WITH: @1642hqs-startersâ
LOCATION: somewhere near a riding path
Ella dismounted quickly, pulling the reins over her steedâs head to tie them around a trunk, a little out of breath from the run, lips pursed in an attempt to blow her disarrayed hair out of her face.
At least the scarf had stopped flying.
Of course, the scarf stopped because it had fallen into a pond.
She turned in a circle, trying to find a suitably long branch to fish out the damn thing. At least she already knew she could climb trees in her riding dress and she set about the activity determinedly, having seen one that seemed promising. She still had to break it off the trunk and she climbed higher, using her boot to stamp down on it, one arm around the trunk, the other holding on to a sturdy looking branch for leverage and jumped, cautiously at first, but as her efforts failed, exasperation mounted and her kicks grew fiercer. Â
She was, no doubt, already making a lot of noise, which wasnât helped by the ungodly crack as the branch finally gave, making her lose her footing in the process. She threw herself against the trunk, somewhere between slipping and falling to the ground, and even managed to snatch the branch she wanted, which was still dangling by a piece of bark. With her weight behind her, the thing finally broke loose, and she wobblily hit the ground, leaning heavily against the tree to keep upright.
She let out a labored breath as she straightened, victoriously brandishing the branch. In the flurry of movement, she caught a flash of color out the corner of her eyes and turned quickly, catching herself from hiding the branch behind her back at the last moment.Â
âOh â did I startle you?â she asked brightly, shaking herself out of her discombobulation with a blink. âNo need to worry, I have everything under control,â Ella announced, already losing interest as her focus switched back to the matter at hand, and she began peeling the smaller branches off her prize.
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mingxia felt right at home, the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, sorrow and romance that permeates these walls. much like what goes on in the forbidden city; same double-dealing and elegant poisoning.. just lacking in mysterious drownings and accusing one of black magic. she almost wished her oldest brother, the emperor an accident for bringing her to france for such talks, had it not been for what this could do for the princess in the future. the connections she could make, the power she could acquire, the ones that she could wrap around her pretty little finger, and the information that she could obtain. what she has learned so far, nothing but political intrigue, a few shady dealings arranged, some scandals contrived from nothing. was making her a bit homesick.
it was a beautiful starry night; wasnât too cold out. she let out a content filled sigh closing her eyes as the gentle breeze cooled her face. her peace was cut short as she heard someoneâs footsteps. opening her eyes, nodding her head at them âout for a nightly stroll as well?â, smiling softly.
She should have started missing home by now, but in truth, she had been relieved the first time she heard the news they were to travel to France, and thatâs how she continued to feel. Even after arriving, even after the murder, and the interrogation and the fire â she wasnât sure that sheâd feel any safer at home ( not since Ebba died ), itâd just be less loud. After all, it was rare in Sweden that sheâd stumble into someone when she had intended to avoid people, but if the smile on the other womanâs face was anything to go by, she didnât mind the interruption.
Arabella nodded wordlessly at her question, feeling her own lips curve into a responding smile. âCare for some company?â she shrugged as she almost blurted out the question, before feigning nonchalance for the otherâs reply. âI mean, talking is more tiring than walking. Perhaps weâll both be fortunate enough to put each other to sleep soon enough.â she glanced around, half expecting to see members of staff comb the area and usher any stragglers back in for the night â phantoms afoot and all of that.
âleana, darling, čˇç´§,â the queen called, bidding her daughter to stay close as the two year old walked ahead with uneasy steps. she would have preferred to have ahold of her hand or have her settled on her hip, but the princess was acting as stubborn as her father and threw a fit until she got her way. was her oldest this headstrong at this age ? she hardly had the time to reminisce now with how much leana consumed her thoughts nowadays. indeed, within those few seconds, lianhua had realized she had let her daughter out of her sight. she began calling her daughterâs name, looking to see if she had possibly hidden herself amongst the decorations of the hall, until she rounded a corner and finally spotted her.
âlea-â she stopped in her tracks, quite shocked to see her daughter hugging someoneâs legs. without a second thought she made haste to them. âi must apologize, her governess is with her older sister and i only looked away for a moment.â lianhua scooped her daughter up in an instant, despite the girlâs initial protests. as unsteady as the young princess was, she was fast on her feet and seemingly undeterred from whatever came in her path. âi hope she did not disturb you.â
Objectively, Ella didnât care about children. That wasnât to say she disliked them, it was just that she tended to think of them more as non-entities than actual people. Typically, sheâd walk around a child, leave them to their own devices and all that, but this specific child had run straight for her. She could hear someone calling out a name â âLea?â she tried, kneeling before her in an attempt to keep her near until whoever was looking for her caught up. The giggle that escaped the child served to prove her right.Â
âIâm Ella â thatâs almost the same name, isnât it? Lea, Ella?â she reached out her hand, mostly because the child looked amendable to taking it and straightened as a dark-haired woman rounded the corner and started purposefully striding towards them. âNot at all, I was just wandering,â she grinned at Lea, now safely back in her motherâs arms. âI imagine a moment is all they need when theyâre so tiny and fast. What was she running away from? Iâve been told I was particularly difficult around bath and bed times.â
( odeya rush, cis female, she/her, 22 ) ** â announcing ARABELLA HENRIKSSON, the PRINCESS OF SWEDEN ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble ODEYA RUSH. it is a miracle that SHE survived the last five years, considering they are SHREWD, IMPETUOUS, and CREATIVE. i hope the plague has not changed them. they are FOR working together with the other kingdoms
DATE OF BIRTH: April 10th 1625
STAR SIGN: the most Aries to ever Aries â is it possible for someoneâs birth chart to have all planets in a single sign? Because if yes, sheâs one of those people.
TITLE: Princess of Sweden
NICKNAMES: Ella, Ellie â she actively dislikes âBellaâ so you can annoy her with that â Bells would be mostly all right from her family/friends, but I kinda imagine this as less of a play on her name, and more due to her riotous attitude. ( hells bells! )
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: ???? she probably swings every which way. violently. with a bat.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: greyromantic
BIOGRAPHY
listen, i tried to write a bio, i really tried â i scraped it twice, itâs been horrible so hereâs a bullet point list for now
She had a very sheltered childhood. Not in the sense that she never got into trouble â if Ella couldnât get into trouble, sheâd usually make it â but more in the sense of her family sort of building a micro cosmos around her, which might have felt big at the time, but in truth she was under constant supervision and steered away from any true danger.
She was something of a child prodigy â she impressed all her tutors and studied numerous disciplines, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. She was a joy to teach, but a nightmare student, seemingly incapable of accepting anything at face value and finding it imperative to ask countless follow-up questions. She likes reading, but she likes talking about books more, especially with people who have already read them. She wouldnât read something just for herself, sheâd always rather pick something someone else mentioned to her so that she could discuss ideas with them.
 Sheâs quite athletic, she likes riding and has climbed (and will continue to climb) plenty of trees in her time. She loves sailing and has never in her life suffered from seasickness when out on the water.
Sheâs a painter and keeps a journal â well, sort of. Sheâs very flaky about writing in it, and she could go months without longer entries. Itâs mostly a collection of thoughts sheâs had, or others have had that she found interesting; snippets of poems (she never writes more than a verse, most of the time, itâs just one-two lines), occasionally even some stories sheâs made up. If anyone were to read her journal, theyâd probably just end up more confused as to who she is than before, as itâs an absolute mess of anything that caught her interest for a fleeting minute. I mean, sheâs a bit of a mess too (who isnât, amirite?) but itâs normally gathered around specific pain points. Generally speaking, Arabella acts quite put together and confident â and sheâs quite good at making herself believe it, too. Needless to say Iâm looking forward for that to change.
Sheâs the sort of person whoâs a lot smarter than people give her credit for, but not as smart as she thinks she is. Enthusiasm doesnât make up for experience, though it might hide the lack of it for a while, but thatâs still a lesson she needs to learn. Surrounded by people who have known her most of her life, her tendency to bite off more than she can chew and take pointless risks was a relatively consequence-free endeavor. Sheâs only half-aware that this is not the case now that sheâs in France, but â well, she also doesnât fully understand what she could get herself into, so her caution is barely skin deep and it isnât likely to keep her out of trouble for long.
She was really shaken by her eldest brotherâs death, yet she refuses to grieve him. She cannot bring herself to think about him now that heâs gone and doesnât want to talk about him with anyone, especially those closest to her. The one thing she can admit (only to herself) is that sheâs angry at him â she even hates him for dying, at times. Everything was under control until he got sick, after all. She worries about her older sister and, although she wants to see her succeed, she cannot bring herself to believe she will, at least not without help.  Â
 Sheâs very much the youngest child: lacks any sense of responsibility, expects other people to swoop in and solve her problems, is accustomed to getting her way and being indulged, would even throw a temper tantrum every once in a while, though the outbursts have grown rarer with time.
 CONNECTIONS
SIBLINGS
Dependent on plotting but Ella is a handful under any circumstances, but I do think she has some redeeming qualities that would endear her to her siblings, at least on occasion. She is generally in high spirits and quite fun to be around, sheâd talk to anyone about anything and would, somewhat infrequently, shower them with affection. Sheâs impervious to teasing and normally would just banter back without missing a beat. When she was younger, she was convinced nothing bad could ever touch her family, and that even if it did, it wouldnât matter, but that changed when Ebba died. Since then, sheâs started to pull away from her siblings, terrified of her own emotional dependence on them, but also determined to prove to herself and everyone else that sheâs capable of taking care of herself.
FRIENDS/ENEMIES/ACQUAINTANCES
She isnât shy about meeting new people â she isnât shy in general, really. Awkwardness and embarrassment are not emotions sheâs particularly familiar with and would typically be friendly even towards complete strangers. Itâs not necessarily that she is trusting (though she might be, a little), sheâs just very confident (and conceited â she assumes by default people would want to talk to her, sheâs a princess after all, and so many have said sheâs smart, surely sheâs interesting to talk to, right?!) so she doesnât feel out of place in France at all and she adjusted quite well to the transition. She can also be quite forceful and candid about things that maaaybe wouldâve been more polite of her to ignore, so sheâs definitely an acquired taste. If something a character does bothers her, theyâll know of it at once â her temper runs too hot for careful, planned revenge. Sheâd either retaliate immediately, or not at all.
BETROTHAL
She was betrothed before, as a child to Sebastian of Spain and in a sense grew up always knowing that, but not caring that much to explore what it meant. This fell through when they were still quite young, and Ella is more pissed off about not getting a say in either of these things, than hurt, or relived about it. She doesnât like others managing her life, so she isnât at all eager to be betrothed again, especially since the following marriage is much likelier to take place soon. Right now, sheâs more content about the idea that neither her nor her sister would get husbands and they could just return to Sweden together and Ella could help her rule, instead.Â
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strange word, desire, but you always wanted to be wanted. your crown catching in the crest of an inevitable wave, desperate to pull against people like spiderweb threads, to be consumed by the world or else destroy it.
and if youâre going to be catastropheâs final form, pull it off beautifully, pull it off with tilting, inexplicable grace. manifest this last twisted tragedy in blush and illusory light, taffeta and blood. the liquor is english, but the lipstick is french and so is the cataclysmic thought: le rĂŞve est fini.Â
try it like this, not at all like they taught in charm school: pull humid southern wind around you like gossamer curtains to forget the feel of motel sheets. man-made diamond, bite the hand that feeds you and know that gemstones are tested by their ability survive pressure.
(but the heat is oppressive, so shatter. itâs alright. because if nothing else you will at least leave shards in your wake. pierce what you cannot erase)
play your hand close to your chest, cards face down to smear the queen of hearts. if youâre going to cry, youâre going to cry hard, slicing tears. you will forget that they are a weapon. but if you listen close enough, a train-track song hums along to your undoing. if you listen closer, itâs singing you to sleep.Â
know this, too: there is long-forgotten magic to be found in the reality of destruction. know that if you light fires in paper lanterns the glow rips through the shadow. it rips you wide open.
white woods, burning (for blanche) // j.a.s. (via gingerlattes)