himself with a cool, icy dedication, su-jin began to light a long cigarette and take a drag. eyes fall on the other figure, cautious, paranoid, curious... unsure. for an assassin, you could never be too careful, after all. " do you smoke? "