ofbcileys-blog

[ofbcileys-blog]

melodywalsh:

DATE: march 15 LOCATION: archeon kitchen STATUS: open

There was a low hum that echoed throughout the Archeon halls that spoke of the future Queen, the Crownstrial; it was all terribly distracting, until Melody began to feel that she could scarcely hear her own heart in the midst of the low whispers of who will compete and who will the families choose. After all, she had no claim in any house rivalries and competitions; she understood little of their politics, only knew the world from her place as a new Red apprentice. So she spent most of her time in the kitchen, deciding that she will placate the people’s spirits with food and treats and all edible, lovely things. 

She was nearly done decorating the cake with icing and small garnishes when a stranger made themselves known. Melody stilled her worker’s hands and looked up, a comfortable smile on her lips (for how could she be anything but comfortable in the kitchen?). “Were you hoping to sneak a taste? Because I made an extra one, just for fun.”

It was a rare morning off for Bailey, and while she didn’t have any specific plans, she intended to enjoy it. Yesterday had been exhausting in the infirmary. Not because it had been full of injuries and emergencies, but because of how Crownstrial, previously queenstrial, seemed to infiltrate every cavity and opening in the whole of Archeron. Today didn’t seem much better, but as her feet led her down to the kitchens, she thought maybe a reprieve could be found there.

“You caught me, I’m here to take advantage of our friendship and beg you to share your masterful cooking with me before it gets shared with the rest of the palace,” Bailey teased, pulling out one of the stools at the bench and taking a seat. Bailey was by no means archeron’s worst cook, but she was no Melody Walsh either, and Bailey didn’t think there was anyone could compare to Melody’s cooking. 

[ofbcileys-blog]

diemhynson:

Diem wasn’t even affected by it, but she was already tired of the announcement made by the new flame. Working in an area where silvers often wander past and mingle, all Diem’s heard about today was about the change from queenstrial to crownstrial and the mixed feelings it gave the silvers. From what she gathered, the more traditional silvers and the heads of the houses that have strong female competitors aren’t happy about the change— obviously because it makes it harder for their heir to get on the throne— while the lower houses and those with less females in it seem to less critical about the changes brought forth— no doubt excited their son or daughter could win a place alongside the king. Diem personally had no opinion on the matter. She was interested to hear that a gay couple could potentially be ruling, but at the same time there was really no mention of change for the reds and men on the throne haven’t really done people like her that much good.

Either way, the talk about the event was giving Diem a headache. Usually when headaches arrived she could deal with them long enough to finish her dress or whatever other article of clothing she was working on before Isla sent her to lay down but since Diem wasn’t currently working on anything she figured she could take the trip to the infirmary to get some medication and get back to the shop before her mentor noticed she was gone.

Diem opened the door to the infirmary, glancing around for a medic before she heard a girl’s voice speaking to her. 

“I just came in to get something for a headache. I guess all of this silver commotion is too much for my red brain to handle.” She shrugged, a small smile appearing on her face for the girl.

It was genuine, then, the brightness of the smile Bailey gave in response to her companion’s humour. The smile Bailey gave her was made of sunshine and warmth, empathy and ease, the type of smile one might give when they thought they’d found themselves a friend. After dealing with so many silvers ( both today, and in general ), not to mention all the commotion outside, it was relieving to find someone Bailey could relate to. 

“I know the feeling. They aren’t subtle about expressing their feelings.” It was sad, really, how staunchly rooted in tradition the Silver Elite were. While Bailey could understand the merits of continuity over time, there had to be room for change. The world was constantly developing, shifting and changing, discoveries were being made all the time -- people had to learn to change with it. The commotion outside was a clear example of what happened when tradition was clung to to tightly. Panic, anger, outrage -- FEAR. The emotions coloured the mood of the entire castle, at least from what Bailey had seen. When all the change had really been was a shift away from heteronormativity. While, yes, there had been the inclusion of the Reds’ vote, Bailey wasn’t sure yet of how much weight it would carry ( if any ) and it didn’t seem to be the main offence anyway. “Can you imagine the chaos if the king had said reds could compete? There might have been a coup, and his reign is not even six months old yet.” It was an unthinkable reality, a red on the throne, but it was amusing to entertain as a hypothetical.

“Hold on a moment and I’ll get you something for your headache.” Bailey placed her book on the table, before ducking out to the back room where the supplies were kept. it took her barely a moment of rummaging around in the drawers to find what she was looking for. Returning back to her fellow red with a small bag in hand, she said, “take two these with a glass of water and your headache should wear off fairly quickly. I can get you a class now, if you’d like. There’s some extras in the bag if your headache returns later.”

[ofbcileys-blog]

romillygliacon:

          There was a physicality that had been introduced to Romilly as of late, one that she was still unsure of how she felt about. She was putting all of her hopes, all of her trust, into Valeria training her – the memory of her asking the older woman to do so still caused her heart to race, for a lump to rise up in her throat – but there was a part of her that had her doubts. 

          What if she couldn’t become better?                     What if she failed anyways?

          Whatever the outcome, she knew that she was going to try. She was in too deep to walk out now. If she had to train in the early hours before the sun rose, if she had to go through her day tired and frustrated after repeated failures – so be it. 

          It was a hard thing to keep it secret. She wished she could tell Max and Sofiya. They surely would be supportive. She wanted to show Cal that she had improved in her ability slightly; she wanted to say that she was the same little girl that looked at her brother like he held the world in his hands. The same one who only wanted to be like him. But she was doing this for herself. Not for the Gliacon name, not for society. She was doing this to prove to herself that she could improve and exceed expectations. She wanted to be able to see herself as more than just a girl made of satin and lace. It would be known to her and Valeria only – only time could tell if it would be revealed to others.

          The problem with secrets were that they were a hard thing to keep. Between the Houses, gossip ran rampant. It would take one more person to know, and then everyone would know. 

          There were bruises on her forearms because of Valeria’s methods. Valeria wanted Romilly to be more than just her ability ( romilly had tried to argue that she wasn’t even that at the start to no avail ) and had been teaching her how to be reflexive and how to react. 

         It wasn’t going well. 

         To go to a skin healer meant questions, but her arms still stung – she was unused to feeling such discomfort – and she could hopefully come up with a good enough lie to cover up the reasons why.

          She walked into the infirmary, her chin raised upwards as she approached the first person she saw – a younger woman with a book. Romilly did not return her smile, instead she gave a curt nod. She turned her gaze away and not seeing the Skonos healer, she sighed. “ I don’t suppose you could get me a cool compress, or ice even, if you have it? ”

Secrets, Bailey was quickly learning, were malicious in the wrong hands, dangerous even in the right. If kept to oneself, they could eat you hollow, causing your ruination from the inside out. If shared, bursting from the cage one normally kept their secrets safely trapped in, they could cause your ruination from the outside in. There seemed to be no winning when one had something to hide. 

Being apprenticed to a skin healer, who could make such damning evidence vanish with a touch of their hands, meant Bailey had seen many such people with secrets. Being born without such magic meant usually Bailey would fade into the background in such cases where secrets were involved -- the mundane simplicity of Red healing was not what they were looking for, after all. However today, with Felicity being absent, it was Bailey in the forefront.  As much as curiosity burned on her tongue, she knew better than to voice anything.

Judging by the woman’s curt nod, she wouldn’t appreciate any questions anyway. 

“We have both, my lady -- which would you prefer more?” While the Palace was generally Silver centric enough that Skin healers were relied upon far more than medical equipment, Felicity thankfully was trained in the art of the magical and the mundane, and thus any items Bailey might require were often easily found. They were usually used on reds more than silvers, however, by virtue of the silvers preferring the skin healers. Then, hesitantly -- “we also have a salve that can be applied to help with any pain or discomfort, if you’d like that too.”

[ofbcileys-blog]

She is kind and forgiving but do not test her limits. For she is human too.

23:55 (via c0ntemplations)

[ofbcileys-blog]

and when they’ll ask, what do you do in times of trouble, i’ll answer: i hope i hope i hope.

the formula of survival. // V.R. (via liethargy)

[ofbcileys-blog]

nyssc:

Why Nyssa was in the Red infirmary she was sure she would not be able to answer. It was a place she’d never been and would never need to be and that alone made her want to see it. With the crowds wandering now, whispering, plotting, she felt it could be the last time she had a chance to just wander herself, before Crownstrial took over the country.

The sight of the diminutive brunette was welcome, the Reds were lovely little things, and there had been several Nyssa would have been happy to do more than converse with. In fact, she found herself wondering what might have happened if the King had allowed ALL to enter, the Silvers and the Reds. Of course that might be too revolutionary a first act but she could see it there at the end of the tunnel, the light that would bring about equality and purpose.

“Well, no.” She laughed softly. “But the street is quite crowded, with either anger or indifference and I kind of opened the first door I saw to escape it. I’m Nyssa.” She offered a hand, she’d seen the Reds greet each other in a similar fashion.

It was one of the rare times Bailey was in the infirmary instead of training under Felicity and thus spending most of her time in the skin healers domain. It was quieter here, and a better escape from the chaos the Silver Elites had been sent into. At least it was mostly -- the odd Silver had stumbled in from time to time throughout the day, whether to escape the crowd, by accident, or because they didn’t want to see a skin healer. It didn’t really surprise Bailey anymore to see Silvers in the Reds domain. Nyssa included.  

“That’s fair. Well, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like, I’m not sure that the fuss outside is ever going to die down.” Bailey’s gaze shifted to the window, a frown forming on her brow as she observed the protests. She couldn’t blame Nyssa for wanting to escape it -- after all, that’s what Bailey was doing. Smoothing over the frown with a bright expression again, Bailey turned back to Nyssa and shook the offered hand. “I’m Bailey. Can I get you anything while you’re here? Water or something?”  

[ofbcileys-blog]

stxneskin:

“It is never an easy job with Prince…Pardon, King Orion. Some days I feel he looks for ways to make my job harder.” Valeria’s tone was warm and she shook her head again, hoping the Red in front of her wouldn’t go around telling people that she was going soft. That would never do. “Recent events or no I still loathe big events.” Her smile hardened, just a little. “They all seem to love the family but how much? You can never tell.” She shrugged and pulled her hand away from the shake after a moment, opting to cross them over her chest.

“I am glad there are others here who see things the way I do.” Valeria said, meaning every word of it. Red or not it was always nice for Valeria to find like-minded people. A hard feat for someone who considered herself a little more out of the box than other Silvers. “I’m rubbish at tea. I’ll spill it even if I’ve gotten the rare eight hours a night.” She smiled a little. “If you ever meet my charge you will see how right you are. “Whitcomb you say? I think I’ve heard of you before, aren’t you supposed to be out on the front lines?”

“Well, I suppose keeping you on your toes is better than being complacent. Life seems a little more interesting this way.” At least, Bailey presumed it was, judging by the fondness in Valeria’s tone. From personal experience, Bailey knew that she, at least, would rather be busy than bored. Bailey had very little experience or understanding of Silver Elite politics, but she was starting to. “Sometimes the war front seems safer than the Palace, at least then it’s obvious who your enemies are.” It seemed like the Silver Elite were experts in deception, ulterior motives underlying even the kindest of smiles.

“I was at the Choke for a few years until Felicity Skonos got me a job as a servant here so they could further my medical training,” Bailey explained. Felicity had been a quite literal life saver, and Bailey would be forever grateful. As much as she did her best not to let the Choke strip her of her soul like it did so many, Bailey didn’t know for how much longer she would have been able to handle it. As much as being a servant and a medic was exhausting, Bailey would, without a doubt, prefer this life every time. Plus, it meant she was closer to Tate again. 

[ofbcileys-blog]

caloreprincess:

You seem to have the best seat in the library.

Yes, she supposes, she does, but how lonely it could be on top of the world, put on a pedestal only to be forgotten by those who put her there. It was a devastating thing, really, to turn a girl into something deadly, a panther lounging among the tree branches. It was more devastating though to give her claws and no one to use them on – no father no brother no family. The toss of a coin, the turn of time on its axis, how everything was so carelessly crafted, everything untrained and uncoordinated, how each person’s world balanced on a precipice, and how it felt like the princess held her own axis on the very pad of her pinky finger. One misplaced step and she would go toppling, tumbling down over the edge of the marble pedestal she’d been placed on so long ago.

But today she’d made her perch ever so slightly lower, though the ray’s of a deceptive winter sun radiate along her freckled cheeks do little to make her seem more girl and less god.

She smiles at the red girl then, a soft, dark kind of smile. One that surely doesn’t belong on her porcelain cheeks. 

Sitting before this girl, with such natural kindness radiating from every pore on her skin, the princess can feel an odd flash of jealousy bleeding into her brain – caustic and rotting, as though the season of decay happening outside is mirrored through the window onto Adeline’s soul. A vile, terrifying thing. Carefully ( there are those out there who would dare to call what she does calculating, a single step on her journey towards a coup-d'etat ) the princess twists her wrist, motioning for the girl to sit beside her. She cares little for the responsibilities the other may have, desperate instead from an audience that will think her worthy of worship. 

❝ Deceptive, though – ❞ 

She turn away from the girl with auburn tresses then, casting her gaze out of the window. Her head tilts to the side involuntarily, taking in the light filtering through the gardens outside of the window. Impressive, really, that they could manage to make things grow even as the ground turn to ice, to devastation. 

She is quiet, but there’s nothing soft about the grandness of Adeline’s presence. 

She cocks her chin up then, something altogether uncharacteristically haughty, but somehow it lacks the condescension that would come from any other silver. 

❝ Is it not? ❞

Was it the role of a princess to confuse? To be soft, almost approachable one moment, and larger than life the next? Perhaps Princess Adeline had never been approachable, and it was just a trick of the light. The hopeful heart seeing what it wanted to see Bailey was well aware of the lore likening Silvers to Gods, but it wasn’t until now that she believed there might truly be truth in it. Adeline was beautiful the way untouchable things were. If Bailey was an artist, the image of Adeline by the window, regal the way only someone born to be royal can be regal, with the light of the sun encasing her in a hazy gold, highlighting the freckles upon her pale cheeks -- what would be an imperfection on anyone else, but on her only adds to the visage -- would be one she’d wish to immortalise in ink. It was a deceptively cold image for a burner.

Perhaps, though, it was a fitting image for a Princess.

A subtle twist of a pale wrist was all that it took for Bailey to restructure her afternoon, to halt her plans and push away her desires in favour of those of the Princess. A mere twist of a pale wrist had Bailey reverently place her books on the nearest shelf and her feet, willing or not, moved to her side. There was no denying the Princess her command, after all. For it had been a command, unspoken though it was. Words were not needed when a gesture held so much power, after all. ( the Princess held more power in one finger than Bailey ever had in her life. )

It’s almost hesitant, how Bailey took the requested space beside the Princess. Physically, it might not have been occupied space, but Bailey couldn’t help but feel like it was taken. Adeline was the Princess, sculpted from marble into perfection, with her mere posture oozing grandeur. Bailey wasn’t sure if she should feel honoured, how many Reds were asked to sit with the princess, after all? Or terrified. There was an edge to the princess, a darkness to her softness that left Bailey feeling unsettled.  

“Everything from the palace is deceptive, Your Highness,” Bailey replied, her voice low and soft as a silk so as to not disturb the quiet of the library. However, Bailey’s gaze was not captured by the false beauty shown by the window, but rather by the Princess. “The lap of luxury is hardly a realistic lens to be viewing the world through. The snow masks the barrenness of the winter land, like how beauty masks the suffering underneath.” Like how the view from the palace showed only the elegant infrastructure of the city, and now of the poverty of the Stilts. 

[ofbcileys-blog]

DATE: march 14. LOCATION: infirmary. STATUS: open.

The days Bailey could spend in the infirmary, learning how to heal, how to make a difference were her favourites. Some days, it could be frustrating -- you can’t learn the healing arts in a night, and there was so much Bailey had to learn. Other days, the methodicalness of her routines were calming. Whatever calm had been with her today, though, had long since been shattered. Each person who’d passed her had been in a state about this new change, Queenstrial to Crownstrial. A bride to a spouse, and sheer power as the sole judging criteria to something new, something better. In terms of changes to tradition, this did not seem as drastic as the attitudes of the Silvers Elites suggested. It merely gave more people, more families, the chance to bring themselves honour. What was so horrifying about that?

Maybe it was because she had little left to lose any more that the concept of change wasn’t so daunting anymore, but she couldn’t understand the Silvers reaction. If they reacted this badly to Queenstrial, however was equality for Reds going to happen?

The door to the infirmary opened, causing Bailey to look up from the medical ook she’d been studying. She offered them a bright smile, standing up to greet whoever had just entered.

“Can I help you?”

[ofbcileys-blog]

stxneskin:

It was clear from the woman’s slightly agape mouth that Valeria’s blunt approach had offended her, in some way, and surprisingly Valeria felt a little guilty about it. Red servant or no it wasn’t like the woman deserved to have Valeria vent her frustrations out on her. Valeria frowned and forced herself to relax, just a little bit. She was off duty after all. “Sorry. I’m being rude. I am just…on edge. As I always am at big events like this.” Valeria considered it a breach of contract by any of the guards to not be on edge and overly alert during large gatherings. It was, in a few words, one of the best places for people to make a point. Swallowing and uncrossing her arms Valeria opted to be a little more cordial.

“I’m all right. I simply have always found parties like this a little insulting. A man has died and instead of mourning him with tears we toast to him until we are drunk.” She shrugged. The same had happened for Alexei, albeit on a much less grander scale, and it had left a bad taste in her mouth since. “One must get used to late night and early mornings if they’re to work in the palace.” She shot the woman a smile and shook her head. “Precisely why I’d chosen to stand here rather than outside the main entrance doors. Less traffic to bother me. And I’m more likely to catch the stray royal wandering off drunk.” She made a glance into the ball room, assessing the location of Orion before turning back to the woman and sticking out her hand. “My name is Valeria Macanthos.”

“No, please, no, you’re fine, I was just surprised at the question, that’s all.” Bailey hadn’t expected a Silver to care particularly much about the actions of a Red, although she supposed as the bodyguard of the crown prince -- or king, now, she supposed -- it was Valeria’s job to care. “It must be stressful being a guard, at events like this. Especially given recent events.” Had Bailey just accidentally made herself sound like a threat? Her gaze was sympathetic, and she hoped Valeria realised bailey was just trying to be understanding, not subtly threatening the crown prince -- or any one else, for that matter. While Bailey whole heartedly supported equality movements for Reds, she didn’t support violence. She’d seen enough of that at the war front. 

“It does seem a bit ... insensitive...to mourn the late king in this fashion.” Bailey tried to keep her tone neutral, but she couldn’t help the slight pursing of her lips in disapproval. Loss was to be met with respect, not frivolous celebrations. “That’s very true. I like to grab opportunities to rest when I can, though. I’d rather not accidentally spill someone’s tea or treat their wound wrong from being sleep deprived.” Bailey’s lips twitched in amusement. “Sounds like you have your hands full with your charge.” She smiled more genuienly, shaking the offered hand. “I’m Bailey Whitcomb, it’s a pleasure.”

[ofbcileys-blog]

caloreprincess:

DATE: March 10th LOCATION: palace library OPEN TO: all

It appears she has begun to lose track of time, as many seem to do, with the sun long ago having begun to shift its position in the sky. The Princess Adeline has been on display for what feels like weeks, and though she hasn’t fully belonged to herself in years, with the death of her father ( the regal king, how she loathed the man her mother directed her to call papa – a term of endearment for the man who’s affection had always been foreign ) came an onslaught of attention that Max certainly did not desire. 

If she wasn’t allowed to be Queen, wasn’t allowed to have a voice that mattered beyond it’s ability to forge an alliance with some foreign state ( or worse, a wealthy landowner whose deep pockets her brother required, which would effectively put a price on the princess’s head as though she wasn’t priceless ) then she didn’t want the attention, didn’t want the cameras trained on her expression to broadcast her porcelain features across all of the screens in Norta. 

No, if she couldn’t have power, then she would have her books. 

So she sits, having hidden herself away among the stacks in a corner of the library, where she found herself a window seat overlooking the city beyond the palace walls, a book with fictional stories about lands far away, where princesses lives are dictated by love and companionship rather than their duties to their people, cracked open in her lap. 

Her eyebrows shoot upward when she realizes that she has a companion. She knows her guard had been wandering around the stacks of books nearby, but if it is them rustling about among the stacks just before her then she cannot see them. 

When she sees a face peek out from behind the spines, she smiles softly. A princess, after all, knows no other expression. 

❝ Well, hello there. ❞

It’s not often that Bailey finds herself in the library for pleasure purposes, and indeed this time was no exception. It’s not that Bailey disliked books. She didn’t, truly. Books were a rare commodity in the Stilts, and even rarer on the war front -- especially when Bailey started moving around with Felicity. There was little opportunity for a deep love of books to be nurtured, and even less time for them to be read. Between working as a palace servant and a medic in training, genuine free time was somewhat rare. Even now, while Bailey was not technically on duty as either a servant or a medic, her reason for being in the library pertained to the latter of her two jobs. 

Felicity was an excellent teacher. No, more than excellent, but between Bailey’s time being divided and Felicity having other duties to attend to, they could not teach Bailey everything. Hence why she found herself in the library in this rare evening off, searching for a book on a particular type of wound. Bailey was not one to sit passively and let her education by solely dictated by someone else. Not when she had the resources and opportunity to take initiative and better herself. Being on the war front and gaining that first-hand experience had taught Bailey so much, but there was always room to be better.

Stumbling across the Princess��of people had not been part of her plan. While Bailey was slowly learning the ways of palace life, figuring out which Silvers were more akin to friends and which were to be avoided. The Princess was completely uncharted territory, but Bailey supposed the best way to learn was by experience. 

“Your Highness,” she greeted, dipping her head in deference, unable to curtsy ( for that is what one did when confronted with royalty, was it not? ) with a stack of books in her hand. For a moment Bailey debated whether or not to offer condolences for the passing of the king, but she figured Princess Adeline would have heard so many by now she’d rather not hear any more. Bailey knew first hand how even the most well-meaning of sympathies could be frustrating and exhausting, and how sometimes it was wished people would keep their sentiments to themselves. “You seem to have the best seat in the library,” Bailey offered, finding her gaze drawn to the beauty framed by the window behind the equally beautiful princess. It was almost misleading, really, how beautiful everything looked from the safe confines of the palace. A soft smile of her own graced her lips. “It’s a beautiful view from that window.”

[ofbcileys-blog]

kassiopeanolle:

Kassiopea tensed slightly at the bold question. None of the people closest to her would have asked it, not necessarily because they lacked the bravery or the intimacy, but because they probably never would have thought to question it, to wonder if the storm was somehow unsatisfied with her life. Even if they had, they never would have burst her bubble of confidence to ask. “Some days, when I’m guarding something insignificant or I feel like I’m turning to stone standing in these halls and losing my mind… yes, yes I am. I’m disappointed that I let the military shape the storm and teach it respect… But other times I look at women my own age, trapped in corsets and gowns that I prance in and out of by choice, forced into things that I can say no to, and I am proud of myself despite it all.” You only have one life. The reminder of it made her blood sing for a moment as if she were on a blood-soaked plain with adrenaline in her veins. This is your one life. Aren’t you happy?

“It does please me, and I wish you’d cut out the lady nonsense. When you see enough of blood, silver or otherwise, stitching wounds or making them, I think you can do away with the formalities.” She tilted her head curiously, walking close to the healer girl that intrigued her so. “Do you have ginger? I like the spice.”

Navigating palace life tricky at the best of times ( particularly when one had just come from the war front ) and even trickier when the rules she’d been slowly learning seemed to frequently change, but as with all thing, Bailey just went with it. Tea with Kassiopeia was one of those things the flouted said rules. Then again, maybe it just meant Bailey had misinterpreted the rule. Regardless, Bailey wasn’t going to question it anymore. She would not willingly push herself into the role of seen and not heard, speaking only when spoken to servant if it was not necessary. 

“It’s impossible to spend every second of your life doing something meaningful. If it was possible, would not everything merely become mundane?” Bailey could, to an extent, relate to the sentiment. Some days all she did was scrub bathrooms, or watch Felicity close wounds with a touch of their hands while she sat by, unable to assist in the art of magic. Bailey wanted to make a difference, especially for Reds, but some days that dream seemed more of a fantasy than a future reality. 

“Ah, not everyone would agree with you there, but as you wish, Kassiopeia.” It was a tenative test of the name, but Bailey liked the way it sounded. They weren’t equals, no, not as long as Bailey was a Red servant and Kassiopeia a Silver noble and society was the way it was, but in these moments Bailey could pretend they were. She could envision a future where they really were equals. Where Bailey didn’t have to rely on the kindness of a Silver to pretend. A soft, pleased smile found it’s way to Bailey’s face. “I do. You have good taste -- ginger is one of my favourites, incredibly benefiical too. All the tea is in the kitchen, but is there a particular place you’d prefer to drink it?”

[ofbcileys-blog]

💘- A memory that gets their heart pounding

💘 -- A memory that gets their heart pounding 

There’s a knock on her door -- she sensed it before she heard it. The Stilts, usually so loud and bustling, full of movement, had gone quiet. The kind of quiet that only occured when soldiers were in the village. What did they want? Whose son died this time? Which Red was about to become war fodder? Was someone about to be lashed?

Incessently the knocking continues, the pounding of it disguised by the thump thump thump of her heart. It’s not until there’s a slam and a crash and her door is half off it’s ( rusted, mostly broken ) hinges that she realises they were in her house and it was her they were coming for because oh gods her employer was D E A D and she was unemployed and that meant -- 

                                             conscription. 

The plate she had been holding crashes to the floor. Shards fly everywhere, and Bailey doesn’t even notice when one of the shards sliced her hand. In that moment, Bailey could’ve passed for a Silver with how ashen her face was. She felt like a child again who had just been told her parents die. The lens through which she viewed the world turned harsh and bleak. Panic rose in her chest as her heart sank to her stomach.

She would be sent to the Choke.She would be sent to die.She would have a gun pressed into hands and told to s h o o t.She would be turned into a solider. 

Stumbling slightly, Bailey takes a step back to steady herself against the bench. Her legs tremble, but she doesn’t collapse. She wouldn’t crumble. Bailey had not lost three parents and an employer to fall apart now. Life threw rocks in her way, but she learnt how to step around them. This would not be the moment when life finally bested her.

Bailey takes a breath to calm herself, hoping the Silvers couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating ( it was deafening to her. ) Clark’s voice repeats in her mind like a mantra, stay strong, stay soft, stay you. Conscription could turn her into a soldier, but it would never turn her into a gun. Never would she be a lifeless soldier, breathing but dead. Head held high and heart firmly in place, she would swallow her fear and place one foot in front of the other as she always does. Nothing stood in the way of Bailey Whicomb and completing a goal, and this time her goal was survival. 

[ofbcileys-blog]

Peer into my muse's memories

❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile

💙- A sad memory that makes them cry

💛- A memory that makes them feel angry

💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty

💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad

💔- A memory that leaves them feeling lonely

❣- A memory that leaves them laughing

💕- A memory about their significant other

💞- A memory about their children

💓- A memory about their friends

💗- A memory about a good deed they did

💖- A memory that made them feel special

💝- A memory that made them feel loved

💘- A memory that gets their heart pounding

💟- Wildcard!!!

[ofbcileys-blog]

bvrner:

date — february 25th time — 1:25am location — outside balcony open to all

     There was a heavy hint of alcohol radiating from Orion as he slightly remembered spilling a glass or two on himself at some point in the night. Most of the crowd had disappeared by the time he reached a point of complete numbness. He had grabbed a full bottle of champagne with no intention of saying goodbye to anyone that was left inside. Instead, he positioned himself on the edge of the balcony with legs dangling from the side and hopes of being able to fly away from this situation. He swung his feet back-and-forth before finally tipping the bottle back up to drink more of the contents when the slightest movement caught his attention. Bird, person, imagination — He did not care as he was ready to pour out his heart. 

          “ You know my father once told me that to love someone truly, you had to break them down to the point where they were no longer powerful enough to leave you. Advice taken lightly, but still — All hail the king. “

If Bailey were a smart woman, she would’ve quietly slipped away from the balcony back to the safety and anonymity of the palace. If she were smart, really, she never would’ve left her room to begin with. Neither of those things she did, and it was possibly by far her worst mistake of the evening. Something about seeing the Crown Prince -- King, she mentally corrected herself -- her hope for change, for better things, drunkenly perched on the balcony looking like the slightest of wobbles could end his reign before it even officially began, made her want to stay. She wanted to know more about the man who would be in charge of making or breaking the future of the Reds. 

“That doesn’t seem like the wisest of ideas if you want to be happy with the one you love, your highness,” her voice was soft as silk when she spoke. Standing in the shadow of the door ( she did not dare approach any closer ), Bailey watched his precarious positioning with careful, wary eyes. “Sometimes things happen, and people leave no matter how hard you try to keep them.” 

[ofbcileys-blog]

klieosong:

They’re beside the wall, hidden half in shadow and intent on staying that way for the rest of the night when they see her. It’s barely a glimpse- just a flicker of warm red amidst a sea of skin flushing silver and blue, brown hair and red lips and they blink, find their head turning to the source of it.

They shouldn’t be surprised to see Bailey. Something in their heart stumbles a beat anyway.

They hesitate, momentarily. But drawn, again and again, a moth to her light.

It’s not even a conscious thought, not until they are almost beside her and they’ve brushed past countless Silvers and scattered Reds. By then, it’s surely too late to turn away. She is, they think, glowing with light, incandescent with it.

( they wonder, just briefly, how she stands so tall, they wonder how her shoulders are so straight, how she looks so majestic amidst this sea of cold silver, a flame burning amidst ice and how can they be anything but struck in awe by it )

      ( they admire her, the only real thing         amidst this illusion of pale white.    )

“Hello,” they say, from somewhere beside her and they are almost too afraid to reach out and tap her on the shoulder. A moth to a flame and perhaps they would be burned if they touched the fire she seemed to be. They wonder how nobody else has noticed, how the majority of the eyes pass them by without ever lingering- for surely, surely she is the brightest thing in the hall. Still, when their mouth opens and forms words, it’s a feigned normalcy that decides to descend upon them. “It’s nice to see you, here.”

A voice at her shoulder almost makes Bailey jump -- at first she thinks it’s a Silver, come to question her lack of serving attire and the nerve she had to be masquerading around as a guest when she was but a mere RED. Should she not be bringing them drinks, instead of helping herself to her own? ( despite the fact the event was supposed to be a servant free event, so they could join the remembrance of the king. )

The sigh of relief she expels when she registers it is only Klieo Song is in tune with the palpitations of her heart -- both felt so loud it was a wonder the entire room wasn’t staring at her. 

Still, she composes herself before turning to face her new companion. 

“Hello, Klieo,” and the smile she gives them is genuinely warm, “it’s nice to see you here too.” 

It's true. It is nice to see them. Bailey likes to think she was managing this evening fine on her own, but the tension in her shoulders eases a fraction regardless at the sight of them. It would be nice to not be alone anymore. To have someone like her to keep her company.

Although, Klieo isn’t really someone like her. It’s a fact Bailey is always acutely aware of when she sees the way they watch their masters, hear the reverence in their voice and the love that emanates from them in waves ( not unlike the waves those of house Osanos produce ). There’s not a fraction of bitterness in Klieo’s heart, not an ounce of understanding about the Reds' existence.

A bitter, bloody revolution is not what Bailey advocates for, but she can understand why some do -- she has, after all, experienced more than her fair share of suffering at the hands of Silvers.

( first, you are a child.         no. first, you are a Red.            second, you are a child.                          third, you are an orphan --

                                       TWICE.

                                                                                                                        fourth, you are a soldier.                                                                                                                         fifth, you’re a servant.                                                                                                    sixth, you’re exhausted.                                                                                                           seventh, you are no longer poor,                                                                        but only because there is no one left                                                                       for you to send the money to.                                                                                  ( oh the irony. )

 suffering is something you are more than acquainted with. )

Bailey can’t find it in herself to envy their position. The lap of luxury was as unfamiliar to the girl as poverty and suffering were to her fellow Red. It’s not that Bailey wishes suffering upong herself, it’s just she couldn’t bear to be so blind to the truth of the world. To the truth of treatment of the Reds.

Stll, their presence tonight is a welcome one, even if their worlds -- despite being one -- are entirely separate. 

“Sre you here with House Osanos tonight, or did you come on your own?”

[ofbcileys-blog]

stxneskin:

Valeria flapped her hand and shook her head. “You’re not really intruding. Seeing as I’m standing in a hallway, but thanks for the thought.” Valeria matched the woman’s clipped tone with her own, unwilling to let the woman’s tone get under her skin. Finally looking up Valeria took a long moment to look at the woman across from her. There was the smallest flicker of recognition and then nothing. She’d probably seen her in passing, somewhere. Frowning, Valeria crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder at the bustling ball room. “Why?”

That had probably come off as rude but Valeria had neer been one to beat around the bush. Least of all with her limited interactions with the reds of the castle. At most they got a smile from her. “Is someone bothering you or is the party just not to your liking?” It was hardly because the party was starting to wind down, that much Valeria could attest to. It didn’t matter that the party was celebrating the recently dead king, The assembled Silvers would party until the sun came up. It made for long shifts but Valeria was used to working off of little sleep, especially lately.

Respect had motivated Bailey to make an appearance this evening, even if few people had actually cared whether or not she came. Respect for the grieving children the king left behind, because no matter what her feelings on the king were, no child deserved to lose a parent. Plus, the event was open to everyone, and Bailey was determined to show that everyone genuinely meant everyone, not just Silvers. It was rare that Reds got to reap the rewards of their hard work -- the cooking, the cleaning, the dress making, and so on -- but this was their chance. Bailey had taken that chance and she wasn’t sorry for it -- even if there were those who had made their displeasure at the presence of Reds who weren’t serving obvious. It had been worth it. Worth it to go, to feel the hope light her up because now maybe, maybe change could happen.

But Bailey had made her point ( even if the only person who recognised it was herself ), and she was tired. Maybe for tonight she wasn’t a solider, or a servant, or a palace medic, but just Bailey. Another person invited to join the festivities. However, during the day she had still been Bailey, palace servant and medic, and she would continue to be tomorrow. Bailey was proud to be a medic, to train until Felicity Skonos, but doing both that and her servant duties ( particularly when she always went over and above what was necessary, something her well meaning friends chided her for ) was exhausting. Completely and utterly worth it, but exhausting. Rest was something she relished. 

“Still, I hadn’t meant to over hear anything,” she paused, wondering whether or not she should really ask or not. In the end, her empathy got the beter of her, “-- is everything alright, though, my lady?” 

‘Why?’

It was such a blunt question. She blinked, mouth parting slightly in surprise before she closed it to gather her words together.

“Oh, no, it was a lovely partly,” she said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie either. It was lovely for someone, even if that someone wasn’t necessarily her. Bailey had enjoyed the food, certainly, but the behaviour of the Silver elite was, in her opinion, the opposite of lovely. She was sure they would’ve found it lovely. “It’s just getting late and I’ve an early start tomorrow, that’s all. I hadn’t expected to meet anyone out here.”