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kiaan rocked onto the balls of his feet handsome face swept into a conspiratorial smile. certainly the wandering eyes of servants and fellow nobles would fall towards them and wonder the nature of what they were doing. were kiaan a more selfless man he would have stayed away, let andromeda live in peace without the airs of kiaan devara following her reputation. but he had not been a selfless man in a long time and the draw of her smile seemed too enticing to spare himself any generosity in this way. he extended a gallant arm for her hand and led them both towards the garden. "my princess. shall we go for a turn around the garden?" he gave her a surreptitious wink as he spoke strolling into the bright mid-afternoon sun. the garden overflowed with scent vibrant magenta and orange flowers and greenery spilling over onto the cobblestone road. trees taller than spires ran along the outskirts and small ponds littered the area with varying levels of grandiosity. it was opulent, and beautiful, it reminded him of home and the seemingly endless beaches that ran along ceago's coast. he would have given anything to find himself in one of the stone houses that dotted the coast. he tucked his free arm behind his back and reappeared with a small silver flask. "a gift." he chuckled warmly. "i imagine what's inside will be a gift too but i'll have you know i made it. albeit a little help from a friend was in order but now you may never say that i'm entirely useless."

father had not noted the delight , unbridled and raw , flooding his second youngest's face — the tempestuous sway of skirts , the eagerness to return to the prison he mockingly called her room . his announcement , to invite all of the noble houses to the celebrations this year , chipped away at her shackles , granted her the opportunity to seek out old friend . an outcome he'd not predicted when he sent the princess on voyages to praise the gods , was the string of fate tied between kiaan and andromeda tightening . the first to pull a real smile from her lips when they'd arrived in ceago , the first not to reprimand the amusement she found in the display of blasphemy . his ability to get the heart she'd thought dead racing again . his invitation came from her hands , slipped into the royal courier's satchel and replacing the king's empty worded demand . i look forward to your arrival with eagerness , lord kiaan . and eager she'd been , she's afraid her ladies would have her strapped down should the pacing had worsened . her cerulean eyes fall onto him so naturally , as if they're always seeking him within the crowd of ardora , and the weight in the pit of her stomach disappeared . lips pulled from ear to ear , and although she knew that onlookers would frown upon the close distance between nobles , she found that his closeness did not displease her in the slightest . even after so long . " my answer remains the same as then , my lord . from your lips , always . "

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for: @sanctismaledis

it was in the endless tomes of libraries ziyue found her home. she was a difficult woman, certainly not with the disarming charm of some or her siblings or even the effervescent beauty of women who could manage to be both spiteful and endearing. ziyue was simply cold, a stark, icy thing to be beheld who moved with grace and severity. she'd abandoned the crowds to hide herself in some forgotten corner of the castle and read through the ledgers of the family lines collected there. certainly then she'd find something of interest about the urswicks and their connections to this palace. she traced a finger along the ink carefully deciphering each letter. her head snapped upwards as a sound broke through the silence. "hello?" she said slowly closing the book, power pulsed at her fingertips as she emerged from the table dragging its shadows with her. her hand came down slicing through the light as the visitor emerged. "lord serkan!" she said blinking dumbfounded. the shadows seemed to zip back to their rightful place in the room. "my apologies. i'll take my leave."

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for: @mahkotas

when ziyue was a child she'd watched just like this scores of lanterns floating up into the sky. a wish her mother had urged, a year before she'd decided to abandon her duties and find solace in the inner castle of her rooms. she wondered what good wishes and prayers did when you sent them into the sky like that. could a god reach out and catch them? when karagh had blessed her she'd received her answer. wishes did nothing except for bring comfort to the souls of those without enough faith to give them hope in any true god. still it was to the comfort of those ignorant people ziyue sent her lantern up into the sky watching it ride into the clouds. she'd written nothing inside of it just an empty vessel for an empty woman. "my liege." she said nodding her head with a dispassionate smile. "a beautiful celebration this evening." but her voice lacked any indicative warmth.

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for: @sanctismaledis

day had burned into night in hues of orange and crimson splashed across the sky. as far as the eye could see the sun dipped below the horizon and kiaan's legs sprawled one after the other upon the stone. he lost himself in these moments drenched in the light that seeped from the sky and the smell of tobacco and wine. the sleeping flame they called him - perhaps because so many nights he'd slept face down on a tavern's counter. it was hard to give himself any grace now nestled in the pit of vipers that was the royal court. his sisters moved with all the feline grace their station demanded of them while he lumbered inelegantly through politick crushing the delicacies of its nuance in his wake. lord kiaan, a proper young man on his way to embarrass the family line. at least nestled here in the gardens he could be his weakened self if only for a moment. black hair strung down in his face as he hunched over and polished over the goblet. as footsteps pattered behind him his hand instinctively flew to the dagger at his belt and then paused. andromeda's lady, he remembered dully. she hadn't enjoyed his presence as far as he could tell the last time they'd crossed paths. he tipped his head warily, "my lady."

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for: @celcstine

the festivities had tumbled, a river unbarred into the halls and the gardens. kiaan suspected much of the week would fall into such unfettered revelry and he found himself distinctively not objecting. a set of girls - around twelve ran giggling from the maze of hedges that walled in the inner garden arms linked and voices hushed. his own childhood fond and warm reflected itself back in the shimmering brightness of their mirth. he'd been more carefree then, if that seemed at all possible, running wild with his friends with less responsibility than weighed upon him now. but the time for childhood was over his father had been clear of that. kiaan's duty was to ceago, to farrador, to his people and not to revelry. though it didn't dissuade him from dabbling to his family's chagrin. he doubted the eissen's partook in revelry of any sort if the king's sunken face were to be of any indication. then there was isolde, so like her sister in their fairness and yet unlike her at all. andromeda was fresh and light, like dew. isolde was the storm that had brought about the dew in the in the first place. unable to help his own machinations he nicked a goblet from a passing servant and approached her with all the bravado of man far more brave than he was. "your royal highness." he said teeth shining in greeting. "you look absolutely lovely this evening. tell me is your husband lurking so i should be aware of my kindness? i only mean to offer a friendly compliment."

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for: @div1nes

her letter had come to him swiftly upon a summer evening. he had traced his thumb over her seal at least fifteen times before daring to break it open. since that day kiaan had counted, sixty days, fourty-two, twenty-seven. it had been a balmy night when he met her sipping chalice from the ritual glace at the temple - shot her a wink and watched (as he always inspired) scandal arise. the days had passed by in a haze and even kiaan (contrarian he was) was loaded into a carriage and sent along with every demonstration of the devara wealth to the capitol. the sort of trouble he could inspire there, he'd thought to himself. but always nagging in the back of his mind had been andromeda. their friendship had come as a surprise to him. one not born out of necessity or obligation but the lightness of laughter and childish glee like running towards the ocean then back away as the tide rolled in. as the crowds dispersed through the castle kiaan swayed all gleaming smiles and boundless charm until he spotted her willowy and lovely in the daylight. "your royal highness" he said bowing with a flourish. he gave a cursory glance around the hall for onlookers before leaning closer to her ear. "would you like to know a secret?"

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it had been at least ten summers since the last time she had seen florian urswick. he had been a boy and she a girl even further in history when they'd given any thought to spending a kind word on each other. ten summers and how much had they changed? ziyue had grown lovely even unmarried at thirty and florian as dashing as ever but their stubborn hearts were set stone-cold. ziyue's hair billowed against her back a dark curtain shielding her from the bright morning sun. when she turned to answer him no smile adorned her pale face. there was a small pervasive look of irritation quirking at the corner of her mouth but she stood moored to her spot like an oak in a storm. "children enjoy such frivolities. you must know them well."

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍     𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑     𝐓𝐎     :     𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦     .𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍     :     𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦   𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴    ,    𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨   𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳   𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺    .

the  sound  of  laughter  echoing  across  the  wind  brings  the  fox  to  a  slow  in  his  step  .  when  was  the  last  time  ardora  had  been  filled  with  so  many  people  from  across  all  the  regions  ?  he  could  not  remember  .  it  was  a  painful  thought  as  he  felt  his  invisible  chains  rattle  against  the  cobblestones  .  he  had  been  given  so  much  and  yet  lost  at  the  same  time  .  however  ,  now  was  not  time  nor  place  to  think  of  misery  for  ahead  was  laughter  and  smiles  .  "  it  seems  the  flower  crowns  the  servants  are  making  are  popular  amongst  the  children  .  "

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KIAAN DEVARA, THIRD LORD OF CEAGO, THE SLEEPING FLAME.

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STATISTICS

full name:  kiaan devara gender:  cis male pronouns:  he & him sexuality:  heterosexual age:  thirty title:  third lord of ceago hometown: the capitol of ceago, ilthoria languages: the common tongue status: human

APPEARANCE

kiaan is a vision of effortless nobility. with a languid, lazy, grace and elegance that draws attention wherever he goes. he can often be found leaning up against a wall or tree with a foisted snack or a drink in hand. years running the streets of ceago have given him a muscular build - the only thing he's seemingly ever committed himself too is training with his broadsword. his dark eyes gleam with mischief, or with melancholy depending on the hour and state of inebriation they find him in. his dark hair is usually tied back into a loose knot and a touch of gold adorns much of his clothing. from rings, to cuffs and earrings he enjoys the finer things. his clothes are always slightly rumpled, as if he dressed after some tryst. he is dangerously charming and entirely unreliable.

PERSONALITY

kiaan devara is a man born with everything, family, wealth, looks and yet seemed allergic to any obligation that was foisted upon him thanks to his status. publicly he is the charming black sheep of house devara: effortlessly witty, infuriatingly evasive and perennially disinterested in anything that doesn't pleasure him. he glides through court preening like a peacock and somehow can turn every question into a joke and command into a negotiation. his mask is effortlessly simple, a lazy man with nothing to lose. a disarmingly flirtatious personality that glows with all the misplaced confidence a man of his status is liable to have. he is never serious - except when he's entirely too much. his charm allows him to slip through the cracks of expectation and deflect with all the agility of a trained acrobat leaping through every criticism of his person as a man who simply does not care whether he pleases anyone but himself. most mistake it for aimlessness, even fewer realize it's actually armor.

beneath it all is something far more complex. he's deeply self-loathing at times and observant to a painful degree, he sees and feels more than he knows how to manage and when it all feels too much he runs away. he's painfully aware of how little he contributes to ceago and the devara legacy. though he mocks the piety and dedication of his family a part of him yearns to belong it - and feels he is incapable of doing so. but every time he dares to believe that he may be allowed his own self-doubt cripples him. he does not trust faith or the will of the gods and yet he remains in church to pray with his family and wears the talisman of atesia beneath his robes. it is clear some part of him wishes for it to be true - that there is some grander scheme at play, a part of this world and in this story where he belongs. he fears the schemes and machinations of power and the cost they would have both on himself and of the region that even though he derides, he loves deeply.

his greatest gift is his empathy - which seems like an animal instinct in his palms. he can read a room like a priest reads scripture always aware of the nuances of a tone or the raise of an eyebrow. this makes him a natural at negotiation, diplomacy and subversion. her understands the currency of secrets and the importance of keeping them. it makes him dangerously persuasive when chooses to be serious-which he rarely does. privately he reads poetry, wrestles with questions of faith and purpose but his mask of charm shields him from the answers to them. a quiet anger lives inside of him that resents the world for turning him into something ornamental and purposeless. and yet he is not broken. beneath his spirit of indifference is something waiting to be stirred - he dreams quietly and often of accomplishing great things and is unexcitedly clear headed in a crisis. he underestimates himself while those who truly know him don't. at his core he's torn between wanting to feel nothing at all and daring to feel everything the world has to offer.

HISTORY

kiaan devara was born on a windless morning when the sea lay as still as glass and the skies still burned with low, red haze. a bad omen cried the priest who remained by his mothers besides - that a child would be born on a morning with a storm incoming and a storm kiaan was. he was born long after their fall from favor and subsequent exiling to the coastal province of ceago - a city of wild beauty and unpredictably like the young lord who would call it home. his mother called him a gift, his father said nothing and all but he held a quiet intensity that nobody could quite interpret. he learned early on that affection in the devara household was like rain in a drought, not often but wholly gratifying when it did. he grew to crave that affection and approval tailing after his father just to hear one good word from his mouth. in his youth he tried his hardest to be the son he thought his parents expected but nothing seemed enough for them and slowly he became disillusioned with the requirements of being a devara.

he grew up sheltered within the walls of his estate surrounded by reminders of the devara legacy. portraits lined the walls with the images of those who had once commanded cities and armies and the pressure began to weigh on him that he would never amount to the greatness that seemed predestined to his fate. his sisters were both intelligent, formidable, and beautiful and between them kiaan seemed the only one out. in face he was devara through and through but he held none of the natural command the rest of his family did. he began to develop his own sort of charm and reputation as he understood that perhaps he could never achieve what his parents had set out for him. from an early age he was drawn to the majesty of life, he read poetry, took in art, changed the mood of a room with ease. he would often charm his tutors and then forget his lessons the next day or slip out of the estate to wander ceago's markets or taverns - there he felt more at home than in his misplaced role at court.

he began an unconventional education that tutored him in the ways of the world. he saw politics in watching sea captains haggle over cargo, picked apart the different terms and dialects that invaded a port city just by listening, and could disarm a hostile room with a well-placed joke. his family shaped ceago's laws but he became something quieter and more close to the ground - an informal ambassador for those commonfolk that he loved to ceago's court. he had no official title besides lord, just a presence, a reputation, and a voice people heard out even when they weren't sure why. he gained a nickname among the people: the sleeping flame. the last embers of a fired that seemed inconsequential but still burned. but within the eyes of his parents he remained an outsider to his sibling's achievements. they only saw in him potential left to rot by his constant cavorting and rabblerousing. yet despite this, kiaan thrived in ceago's shadows. stories of him calming a riot at the dock or talking down a heretical priest echoed through the streets. but kiaan never acknowledged them, just laughed and brushed them off as stories - but he remembered everything.

in recent years kiaan's name has begun appearing in whispered rumors throughout ceago. tales of a cloaked nobleman who settled a land dispute without bloodshed with only his knowledge of old border laws. this and others have followed kiaan to which he gives a small, secret smile and makes a joke. despite this kiaan remains an enigma to his family who regard his scattered acts of diplomacy as curiosity rather than strategy. but kiaan senses the shift around him - he can feel the undercurrent of tension and restlessness growing in ceago and in ilthoria beyond. with so much love for his people he wouldn't like to see a war within their lifetimes. more and more there are moments where he pauses and notices - things are changing. to those who have watched him close sly they believe that when his fire finally does ignite nobody will be prepared for it. an unquiet soul that yearns for more and endeavors only to smile, laugh, and speak for those people who have no voice of their own.

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ZIYUE HAOJING, THIRD LADY OF AETHNE, CHOSEN BY KARAGH.

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STATISTICS

full name:  ziyue haojing gender:  cis female pronouns:  she & her sexuality:  bisexual age:  thirty title:  third lady of aethne hometown: the town of aethne in the region of amberhigh in ilthoria languages: the common tongue status: sereen, chosen by karagh

APPEARANCE

at first glance ziyue is striking but cold. there is no warmth in her intelligent eyes. upon meeting her people often get the creeping sense that she's sizing them up rather than introducing herself in good faith. she has a regal sort of elegance afforded to her over years of carefully curating a personal image for the public to see. her posture is rigid and her face betrays no emotion except for the occasional curl of a lip in something like disdain. her black flows to her waist and is often pinned up in intricate styles or adorned with hair ornaments. ziyue cares deeply about her appearance as she gives no room for reproach to those who would like to see the haojing's fall. she's always dressed in some sort finery and frequently found with the silver emblem of the haojing's hanging around her neck.

PERSONALITY

ziyue is a sharply contrasting woman - cold one minute but seemingly soft the next. on the surface she exudes an arrogance and cold superiority that can be off-putting. she refuses to let anyone look down upon her or her family for their history or anything else they might find disagreeable. she's always relied on her intellect and cunning to see her through life preferring to pull strings from the shadows as opposed to standing in the bright sunlight of power. she believes, to a fault, that her mind is her singular most powerful asset and the reason she has for living and those who cannot match her prowess she views as beneath her. however she has no desire to dominate, or control others, only herself as she deeply fears being seen as weak or inferior by others. this fear is what motivates much of her decision-making in both interpersonal and outside relationships. even to her god who knows her completely she shudders at the thought of being viewed as weak or unworthy of his gifts and thus she's become one of karagh's most devout followers. she claims intelligence and logic as her gods which guide every step that she takes in life. beneath her distant, reserved exterior is a woman who is constantly navigating the precarious balance between ambition and vulnerability. her sense of self worth is tied to her intelligence and achievements which shield her from the fraught world of emotional vulnerability. growing up in a house with a tarnished legacy she learned early on that to be recognized meant you had to be better, better than anyone who would dare to speak against you. she has a tendence to distance herself emotionally even from her own family out of fear of her weaknesses being exploited against her. despite this she's deeply introspective she often questions her own motivations; does she desire to protect her family out of true love or obligation? are her actions really her own or is she just a puppet of karagh who already has known her and everything she will ever become? she masquerades a need for control but she lives at the behest of others. she wonders if for all her strength she is a pawn in a much larger game in which she's not even considered important.

her family is her life and she will do anything to protect them and to restore them to the glory they once stood at. if she were to run from her responsibilities then the divine gifts that were placed upon her would be for naught. she truly believes that the hand of sereen means she's meant for something larger - but she's not sure what that is yet. her narcissism isn't born of pure vanity but of another shield against the world. admiration and respect are currencies in which she must deal to ensure that she can succeed. her relationships with others are strained by her own internal conflict, she views most of her peers as irritants or distractions but still she selfishly yearns for something more, connection, companionship. though she would never admit it aloud she wonders if the cost of being touched by a god is the loneliness this power grants you. in her quiet moments she's deeply reflecting - wondering if it will be enough to restore her family or if she's chasing ghosts at the cost of her own humanity.

HISTORY /

when children are born into a crumbling legacy what can they take with them except cold stones? ziyue was born the third daughter, with no designs on power or leadership. she wouldn't have desired it regardless - even as a child she was a quiet and introspective spending her afternoons locked away in the library with a book or sneaking into her father's office. the haojing patriarch was a distant man with little more love for his children than one would have for a prize horse. their mother had fallen ill after their youngest sibling was born and spent most of her time bed-ridden. thus the siblings were left to their own machinations only burdened by the expectations that their parents placed upon them. from an early age ziyue's intelligence was clear. her sharp mind was a weapon and her value lied not in physical strength or charisma but a precise observation of the world. in aethne isolation became her world - with few families willing to interact with the haojing's tarnished reputation and her distance from her siblings already growing most times she only had a book for company. this began to breed an insatiable thirst for knowledge but it bred in her a resentment for those she viewed as beneath her intellectually. when ziyue was ten her sereen abilities and patronage by karagh manifested. her father, convinced that this meant the whole family had been blessed placed upon her the burden of restoring their family name to glory. ziyue grew even more wary of her own existence, intelligence, and the cost of her relationship with karagh. she became his most devout follower, praying several times daily and seeking his guidance in everything. she grew even more distant from other people spending hours alone waiting to hear from karagh and broadening the depth of her knowledge. his gift was a blessing, divine intelligence and exhilarating but frightening powers. this only increased her unease as she'd quickly become a formidable member of her house and the great patron of her father's desires but it left her wondering whether she was worthy of thee gifts or what cost they came with. was karagh truly a benevolent god who bestowed his favor out of love or had she become a pawn of the gods? fifty years past her father had come to the urswicks pleading for the return of his position and since then he had resented his own betrayal of pride and thrust it upon his children. but ziyue even in her youth could see through the surface. her family were restored to their rightful place but she remained suspicious of the urswick's intentions. they stood to gain nothing from reviving a dead house and her own cynicism didn't allow her to believe that they would have simply restored their titles out of kindness or compassion. no, this world was full of snakes and ziyue needed to be the oe to protect her family. while the haojing's slowly struggled to regain a foothold in amberhigh ziyue's mind began to attract attention both from those who sought to use her and those who feared her. the path to restoration would not be simple. though outwardly she remained aloof and distant inwardly she was always planning and assessing her next move. she trusted no one except for herself and the guidance of karagh. yet doubt lingered behind her always nearby. she could not escape the sense that her past was following her and and she was bound by forces beyond her comprehension.

now at the age of thirty ziyue stands at a crossroads. the haojing's revival has been slow but it is moving forward. yet the political landscape in ilthoria is fraught with danger. she cannot shake the idea that the urswick's had other intentions for restoring their seat and she'll do whatever she needs to protect her family and restore their name. even if it means making enemies of those she once considered allies. her connection to karagh remains central to her existence though she continues to wonder whether these gifts are truly a blessing or have stripped her of command of her own fate. she's no longer a naive young woman under the machinations of her father's plans. her intelligence is unrivaled and her ambition is sharp as ever. but beneath her cold exterior lies a woman who questions the cost her ambitions-whether the power she craves for her family is worth the isolation it brings and whether her role in these grand schemes will lead her to fulfillment or a darker fate.