Houseplant9000

Which will be the first to cross the finish line 250 yards (basically 250 meters) away? You have $5 to wager on the winner (no split wagers). Place your bet!

Wears a mask. It’s not fully covering, but that’s okay. The mask looks like one of those drama class masks. You’re not entirely sure why they wear it-but you would be on your deathbed should you ask.

They wear a cloak with the hood up. You realize that it’s strange for them to wear such, given the fact that the terrain has only been barren. You didn’t see any trees on your way in. No grass. The land has been scorched beyond repair. You didn’t think it was that cold. Or maybe it was that they were hiding something.

They had only one singular butler. One person of help. The man stands tall, lanky. You don’t know the Crown’s name. Only that they muffle and clap happily. They seem..Happy? Constantly happy. You haven’t seen anything like the others from them-and it unnerves you more.

Sometimes, you swear you can feel their gaze on you. Like it’s not all rainbows down there in that brain. Similarly to there only being one person, there are no people in the realm. None. You have no idea where they may have gone-or what happened to them, but you’re sure you don’t want to know.

Their story is unknown as much as they are. Their butler tells you nothing. Only that a flame sets in his eyes, and you swear he’s planning to assassinate you. You have a few theories. They had something in that brain, like a worm-or a voice. Something that took hold of them at any point of time. And it whispered things to them. Things that swore life would never be the same. That life would bend or it would burn. That is the most simplest of your theories. But as with everything, there is always a deeper meaning. There are houses, but they’re in ruins, if they even stand at all. You could see twenty miles out, you bet. Or perhaps they were always like this. Some kind of crazed idiot who loved the flame too much to see what harm it would do-maybe they didn’t even care. Maybe even, they don’t know. They don’t know that they’ve caused so much harm-and you’re not sure you’d want to be the one to break it to them. Maybe in a lifetime or a past they were aware of their surroundings. They do not seem like that now.

You can’t understand them. And furthermore, you don’t take orders from The Crown themselves. You don’t handle their tea, clothing or anything to do with them-but you can swear they are watching you always. Anywhere in the palace, you swear they are watching you. Their butler translates for them, even the other royals will refuse to translate for them. They all know something-or maybe even fear-the butler.

The palace is the most decorated out of the nine. It’s pretty in color. Pastels and purples. All like paint just threw up in here. Tea cups for women, things feminine and lovely. The place itself makes you feel safe. Not the people in it.

You’ve tried to ask the other royals about how whoever they are became Crown. They won’t tell you. You’re convinced most of them don’t know.

They’re friendly. Very friendly in fact. They treat you more as an equal rather than anything-since well, you kind of have to be an equal. They won’t let you be anything else. You’re always drinking tea with them, or perusing the “gardens”. As if there miles and miles of flowers. All you see is soot and ash. Burnt up trees where apples may have used to grow-but no longer does the song of life sing. She’s been killed, burnt to a crisp. Even death is gone. As if the wreckage of whatever terrain still stands is too much for them to bear. As if the idea of it, the reality of it was too much to handle, so he abandoned it. He abandoned his job. You feel nothing but void. You wonder if that’s all they feel, too.

Engineer!!

Probably the fairest ruler in all of the nine realms, minus Mikhail.

Ended up inheriting the throne-not by blood-but by the idea that he was a good man. See, Dell was born to parents not exactly poor (at least they liked to pretend they weren’t) and gave Dell the power of fixing things. And it wasn’t just items-inanimate objects he could fix, he could fix people. While working with others, playing with others-he found that kids talked and he listened. They always felt better afterwards. Adults would talk to him, talk down even-and they always had more respect for Dell than previously known or believed. Sometimes they’d even admit it. As Dell grew older, he found himself commenting (with the utmost respect) on a carriage that had been holding the princess at the time-that it looked like it was made by someone dead. The princess of course was outraged- and Dell spent his first night in a jail cell. Whilst there-the king himself visited Dell, a man so big and powerful, that had red hair that looked like real fire contained in strands of DNA. Maybe it did. The king asked him questions about the carriage. Why he said that. What made him dishonor his craftsmen? His daughter? And Dell told the king plainly. “With all due respect your highness I do believe that there Axel is uneven. And if it ain’t uneven ya can slap my ass and call me sally.” The crudeness of Dell’s language should have enraged the king, it made him laugh, instead. Dell wasn’t scared of his opinion being known. The king tested the Axel, and sure enough- it was uneven. It was faulty as well. Rotting wood that couldn’t be heard over the clopping of horses’ hooves, or the wheels turning on ground and cobblestone. Dell was let go, and made trainee for the royal construction wing. He was damned good at his job, climbing the ranks, eventually being the overseer and one of the king’s many good friends. Eventually, his daughter was 24 and old enough to marry. The king asked, of course. Adamant that if anyone could tame his bratty daughter, it would be Dell. Dell refused. Said he didn’t need more pain in the asses than he already figured he had-and he hadn’t even checked. The king’s daughter was married off-as so was his son. The years passed by almost by the blink of an eye. The king was too old to rule, and he had already made it clear in the previous years he would not let his entitled children rule his kingdom. Instead, he turned to Dell. Dell had lost his parents way back, maybe around the 5th or 7th year of being the overseer for the Royal Construction Wing, and was an only child. He and the king had grown close enough that Dell would think of him as the younger brother to the king. The king knew that Dell could keep his legacy running, and even run it better. He could fix the holes that the king could not, he could fill in the voids-build better, talk nicer. Understand more. These were all things the king wished he could have done himself, but knew that Dell could take care of.

Dell cried at the king’s funeral. Tears that he had shown only to his parents’ deaths. From then on he vowed that he would work harder than ever to have earned the right to be seated at the throne.

Dell knows all of his staff and employees’ names by heart. He knows who just had kids, who didn’t. He has dinner with some on a weekly basis. He’s a friend to his people, and most of all to the staff.

Executions aren’t rare, but often the trial happens, and the body is never heard from again. Sometimes there isn’t even a body to stand trial and plead. There’s just not.

Dell has a very high standard when it comes to the people he dates, as mentioned before-he needs people who aren’t pain in the asses. He’s found that’s ninety-five percent of the people who want to bed or marry him, and marrying him mostly for status and money. Dell wasn’t raised like that. He’s had a few flings, but all with people he knew he could trust, and they were just that. Flings.

Dell is constantly a pent up man. He seems relaxed most of the time, he knows when to quit-but he’s pent up. Anger, excitement. It flows through him easy at times-and others, not so easy.

All of his banquets and dinners (even daily ones) are made of recipes that his mother used, had stored or planned on using. There are no others. It gives him a sense of belonging when he feels he has none.

He’s well groomed and clean, at least after he’s done working on carts, carriages or other contraptions of his making. He won’t usually go to bed dirty, it’s just not right. His mama would tan his hide if he didn’t wash up before and after dinner.

Sees everyone (maybe except for spy) as allies. He understands people can have different personalities, quirks and traits. Not everyone was raised like him and he knows this. So he gives everyone the utmost kindness he can muster. He likes being around pyro, scout and plays cards with sniper every now and then. The others are waves and hellos, rare meetings but nothing else. He has his allies, and god forbid he ever have to use them. You’d be in real trouble then.

Assassin’s basically don’t exist in Dell’s kingdom. It’s not that there aren’t any, but they can’t even make it to the palace. Something always guts them right before they can. Or, well. This month it’s gutting. Last month it was arrows.

And lastly, if one was to be chosen to be Dell’s ruler, he needs someone who can keep up with him. Who can fix him. He needs the love and care so desperately. He can fix his own rusty bolts a million times-but there’s a time where one needs to be seen from a different perspective. A much, much different perspective. The thing about appliances, is that everyone utilizes it a certain way, loving how it functions and what it does for them, enjoying the outer workings of it. Rarely does anyone ever look on the inside to see what lay beyond. He needs someone who’s not afraid to say something about it. Get to work on it. Try.

We’re going to try something else, since I’ve had 3 drafts and they’ve all gotten rejected via by me and my team-so we’re going to introduce each individually, in a headcannon type way, and then write.

So here’s the first.

Scout

Is definitely the worst of his royal family. I mean desperately bad. He’s the loudest out of all of them. Thats obvious.

Born to a family of people who climbed to the top via multiple methods, it was only fair that he did the same. Scout was originally an assassin for hire, hired by the reigning king of a different kingdom (Valterre), to annihilate the king, the queen, and the duke. It didn’t go as planned, instead going with him finding the Queen already dead, the duke over her dead body. An affair not worth the risk, he snitched. If ya can’t beat em, join em. The King killed the duke via execution of terrible means, and gave scout the right to have something he never had before. Power. For once, he had something to hold over everyone else’s heads. That power was then used to kill the king of Valterre, the execution nasty, public. The kingdom had no choice but to take the young man who had killed their king. The kingdom of Valterre oddly flourishes under Scout’s rule.

Born Jeremiah Edward “Scout”, he tends to have an affinity for pissing off every extra noble he can. This has created a SHIT ton of assassination attempts on his head.

One might think that scout is an idiot. An imbecile: maybe he is. But when it comes to assassination attempts-no man is more ready to kick someone’s ass and let them taste than Scout. He welcomes it. Each and every assassin’s feeble attempt is boasted about. Scout is not the type to go around and parade the bodies or remains around the palace or country. That being said-there really is nothing to put on display. His servants are genuinely scraping the remains off of the walls and floor. Dust, liquid or puddle. Matters not to him.

Insufferable. I mean he tries his best. He can’t get the hang of decorum. The servants try really hard to hold some semblance of their old lives, but scout just isn’t one to be able to do that. For someone with quick legs and fast calculated movements (vaulting and parkour) he trips over his own two feet in dancing, can’t hold a violin or goblet to save his life. It’s frustrating to the elder servants.

Scout is one of the last surviving brothers after the plague swept through his kingdom (and the continent frankly) taking 5 out of seven of his family. A cocky man driven by impulse, he is also driven by immense grief. He uses the pain to continue to rule and continue his life, but it’s not enough. Some would say that’s why he acts the way he does, all impulse and energy. It’s because he’s faking it. The poor lad.

Wants to take a wife, get bitches. Concubines for miles. All because we all know the dudes a virgin. No matter what au he takes, where he goes. The boy will always need you to step in. He’s constantly lonely.

He often bothers the maids, the guards. He’ll piss off anybody to get a lick of attention, like a pathetic dog.

Don’t be fooled, he knows sort of how to play the game. Plus, you fuck with him you’ve got at least three other enemies, given the time of day, the minimum will always be three.

While he is the most annoying in the castle compound, everyone WILL fuck you up for him. Thats their kid brother (on some level). Im talking war. If you’re a noble, royal or important person, consider your life under new ownership.

Eats the weirdest food. He enjoys the nice good cuisine of the royal life, but you’ll find him at food stalls and markets chowing down on some peasant foods. They’re his favorite, what can he say?