𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔰 & 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔰

🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. 

TRUTH SERUM - MY CHARACTER HAS TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY, NO MATTER THE QUESTION

🍪 - make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food. 

This blog is accepting development anons!

Bug my character about their past! Ask them about the things you wonder about! Give them scenarios to get their brain going! Today is all about bringing out the growth hiding within my character.

tw: abuse, manipulation

crownshqsinspo​:

virusinfected-memes​:

THREE (3) CHOICES ;

Send an emoji below + three (3) different characters / muses that my muse must pick from! Some choices are considered ns / fw.

💍 - fuck, marry, kill. we already did this one but w/e  💋 - hug, cuddle, kiss. 💫 - fight, tickle, insult. 🦋 - befriend, adopt, ignore. 🥊 - pinch, slap, punch. ✨ - summon, banish, absorb. 🗳️ - vote for, vote against, run against. ☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food. 💰 - rob a bank with, hide a body with, rat out to the cops. 🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with. 🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. 🍪 - make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food. 🔪 - protect, attack, fight side-by-side with. 💬 - SEND IN YOUR OWN THREE OPTIONS NOT LISTED ABOVE!

It seemed all common sense had escaped the Prince, as he stood upon the balcony that hinged upon the walls of the Hotel Saint-Pol. This chamber, adorned in French silks and novelties, that had once belonged to him; a sanctuary that had once been his way to escape courtly life as a young man.  Stepping within however, when soaked in wine and the need for an escape, all memory seemed to escape him. All of those pesky ghosts were no longer loitering but instead flooding to other parts of his mind, to allow him one release. 

He stayed with Apollonia, in a castle that was not this. Nonetheless, he had asked her to meet him within the realm of fantasy. To act as if such motion and prose would not dare harm a psyche that lay in the most precarious of fragility. His back turned towards the door, Marius closed his eyes and felt the cool whip of the air upon his face — allowing it to smother him almost, allowing it to embrace him. It was only her voice that snapped him from his daydream. “Luzia,” he called, an arm outstretched to take her hand, to guide her to the very edge of the balcony which overlooked both the flowing Seine and the thump of a city that grew by the day. 

In truth, Marius was not sure what he sought in her presence; but he could not push her aside. With a slight exhale, he loosened his hand from her own and placed both upon the stone railing, looking ahead to the various torches that lead the way for visiting courtiers. “You’re welcome, my lady. I thought it better to find some rest bite here than under the many eyes of Paris… And from beneath those lecherous Dukes,” Marius hummed, teasing a little, before looking at her — drinking her visage as if he had walked the plains for forty days and forty nights. 

“There is fur set aside for you, and I must admit that we cannot stay for long. My chambers  are no longer here… They once were, indeed. In truth, my lady, I am unsure what pushed me to ask you to come to this very room. It would’ve made sense, instead, to go to Chateau de la Tournelle,” Marius mused, reaching forth to run his thumb upon the invitation of her white knuckles. “Merci… for coming.”

Luzia watched the prince on his makeshift, cold throne overlooking the city that wasn’t under his rule. Yet he looked to struggle with something much greater, much heavier, than the weight a king could feel upon gazing over his city. Not nostalgia, not even hope, but a silent cry for help, for the void to call back to him to answer his prayers. She wanted to ask if her assumptions were correct, but the marchioness remained quiet. Instead she reached for his hand in hopes that her touch would be enough to give him some comfort, to reaffirm her presence. The flickering light surrounding the Seine were exceptionally pleasing to the eye, like a painting set into motion. One could only dream to rule over such a city, all, but the man next to her. Luzia took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, almost biting Parisian air. “Of course,” Luzia murmured. Her thoughts immediately returned towards the various men staring at them from afar, unable to avert their gaze. She could see his importance at court, had heard his name and status from Marius himself and yet- something seemed to have gone wrong. “I can assure you I quite enjoyed being watched from afar. Actually, I’m used to being a magnet of gossip and envy,” she hoped, that her confession would be a way for them to connect. Not through achievements or triumph, but through darkness and weaknesses. He seemed in low spirits, reminded her of perfect marble she could easily cut into whatever she desired. 

location: cours la reine

for: @castilianrose

    Spring advanced, spurred by the lullaby of bees, humming under the fresh bloom of orchard boughs. On walking, Hisham felt much at ease – bound by no pressures of a hard won seat, nor the numbed chill, of a settee.The sun had begun its decline behind rooftops, its lingering rays burnishing the marbled heads of stone kings, with quasi-crowns. He had projected his excursion to take him by the gardens, yet found himself now in league with the Seine; tracing the fresh boulevard, which was as peaceful as a field. But one other party was present – a bevy of finely dressed ladies, circling their mistress, Luzia of Castile. The Marchioness’ bright temper was unfettered by the privacy the river afforded her; blessed with divine beauty and refined wit, there was no dark influence to disturb her joy – unclouded by the dreary masculine energy of the courts, her shine was brilliant. Hisham lacked the honour of invitation, but approached her now – wishing his warmed features, the best of luck, as he presented his case. 

    “Your grace - I do not wish to thoughtlessly interpose my company onto your own, yet was unable to deny myself the opportunity, to renew our acquaintance. Paris sees me detained in a myriad of endeavours, and I believe you much the same – may we promenade, whilst the glimmer of daylight, still favours us? The company you keep, is most welcome to follow our lead.” 

March had been triste and a constant back and forth of rain and some rays of sunshine. Nothing that could compare to Castile, at least in terms of sunshine. Seizing the moment Luzia decided to picnic near the Seine. Any small sport of grass would do the trick, really, as long as she got to watch the Seine and Paris’ busy streets at such an hour. She’d grown quite fond of watching others from afar. There was much to see and even more to uncover just by witnessing the shenanigans of others. “Let’s hurry, ladies.” They were all giggling behind her, all carrying various items needed for a picnic: a red picnic blanket, a fruit filled with fruits and cured meats, wine as well as bit of bread to soak it all up -- the last lady carried what looked like a small sunshade to shield the marchioness against the aggressive midday heat. 

He laughed in return, but agreed easily. Though it was impossible, of course, for either of them to be simply friends, they could at least try. It was easier, he supposed, when faced with one whom he had known when he could, if he believed it, be merely a friend or an enemy, with their names and titles—which then many of them had had none to speak of, heir being a designation only and not an appellation—laid by the wayside. “Ah, so it is only ad interim that you shall be my friend first!” he teased, before shaking his head to cut the jest.

“Have not we all?” His own marriage had come a scant few years after the majority of their acquaintance; at this time, he could name perhaps a handful of those of his friends from youth who were not wed in—suitable manner yet. That was the way of their sort; inescapable, though one may wish to escape it. He had never found the thought particularly troubling himself, but he knew of many who did. “Though your more suitable lodgings do seem to suit you also—at least, such it appears. I hope it is true beyond appearances also.” He hummed, throwing a glance to the Parisian sky, picturing under it the dome and hills that marked the background of all things in Paris. “Ah, and not much can,” he said, grinning. “Unless Florence’s hills are your home, you shall forever be marked by an absence of the beauties it offers.” He hummed. “Have you considered visiting? Does the march enjoy art, or perhaps wine?”

.

Their power seemed to have increased, both owning lands, titles, responsibilities to keep in mind, all with the daily reminder to enrich the future and sure the next generation. Grand dukes, marquesses, you name it. Still Luzia believed herself to be the same when around Lorenzo. Time had been the only enemy no one could defeat, but ignoring the great evil seemed to be the best method to win after all. Until judgement day, until the world would burn and create a new one out of its ashes. She’d only heard rumors about Florence and its increasing wealth and power. Surely the grand duke walking next to her had much more to do with it than most saw at first. A young man, tall and handsome, eager and ambitious. He possessed a kindness and talent not everyone was worthy of, some were too ignorant to see. With a smile the marchioness nodded at his words. “Granted, my marriage has raised me to new heights,” yet not the height she’d initially been looking for, “it pains me to say this, but, with God’s grace, I might not be chained for too long. My husband’s rather old, and although I wish him well, I--” the marchioness stopped speaking. Her blue eyes focused on the stones before her, everything else but Lorenzo. “My husband’s a loyal subject to his Majesty, I shouldn’t wish him ill, however he’s not been as kind and certainly not as intelligent as someone like you, Lorenzo.” 

She enjoyed the daily walks around palaces, scheming with fellow nobles or simply enjoying the sun against her skin. Granted March didn’t offer as much sun as she was used to from Castile and yet she felt more comfortable outside, talking in privacy. Court life, as exciting and glamorous as it could be, bore various traps, such as ears and eyes taking up everything one did or said. To walk through the gardens with Rafael seemed the best choice now. 

“You know how to seduce a man, don’t you?” Luzia asked without much hesitation. She’d just recently met the Emperor’s concubine and had seen the possibility of a blossoming friendship even before really talking to the other woman. The marchioness wondered if there were any differences, political and social, in China, if mistresses were treated differently, if there were things she could possibly...learn from the other woman. Women had to support one another, right? “You know how to keep them company? Excite and care for them?” Luzia gently brushed over the other woman’s cheek and placed two fingers underneath her chin. 

The marchioness had danced throughout the night, fully celebrating her return to court after six years of being absent. Many of her previous friends had either been removed from court or had climbed the ladder. Nothing had remained the same in such an ever changing court. With Castile’s growing influence, Luzia wondered if more would change soon. That particular thought didn’t linger for too long, however, as the ale began to kick in and turned her mind into a more or less foggy mess. It’s been so long since she had a chance to celebrate like this, without her husband demanding of her to stand down and settle down. No, she’d rather not, at least not with him.