|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Courtly Matters Part 5All movement stopped when the Royal Processional began. Lords and Ladies of the Court pausing, making reverence in one way or another to the passing Royalty, as protocol demanded. Men removed their head-wear before bowing at the waist, while the women dropped into the deepest curtsy that their skirts allowed before suffocation set in. Silence reigned as the Crown made their way to the thrones. The Barons and their Baronesses, the Dukes and their Duchesses- everyone stood as the Crown Royal slowly made their way to the raised dais, their heavy robes flowing out behind them, trailing on the floor that had just been swept after all other nobles had taken their seat. The herald spoke, introducing the Court to the Crown Royal's presence, his voice almost echoing in the vast chamber. He called Court to begin at a nod from the King, and then stepped back, his duty temporarily over as the King chose to address the populace himself for whatever matters of business were to be attended
Jump in the WaterJump in the Water
"Maybe a quick plunge in some lake would help? Thristal suggested. It had been nearly six hours since their return to the safety of the ship, and much to his chagrin, Caravi's inability to do much more then raise a limb had hardly changed during that time.
Caravi frowned at that particular suggestion. "There has to be a better way then that." Gravor, Thristal and Zimot were now tossing out a variety of ideas on how to best help Cararvi, but all had yet to come up with a successful strategy.
"You know... it would probably work." Thristal mused aloud. "It's bound to be a long enough shock to your system. From what you've said already, Caravi, that's all that's really needed."
Caravi shook his his vehemently. "Not that kind of shock- not a physical one. It's a chemical imbalance. A severe one, I have to admit, no thanks to their sedative overkills, but once I should be able to flush out of my system."
Zimot nodded, realizing yet again that Caravi was anything
Courtly Matters Part 4Vidiana the Untitled, unfortunate child of a passing wench wistfully looked on as the assembled Court stretched longer into the day as morning faded into afternoon- well past when the afternoon tea ought to have been served. The nobles were clearly getting impatient as they began to stir in their seats and more and more whispered conversations cropped up. Vidiana silently scoffed. Title nobles they might be, but in name alone. Even the servant's children knew to behave better then they did. The high Lords and Ladies of Court thought so highly of themselves- their arrogance seemed to bleed from them so often, but they were nothing.
Pompous people with pompous titles led to nothing but Court rivalries and political scandals. That's what she thought at least. The servants at least knew how to keep their business to themselves, and if it did become a public ordeal, there were always ways out of it. That was, after all, how she had found herself here- little more then a scullery
Courtly Matters Part 3Sir Jorheim of Yothgard, Herald to the King, stood sharply at attention, watching the proceedings of Court from his vantage point three feet behind the King's throne. He, much like the members of the King's Guard, watched the nobles and other high lords and ladies of the Court with halfhearted interest. They were, by far, the most interesting part of Court in his opinion, and in the case of the guards- the most likely to pose a threat to the Crown.
As he surveyed the assembled members of Court, Sir Jorheim mentally kept note of the various people that caught his attention. In the third row, on the left side, Lady Thaila- a rather heavyset woman in all reality- was close to falling asleep, her head tilted backwards enough that with just the right angle, an archer could easily pierce her throat. Sir Jorheim shook his head slightly, dispelling that thought. There was no need to be quite so on edge- nor anything that remotely called for such thou
Courtly Matters Part 2He was Sir Edward, Head of the Order of the Nightingales. It was supposedly an honourable title, but everyone who knew anything in Court knew the truth behind it. Those who were 'awarded' the title and entry to the Order were rarely, if ever seen. It was a title given to those who would not have been accepted into any other order, short of dying for some great cause. The Order of the Nightingales were largely a wandering folk: those who chose to spend their days gallivanting the kingdoms. They were, in truth, titled nobleman who for whatever reason, chose not to stay in one place for more then a year. To be the Head of such an Order was to become the brunt all all other men's laughter, to become the lowest of noblemen, save for the members of the Order themselves.
Things were no longer going to remain that way though, not while he had a say in things. He was Sir Edward, Head of the Order of the Nightingales, one time herald, one time Champion to the prince (as short as eithe
Courtly Matters Part 1She all but shivered as the cool fingers ghosted the back of her head in a silent blessing, lingering just a moment longer then was strictly necessary- a sign of just how honoured she ought to feel.
"Rise, Baroness," The words were cool, almost distant, but she could feel the Queen's gentle gaze, even as her own head remained bowed, maintaining eye contact with a point mere inches from the Queen's left shoe.
Baroness Lydalia von Gertzweinog gracefully got to her feet, her full skirts billowing out slightly with the movement.
"Rise and join my Court with Our blessings, Baroness Lydalia," the Queen said once more, finally making the proclamation truly official.
"It would be my honour," Lydalia said, dropping into a deep curtsy before she stepped back to join the other Ladies of the Court.
It would be my honour. The other Baronesses silently scoffed amongst themselves. How many times had they spoken the same words, and meant even less by them. Even a fool knew that the title Barone
Stars are FallingThere was, of course, the semi-popular children's story of Chicken Little circulating on the Earth, but it had never gone this far below. Sporadically throughout the day, Gravor would hear a group of adults mentioning the line that would soon haunt his memories. Gravor had requested the day off, needing a bit of time with his family before the crew ventured out on their next adventure, and if he was outright honest with himself, a few hours away from Caravi's quirky personality. 100% human contact without the risk of being attacked - that was what he really wanted.
Although the exclamation mark was clearly audible, the statement itself was always spoken in a casual, calm tone in the bright light of day. The two strangers, after having remarked on the odd fact, would then continue on with their individual lives, likely never to meet again.
After putting up with the odd situations for three hours, Gravor was unconsciously on the alert, half-suspecting to find some
Words that Serenade MeZimot blinked, mentally shaking himself. The conversation- if indeed so brief a thing could even be considered that- was not what had him so shell-shocked, but the impressions that he had received from Caravi's mind. Though the majority of the ancient being's emotions were clearly locked away and out of reach, there was still so much that he had apparently thought unnecessary to hide. Zimot shook his head, watching as Caravi continued with his frenzied path around the control room. Aside from the vague sense of intense emotions that Zimot had felt, and the clear images of the race that was apparently stalking them, Zimot knew that there was so much more to Caravi that he would never understand completely.
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More