bianca rosalie - head duchess in control.

Group 4; @cvllix @dvrcv @katvlina @duchessbianca @jeunghansol @cdoeb @vermilion-king @yi-haekyung

Michael had struggled the entire way. They were separating him from Shea and he was not having any of it. However, he was also aware that they weren’t be opposed to hurt him, so he quieted finally once he was on the floor. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and considered the situation they were in now. This was bad. This was the risk of keeping all of the important people in one place. “Is everyone okay? Any injuries?” He asked after what felt like forever, voice quiet but loud enough for everyone in captivity to hear. “If you need something, we’ll find a way to get it.” 

It was the bite of a blade against the exposed flesh of her neck that woke Bianca with a start. While the skin had remained intact, the knife threatened to slice with ease, the way one would to butter. A scream bubbled in the back of her throat, threatening to rise and part form her lips. But a strong hand found her mouth, stifling the scream. Panic gripped the duchess, cold and shocking, coursing through her veins. What happened next seemed like a blur and yet, Bianca was vividly attuned to every detail. She was dragged out of bed, her limbs failing in a feeble attempt to resist. I’m going to die. It was such a clear, logical thought that it’s frankness chilled her. Bianca was thrown into a room, her body colliding with a few others, but she settled herself in the corner, content with the darkness and supposed-cover. After what seemed like an age, an accented voice sounded to the far right of her. “Will we?” Bianca made a noise at the back of her throat, something close to a snort. “Because I need some champagne, something illegal and a night with Terry Crews if I’m going to die like this.”

Enjoying a strawberry margarita, he allowed it to swish around the glass. He was only a few drinks in and could feel the alcohol taking its toll. “How embarrassing would it be if I told you… I don’t know how to play?” Water polo, soccer, lacrosse – all active games he chose to indulge in. Card games and chess were probably the only passive games he picked up. Pool never pulled Gio’s interest. Picking up a stick, “So how do I play?”

Bianca spared a glance over and found herself looking longingly towards his drink. “Pretty embarrassing,” She confirmed, eyeing the green striped ball. Lining up a shot, she cursed under her breath when she missed. Straightening up, the brunette arched a brow. “Pot a ball, spots or stripes. Whatever you pot, you stick to. And try not to pot the black ball until the end.” Bianca chucked the chalk towards her new playmate. “Fancy making this game a little more interesting?”

It was a long time before Bianca picked up one of the neatly displayed cues and set up the balls. Chalking the tip, the brunette narrowed her eyes and slowly paces, eyeing her angles. In the end, she settled to the bottom corner, bending to line her shot. With quick precision, she struck at the collective balls, smirking in satisfaction when she potted two. Rising, she didn’t look over her shoulder to the other person who hovered at the door way. “You going to just stand there enjoying the view or are you going to play?”

“This room has to be a real crown jewel to a person who likes to do people watching,” Clément mused and turned slightly to the person near him. “People here have big personalities.” Too big, sometimes. “Handful of interesting people in one room and the fun just doesn’t end.”

Bianca frowned a little when she first heard the male voice, features pinched as she stared into her almost empty bubbling flute of champagne. Maybe that had been one too many...She turned to the sound of the voice, feeling oddly relieved that it belonged to an actual body. Madness was an aristocratic trait. “Oh,” She glanced around her and pulled a face. “Yes, because watching the high and mighty privileged simper and fawn over one another is a perfect way to waste one’s life.” She drained the rest of her glass. “Frankly, I’d rather watch paint dry.”

Erik hadn’t actually been looking when he sat down, he had seen the older woman leave the seat and hadn’t realized that there was someone else there as he had his nose in a book. He looked up at the young woman’s words, “Oh, my apologies, miss. I didn’t see you there.” He said this because he didn’t leave the seat, actually gesturing for a waiter. 

Biancaarched a brow as a gentleman occupied the seat next to her. His face was oddlyopen and friendly – all the things the duchess wasn’t. A book-ish type –evident in the way he strolled over leisurely with his face half gorged by thepaperback.  Perhaps not the most well-versedin social graces. “Funny,” Bianca commented without much humour. “You don’tseem very apologetic at all.” In fact, he was already gesturing to one of thewaiting staff. “Making yourself at home?”

she hadn’t expected to be addressed the second she sat down. she hadn’t expected to be addressed in such a CRUDE manner. vitaliya’s eyes moved to give the young woman a long hard look. she let out a long sigh — she was tired of these people. the young and ill-mannered. the people who thought they held everything on their palm just because they had a league of sycophants doting on them. vitaliya turned her head away from the woman and opened her newspaper. 

The sternlook Bianca received from her companion made the corner of her lips twitch inamusement. It could be universally acknowledged that everyone on thisgod-forsaken island were miserable and often craved home. Bianca perhaps moreso than most as she rarely liked royal company despite basking in itsprivileges. Grey eyes watched as the other woman flicked open a newspaper,turning her attention elsewhere. “So eager for doom and gloom?”

“You know, I was just bringing you a mimosa because I thought you’d want one, but after that attitude, I just don’t know anymore,” Rhiannon said as she sat down opposite of her and put both drinks on the table. There wasn’t much alcohol around on the island, but Rhiannon always found loopholes. “If I give you the drink, are you going to be nice to me?”

“You did?” Perhaps it was the word ‘mimosa’ or maybe even the company that came with it, but Bianca found herself perking up. The Duchess of Cambridge had never been fond of her connections with the English throne. Perhaps it was a conflict of interest, of lack of interest – Bianca could never get her head around the stuffy stiff-upper-lip Brits. But the Princess of Wales was a different matter. Gratefully picking up her offered drink, Bianca’s expression changed. “Aren’t I always nice to you?”

“You think it’s exquisite?” Zhenya asked softly, putting on a delicate smile on her face. She didn’t think rudeness could be fought but she couldn’t help but to try to tease the other woman a bit. “The coffee here is the best on this island, you should give it a try. It might be a better alternative to cocktails.” Zhenya had nothing against drinking but if there was something that she had noticed, it was that royals and nobles alike did not notice just how much they consumed alcohol — there was always a great excuse to drink. So great that one didn’t think bother to count the glasses.

Bianca smirked over at the other woman, though some of its earlier malice had left her lips. “Simply divine,” It wasn’t very often that her cruel jibed were met with a light teasing tone in kind and it was oddly refreshing - many royals were so stuffy and refined in their approach to Bianca and her ways. “Coffee just doesn’t have the same kick to it.” Alcohol was Bianca’s bread and butter - she only knew of the finer things and made a living out of consuming them, wearing them and being them. 

“Everything I want from you is your mouth shut so if you could do me this favor I’d be forever thankful.” to say that Zoey wasn’t on a good mood was a pleonasm by that point and the woman wasn’t making it any better. Normally it would take people a lot to get Zoey at least a bit annoyed but with the call from home she was already past that line. “Here are the solutions for your current problems: don’t drink the drink if you think it’s so terrible and don’t talk to me.” for some reason the woman kept speaking and all the norwegian did was roll her eyes. “Because my parents didn’t middle name me Stupid.”

“Well, aren’t you just a regular jewel in the crown?” Bianca was surprised that the other woman had been so quick to rise to the bait - royals are usually so reserved and well maintained on a whole. Dignity and grace and whatnot. There was little challenge in trying to get underneath someone’s skin when they basically skinned themselves and offered up the pound of flesh to Bianca.  “I wonder what crawled up your ass and died today.” Amusement played on her lips. “Have you checked your birth certificate recently? Just to be sure?”

nothing could beat the attitude of british bitches. olimpia had never met one posh brit who would have been bearable. they tended to look every foreigner down their nose just because of their accents. princess or no princess. “ since you clearly don’t have eyes— ” olimpia stopped to give the woman a sweet smile. “ — all the other seats are taken. i should be asking you why you’re forcing me to enjoy your absolutely terrible company by talking to me ? ”

Taking her morning run, dogs in tow, was one of Sohvi’s favorite parts of the day — it was the only time she really had any peace. Too wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn’t realize there was someone else nearby until one dog slowed and the other two stopped, tugging on their leashes and almost toppling her. Looking up, she gave the person a cordial smile.

“Nice morning, isn’t it?”

Perhaps trying to enjoy some fresh, unpolluted air wasn’t Bianca’s greatest idea. Trying to enjoy said air in her ridiculously high, pointed heels was even worse. She could feel herself sinking into the soft earth, knowing full well that it would cost a fortune to clean them. It was settled then and there that Bianca was first and foremost a city girl – with no desire to enjoy the beauty of nature,at least, not up close. In an attempt to escape from Mother Nature’s treacherous soil, she looked up at the sound of a sweet voice. “Is it?” Bianca swept some hair out of her face, catching a better look at the voice and its furry companions. “Oh,” She arched a brow at the dogs. “I haven’t one of those since I wore one at the Milan gala.”

“Nothing since I am not here to keep you company.” all the norwegian wanted was a drink, a call from her mother —well, step mother— was all it took for her to be in need for some alcoholic beverage and all the bottles she had inside her room were now empty considering she hadn’t brought a full bottle there in months. Sad. 

Bianca watched the dark-haired girl with detached form of interest, one perfectly shaped brow arching in amusement. “No one is really here to keep anyone company – I’m not interested in any casual chit-chat you might be thinking of having.” She took another slip of her drink and tried not to pull a face. “Besides, I’m sure your company is just as weak as these drinks.” Her gaze flitted over the girl, whom Bianca vaguely remembered– probably at some function or another. That or she had a common face. “So, why are you not all…” Bianca rolled her pale grey eyes. “bubbly and sparkly like the rest of them?”