#House Courcelle

[thedarknesssings]

Arafel.

[nanshe-of-nina]

Kushiel’s Legacy GIF sets || Imriel de la Courcel

What does it mean to be good? When I was a child, I thought I knew. It was easy then. I knew nothing of my birth or my heritage. My childhood was spent in the Sanctuary of Elua, where I was a ward. My days were spent in work like play: scrambling the mountainsides and tending goats with the other children of the Sanctuary, climbing trees and swimming in the swift stream while our charges grazed. I was steeped in the precept of Blessed Elua: Love as thou wilt. And I did. I loved without reserve, freely and easily—my playmates, the priests and priestesses of the Sanctuary, the goats I tended, the earth beneath my feet and the sky above my head. I am a D’Angeline; I loved Terre d’Ange, the country of my birth. With all my heart, I loved our gods, Elua and his Companions, and I knew myself loved in return. I was happy. I never thought to be anything else. When I was ten years old, everything changed. I was stolen by Carthaginian slave-traders and sent on a journey into hell. And I thought I’d die there, but I didn’t. I was rescued. I was brought out of damnation into safety. And everything changed again. In a distant fortress on the far verges of Khebbel-im-Akkad, the D’Angeline Queen’s delegate bowed his head and greeted me as Imriel de la Courcel, Prince of the Blood. All that I knew of myself was a lie.

[zoetic-tome]

Prompt 22: With A Cry

Prompt: Free Write - FFXIV Write 2024  Characters: Helionne, Ivaurault (@roses-and-grimoires), mentions of the many siblings Courcelle. Content Warning: Mentions of childbirth

The relative calm of the Courcelle home had been broken by a woman’s shout in the earliest hours of the morning. Helionne had gone into labour. Early, the chirurgeon had said. Expected, the midwife agreed. Twins were always a birth that came early, especially when the mother was practically fit to burst the way she had been. 

Helionne had been rushed into the room that had been made ready, and innumerable hours had passed while Ivaurault had been made to wait outside. The sound of screaming from inside the chamber had left him no doubt pacing. 

The last time any children had been born in the Courcelle home, it had taken the life of the mother. The knowledge lay like a shroud over the family and most of his siblings drifted in and out of the hall at points. Both to offer a shoulder, and to help stay his fretting. 

That the labour was long was no real question. It had been expected. A first time mother, decently into her years? It would have been stranger if the birth had been flawless. It took more hours than anyone was comfortable with. Nearly half a day passed, before finally, sometime during the midafternoon hours, a set of twin cries came from inside the birthing room, after a too-long period of silence. These were the cries of babes, loud and greedy for their first taste of air. 

The midwife stepped out a number of minutes after that cry, announcing that Ivaurault could enter. Helionne lay paler against the pale sheets that covered her, but she wore a wan, tired smile. Nursemaids fussed with two swaddled bundles, feeding them from bottles that had been prepared just earlier. 

“Ivy.” Helionne’s voice sounded hoarse. Raw from her exertions. One of her hands lifted and Ivy made the few steps necessary to take her palm. Her grip was as tired as her smile had been, but it was firm, fingers curling into his. “Tell them they can see them in the morning.” 

Ivaurault looked back at the door with a rueful expression on his face. She was right, of course. Outside it waited siblings and their father alike. Eager for the good news. 

“I’ll make sure to send them away.” He reassured. She released his hand after that, that tired expression relaxing as she tried to settle herself comfortably into bed to steal what sleep she could for what little remained of the earliest hours of the morning.

"Rest well, my Lionne." Though he was not certain she had heard him, for she gave only a sigh and sank deeper into the bedcovers. Ivaurault stepped over to stare down at the lives they’d created, where they rested in the arms of their nursemaids. 

—

The announcement was made some hours later, when the sun had properly risen and the family had rightly assembled for the day.

House Courcelle was pleased to welcome its newest members, Ophelian de Courcelle and Lucien de Courcelle, born this day, the 24th Sun of the Fifth Astral Moon, to Lord Ivaurault and Lady Helionne de Courcelle.

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #7: Morsel

Characters: Ivaurault, Helionne (@zoetic-tome )

Ivaurault's boots click smartly upon the handsome hardwood floors as he walks at a brisk pace through the wide corridors of the Courcelle manor. Outside the grand windows the lights of Ishgard shone against the darkened sky, causing him to wince slightly; he had been away longer than he had wished. His steps quicken; he is not outright running, for that would have been undignified in the extreme, but he is certainly hurrying.

Fortunately, this wing of the house tended to be more quiet, something that had taken him some time to get used to after the usual hustle and bustle.

Finally, he reaches the door to the chambers that he shared with his bride. He raps his fingers lightly upon the back of the door, a brief warning before he enters. A brief nod is given to the lady's maid on duty as she steps out of the way, followed by a warm smile towards the elezen woman resting upon the bed.

"I found them," he announces, holding up the wrapped plate in his hand like it was a well-earned prize. "Salt and--" He draws in a breath that could only be long-suffering. "Pineapple."

"I'm sorry!" Helionne exclaims in a voice tinged with despair; this was hardly the first of the odd cravings that Ivaurault had been sent out to fetch at all hours of the day and night. But it was the first that had caused him emotional pain, and they both knew it.

"But it is delicious," she adds as she spears a few pieces of the terrible liar fruit and plots them into her mouth.

This causes Ivaurualt to chuckle softly and lean over to brush his lips to her cheek.

"We'll never speak of this again," the two say, almost in perfect unison.

[houserosaire]

Someone my muse holds in disdain

There are a number of these too, really. Any knight he feels has really let down the title for example. More specifically and for a different reason just at the moment disdain is probably a good way to describe the way he is feeling about Ivaurault de Courcelle ( @roses-and-grimoires ) just at the moment. From all he has heard Ivaurault was a talented dragoon who did his duty during the War. However, when the man came bursting into Priarch, made some very rude accusations about his business there and cast aspersions on the character of his allies for the skeletons he perceived in their closets, despite the bones rattling from under the doors at his own house he really set Silvaineaux's teeth on edge. He now considers the man to be the worst sort of hypocrite and hypocrisy also never fails to earn his disdain. (I do feel he might be missing several tidbits here regarding the motives of the dragoon in question but since he's missing them he'll continue regarding him this way for the time being.)

[merlwybs-wife]

(i wasn't originally going to post this) (but i never post my writing, so have something quickly done that i did this morning to attempt to sate my brain worms) (i know this won't make too much sense without context but you can probably put the pieces together)

It had been with an exhale did Josephine make her quiet self back into the Moineau estate. She hadn't even been dressed-- just in a sleeping gown and a heavy house coat-- whispering outside with a maid, who soon went on her way. No sooner did she shut the door, soft as she might, did her father's voice ring out a calm: "tea?" He was standing at the ready, it seemed, with one cup pulling to his lips to hide a glint of a smile, proffering the other out to Josephine. It has her gasping, and immediately standing up tall. "Calm now, dear. Be fortunate it was I who spotted you, and that your mother is still asleep, hm?" He chuckles, hoisting the tea a little closer. "Chamomile, honey, and lemon. For the nerves, dear."

With a huff, Josie accepts the tea, but merely opts to hold it in her grasp. She looks between the steaming brew and her father, worrying her lower lip. "It's obvious, then?"

"Without a doubt, Josie. Did you even sleep? Poor girl. Let's sit, hm? I have a feeling much is on your mind, and since your dearest Louis is away for another few days…" He takes his free hand and places it upon her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before curling it about her arm. Thusly escorting a sighing Josie to the nearest fireplace. He doesn't even release her to take a seat, a silent demand for her to take up the space beside him on the couch. "Now, are you going to tell me why you're sending letters at this hour?"

This earns a bit of a guilty look, as her head droops; long, untamely hair sliding from behind her shoulders. "Last night, too late for it to be any proper, Ser Courcelle had a letter delivered. I hardly mind, truly-- well, not the fact that it was sent, at least."

"Oh?" He quirks a brow, sipping from his tea.

"I'm… worried, Papa…" She pauses. "Do you remember the time I threw hot tea at that one… pallid looking Lord? The one who wore that nasty shade of green?"

Here, he snorts. "Oh, yes."

"Well, Ser Courcelle's handwriting-- it had a certain… crudeness that was very similar to the letter that Lord had sent me thereafter."

"You suspect he was angry, then?" He questions in response.

"I do. I haven't any honest idea as to why, but, our plans for today were altered," she pauses, motioning as though to drink from her cup, but lowers her arms once more. "Furthermore, he mentioned a dinner he had with his family… I can't help but to think it's all related."

"Mm… well, it's always possible. You know how your sweet mother can often anger you, after all." He chuckles. "But, why does this concern you? So what if it did? Tell me plain, what are your fears?"

"Papa… I did not lie to you when I explained our evening, but…" she frowns.

"But…?"

Again, she sighs. A sort of indignant gruntish-poutish sound escapes her.

"Were you alone with him?" When Josie looks to him now, wide-eyed, he, too, sighs. "I had suspected, given your lack of insistence that you weren't." Here, he settles down his cup. "I can see why that could prove for a stressful dinner conversation, but… do you suppose anyone recognized you, dear?"

"That's the thing-- I hardly know. Surely if everyone was content to believe I was no one of worth, there would be no issue. How can such specific scandal be reported otherwise?" She wilts. "But… we got quite a few stares at the infirmary. I cannot rule out that one of the pairs of eyes that saw us recognized me, and the fact we arrived by ourselves."

"Oh, Josie, that doesn't seem like the sort of thing to trouble you," he looses a little laugh of disbelief, however short.

"I'm serious, Papa! Such a thing could cast a hideous shade on him-- his family!" She insists, her voice raising sharply.

"Shh! Shh, lest you have to explain to the whole house," he quickly soothes her, placing a hand upon her knee. Here, he leans in. "I do have to repeat myself, though, you realize… that doesn't seem like the sort of thing to trouble you."

Finally, her tea is drawn to her lips-- taking a long gulp, surely meant to busy herself from replying right away. Even when the cup returns to settling in her lap, holding it still for its warmth, she is silent.

"Josephine Moineau! Do you like this man?" His tone is playful, narrowing the distance between them all the more.

"I-I…" she can feel the slightest heat in her face. Thankfully, perhaps, her cheeks were already reddened from the cold. "He is… tolerable." She decides.

"Josie…"

"Acceptable," she begrudgingly adds.

"Oh, my heart be still--" he seems unable to help but to tease.

"Papa!" She bursts.

"Shh! Shh!" He shushes her, a bit of laughter still in his voice. "So then. Even if you suspect this to have been the case at yesterday's dinner… the man didn't rescind his invitation, did he?"

"Well… no, I suppose not…" she murmurs.

"Then…?" he raises his brows, looking at her expectantly. "What are you afraid of?"

"Perhaps I don't rightly know," she droops again, yet another exhale parting her lips.

"Relax, girl," he chuckles, patting her knee. "It's… all right to feel as though you've messed up something you wish you hadn't, Josie. But, you haven't been so erroneous to apparently warrant cutting off. That must mean something, don't you think?"

At this, she scoffs. "As to what I cannot claim to know, nor understand."

"Perhaps you ought to ask your mother," he smiles, "she seems to have an idea or two." At this, Josie merely sticks out her lower lip once more. "Or, you can simply wait and find out on your own, I suppose." Once again patting her knee, he relinquishes his spot upon the couch and comes to a stand. "Drink your tea, all will be well, hm?"

Just as he nears the exit of the room, however, he looks over his shoulder to add a: "maybe wear a dress today."

"Oh, certainly not!" she laughs.

"There's my darling girl."

[reddevil-xiv]

T. Redwing

—𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

Name: Talia / Talan Redwing Nicknames: Devil Age: ??? Appears late-twenties. Nameday: 26th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon Race: Ishgardian Half-Elezen (Fae) Gender: Genderqueer Orientation: Pansexual Profession: Magitek Engineer, Sniper, Marksman & Security Lead with Priarch Enterprises

—𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔

Hair: Fire red, mid back. Eyes: Right eye violet, left eye green. / Right eye green, left eye violet. Skin: Porcelain pale / warmly bronzed with greyish undertones. Tattoos/scars: They are devoid of scarring, though she possesses several tattoos in celestial themed patterns. These never seem to stay quite the same, with the starry constellations shifting and moving from time to time.

—𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

Parents: Jeulerant Sergenaux (Father), Meallaire Sergenaux (Step-Mother), Tiamara Shadoweaver (Birth Mother; deceased) Siblings: Darien Sergenaux (Fraternal Twin), several other half-siblings or siblings through adoption. Grandparents: Maternal: Lady Blanchefleur Sanguemont & Ser Oliver Redwing (both deceased). Great-Great Grandfather: Arafel de Courcelle. Paternal: ??? In-laws and Other: Plenty of extended family thanks to connections to House Courcelle and House Sanguemont. Spouses: Caedrian Sombrenuit (as Talia), Idristan Agache (as Talan). Children: Tisiphon Sombrenuit (son), Alecto Sombrenuit (son) & Megaera Sombrenuit (daughter). Pets: 'Bitsy', a magitek bit hand crafted when she was a child. 'Posie', a living mossball created by Kuni Muinvel who has very sharp teeth.

—𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔

Abilities: Talia is exceptionally skilled with guns at all ranges, though they excel best with a marksman or sniper rifle and has made her living for a long time with those skills. She is a passable combatant with a fencing rapier, and knows quite a bit of magic from the extensive and often brutal training she had to undergo during her early life. She has all of the abilities of a celestial fae of the Court of Midnight, primarily specializing in illusion magic.

—𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔

Most Positive Trait: Fiercely loyal and as trustworthy as anyone could imagine a faerie to be. Most Negative Trait: Exceptional self-depreciation and low self-esteem.

—𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔

Colors: Red, Black, Silver, Green, Violet Smells: Amber, leather, metal, roses, ozone Textures: Leather, polished metal, gunpowder, feathers Drinks: Scotch, Coffee, Ishgardian tea

—𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔

Smokes: Frequently; usually some type of blended cigarette flavored with clove. Drinks: Less excessively than she used to, but still more than should be healthy. Drugs: Frequently; mostly either the edible or smokable kind. Sometimes somnus, often more rare drugs made by friends. Mount Issuance: Aline, a light grey war chocobo that was bred from the Rosaire stables, purchased a few short years ago from Silvaineaux. Don't mind the slight fae influence there. Otherwise; Reaper, a magitek reaper broken down and repurposed into a motorcycle capable of flight and outfitted with an intelligence core to give it semi autonomy. Been Arrested: More than once, but usually for drunken or disorderly conduct after some barfight or another.

Tagged by: @houserosaire Thank you so very much friend! Tagging: Everyone I would have tagged has been tagged already. But just for some peer pressure: @blisteringstar, @roses-and-grimoires, @liminal-storage, @thedarknesssings. Tag me if you do this so I can see it!

[firstsentence]

"This was the matter settled between us, and if I was at fault, it was only in failing to mark the significance when I saw that the courier who came for his letter bore the insignia for house Courcel." 🍵

[midwintermasque]

Storyline: Tea at Heliotrope – Part Three

Part Three He chuckled softly as he took the bread from her, her earlier words having cut rather closely. Time felt like it was hurtling forward, as opposed to the slow and steady march it had felt like in his youth. He nodded. “The Dahlia, yes, I have heard about her. And I don’t think I’m as well-connected as I once thought I was. Too much turmoil in the typically placid waters.” He took a bite of the bread and jam, his eyes widening fractionally, surprised at the taste. He chewed slowly, interested in where Mena was leading. Mena smiled and chewed her bite carefully. "You are right, there’s a lot of turmoil swirling around here. Between the poor bachelorettes, Odilia, and the nobles and guilds all on a knife's edge, we've all been struggling. One of the things our patrons come to us for is to be soothed and made to feel as though their worries will fade away. It's been hard to do that lately, particularly since my adepts are not feeling stable themselves." “And now there’s that new noblewoman…what’s her name…” He paused, waiting for a reaction from her. “Corrian. That’s her. I ran into her at the Hall of Games, and when she found out my family her reaction was…rather negative. I thought we’d gotten past all of that. And then I bumped into her at de Morbhan’s fête. She and I are supposed to visit Bryony, now that I think of it. The poor king. All these possibilities circling him. I can’t imagine what it’s doing for your business…or that of half the other Houses.” He reached out and took his tea cup, taking a sip and relishing the flavor. Mena made a face. "Mmm, I have heard of her. One good thing about my adepts is that they often accompany their patrons not as adepts, but as partners." She laughed again, brighter this time. "Which is why I can't often keep them once they've made their marques. I digress, two of my adepts have had direct interactions with her, and most of them hear of her from their noble patrons. She is like a bite that has crunch in what's meant to be a smooth dish.” Picking up her own cup, she had a sip and closed her eyes momentarily. "This tea is worth the price I pay to have it brought to me. It never fails to clear my head and improve my mood." She smiled at him as she had another sip. "I can only speak for us, but Heliotrope's loyalty is to the king's heart. We support and desire for him to take a partner who flows into the spaces in his heart like honey. Beyond that, we have no opinion. As for how business is going," she shrugged. "I am not the accountant, that's Matin, his office is on your way out, if you'd like to know specifics." He grinned. “It is good tea. If Jacob didn’t have his own blend that he insisted on, I might be asking you where I could obtain this one. And I don’t think I need to meet with Matin. Your House’s accounts are none of my business. I just find it odd that this Corrian of no real influence is suddenly a piece on the gameboard. And we both know marriages at some of the higher echelons of Terre d’Ange are purely political. Love doesn’t always enter into the equation. Marriages for the Crown are even more complex. I don’t believe His Majesty is in a situation like Ysandre once was. But I don’t move in his circles often enough. He’s a good man, and I’ve seen him on occasion, but I’m not one of his close acquaintances. That’s probably for the best, as I would probably cause more harm than good if I associated with him too often.” He chuckled then, a broad grin on his face. “We all know how well scions of Kushiel are perceived when they move too closely to the Courcels.” He picked up a little cake, having finished the bread and jam, and took a bite, a strange glint in his eyes. Mena laughed quietly but with no real humor. "It seems we have adopted that from the Yeshuites: the sins of the father being passed to the children. The Court of all people should know that one’s family name means nothing about the individual. How many of them spend their nights in our Court, bemoaning the uselessness of their first born? Besides, that was a long while back, and just because a person's tendencies aren't yours, that doesn't make them a traitor." She rolled her eyes. "That bothers me, my apologies for my outburst. We find that occasionally in our Court: a born in-house novice or adept lording it over a transfer or purchase. It's despicable, we're each a clean slate to Naamah and Elua, aren't we?" Giving her shoulders a shake, she inhaled deeply. "Never mind that. This Corrian problem is one that we'll see a solution to in our lifetime, let's apply our energies to that. I am incredibly confused as well by her appearance. My adepts are listening and asking of their patrons." She smiled again, reaching for a plate of dates and offering them to Nikos as she spoke. "Not in any spying kind of manner, just gossip we haven't heard. We'd hoped, myself and a few other Dowaynes, that Odilia would come and pass on what she knew, or at least let us know she remembered who raised her. She, of all people, should know who this woman is, wouldn't you think?" He gently motioned his dismissal of the dates as he considered her words. “We should all be clean slates, but there is always the possibility that family lines run stronger than we would hope. As for the Corrian question…Do we even know where the Borlean family comes from? She’s pretty, but she could be from half the provinces.” He shrugged, then grinned. “I think Odilia has some of her own ambition. Dahlias have always gone hand in hand with pride. I get the feeling she saw an opportunity, and she made a play for it. She could love Gustav, but I’m not certain she does. But Gustav could love her. And if he does, is that more dangerous or less dangerous?” He leaned back, trying to put all the pieces together, knowing that his network was not as useful as it might have been. It bothered him. "There is a concern that the contemptuous and dismissive ego that a lot of adepts have contended with in their dealings with Dahlia House have been distilled into Odilia. That she is playing some chess game and we, who will likely be impacted by her actions, are purposely kept in the dark. As for her loving the King…" Mena trailed off, thinking deeply. "When I was still Second, I had a lot of dealings with other Seconds, but rarely her. She didn't attend our meetings often and was rarely involved in what needed to be done. Even Orchis' Second was committed to what needs to be done to keep our lives running, but rarely Dahlia. That shades my opinion no matter how I try to keep neutral. As for the king, I believe he loves her, even if it's just in the same way you love the view from your balcony at midwinter." Read the full article

[trinuviel]

Noble Families of Terre d’Ange 3/ - House Courcel (at the time of Kushiel’s Scion)

Arms:

Silver swan on midnight blue

Territory:

Terre d'Ange

Scions of:

Elua

House Courcel is the royal family of Terre d'Ange. Its arms is a silver swan on midnight blue.

House Courcel is descended in straight line from Blessed Elua. Marriage to other noble houses have introduced the blood of his Companions into the house, however. Members tend to have black hair and dark blue eyes along with long, swan-like necks and straight eyebrows. Courcel livery is midnight blue and silver. Palace guards, royal couriers and other officials of the Crown wear the colors.

The Courcel seat of power is the City of Elua. No one may be crowned King or Queen of Terre d'Ange anywhere else because it is Elua’s own city. They live in the royal palace, which is quite extensive. It boasts numerous salons and ballrooms, including the salon of Eisheth’s harp and the hall of games. There are private theaters as well. Many nobles have their own private apartments in the palace. House Courcel has numerous estates outside the city in addition, such as a hunting lodge in L'Agnace. 

(From the Kushiel’s Legacy Wiki)

[thedarknesssings]

Lord Armand de Courcelle.

[nanshe-of-nina]

Kushiel’s Legacy GIF sets || Dominic Stregazza & Thérèse de la Courcel

“Now, which one of the Stregazza is Thérèse?” I asked, when I gauged that he was no longer paying attention to me. “Is she the firstborn? Prince Benedicte’s daughters are House Courcel, I thought.” “They’re of the Blood by birth, like Lyonette de Trevalion, but Thérèse married a Stregazza cousin. Dominic.” I had caught his interest; his voice ran a little ahead of his thoughts. Alcuin had always been better than I at royal genealogies. “A bad match, by all reckoning; he’s a minor Count, but then she was second-born. First is Marie-Celeste, who wed the Doge’s son. It’s her son stands to inherit La Serenissima. Once Prince Rolande died, I wager Dominic Stregazza thought to poise his family near the D’Angeline throne, though.” “And found his path blocked by House L’Envers,” I mused. “How disappointed he must have been. But why would Delaunay care who killed Isabel L’Envers? By all counts, she was his enemy.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Maison Vitry is an elegantly decaying historical mansion in New Orleans was an airbnb, but I couldn’t find it.  It’s one of my favorite NOLA homes. It was built for freed black woman Louise Vitry, and her French consort, Archille Courcelle in 1855.

The care and love that has been poured into this home to restore it to her original glory is just wonderful. There’s nothing I like more than elegant beauty in decay.

The front sitting room.

Front parlor. You can see the closed plantation shutters thru the windows, but look at the patina on the wood and the peeling plaster.

This is called the rear parlor. 

It’s got just enough haunted vibes to make you feel like you’re not alone.

The original dining room is on the main floor.

The upstairs hallway.

The kitchen is on the 2nd. floor right off the hall.

The bath off the kitchen. 

Main bedroom. 

Drawing room. 

Lovely screened in porch in the back of the house.

Beautiful garden.

https://maisonvitry.com/

[zoetic-tome]

Prompt 16: A Reluctant Debutante

Prompt: Jerk - FFXIV Write 2023  Characters: Ara de Courcelle  Content Warning: Note

Debut. It was a word that she had come to hate. She wasn’t the same as many of the other young ladies who debuted. There was no grand promise of birthing an heir to offer with her. She was not the kind of young woman that they could pass on that way.

But perhaps Father might allow her to put it off a little longer if she wasn’t suitable. Long enough for her to be more comfortable. To know how to appropriately deal with navigating Ishgard’s high society as the young woman she had become, instead of who she had been born as. 

Ara had gathered her blonde hair into a braid and stood in front of her mirror, trying to gather her courage. Scissors sat in her hands, and a glass sat nearby. She exchanged one for the other, and the whiskey burned down her throat like fire. 

Liquid courage, they had always called it, and she knew why. She lifted the scissors back to her hair and crunched across the ends of it, blades shearing through blonde hair that was, from all paintings she had seen, far more similar to her Mother’s than the rich black that was her fathers or her eldest two brothers.

When she was done, she dropped the braid into the sink and stared at her reflection. Alongside the golden ring that she’d had set into her nose earlier, she looked nothing like the respectable young daughter of House Courcelle that had been roaming the halls just bells before.

She dropped the scissors into the sink with a clatter and jerked back from her own reflection to dart out of the bath and into her bedroom, to hurl herself into the broad bed and beneath the duvet. As if by doing so, she might outrun the lecture and questioning that was sure to be pressed upon her come morning. 

Father would be furious. But that too, was a problem for the Ara of tomorrow.

[roses-and-grimoires]

Archon Fleurant de Courcelle, renowned alchemist, esteemed professor, and the scandal uncle of House Courcelle.

[rosafledermaus]

Gustav de la Courcel

Another OC from my D&D style game, the Dauphin.