nexiliis

TENSIONS REMAINED DESPITE KNOWING KAVIKA DAS WAS NOT SOMEONE THAT PIET HAD EVER TAKEN ISSUE WITH YET DESPITE THAT BEING TRUE THE NATURALLY SUSPICIOUS NATURE SURGED. It mattered not that Kavika was of nobility or of high status before that as the fact remained that there was an intruder on the premises and nobody of any status would be exempt from caution or suspicion. 

“I swear! Do you wish to see my notes?” Kavika began rummaging in her cloak for the book and pencil she kept on her person. “Here, see for yourself,” she presented the book. It was the one actually filled with ideas for novels which she kept regularly as opposed to the other notebook which she obviously cannot present to the Dock Owner. 

“I find that people are less forthcoming when I tell them, and then there are the ones who inflate everything and ruin the perspective because they believe it’s going to paint them in a negative light.” She huffs. “Much like your stance now. It’s not like I plan on naming the characters after their inspiration. Any parallels that can be drawn shall not be my fault. I cannot control what people think!” People and their egos are a pain, she really shouldn’t be one to complain, but she needs it to sell this story to Mr. Drake. 

He placed his hand back down at his side, eyes still on his wife. "Alisa..." he said quietly. The two of them never really had a fight about withholding secrets or sharing information. Alisa knew him well, and suddenly he was confused. He furrowed his brow a bit and frowned. "What are you not telling me?" he asked her. His voice was gentle, but there was a more stern undertone to it.

His hand moved up to his face to rub his chin. It concerned him even more. "Alisa, tell me everything. What did he do now?"

After the Oskar revelation she’s not sure how much more interference from her father she can take. At least their experience with Oskar turned out to be positive. Now, he’s one of the people in their lives who they can wholeheartedly trust. “I know we’ve already been through a lot with Oskar, but I’m at wits end with what to do.” It’s been established between Arthur and Alisa that her father is not a good man, never was, and never will be.

Coming clean to her husband, though ill-advised, may be the only card she has left to play. Arthur has not given her any reason to believe he would think any differently of her, but he doesn’t know everything, and she always weighs that when she feels the urge to tell all.

“My father has been making me spy on things here at court, then report back to him,” she began, diving headfirst into it before she loses the nerve to do so. “I have tried ignoring him, but when I stopped correspondence, he made threats…” When her father gets angry, the decisions he makes aren’t the best for anyone involved, including himself. “I will do whatever I have to do, to keep us safe,” she says in lieu of explaining the consequences of crossing her father.

|| LOCATION || The Barnett Gemstone Ball

She had seen many grand things. Imposing towers and ancient architecture. People of all ages, sizes, cultures. And yet, seeing the grandeur of the Barnett foyer and ballroom was something to tell. Jewels adorned the walls, reflecting off the marbled flooring. Everyone was dressed to the nines and glittered beneath the soft lighting of the room.

Riya was astonished. She felt as if she could fit right in alongside the uppity folks here in Mayfair. Approaching the drinks table, she poured herself a small glass of punch, trailing her eyes along the finger foods. A multi-layered tray filled with desserts reminiscent of gems. Emeralds, topaz, alexandrite, jade, opal, and others she could not quite name. They were much too beautiful to dare eat, though people were snagging them with a quickness.

Feeling someone beside her, she smiled sheepishly. She wasn't always bashful unless it truly mattered. "Is it obvious how much I am enjoying all of this?"

When she got the note from the Ruby Confessional, Kitty quickly rushed to the bathroom to reapply some perfume and adjusted her dress. Lady Angelique Renoir was sophisticated, funny, charming, and promised her the world. This had to go perfectly.

At the allotted time, Katherine casually went out to the garden and looked around for the mysterious Angelique. Her heart was racing but her face remained posed and confident like it always did. If things went her way, which they always did, she would end up engaged tonight. Plus, perhaps, a little extra.

In the darkness the ridiculous grin Kavika sported on her face succeeded Katherine’s arrival. While her expression may read as jovial, her thoughts were anything but. A sweeping gaze regards the other’s attire; hating to admit the stunning visage, as per usual. The play of rose quartz and jade throughout her outfit certainly befitting of the theme, and tactfully done, unlike some others she’s seen who shall remain nameless. 

With every fibre of her being she tried her best to hold it together. The temptation to pop out from her hiding place and start cackling was strong, but she had to wait a bit. Giving Katherine time to marinate before she makes her grand entrance is key. Hopefully, it’ll be soul crushing and embarrassing enough to teach Katherine not to mess with her. Kavika’s time in London has truly brought out a new level of petty, or is it simply Katherine Thorne that triggers a disputatious spirit.

Minutes ticked by while the Das heiress kept to her hiding place. Choosing the moment wisely, Kavika emerges once Katherine’s back is turned. Close enough, both arms reach out to cover Katherine’s eyes from behind. The anonymity must last for a while longer. Living up to her fake identity Kavika addresses her in French along with the accent she practiced; it’ll be fleeting but oh so worth it. That year she spent in France has been the gift that keeps on giving. 

"mind  shutting  the  doors  behind  you?"  the  night  has  dragged  onward,  and  exhaustion  clings  to  ramón's  shoulders.  but  his  eyes  remain  bright,  steady.  he  takes  a  puff  of  his  cigar,  smoke  billowing  around  him  as  he  exhales  through  his  nose.

“Oh!” Kavika’s hands flutter to her chest in surprise. Initially, she failed to notice that the room was currently occupied so the voice within threw her off guard. Logically she knew that turning around and finding another space would be ideal, but the footfalls she heard coming closer sent her into action. Deftly, she closed the door behind her. For a moment she stood there silent, listening to ensure that whoever was out there continued along. 

Katherine did not care much for the softer, quieter dances. They could definitely be intimate but that had to be at the right time with the right person. She much preferred the more energetic dances, dances where she could show off her flirty and playful side. That tended to draw people in much better.

She watched as couples twirled around the floor, softly talking and laughing. A small pout on her face as she turned to the person next to her. "I don't know about you, but I wish the orchestra would play something more lively. This is a ball, where people are meant to dance."

Alisa was happy residing in the shadows as she observed the dancing from varying angles. When not a part of the dancing herself, she took to roaming the perimeter of the ballroom, mostly. Unfortunately, she would rarely go unnoticed for long, and people would revert to their poised dispositions in her presence.

While Alisa intended on being inconspicuous, she could not help the light laughter that bubbles free. Thanks to the commentary from Katherine Thorne, she knows that she will no longer be able to continue lurking. Stepping forward, she continues to insert herself in the conversation. “I am inclined to agree. I do believe the livelier dances are still to come.” By Alisa’s calculations they seem to be carded for after the main meal is served. The person Katherine initially engaged in conversation became flustered, and hastily bowed and excused themselves. “I do hope I have not ruined your chances at a dance with them,” she adds with a gesture towards the disappearing figure.

|| LOCATION || The Barnett Gemstone Ball

Genevieve was not impressed attending balls anymore. Perhaps when she was a child and marveled at the grandeur chandeliers and elaborate decorations, but now, it was all crude. People with too much money using things they did not need for a gathering that did not matter. It was an agitation, a tumor that would never cease its festering upon people.

It was Edgar who made it all the more better, though. She wouldn't have admitted that she detested balls as much as he did, then he wouldn't have possibly shown up. He would make this an exciting ordeal, something to remember.

The one thing she would give credence to is the fashion. Everyone looked marvelous. There were some people who Genevieve eyed curiously, wondering if they'd gotten dressed in the dark. But aside from those outliers, her gaze remained on the crowd. She spotted someone in particular and approached them. "You are quite the dazzling gem, though I cannot tell which one you are."

Capturing the eye of a Princess causes Kavika to subtly adjust her positioning for more her adoring gaze. Balls and parties are truly where Kavika shines. Dressing up and indulging in fashion is one of her favourite things. The best thing is the themes have thus far been in alignment with her expansive wardrobe. “That’s precisely the effect I was going for,” she grins, rather proud of herself. “Thank you, Princess,” she delivers a well-practiced curtsey that comes off naturally.

Junho could feel the tenseness of everything at the ball. It always surprised him how a simple ball could have tension. He thought balls weren't meant for fun, but no. English society always needed to cause trouble whenever they are. How pitiful. He's settled next to the rows of sweets.

He hadn't even realized he didn't really know anyone. He knew of people, but friendships weren't his strong suit. He can talk and treat people like friends, but that was different from having real friends. It didn't trouble him most days, but being in a social event showed the evidence of it.

He's chewing on a sweet as he looks at the crowd. He felt someone standing next to him, and he slightly perked up and looked over. He was eager to speak to whoever was nearby. "Enjoy yourself this evening?" he always speaks as if he knows the person next to him, whether he actually did or not.

Even the manner in which the sweets are arranged seems thoughtful, matching the hues of the various gems on display tonight. “I am having a splendid evening,” she smiles in turn. “I appreciate you for enquiring.” Judging by his mood, she hopes this is the same for the gentleman.

“You are Mr Lytton, yes?” Alisa presumes, though she is certain that this is the railroad heir, Junho. In the days leading up to balls and other events, many of her days are spent freshening up on members of the Ton. Everyone deserves to feel valued among the kingdom, so she does what she can with the portrait cards and accompanying blurbs. So by the time the event happens, she is kept abreast of who’s who, and knows enough. It usually provides more depth to her people watching, and of course her interactions with the Ton.   

Alisa recognised someone trying to escape better than anyone. The immediate about-face upon entering, the furtive glances at the exits, the throng of people being tracked so as not to cross paths with them– she knows it all. “Harriett, delighted to see you,” she smiles in greeting, attempting to smooth over the other’s faux pas. It’s bad enough being caught trying to flee, only for it to be compounded by the Queen being the one to bring the escape to a halt. “I was just in search of a Barnett who could accompany me outside.” Neither of them wanted to be stuck in here, putting on a face for the Ton, so why not take a reprieve in the balmy night air? “It seems like I am lucky to have found you. I do hope you are free.”

There was no ‘winning’ when it came to Sophia, and Alisa has made her peace with that. “Well then, you are free to do what you wish, Princess,” her tight-lipped smile faded before she added: “Disarray and all.” The onus isn’t solely on Sophia to be the paragon of royalty. Regardless of if she meant the statement or not, she should be allowed to be human even if the Ton simply won’t understand or accept it. “Who am I to stand in the way of your intentions?” 

“It must feel extraordinary to see your creations among the glittering lights.” The theme of the night’s ball has been woven through everything with thoughtful touches here and there. Everyone has donned their finest and under the shimmering lights they seem to be having a splendid time. “I have taken a turn or two already,” he comments with a smile. He’s looking forward to dancing some more with his wife, and others. “Is the next song to your liking?” The band has been playing quite a repertoire of dances. Aiming to tailor to everyone is a task, but perhaps the song and dance style scheduled next is familiar to them  both. “Perhaps we shall dance?”

A small, battered sealskin bag, finely embossed with the crest of her family, water tight after all these years. She had checked the papers just once, only once, after dragging herself from the sea. The night she had spent under this tree with her lineage clutched to her chest, her mind at war with her heart. Leaving them here in the dirt had felt like ripping a part of her heart out and burying that instead. But it had kept her safe. She did not regret it. She would not allow herself to regret it.

Brushing the dirt carefully away, Renata stood and unwound the bindings of the case. She could feel herself falling back into the posture drilled into her since infancy, the straight back and high head of nobility.

“I am the farthest thing from a highwayman you are likely to get, my love.” She said and her voice wavered even if her posture did not. Surely he would still love her. Surely he would find a way to forgive this. He was the best man she had ever known.

“My birth name is not Vitoria. It is Renata.” She took a deep breath and held the papers out to him. “My name is Princess Renata Vitoria Zehra Bruce Saxe-Coburg, daughter of King Alfonse Rafael Davide Saxe-Coburg and Queen Clarisse Maria Zehra Mueller Saxe-Coburg, seventh in line to the Portuguese throne, cousin to Queen Alisa Godwin of England; presumed dead at sea."

“Wh–” Nathaniel’s confusion rendered him speechless as he watched her digging in the dirt. The sheer determination he read from her actions made him shut up and continue watching. He thought that by letting her unearth whatever she’s searching for would shed some light, but it only deepened the frown upon his brow. Nathaniel took the papers from her, but barely glanced at them. He was trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. “I don’t…wait…” his free hand rubbed over his face for a brief moment. 

“You’re a Princess!” Furthermore, she was that Princess whose sad tale he vaguely remembers from years ago. Nathaniel looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Cousin to the Queen?” He echoed. “Fucking hell!” Nathaniel's gaze drops to the papers he held, albeit shakily. There in the black and white was the proof which she had no doubt buried here, his head snapped up then, looking towards the sea. It took a moment for him to connect the dots before he spoke again.

“This is where you…” he was still looking at the water when he spoke. For all the joyous times he’s had at the Cornwall seaside, his wife’s experience was not the same, especially her first. “Why?” His gaze returns to her now, a host of emotions visible. “Why did you hide? You could have returned home.” He knew that meant they would have never met, but he thinks only of the people that have mourned her.