pepperwall

[pepperwall]

    …

    His Liege.

    She pressed the blunt edges of her nails against both palms. How she wished it had been easy for flared tempers to be rebuffed by shock and pain, but then there wouldn’t be any nightmares to wake from nor misery to plunge toward.

    Jiao Bi purposely tried to delay their encounter. Of course, he would have to dance with her eventually — he even went so far as to ascend for the balcony overlooking the garden. But who wouldn’t relish in the opportunity for stillness? To take a repose from the entity her father needed observing?

    And to think, the entirety of her evening had been dominated with chilling thoughts of jesters and riddles. She barely kept her attention on anyone – let alone her father and the king.

    Surely his majesty had not forgotten the mask tethered to his visage?

    She sniffed, displeased by both of their shortcomings.

    “I convey my sincerest apologies for not having recognized you, my Liege.” Measured words laced with contrition, if not detached. “I appreciate the proffer to partake in beverage, but it would not be wise for me to indulge in more than a glass.”

    Had they been in his court, she would not have refused his hospitium. But here in Sotera? Their hosts were the very same powers the Benevolent had mortgaged his son to. Every Asterian in attendance was subject to their customs and their scrutiny.

    She observed him for any sign of feigned punctuality, anything aberrant in his mien – but nothing.

    Her eyes wandered to the side before meeting His Highness’s gaze.

    Would the Asterian courtiers praise him for his generosity or think of him foolish? He was under no obligation to dance with her, so what was this? A gesture of defiance? A calculated move against Sotera’s expectations? Whatever machinations he had assembled, Jiao Bi doubted it would be perceived as solidarity by either nations — a juxtaposition of quiet repudiation toward the Benevolent’s wisdom.

    She straightened her spine, lulling the tension in her hands, as she cursed at the twofold challenge King Yixin presented her with.

    This was no courtesy dance.

    True, he proposed alternatives, but all engagements would go in the king’s favor.

    Both refusal and acceptance would damn her in the eyes of Asteria’s courtiers, so what was one more formality for the sake of House Shih?

    She diverted her attention to the ensemble below, neck craning while in discernment.

    The musicians played at a moderate tempo with pairs dancing to their own choreography, implying that the music was incompatible with the usual basse danse, pavane, or estampie.

    If she were to formulate a counting, it'd be far more suited to an Asterian court dance or folk dances from the northern mountain regions. She recalled her ancestors having developed choreographs for such a measure, but it would not be appropriate to perform them.

    Not with King Yixin whose entourage were keen to examine his every move and company.

    “As it stands, I am still capable of one more dance, Your Majesty. However, I believe it would be best if we returned downstairs… where you would be somewhere safer.”

    She swept her eyes behind the king, searching for the familiar bearing of a royal guard near the stairs, but her brows furrowed.

    ‘Has the king deserted one of his escorts on the way up?’

jiao bi was definitely unhappy with the offer; yixin hadn't planned on it, but she was at the very least cooperating, despite the resentment in her eyes. though it was a shame; he did not want to force an unenjoyable dance upon her.

but it wasn't for yixin to fix. jiao bi's family had wronged his own, and that would always be a point of tension between them, even if he personally held nothing against jiao bi - what was anyone here, but a product of their family?

"forgive my boldness," he said with a forced smile and a polite bow, returning her own. "i was perhaps overexcited to share a dance with someone i know well from my own court. if you would like, we can proceed with anonymity from here, though we both recognise one another."

his own learned method of approaching social taboos like descendants of upstart nobles was not to, so jiao bi's acknowledgement of her own outcast put his back up, just slightly. "why should i not want to share a dance? your own music is often heard in my court, so it seems only fitting that we enjoy the different music in this different court together."

he bowed his head, about to offer his hand but he did want to give her an out. "of course, the night is late. if you are tired, i would be happy to instead share a drink with you."

[pepperwall]

    The mention of guards – and the supposition that she lacked one – caused Jiao Bi's brow to quirk knowingly. She sneaked a glance toward Zhou, her escort, standing near the entrance to the garden, not very far from her. For a fleeting moment, she considered dispelling the woman's assumption, but decided against it. What purpose would it serve? Even if she revealed the truth, nothing would change. The masquerade was merely a preface, after all.

    Then came the inference about her lineage.

    ‘My family hasn't failed – they have not failed me.’

    This was her voiceless profession.

    Possibilities seared into her thoughts — of lacquered posts and porcelain tiles, once filled by clay, now restored with fresh sheen; of her sisters sitting beneath the shade of potted chrysanthemum trees, laughter gracing the yard as they whispered confessions from once sealed hearts; of a proper barracks quarter, where her youngest brother honed his skill, unburdened by the indignity of makeshift training grounds. And the melody of peaceful dizi scores played by her father.

    Her heart swelled, chills crept through her limbs.

    She could never bring herself to think about mama.

    Not ever.

    A pang of exhaustion overcame her – so subtle, yet she had little doubt the woman before her could sense it. Nonetheless, she offered her softest smile, a shame for her mask to have veiled.

    As for her inquiry about the engagement, the woman dodged it, but not without consideration. Even in confidentiality, she disclosed just enough despite the mention of celebration.

    Jiao Bi may not have received the answer she sought, but she did not leave empty-handed. The woman's response, pieced together, can be inferred that she knew how to navigate intrigue well enough to remain cordial in equivocation.

    ‘Of liberty to say…’ Jiao Bi echoed the phrase in her mind.

    ‘...discretion not without reason – a noblewoman, then. Loyal to the Soteran crown and unyielding to bribery. One of esteemed rank. The Han, Iseul herself! Although her words meant to deflect, not misdirect from a devious motive.’

    Jiao Bi's deductions did little to quell her discomfort, but she had held the reins of control since her debut as a soloist.

    She shut her eyes for a brief moment, then nodded. “Then I shall take your word for it, my Lady.”

    No quips. No probes.

    She understood when a discussion led to nowhere and when it had reached its conclusion.

    The sudden shift in conversation caught her unprepared.

    “Truly?”

    She had not considered her attire remarkable. If anything it was too simple. Monotonous by Asterian standards: pure ivory robes, a flowing white mask ornamented with fabric cut to imitate plum blossom petals and white abalone, a nod to Sotera’s famed mariculture. Perhaps the general referred to the silver embroidery along her sleeves or the hairpin in her bun, the unrefined cinnabar quartz glinting in the candlelight.

    Or was she jesting at its humility?

    Jiao Bi casted a glance at the faint stains on her robes, her expression edged with teasing amusement. “Surely it is not a remark on my disheveled state, my Lady.”

    She hummed softly, the corners of her lips curving.

    Perhaps a bit of tidying was in order. The impulse to sniff at the thought was replaced by the wrinkling of her nose.

    “Well, Lady Iseul, this has been an enlightening conversation.” A remark with a hint and a revelation! She had gained more from this exchange than words alone.

    “Unfortunately, I must excuse myself, I hope our next meeting will be under better circumstances. And…” Her gaze flitted toward the grand doors leading to the garden. “It appears your skills are still required.”

    The soldiers from earlier returned, their excitement barely contained as they strode towards the general.

    Jiao Bi dipped into a bow, then rose with grace. Without another word, she turned, her steps carrying her toward her chambers.

    Zhou followed after her.

Advantageous. It has been. A general cannot discard duty even when in entertainment for it could be a deadly oversight. One does not merely amuse oneself with leisure, not when kingdoms are in question and the ball is merely a distraction from the unavoidable destruction that bubbles and boils beneath the very surface of their veiled faces, gloved hands.

Asterian by birth. Pleased to have been right, Iseul offers the woman a nod. Something nags in the back of her mind, a name, an image, a remembrance. Her history lessons and court intrigue scream for attention, but her mind is a battlefield and it yields no room for things she finds irrelevant.

There is relevancy to the young lady in front of her and a name of a house emerges from the depths of forgetfulness. Shih. It could very well be their descendant. Someone the Han family had been acquainted with, if one should call their amicability as such.

Lips draw to a smile and head inclines to a bow. "The way you hold yourself betrays your Asterian origin. High of birth, even, but the lack of guards tell me not royal." A guess, but educated one.

She speaks of discord, followed by the thoughts and worries of the kingdom's union. The same question weights in her own mind, but she yields nothing of it. Uncertainty. That is what it is. The woman excuses herself, the general smiles a soft pull of lips to the side.

"Fret not. I know what you mean to say and if I am of liberty to comment, I would. But." she pauses, ponders for a moment whether or not to share her own thought. The mask helps.

"I am uncertain whether or not it is a good idea. I am inclined to agree with you. It could very well be the jesters are singing us a warning. It would also be harmless fun. Tasteless in it's timing, but harmless."

She does not approve of the arranged nuptials, but she does not comment. It is not her place to say and it is not the time to have such discussions. She comments on the masks, instead.

"You have interesting appearance. It stands out from the sea of monotonous colors and shapes."

[pepperwall]

    Lady Yan's frown drew her attention back to the ballroom.

    A gossamer sheen slithered across the motley sleeves of Amusement and Joy as they frolicked toward the garden, their relentless prancing as garish as their attire. Jiao Bi wasn't sure if she had squinted against the way the light bounced off them or at their sheer audacity.

    ‘They tested their luck in a celebration of all events. Should I applaud such a brazen display?’ She thought, resisting the urge to scoff. ‘True fools, indeed.’

    Her instincts warned her that something about this was amiss. And yet, she could not easily dismiss the simpler explanation: that she, like the other Asterians present, was merely witnessing a clash of customs. A difference in courtly indulgences.

    Hm.

    It seemed as though she had puzzled the young lady. She gave herself a moment to stare at Zhao Yan's pout, contemplating, briefly, whether it warranted an explanation or if it was best left as an idle allegory.

    “I suppose… I phrased it strangely,” she mused, tilting her head delicately. “The third side of a coin is its edge. Easily overlooked, easily dismissed. But things that exist on the periphery often hold their own weight — makes one think.”

    She let the words settle although her mind began to wander – affected by her own statement. She had not yet grown accustomed to the nuances of Sotera's court. Just how much had she overlooked as a foreigner? Were her fears justified then? It was worth noting the liberties its monarchs granted to the loose tongues of their performers. Was this acceptance simply a quirk of their rulers, or did it reflect something deeper about their governance? Perhaps it depended on the ruler and the degree of power their temperament held over the crowd. Perhaps a privilege afforded only to fools, unlike Asteria's court performers? Perhaps she needed to divert her focus to Lady Yan whose attention was elsewhere.

    While the younger woman responded to the shift in conversations with ease, she was preoccupied with scanning the crowd — whatever she sought hardly involved gardens.

    “Indeed I have, Lady Yan. I much prefer the charm of seeing plants up close rather than endure Scholar Wang's exhaustive musings on their poetic virtues”

    How tiresome his interpretations had been. Peonies for wealth and prosperity, plum blossoms for love and longevity, osmanthus for nobility — no leaf nor petal was spared from some grand narrative of virtue or fate.

    She exhaled, tapping a finger against the back of her sleeve before shifting the conversation once more. “Shall we take our discussion to the drawing chamber? I recall seeing a collection of portraits there. Perhaps they might grant us a clearer glimpse into Sotera’s history — something less cryptic than our previous company.”

    Her gaze flicked toward the grand open doors leading beyond the ballroom. It allowed a small glimpse of a verdant courtyard, though the thought of returning to the gardens after the fools’ antics made her weary. A change of scenery seemed preferable should Lady Yan agree.

    Jiao Bi turned to her, arching a brow slightly. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer the mystery.”

THEY SEEMED otherworldly. Yanyan wondered if the lady had been right, perhaps. They do seem like there is something very... wrong about them. But, it was nothing her, usually positive, mind could see through. Have they been enchanted? - she suddenly wondered, fixing her stare upon the jesters in question.

oh, how she hated her powerlessness.

She wouldn't let it show, though. Not today and absolutely not right now, while she was surrounded by unfamiliar, veiled faces under vibrant masks. Instead, she offered the woman a light smile. "They are very cryptic, aren't they?" she mused, but her following words made her frown, confused and intrigued.

Is there such a thing as a three sided coin? I've never seen one." Yanyan admitted, a softest of pouts now gracing her mouth.

She couldn't say how she felt about this place, given how little of it she had seen. Perhaps she could comment on the gardens, that seems to be the safest bet. They've all seen the gardens.

she wondered if her brother was there.

She couldn't see the lord of Illusions anywhere, even though she would've recognized, and noticed his ridiculous mask anywhere. But, she offered Jiao Bi a shy smile and lightly chuckled.

"I haven't seen much of Sotera to make a decent judgement, lady Bi." she paused, nibbling on her lower lip, then asked ;

"What do you think of it? I can only vouch for the gardens to be very pretty, but I suspect you've seen them, too?"

[pepperwall]

𝚃𝚆 : subtle implication of dysthymia, derealization

She had no need for the supposed ‘breathlessness’ evoked by a scenery. The view beyond the balcony was an invitation to admire Sotera's horizon, but all she needed was the wind and its murmuration of sound and touch amidst the darkness bred by shut eyes. Abstraction, a term she associated with the experience – in nothingness everything was open for interpretation, yet untainted by sentiments. What was it about this place that had drawn her so? An escape from the heady mix of schemes and decadence? Or something else entirely? In moments such as this, she forbade herself from letting her thoughts run free; otherwise, everything – at least, to her – would fade into the unreal. Then there would be no wind to hear and feel, no darkness to greet colors under watchful eyes.

A faint tap on her shoulder seemed like a cold plunge into a reality fraught with games and pretenses. Her breath hitched as she opened her eyes, instinctively seeking her personal guard for confirmation.

Zhou was already at work, assessing the trespasser under practiced surveillance. After a few heartbeats, they met her eyes and nodded – confirmation that the stranger posed no immediate threat.

At last, her breathing evened.

‘Not a courtier. No Soteran would know my name. Someone from Court, then? But who would address me without proper formality… unless their rank granted them that privilege?’

She combed through her thoughts, scrutinizing possibilities. Surely her father’s associates knew better than to forgo decorum. Perhaps this was a foreign dignitary unfamiliar with Asterian customs, or worse, someone who believed their station justified flaunting authority over declining nobility.

One could only hope for the former.

She stepped forward, pivoting into a quarter turn as she narrowed her eyes in assessment: a tall frame draped in luxurious Asterian robes, his mask bore the unmistakable craftsmanship of her homeland.

Ah.

A dance of courtesy.

Jiao Bi had chosen a sheer fabric mask precisely to dare anyone bold enough to dance with her, yet what would he gain from dancing with a Shih? For her to refuse outright would be impolitic; she had little choice but to oblige.

“It seems I have found myself at the mercy of a bold partner tonight. Such audacity is rare, even among Asterian nobles.”

Her spine straightened out of tempered irritation. She dipped into a bow, practiced and restrained, though her tresses came loose, betraying the grace she was much renowned for.

“You honor me, my Lord,” she replied, voice still melodic, but each syllable was laced with an edge. With a rise, her eyes swept over his masked visage. Amusement ghosted along her grin, etched faintly in the corners.

“I must confess, I am curious – what compels a man of your standing to seek a dance with a name so rarely uttered at Court?”

A spoken line hung like bait, probing for an admission.

event 001: the masquerade closed starter: @pepperwall

It was dizzying. Of course, Yixin was well and truly accustomed to parties and balls in Asteria, but he was in the very privileged position where there was very little in the way of stakes. Recalcitrant nobles and minor snubs were the worst he had faced.

Here, it felt suffocating; the mask gave him some grace, but it was doubtful that many were not aware who he was, and the ones whose opinions mattered most could definitely tell. Eyes were on him, and if they did not like what they saw, it could spell disaster.

It wasn't like he expected Sotera to declare war immediately. But if he did not present a clever disposition, a unified front, a strong bond, then perhaps they would not fear a war in the same way he did.

But stressing about these things would only make it so; he shook the thoughts from his mind and returned to his present mission, which was to be seen being friendly and jovial. Luckily he caught sight of Lady Jiao Bi from his own court. If either of them had been identified, it would likely be perceived as a snub for him not to dance with her.

And although given the history of House Shih, perhaps he would be seen as entirely within his rights to snub them, he did not want to play internal Asterian politics in front of Sotera. He made his way over to her, lightly tapping her shoulder.

"Would you do me the honour of the next dance, Jiao Bi?"

[pepperwall]

To have steered herself toward Lady Zhao Yan's company was a surprise; whether it leaned toward the pleasant or the unpleasant remained to be seen.

She craned her neck, chin over clavicle, never fully facing Zhao Yan, yet the angle permitted enough breadth for their gazes to meet. If chroniclers were to recount her smiles, they would reveal their impermanence and mostly unpainted crescents – this, a cleaved convex beheld from the side, but teeth hidden. And she offered it to her.

“Lady Zhao Yan,” she greeted. “The jesters do seem otherworldly, don't they? Perhaps Sotera prefers its performers as cryptic as the omens foretold by its seafarers.”

The knot in her stomach tightened upon the probe – as innocent as it may seem. Perhaps Zhao Yan's concern emerged from pure curiosity, or perhaps it was conveyed to mask subtler motives. A sense of camaraderie had never fully cemented on her part; she was never quite sure where to stand with her. No, she was rarely sure of her footing with palace staff and courtiers - let alone their King. The lady had shown no overt malice in their previous exchanges, nor had she laid her cards.

‘Who would?’ Jiao Bi thought. The cool curtain of her mask offered no reprieve to her faltering smile.

Their exchanges, while amicable, were fleeting. And it was never her place to question Zhao Yan's loyalty to the Court or crown. Her raison d'être laid solely in ensuring her house remained so far removed from a possible crossfire of political missteps. A far-fetched notion, sure – like all ideals. The least she could do was to prevent her family from reliving the burden of becoming the crown's scapegoats.

‘Unpretentiousness is rare among courtiers,’ she noted to herself, studying Zhao Yan's gentle smile. Both refreshing and unsettling.

She finally faced Zhao Yan, allowing her gaze to linger briefly on the lady before returning to the topic of jesters. “I suppose, to some, excitement and unease are but two sides of the same three-sided coin.” She allowed a brief pause, her voice dropping from its faint amusement to a thoughtful murmur. “As for enjoyment… let us say I find this evening quite didactic. Although I must commend your keen perception.”

She stepped closer, bridging the gap between them, her tone was soft but retain its formality. “And you, Lady Zhao Yan? I imagine this journey must feel as though you’ve stepped into a fable. Do you find the Soterans as daunting as their decor, or does their warmth rival the Asterian sun?”

OMINOUS fellows. She was not wrong in thinking them ghosts, lady Bi. She can't say she's friends with the Asterian dancer and musician, but Zhao Yan had never had an envious, or judgemental, or even mildly ill bone in her body, to form opinion on someone just based of hearsays of others. While Asteria had been a progressive court under the rule of the Benevolent king, it hasn't always been so. The gossips had not ceased, only toned down to whispers passed between intimate friends veiled in shadows.

Zhao Yan doesn't have many intimate friends at court. His Majesty could hardly be called a friends by anyone, but if she had to single out a person in this court... it would have been Yixin. But, he had been more like a brother to her, in absence of her own elder brother, so she couldn't quite consider it friendship. Or could she?

the nuances between people had always been so confusing, so strange.

What is a friend who is not a friend? A foe? An acquaintance? A sibling? What are those but labels for close, intimate bonds. Even animosity is intimate.

Jiao Bi, however, had perhaps been an acquaintance. They exchanged words here and there, when opportunity presented itself and the circumstances allowed. But, Yanyan made a conscious choice to overhear the whispers in the dark. They undoubtedly whispered about her, too.

"They certainly seem like they aren't speaking to us, but perhaps it's Soteran customs? This is my first time traveling so far from home, I don't really know what to say, or to think. It's so very exciting, isn't it? Strange undertones aside, that is." Yanyan softly chuckled, then turned to the lady with a gentle smile ;

"Are you enjoying yourself, lady Bi? Your gentle voice betrays your identity."

[pepperwall]

With the woman's command, the soldiers scattered like fleeing mice. Their discipline was evident in their drawn shoulders and puffed-out chests; respect and discipline so freely given denoted the woman’s rank, hard-fought.

Wait.

‘Unquestionably Soteran and an esteemed, young soldier…’

If her assumption was correct – that this woman was indeed General Han – then her liege father would be beside himself with joy. He was quite thorough, incessant even, in priming her on Soteran customs and key personages, but she could ill afford relying on pure conjecture alone.

General or not, the woman seemed willing to entertain her query.

Jiao Bi allowed a faint smile to grace her lips at the pointed observation. She could hardly blame the woman for such reservation; no one thrived in Sotera by welcoming every stranger with open arms, or any Court for that matter.

“You’ve positioned yourself in the most advantageous spot of the venue,” Jiao Bi remarked. She shifted her weight to the ball of her right foot, letting her left hip rise to a contrapposto, a subtle gesture to distract herself from the ache gnawing at her feet.

Had this been any other day, she might have taken a bit of time before responding, ascertaining the woman's character through her tolerance. But this was an unfamiliar stage, and she was learning the counts and spacing to an entirely new choreography. At a disadvantage, adjustments had to be made along the way.

She straightened her posture, lowering herself into a bow, every motion deliberate and measured. The ambience of candlelight bathed her ivory robes in faint gold, like sunlight ghosting across koi scales. Never mind her feet.

When she rose, her gaze met the woman's. “Asterian by birth, as I suspect you have already deduced, though I am pleased my mask offers a modicum of mystery.” She introduced herself, a melodic coolness present with each syllable.

She accepted the champagne with a gracious nod, raising the glass slightly in acknowledgment before taking a single sip out of courtesy. The faint sweetness clung to her tongue, but she agreed with her father to keep her thoughts sharp at Court. As far as liquor concerns, indulgence begot indecency, while refraining implied disrespect. Restraint, then, shall be her chosen poison.

“Ghosts indeed,” she murmured. “I confess I find the jesters’ performance more ominous than vexing — like a fine thread pulled too taut, waiting to snap. Perhaps… that is the intent. What better way to remind us of the precariousness of our positions than with dulcet discord?”

Her voice dropped a pitch lower, taking on a conspiratorial lilt. “Speaking of precariousness, what do you make of this union between Asteria and Sotera? It strikes me as a marriage born of strategy, not sentiment, and such arrangements often sow thorns rather than roses. My House, for one, has seen firsthand the consequences of alliances turned to ash.”

She allowed the briefest of pauses. It was long enough for the woman to consider the weight of the words but not so long as to betray hesitation. The softening of her gaze went unnoticed even to herself, though her free hand betrayed her thoughts – a subtle flaring of her fingers that tapped at the base of her hip bone. It was Jiao Bi's quiet way of assessing how much the woman might reveal.

“Of course, I mean no offense. My question stems only from a desire to prepare – not just myself, but my family – for the tides that may follow.”

As if the waves haven’t long since swept her family out to sea.

Then what would Sotera's tides bring?

That something was amiss, was evident in the way the Wise had seemed to tense when the two court jesters began their jest. How much of it was entertainment was uncertain, but the tension in some of the Soterans' postures convinced her of something other at play, a card yet undealt, a hand yet unrevealed.

Joy and Amusement, those were their names, yet they only have seemed to have enjoyed themselves, not the guests of old queen Eliona's court. She was bored by the repetitive tones of the jesters lutes, their songs dull, their voices high. Had she not have known better, she would have reckoned it was a pitch only dolphins could hear.

She sighs, tension entering her body instead leaving it, the song filling her skull with dread and anticipation. She did not know why she felt like that all of a sudden, but she suspected it was the vexing tonality in their voices, so saccharine and so blunt, a sword that had been rusted by all of the blood it had spilled.

A woman approaches and Han Iseul fixes her posture, hands folding in front of her. A soldier standing at ease. A general, overseeing the court by isolating in the most advantageously positioned place in the room. The lower Soteran dignitary speaks to Iseul, foregoing any proper decorum and it vexes the general. She blinks, head tilts to the side and lips arch in distaste. Another flocks to her side, then another, then one more. Bored by their yaps and misplaced amazement, head turns towards an approaching figure.

A lithe form, glades over as if on a cloud. Interest piqued, the general waves her hand to the crowd. "Scatter, scavengers. If you want to mingle, book an appointment."

They obey.

Dark gaze fixes upon the new arrival, the woman's words pulling the corners of ruby painted lips to a crooked smile. "Under all these masks are we not ghosts?" Iseul asks.

A tray of refreshments appears, handed over by a harlequin dressed servant. She nods in recognition and dismisses him once more, two long stemmed glasses of celebratory champagne in hands.

One is offered the the stranger, the other drawn to her lips.

"The words are strange and so are they. I have no knowledge of who they are. Word has it the chamberlain assigned them. Some say it was old queen Eliona's own practical joke. She may wish to tell us we are all false here. I reckon she merely wishes to entertain us, though I find them less entertaining and more vexing."

Head cocks to the side, watchful gaze rakes over the young lady. "You are no Soteran, are you? However, with the masks one cannot differ between friends and foes." she doubts the lady is a foe. Her instincts would have alerted her. Yet one is never certain when people are in question.

[pepperwall]

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝟶𝟶𝟷 : The Masquerade

𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 | The General - Han, Iseul; The Lady of Asteria - Zhao Yan

Her first court experience taught her the importance of arrangement. Those positioned at the sides were a league of spectators with great convictions; esteem was awarded for their show of unity – a collective meant to promote anonymity. Whoever took center stage became fair game for the clothed wolves. As for the corners? No courtier risked a corner, no body was made to fit a 90° angle, and nobody diverged from the herd without the act being premeditated.

Jiao Bi held no fondness for corners anyway, only uncertainty awaited there.

She strayed from the dance floor, pursuing respite along the edges, hopeful that the crowd would swallow her whole. She was keeping her poise simple and spine pulled to a taut for interlocutors; on the other hand, she suspected she had overplayed on propriety. Yet, she took comfort in the fact that she was a nonperson, having danced only with her father, his associates, a few Soteran nobles from lesser houses, and a couple of foreign dignitaries.

Unfortunately for her, the tightness of her slippers had begun to envelop her feet – she couldn’t help the twitch forming at the corner of her left eye and mouth. She scanned her surroundings for unoccupied seats but found none. Across the ballroom, furniture and décor graciously displayed themselves from a withdrawing chamber. As she steadied her foot to tap the front of her robes, the crowd swept to her sides.

Gone was her only path to proper respite, as adults and children alike flooded the floor for one more Soteran spectacle.

‘As if the coronation was not enough to sate their appetite.’ Her voice was barely audible as she sniffed, her breath catching at the sight of her daxiushan's skirt and lower sleeves, now stained. Regret engulfed Jiao Bi. She hugged the ivory gauze closer to her frame. Her daxiushan, a sponsorship from her aunt – who found prosperity through commerce after relinquishing her nobility – was still money wisely saved. That she had been careless with it absolutely gnawed at her.

The murmurs from the crowd brought her back to reality, though her mind was dulled by exhaustion. Just when she believed she couldn’t share the spectators’ enthusiasm, there were strum strings playing the most pleasant melodies accompanied by the silvery chortle from a wind instrument.

The creases on her face softened, if only a little.

‘Soteran musicians? Dancers? Performers?’ She mused.

Curiosity finally piqued, Jiao Bi spearheaded her way through walls of besotted nobles, enduring the constriction in her lungs and the prick of each step until she glimpsed the performance through a gap between two ladies’ necks. She locked in her knees, leaning slightly as her periphery caught a blur of festooned fools.

For every prance and romp and jolly, Jiao Bi hoped for her ennui allayed, but the audience's laughter and the fools’ festive tone proved as vain as the act they performed.

"...a tale as old as time has forgotten how to come alive."

For a moment, her composure faltered. Was this a ballad then? A threnody for both Kingdoms and their forgotten Houses? For once-proud legacies undone, like tapestries unpreserved? A ballad set to lure her into thoughts about House Shih’s precarious position? How their relevance teetered on the edge, clinging to glories of yore?

Joy’s phrasing seemed to proclaim her unspoken fears: Will the Shih name become nothing but a forgotten tale?

“What's in a name, if it falls like rain?” Her words spoken, soft in its bitterness, might have been mistaken by a bystander as a quip at the performers. But to her, it was a reminder – Jiao Bi needed to remind herself.

By the time the fools concluded their riddles, she was steady. The crowd had parted, almost as though Joy and Amusement themselves held dominion over the throng - as center stages who controlled who stayed and left.

‘Ominous fellows,’ she thought with a smirk barely meeting her eyes. Should she dare to aim for the position of court jester? At least her bleak humor might find its audience, though it'd plague her liege father with constant apoplexies. Speaking of her father – was he just as affected by the fools as she was?

Drawn by the nagging suspicion that something was amiss, Jiao Bi decided to gauge interpretations about the song. She lingered near a small group of attendees.

“Their words,” she trailed, letting her words soak into the space, “carry a strange cadence, do they not? Almost as though they sing to ghosts rather than their spectators.”

Her tone was acerbic yet measured, a languid amusement tugging at the corners of her lips, but her eyes only showed the faintest of creasing.

[pepperwall]

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 : The Coronation

𝚃𝚆 : family codependency, emotional abuse, learned helplessness, & subtle mention of depression

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : Shih estate's Main Hall; Second Courtyard

Her gaze fell upon attendant Rocco’s, to which he responded with a bow. He remained a few feet behind where her liege father stood. It was not so long ago that the former's presence reverberated across the first and second courtyards. Jiao Bi could almost envision the stir he had caused: of dust straying from their beams to console the soft hardwood floors after failing to mimic the silvery tone so distinctive to bricks catching footfalls. A stir likened to hushed voices inside the kitchen during midday meals – or to her father's outbursts.

Here in the estate, noise had become an acquired taste, ideal for concealing the lament passed from forebear to progeny. Yet after the courier's departure, Jiao Bi realized what they had invited into their home – what the courier delivered – was a restlessness she had long resigned herself to, ever since her mother's withdrawal.

The kind of restlessness meant to hound.

Her hand darted to her mouth, tempering the bittersweet chortle simmering at her lips before her liege could seize the act into scrutiny.

A memory extricated from the entanglement of mind and heart. From it bade forth her liege father's caution:

“Time is no benevolent keeper. It hoards life and strips it bare. Accumulate debts, and it will claim every breath as payment.”

How could she not forget? ‘He wouldn't let us,’ she thought. The seeds of spite brambled in her heart's very chambers; each recollection skewed incorporeal bruises anew, but her spine and soul were lined with calluses. Thus, Jiao Bi framed her mindset as always: live and let live.

Alas, the Soteran Queen had extended her reach and passions this far west, dangling yet another morsel for the seasoned dogs at Court. Sotera's envelope perched atop a painted tray, its paleness contrasting with the faded lacquerware beneath, as though taunting her with its veneer.

As much as she wished to look at her siblings, how long could she remain impassive without further aggravating their liege father?

Crack.

One seal pried loose.

Crack.

And another.

Silence.

Silence as syncopation. Jiao Bi didn't need to look at her father to sense that the countdown anticipated a follow-up: her move. She picked up the envelope and letter knife, feeding the blade beneath the wax. She held the handle steady, urging the seal loose until it yielded to pressure, releasing a brittle crack that echoed louder than any of her siblings'.

“I thought we auctioned off most of the stationery,” she murmured. Before she returned the knife to its tray, her fingers linger on its intricate carvings, not realizing how it weighed so heavy as though it carried former glories of Shih ancestors – summons not just to Asteria's Court but to a now-distant Soteran nobility. Jiao Bi slipped the letter between her fingers and unfolded the parchment with deliberate care, her eyes trailing flows of inked loops and contours, only ever lingering at a punctuation, and much too enamored with the penmanship to notice her father returning his letter to its tray. She held her letter by the lantern, inspecting the ink. Heavy opacity, bold, and precise. ‘It’s no sumi,’ she mused, tilting her head just so, a glint shimmering in her right eye. The letter might just prove useful, after all, and she slid it back into the envelope.

No wonder the household had been so tense. Sotera had gone to great lengths priming their invitations. And she should have noticed. Grand occasions like Princess Soileil's ascension, always announced themselves in ornamentation. Still, this was nothing more than a courtesy call dressed as acknowledgment.

Jiao Bi refused to accept it as anything else. She supposed attendance was essential since her employment under the New King's Court. And then what? What of her House, her father, and her siblings? What failures would await there? The Shih name was meaningless in the halls of Asterian power, no matter their efforts.

“All this commotion,” she said, tossing the envelope onto the table, “for a slip of paper, bearing a name no one remembers until duty demands it? Answering Sotera's summons changes nothing.”

Her gaze swept across sister, to brother, to father.

Her sister, the second eldest, avoided their father's gaze and slipped her arm around Jiao Bi's. “They were considerate enough to address the whole family – I am sure our eldest sister received a letter, too. You know exactly what courtesy calls are like, Jiao Bi. They're sent solely for our liege father.”

To Jiao Bi's right, her little brother sat on his chair, stance set in a crouch and his body angled toward their father. Prone to ignoring Jiao Bi's quips, he said nothing. But his gaze spoke volumes, trained on the letter trembling in his grasp – a gesture of restraint, no doubt, to avoid creasing the paper.

Rascals, both of them. The faint simper on her lips faltered into a frown. Why do her siblings seem so eager to participate?

And their father?

Silent. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, a calculated rhythm, calculated like everything he did. “Conduct yourself with proper comportment,” his gaze fell to her, sharp and unyielding, “you'll attend. You will remind them of what we are. Of what they owe us.”

Her brother's chair groaned as he stood abruptly and bowed deep; his silk robe seemed to hiss against stone and clay tiles while rushing towards the door. He didn't look back before disappearing into the corridor.

“I cannot blame him,” her sister murmured, brow furrowing. “We all know how oppressive this place can be.” Her voice dropped, soft enough that their liege wouldn't notice the quiver. “We'll look after Ruanyu. You do not need to worry about the unnecessary permits and taxation.”

Jiao Bi squeezed her sister's hand in hopes of transferring a bit of warmth for comfort, but it felt cold, clammy against her sister's. “If father insists on carrying his temper all the way to Sotera,” Jiao Bi added, managing a lopsided smile, “I trust you'll manage to keep the skies from falling.”

“Come. I'll prepare the resources you need on the road.” Her sister's voice softened.

They turned, offering their liege father a bow before departing toward the third courtyard.

[pepperwall]

temp. tag dump

[pepperwall]

ASTERIA KINGDOM | The Lady of Enchantments

A Ruinations dependent roleplay blog p r o f e s s e d by 🕸️Spice ; @ruinationsrp

rules ・ tags ・ muse ・ musings ・ family dossier ・ credits .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

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‧₊˚. 🎐 ⋆.˚ 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐌 𝐄 𝐒 `

[ the self-denier - an exploration of contrasts and delicate balances - the castle by franz kafka - “take off your shoes” by delta rae - “abstract (psychopomp)” by hozier - impermanence - power ≠ control - a cycle of action without fulfillment - navigating complex societies with finesse - the observer effect: her existence as performative - of fraying threads, crumbling structures ]