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( closed - 5/5 ) late night, his body is rigid in high concentration as he makes his way through the halls of the palace towards his chambers. although the sultan had been weary of the party at first, politeness had brought him to a state where he could no longer feel his elbows and while he'd never been sailing to know for sure, it felt as if every step he took was akin to being on a small wooden boat in the middle of the vast, angered ocean. he believes he's alone and quiet, but decorated in dark jewels and heavy on his feet, most would attest his similarities to an elephant. flighty by nature, the sound of a door opening startles him in his drunken stupor, one foot slipping from underneath him on the stairs and a curse falling from his lips. catching himself with surprisingly quick reflexes against the bannister for his state of being, he leans against it, his dark eyes settling on the person who had appeared behind him. "good evening." rostam greets. "are you...well?"
#// because drunk ros is my favourite ros#alcohol tw#e: grand memoriam#c: rostam qajar#act I: lal qila
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when: post drop w/ @umitvar & @flcralhaze (not a group thread/muse of your choosing)
where: turkish apartments, sitting room.
gathered were the courtiers of turkey amidst furniture and sculptures being addressed by their sultan in the aftermath of the pre-tribunal. rostam grew tired as the days went on; with every passing moment, he was consumed by worry that someone would come for ariyan soon enough. although he had tried to push the thought away, time spent with his spouse during their time in brazil made it stick to his insides like glue; he couldn't lose them. rostam speaks to his worries, to his anger and disappointment but the loud creak of a door and familiar face break his chastise, turning to face the person who had interrupted their meeting. with a wave of his hand, they disperse and the entirety of his focus falls to them. "what is it?" the sultan's irritation is clear in his voice yet his hands come up in apology; anger seemed to be the most prevalent among many emotions.
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who: rostam & closed (3/3)
when: after the storm, corridors - early morning.
in the middle of a grand corridor, the persian sultan and his most trusted stand together in briefing. since the reveal of his suspicion against his brother and arshiya's betrayal of his husband's trust, he had ensured that his chambers and person be guarded at all times. it was an annoyance to him, he wished for solitude, however, he had found something akin to fire again in the depths of his soul; if his brother or his sister-in-law thought him weak, he would show them his power. "we are to keep eyes on emine at all times, if my brother can so recklessly murder a king, he will have no problem with them. cailean as well will remain under our silent protection, arshiya makes one wrong move and i give order to arrest her - are we clear?" as orders fall and people disperse, finally he's left alone; he would handle ariyan himself. however, when the sultan steps from his position, a sudden dizziness catches him off-guard and a sharp pain radiating from his chest to his shoulder makes him accidentally collide with an unsuspecting soul. "i apologize for my recklessness. i should know better than to walk with my eyes to the ground..." he lies, swallowing in hopes the dryness of his mouth would subside. "i have not harmed you, have i?"
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( @xforgedsecrets - arshiya // persian quarters ) late night; the door to his room open; bedside candlelight illuminating discarded jewels and empty sheets of paper set out before him; sleep evades him. what once brought him joy now causes stress. the interrogations had taken hold of him in a way in which he hadn't expected. and although they were at war with one another over right - when rostam catches sight of his husband's sister in the hall, he stands. as focused as he had been on his own grief, he wasn't selfish enough to believe that his pain was not her's as well. "canım?" he defaults to turkish before correcting himself in persian. "are - if you wish to talk...about your brother... i...although it may not seem it, i am here for you..."
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( @tormxntum ) the night was getting away from him - with condolences and gentle touch in supportive comfort, rostam was growing confident in the idea that maybe he could make it through this without showing the world that he hadn't really grieved at all or at least, that his grieving was taking a lot longer for an ambitious royal who married the shah to keep the peace between their nations as it was thought. the goofy youngster who had fallen in love in the spring, in the gardens of the palace, picking petals with the son of the sultan - they would never expect quick grief from him if they knew that he would've set turkey on fire in his name. he had trapped a moment alone, his goblet discarded, his mind beginning to sober and gratitude beginning to find itself in his heart and that's when all hope to make it out without vulnerability goes out the door. dark eyes meet blue over the tops of disinterested heads and in flashes, nostalgia brings grief to the forefront of his mind. pain strikes him there, remembering courtyard laughter and fireside admissions - of friendship, of solidarity, of a time where they not only had each other but also their partners. a turn of his heels is all it takes for the pain to show on his face, it's ugly, unguarded and his hand comes up to his stomach to try and quell it but it does nothing. the worst part of it? he wasn't only feeling his own grief, he now understood exactly why cailean had put distance between them and everybody else, even if he had been offended back then.
#c: cailean fergusson#e: grand memoriam#grief tw#oops this is a novel#<3#c: rostam qajar#act I: lal qila
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commotion had made him foggy; lockdown had made him a recluse; he doesn't attend the party in favour of being in isolation, away from the reminder that he would not be going home any time soon. it was the only safe haven for him other than the prayer room. if he left it, the arguments he had with his sister-in-law would haunt him; long walks by khan's side would fizzle into his memory if he walked the ones here; however, in the late evening, he walks the corridors. they weren't empty nor were they bustling; but they were quiet and the sultan supposed that it was the best he would get. dark eyes scan a wall of portraits, his mind awash in fog until a familiar one tugs him out. what was the meaning of this? his husband's face stared back at him in inks and paint; an anger rushes over him but it's quickly followed by a tremble of his lip; a memory flashes of edema; of wound and paleness; of the colour of iron that soaked cloth and water - the back of his hand covers mouth as a precaution to the nausea that builds in his throat. it's whisked away by facade as another approaches; after-all, he was supposed to have grieved, wasn't he? ( @flcralhaze / @royallyxmessy / @rvnstheworld - any muse + sofia)
#c: rostam qajar#s: the invasion#not a group a thread!!#nausea tw#gagging tw#emetophobia tw#wound tw#corpse tw#grief tw#mourning tw#death tw#blood tw#act I: lal qila
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"i said, unhand me." it rings out in the corridors of lal qila like first scream of nights prior. he wished to get some air, that was his crime to the french soldiers who had forced his hand. "do you know who you refuse? your hands bruise not only the second eldest sultan of turkey but also the crown of persia. now, if you wish to remain in the world of the living, i suggest you unhand me. at once. or else my guards will not hesitate." the sultan's tone is controlled, stern, but the anger that simmers underneath it is dangerous. in the days that followed the the invasion, rostam's mind had grown dark. a fight with arshiya had reminded him of his regency; of the power that he held at his fingertips but her insinuation that khan would be upset with him for doing what he had done weighed heavier in his stomach. "i'd suggest you choose." ( @thenxghtwemxt / @bxrnfrxmashes - any muse!!)
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who: rostam & kaito ( @flcralhaze )
when/where: after the storms, courtyard - early evening.
chaos had erupted in the after-math of secrets told. rostam felt almost lucky that his 'secret' being put on display was more so an inconvenience than it was truly devastating for him. however, there had been a fall out among the positives, more so than just learning of arshiya's treason - the potential of a war between persia and turkey could have negative effects on his sister's engagement to the new emperor of japan. unfortunately for him, he believed kaito to be well-matched for dilara; in other words, he would not have to threaten him into treating her like the queen she deserved to be treated as. it also meant that he would have to smooth out the tensions that his secret had built. he spots the man in question, perched outside in the courtyard under a newly blossoming tree. he needed to clear the air, more importantly, he wished to confide in his sister's betrothed that he did not hold any suspicion toward her, not yet, at least. "may i sit?" rostam asks when their eyes meet. "i wish to speak to you of my sister..."
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early morning, the sun has yet to rise; on an embroidered mat, he's knelt in prayer when a scream registers in his brain. eyebrows knit, his eyes open. he stands, making his way slowly through the corridors of lal qila, barefoot, the mat now rolled under his arm. he hears it first; the clink of swords and the bashing of shields but comes face-to-face with it in the courtyard. his first instinct isn't to run to check on his sister-in-law, to ensure that she was safe, oh no, he catches glimpse of his younger sister standing still to his right. "ferah?" he questions, his hand extending to grab her wrist in a protective manner tugging her close. "come, this is...merely western nonsense." ( @buencs - ferah abdul)
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( @classiqals - ariyan ) vacant eyes stare out over the courtyard; crossed arms over chest; the sultan only manages a quick glance in the other's direction. he got what he deserved. if only he hadn't left for persia, if only he had gotten married to them instead - all of this pain could've been spared. "i apologize." rostam's voice is low, barely audible. "it is dishonourable of me to ask for your hand after choosing another. however, i -" he blows a breath out. "of everyone in the aftermath of... you're the only one i trust, even if we are no longer familiars."
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task 001 - the interrogation // r. qajar
@theopulenthq
(Hello, can you please tell me your name, country, && what role you provide your court?) in some respects, rostam had expected something of this nature. his conversation with eesha the night before had shone a positive light on the what the 'memoriam' truly was yet his stomach wobbled with trouble. although his eyes remain blurry and his head aches, his posture is straight, his legs crossed, and hands in his lap. "rostam selim qajar, crown sultan of turkey, regent of persia..."
( And who do you believe to be your closest allies, either nations or individuals? Do you trust your allies?) he sucks in a breath. "i trust my husband's judgement. his allies and the allies of persia are those in which i align myself." his eyes are watchful on the interviewer, fingers tinker with the ring still on his finger. "to be forthcoming, i don't believe that i trust you enough to mention them by name. however, you can make note that if your rulers wish to hear them, they may approach me themselves. despite the odd blood between us, i've come to trust the mughal empire by intuition alone."
( Ah, yes, I see... how about your enemies, then. Who do you not align yourself with, and why?) rostam shifts uncomfortably; although he considered his older brother to be an enemy, he doesn't speak on it. "my husband's younger sister, arshiya." is what he admits instead. "and her sister - why?" he says with a point. "khan and i were discussing children, openly, before his death, we had for many years yet this time, we had began to make plans - they benefit from his childless death." he concedes slightly. "many people in my court believe that i, too, benefit from his death yet had i not taken control during the madness that ensued after his death, i would have simply gone home, to turkey, with only memories to prove that our love for one another was not simply a waking dream."
( Interesting. Do you have a personal vendetta against any of the courts, or even individuals, here?) he shakes his head. "no. i only wish to see the empire that my husband built remain unified, a feat that i am not sure my sister-in-law understands the gravity of - nor do i believe that she is capable of doing at the moment."
( What are your thoughts on the mysterious deaths in so many royal families?) his stomach churns. "nobody should feel the pain of a loss such as this. it is a sharp sting and consumes every second that i am awake or asleep, for that matter. it is not something i wish on anyone - it's a tragedy..."
( How do you feel about the system of monarchy as a whole?) the confusion sews his eyebrows together. "i've never thought of it in depth; a necessary evil, perhaps? however, to be normal....to no longer have targets on our backs or an empire to run - it sounds something like what i would believe mecca to be...heaven."
( So, what would be your best theory as to what is going on, then?) a painful memory strikes him in the centre of his chest; a memory of his husband's body in the aftermath of whatever it was that separated his soul from it. "whoever is responsible wishes for us to foolishly believe that these deaths are not only justified but a coincidence." his voice shakes. "it was no coincidence..." comes a quiet admission. "i believe it's ideology was externally planned and internally executed. otherwise, all four nations must re-think our security if somebody were to come into our kingdoms unannounced."
( Thank you for your time. Is there anything else you'd like to add, anything else that would be useful to the investigation? "n-no." his stutter is not from guilt but from the sudden realization that the moment he left this room, he would either find out who had murdered his husband or he wouldn't, but there was one fact that would remain; khan was gone. "thank you..."
the interviewer hears an angry, frustrated scream when the door shuts behind the sultan; a release of pressure that had been building for months since the morning that he'd learned of his husband's death - followed by a sob that makes even their eyes well with tears.
#c: rostam qajar#theopulent.task#grief tw#t: the interrogations#s: the interrogations#act I: lal qila
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( @regalxpoise ) The sultan felt like he was floating. The haze of grief was lost to the mist of intoxication, his stomach was bubbly with contentment; his heart had momentarily forgot about the gaping hole in his chest in the aftermath of the sultan’s death. However, while it tilted his emotions back toward his normal demeanor, it eventually tilted his balance off-kilter. He doesn’t see her until its too late, the jostle of their collision sloshes the liquid in his glass all over the poor unsuspecting advisor. His mouth hangs open for a moment, a deep, slurred remark of shock in defaulted Turkish escapes his throat, his lips purse, his eyes smile, however, he wears guilt on the perch of his cheekbones. rostam was a jolly drunk albeit a clumsy one. "i’m sorry.” the sultan apologizes, but he giggles, trying to straighten out the amusement with a clench of his brow. “i suppose my husband was in his right to forbid me drink outside of the palace -" he leans in close. "he believed me to be a hazard, you see - to other's mostly and to very expensive, specifically breakable possessions..." rostam nods, shrugging his shoulders. "my legs, you see, are very long..." he trails.
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FULL NAVIGATION ~ BIO & CONNECTIONS ~ DIRECTORY
{şükrü özyıldız, 35, cis-male, he/him} We are so glad to see you safe, REGENT SULTAN ROSTAM of PERSIA! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are PHILANTHROPIC and GENTLE enough to handle it. Just don’t let your AGGRESSIVENESS bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out [that he believes his older sibling is the cause of his husband’s death].
b a s i c s //
birth name: selim adım abdul
persian royal name: rostam qajar
birthday: september 21st (virgo)
occupation: regent sultan of persia / crown sultan of turkey
orientation: homoromantic - pansexual
status: betrothed to ariyan banerjee
languages: turkish, persian, arabic, english.
p e s o n a l i t y //
If ever there was a human born to the Earth who reminded their parents of summertime, Rostam Qajar , born Selim Abdul, was that reminder. He was a wispy boy; hyper-active, always moving, and empathetic beyond what any father would be proud of. However, he paid attention to his nurture. It made his tongue sharp and his mind calculative, a son worthy, if the time came, to be crowned sultan. He was kind, out-going, but often would fall victim to the anger that had always lurked deep down inside of him. Being such an intelligent man meant that when bored, he grew frustrated, and in the shadows of frustration, anger festered. It came out as self-destruction and the inability to handle stress in a time that was beyond stressful. Most abnormally, he was a romantic - somebody who cared deeply for the people who moved into and out of his life like the rise and fall of water levels in a river. He always identified with the wind - while normally easy-going and gentle, the wind, much like him, could bring about disaster if tempered. Now, with the death of his husband coming on so suddenly and the family that he’d married into thrown into chaos, every ounce of summertime has been taken from him. He’s quiet, reserved, has isolated himself from his people but also from the family that he had gained after marrying for love. More so, toward his family in Turkey, and without their understanding, most know him now only from his anger or from his complete silence - there is no in between. character influences: king rauru (totk), gollum & bilbo baggins (lotr), gojo satoru (jjk).
c o n n e c t i o n s //
mohammad khan qajar (آغا محمد خان قاجا) (late husband) - they fell in love in the gardens of the turkish palace in the spring. their chemistry was envied, their empire built on solid foundation was complimented, but most importantly, they remained quiet about the reasoning for their marriage. they knew that people enjoyed ruining the good in life, especially for royals and so they lived a quiet life inside of the persian palace albeit one of luxury. the persian people welcomed rostam with hesitance but over time came to love him just as much as their ruler. they had no children at the time of the sultan's death, however, they had talked about expanding their family many times. he was rostam's first and only love and his only experience with death. in fact, he doesn't know if he can move on without him but he hopes that he can make it long enough to see justice fall on the person responsible for his death.
cailean fergusson (friend) - malcom and cailean, rostam and khan, to the world, they were very different yet when together, they were simply four people who could bask in the authenticity and solidarity of finding great love. however, in 1770, nearly a decade after a falling out due to rostam's childish upset over cailean's distance after the death of their partner, rostam and cailean have something unfortunate in common - the loss of the men they loved.
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a musical journey through time....
hypnotized - purple disco machine ft sophie and the giants
crazy what love can do - david guetta, becky hill ft ella henderson
waltz of souls - luis humanoide
hasret - omar faruk tekbilek
hams (whispers) - mohammed naiem
dark lord ganondorf - rozen ft maxxxwell carlisle and theophany
a scar is born - three days grace
dynasty - miia
when the party's over - billie eillish
#theopulent.task#c: rostam qajar#c: late persian sultan#p: roskhan#s: rightful & regent#c: arshiya qajar#theopulent.task003#act I: lal qila
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( @nobleblud - samira // breakfast ) blurry vision; an ache deep-set in line with the tip of his nose; his shoulders were heavy; his stomach flipped every time the smell of his discarded breakfast wafted into his nostrils. it was the alcohol that had his stomach turning but the idea that he would have to sit in a room with somebody unfamiliar to him and answer questions about his husband's death as if he were the culprit. the pull of a chair at the table he sat draws his attention to the room, his gaze falls on the youngest qajar. he pushes the summons toward her. "we all must attend." is all that he says to her, unable to shake himself from his stupor.
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