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Forums > Rider's Lounge > Writer's Nook
  1

Storytime With Medi October 30, 2018 03:18 AM

Mediterranean
 
Posts: 1145
#252874
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I love to write, so I just thought I'd create a little corner of HEE especially for my writing.

This one was for a roleplay but a reply never came. I thought it was wasted just sitting in my documents - as I am quite proud of this chunk of writing and totally in love with this idea - so I decided I would post it here:

Queen Aderyn, the last of the royal bloodline, the last with silver blood and the last with flames of silvery white at her finger tips. She stood with perfect stillness at the huge glass paned window, doused in golden sunlight that filtered in, watching the various royals and representatives parade through the palace gates.

The official name of the palace was the Evriel Palace, called this due to the highest point being built in such a way that made it seem as though it was touching Evriel, the only star in the night sky that didn't move. Evriel is the pointer star, the guiding star, the traveller's star, but to Aderyn, it is the beacon of home. Follow it, and it will always lead her back to where she belongs. That was supposedly the promise an ancient moon goddess made to her ancestors a long, long time ago.

The young queen unnecessarily smoothed out a non existent wrinkle in her royal blue velvet dress. The dress wasn't extravagant, it was simple with a scooping neckline and contrasted against her hair. Her signature hair and matching eyes that the Stellania royals were known for; the colour of glistening silvery moonlight in its purest form.

She was unconventional, to say the least. With her lack of a corset and lack of a crown, she knew the other kingdoms may be of a similar opinion. Or a worse one. Not that she cared. She knew how to make a memorable first impression and that was all she needed.

She subconsciously touched her brow with the gentleness of a single finger tip. She may not have a physical crown, but she did wear one. A brand. A symbolic chain of stars was branded across her forehead, a meaningful branding for the inheriting ruler which had been a most valued tradition for over a millennia. Her parents hadn't taken the branding, but after their untimely deaths, she had felt her people needed something uplifting and patriotic to renew their spirits which had been hurt by the tragic end to their once beloved King and Queen. Or perhaps it was her who needed the uplifting and patriotism, a reminder of why she was really doing it and what she was really doing it for. So when her people needed her to fill in the newly formed hole in their hearts, she had stepped up. Despite the fact that there was still a gaping hole in her own heart.

The idea of having many of the most powerful people on the continent gracing her modest and somewhat empty court was making her stomach twist in that nervous fashion. She often got visitors, attracted to The Evriel Palace due to the promise of seeing the ethereal, starry throne room and the eternally burning hearth that resided in the centre of it. But those were only travellers, not royals.

Aderyn turned her back on the window and the view of the oncoming guests, she tilted her head as her silver eyes scanned the room, double checking incase any imperfections might have escaped her yesterday. A soft smile reached her sharp featured face as she couldn't help but look at the magnificent night sky that was so beautifully painted across the ceiling; the colours bled into each other and the stars almost seemed to glow. In that romantic style of architecture, various shapes and figures were painted in silver around the edges of the ceiling. The walls were painted more like a star map, on a navy background with less colour and the glowing dots that represented the stars, including the lunar cycle which was painted across the width of the room, right behind and above the throne. The throne itself, was made of what appeared to be glowing white silver, or moonsilver as it was called in legend. Only those with the gift of moonfire could forge it, Aderyn had yet to try. The throne was engraved in beautiful calligraphy, the writing was of the old language of Stellania, very little spoke it and even less could read it, she was saddened seeing it begin to die out. The throne sat on a dias, against the back wall, overlooking the hearth which was currently burning white flames. Flames that would never stop burning, not until the very last with silver blood was dead. Not until she was dead. Sometimes she felt like it was taunting her, it's presence an ever irritating reminder of everything that lay at stake. She could not be the last, and therefore she would take her advisors' advice and use The Festival Of Amity as an opportunity to find a suitable husband.

"Aderyn," the voice of her third cousin, childhood friend and trusted advisor sounded from the grand throne room doors. She almost jumped, having previously been deep in thought and barely aware of the world around her. Aspen saw this and smiled that impish smile, he was only two years older than her, but he was wise beyond that. "Perhaps you should come and greet your guests. We can't leave spoilt royals and nobles waiting or I suspect a tantrum or two might be thrown."

"You think you're quite funny, don't you, Aspen?" She asked him with a quickly forming grin as she walked with her usual elegance towards him to take the arm he'd just offered.

The chestnut haired young man with olive skin and bright blue eyes laughed a breezy laugh, "oh, but dearest Addie, I know I'm witty and I'm willing to bet the court ladies know so, too,". Aderyn merely shook her head as she allowed him to lead her down the stairs and to the grand hall, where she would make her acquaintance with her fellow royals and nobility.

Edited at October 30, 2018 03:22 AM by Mediterranean
Storytime With Medi November 27, 2018 05:10 AM

Champagne Acres
 
Posts: 1320
#266974
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I wish there was more LOL!
Storytime With Medi May 12, 2019 09:56 AM

Mediterranean
 
Posts: 1145
#364547
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Another one I wrote to start a roleplay but never actually got to use it for roleplaying. I'm quite happy with it so I thought I would post it here.

For context: The Faerie lands of Avarie have been devided into east and west, Seelie and Unseelie. For decades the two courts have hated each other, being polar opposites who've refused to get along despite the fact that this devide takes a negative toll on Avarie which is magically connected to the Faerie people. But due to the worsening conditions of the lands and the realisation of the benefits unity would present, an alliance is agreed on; marriage between the two heirs.

In the grand Seelie ballroom, amongst the many frivolous Seelie Faeries in their lavish gowns and opulent wings, stood a small group dressed in darker, duller colours. They looked like a dark cloud on a clear day and this fact alone was enough to all but announce that these strange folk were not from Western Avarie. When the Seelie began to socialise, it came as no surprise to Kairo that they gave her and the other Unseelie nobility wide berths and averted all eye contact.


She inclined her head, those clever green feline eyes drinking in every detail. How odd it was, to see such magnificence in a social event, everywhere she looked she was met with finery and luxury, it seemed the Seelie prioritised it, at least when it came to balls, dances and such. The Unseelie court never had such events, there was not a ballroom big enough in the old stone castle at Hedgenworth, the place of her childhood in the heart of the capital city of the East. Not only was there a lack of space, but also a lack of caring. The Unseelie would not be likely to even entertain the idea of having every court member or noble under one roof for a night of festivities and socialising. No, no, that would be chaotic.


Kairo did not allow her mind to wander much more. She wanted to be as observant as possible, any detail, however minor, may be able to help her win favour with these fair folk with whom she was so out of her depth with. To her left, she felt a strong hand place itself on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly before dropping, she looked up and caught her fatherÂ’s same bright green eyes. He wasnÂ’t smiling, Unseelie Kings werenÂ’t supposed to smile, even if they were amongst their opposites who threw smiles out like a farmer sows seeds. Where they came from, smiling too much was considered a weakness and if a rare smile was beheld within the royal court of the East, it was never a good omen. Despite the little emotion displayed on his face, King BrynÂ’s eyes faintly glittered with pride as his beloved daughter and worthy heir appeared undaunted by the unchartered territory that was the Seelie court. Kairo was aware of the difficulties she might face, she sized them up, and once they presented themselves, she would seize them and overcome them with her unbreakable cool, calm and calculating attitude. It was the exact thing that her father valued most and the thing that most tended to admire about her. She wasnÂ’t particularly pretty; her appearance was plain in comparison to the beauty of the Seelie and she had been described as looking spectral or wraith-like on more occasions than one. What with her straight long black hair, pale-as-death skin, sharp angular face, luminous eyes and unnatural, soundless quick feet which faeries never see coming. And she was definitely no charmer, she could be a diplomat if needed, but not a charming one. So she tended to rely on the solidity of her poise and cunning.


“I wonder how they dance in such heavy and fine jewellery. They’re covered from head to toe,” Maryn, the captain of the guard commented, her expression grim and disapproving, as though she was considering how inconveniencing such attire would be in the case of an attack on the palace. She was wearing ceremonial armour that was polished so thoroughly that Kairo could see her own reflection blinking back at her,. She wondered which unfortunate junior sentinel had made the ill-fated mistake of back-chatting Maryn and then been punished with the tedious task of polishing all ceremonial armour from her own to the stray pieces hidden away in storage. A horrible task and one which, many moons ago, Kairo herself had been punished with until her hands had been rubbed raw and bleeding and she was sick of the sight of metal.


“Yes, but their wings. So colourful, so big and eye catching. How ridiculous they’d look in our court, how the Unseelie would laugh,” the snake eyed lord and councilman with the forked tongue remarked. Syvic was his name. He narrowed those foul snake eyes in distrust of the Seelie which were all around him.


“Need I remind you, Syvic, that we are here to forge an alliance which will benefit us all. Since this alliance is in all of our best interests, I’d request you be as diplomatic as possible as I’d hate for one faerie’s attitude to nullify any possibility of a successful alliance for the rest of us and our precious lands,” Kairo said coolly, not even bothering to cast a glance in his direction. Maryn let out an amused huff of air and a corner of her father’s lip quirked ever so slightly upwards.


Lord Syvic did not get an opportunity to reply - if he dared - as a trumpet had been blown to signify the entrance of the Seelie royal family and her future husband. She raised her steady gaze to the huge decorated doors which nobility had been entering through all night and waited patiently. Like any good predator would.


Edited at May 12, 2019 05:45 PM by Mediterranean
Storytime With Medi May 15, 2019 03:16 PM
Former Stable
 
Posts: 0
#365694
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You are good at writing!
Storytime With Medi June 24, 2019 02:34 PM

Mediterranean
 
Posts: 1145
#387458
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Here's a random, dark and dramatic piece I wrote. It had been sitting rotting in an old notebook in the corner of my room and I thought it better get some use.

The soft clacking of heels echoed in the dimly lit hallways of the dreary stonekeep castle. Princess Lyra watched with her pooling green eyes as servants scurried quickly passed her with their heads bowed, not daring to make eye contact with Belvedeere royalty. Servants knew better than to attract any kind of attention upon themselves.

Her lavish emerald green dress made from the finest silk the best Belvedeerean seamstress had to offer, made a swishing sound as she swiftly turned a corner. She had no will to be tardy for dinner with the King, who did not take something as seemingly insignificant as lateness so lightly. She knew it would not matter to him if she was his daughter, he had no mercy for anyone, even his own blood. The huge mahogany doors of the dining room loomed menacingly in the distance, like a judge about to decide on the fate of a prisoner. She approached and a manservant opened the door for her. Her clever eyes quickly scanned the enormous dining room, it was unsurprisingly barren of any humanity, as the powerful man who sat at the head of the table certainly did not count.

The grand dining table was far too big to only feed two. It was designed a long time ago when the old stonekeep castle saw festivities grace its dull halls and feasts to fill its table seats. Usually, there were three who sat to eat at the royal table, the Crown Prince and the youngest, was no stranger to the seat at the King's right hand. The seat of the heir. The seat that should have been her's. However, the Crown Prince was away on a hunting trip and unfortunately would not be in court for a week or two. Lyra took her seat at the King's left. She politely bowed her head, "good evening, My King."

The King looked up, he was aged, that much was evident from the grey hairs that were beginning to show and from the deep wrinkles which had formed from the permanent sneer that was always present on his mottled face. Not old enough to die of natural causes. "Am I not your Father? Do you not address me as such?" he asked, his head tilting slightly in interest of the answer she might offer.

She, his feeble bastard born daughter who was never worthy of the throne despite it being her birthright, despite it being owed to her in payment for the blood which had been spilled at his hands. No, he was no father to her. Calling him so would be an insult. She took a delicate sip of the rich, red wine which the wine bearer had just poured into her golden chalice, she swirled it in the cup as she considered an answer. "I was not aware you cared for meaningless, emotional titles," she spoke carefully as she looked up from her wine to meet his solid gaze. Her own entrancing green eyes stared back at her. She felt a sudden sense of unease, but the feeling fled as quickly as it came.

She set the chalice back on the table, the sound of the metal clanging on wood resonated throughout the empty hall. She could feel his eyes still on her, could feel him considering if the conversation was worth discussing further. It wasn't. He merely nodded, a satisfied smile spread on his chapped lips which told her he thought her answer suitable. It was not long before food was set before them and the only thing which could be heard was the lonely sound of expensive cutlery hitting off even more expensive plates. She pulled apart white chicken breast but did not eat as she lacked an appetite due to the dark deed that was to be committed before sunset.

Out of the corner of Lyra's eye, she saw the King gesture to the wine bearer for a refill of wine. The winebearer, a youth who had acquired such an honorable serving position only today, was clearly nervous. Perhaps because it was his first time in the presence of the King, or perhaps at the prospect of something malicious. The boy shook as he poured, spilling a paltry speck of wine on the King's finery. He hissed, "do you want flogged, boy?" and dabbed at the almost invisible speck with one of the napkins. The boy could barely utter a word due to fear and hastily retreated to the furthermost corner of the dining hall.

Lyra remained poised on the outside, but within herself she was a viper preparing to strike. The killing blow. The King huffed, still a little annoyed about the spillage, nonetheless, he wrapped his withered fingers around the chalice. She tried not to watch his every movement as anticipation shot through her like a bolt of pure lightning. He raised the glass to his lips, so close to sipping the liquid which beheld the fate of all Belvedeere. Her heart pounded furiously, she wondered if the old wretch could hear it. "You always surprise me, Lyra," his grin was ferocious, like that of a hungry lion, "I suppose I'm drinking to you, then," he raised the chalice in her direction and drank. He began to laugh madly, until the laughter rapidly developed into wild choking. The King's hands shot to his pale neck and soon he was clawing at it. He knew he was dying, knew it before he'd even taken a sip.

Lyra watched until his dying breath. Watched as he ended up face down in his dinner plate. She took a deep breath. She felt no remorse, just a burning fire of hatred that was gradually waning away into an ember with every minute that passed where this villainous man was dead. She stood and regarded him, from the froth at his mouth and the eyes that now leaked red. Her voice was a lethal calm laced with venom, "I wonder," she mused as she took a step closer to his body, "if you knew my mother was a gifted poisoner when you murdered her in cold blood, Father?".

Her upper lip curled, "did you know I bled purest black? The colour only poisoners and the favoured of the Dark Goddess bleed. For it is poison that runs in my veins. And because of that, I vowed I would retake what was rightfully mine, reclaim what had been stolen from The Dark Goddess' Heir. To reclaim what had been stolen from me. My crown."

She turned, heading towards those big wooden doors, only to pause, "may your soul rest uneasy in Hell, My King."

Edited at June 24, 2019 02:42 PM by Mediterranean

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