#❤️‍🩹 * in. ‣ our tale begins.

[barovianlark]

asterion is ... savvy, and he talks to her like a person, rather than a mere extension of her father or as a stain left by her mother. rather than deal with her father, or any of the other consorts. and asterion is from beyond the mists, and is probably more in touch with what outsiders would consider 'trendy', at least- outside of barovia.

"can you spare me a moment?" valentyna practically appears out of nowhere- well, in reality, preferred taking servant's passages- if only to avoid another run in with the others. she's holding a few pieces of parchment, a guest list- and a dinner menu.

nominally. one of the consorts is supposed to act as the host/hostess of castle ravenloft, but valentyna had been taking over that part since she had been chosen. rather- it was something that had been dumped on her lap, at least where those who weren't vampires were concerned. "i'm finalizing a few things- if you'd like to add any input, you're welcome to do so before i send the invitations out."

@apalestar ❤️‍🩹'd!

[barovianlark]

a sneering, angry remark is birthed in her throat and dies on her tounge. arguing with rajadin is tantamount to screaming at a brick wall- a useless feat. she hated being at ravenloft- the sooner she got everything squared away, the better. she leans off the door, all soul-piercing crimsons and seething pinks, arms crossed. "i came to see if the dressmakers and merchants i sent for have arrived and if the budget for them has been allocated yet." her arms cross and her head tilts, somewhere between a pout and petulant irritation. "i wrote several letters a while ago informing him of these things, and never received a response- so i came in person to sort out the matter."

" lady valentyna, the master isn't even home and am aware of how much you despise being here. can i help you? " he opens the door, a little.

[local-idiotic-texan]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

I am unable to help, however I can support by pushing his message.

The genocide in Gaza has been onwards for a year, and while a ceasefire seems likely, that doesn't change that hundreds of children are either orphaned, injured, traumatized or even dead, unable to live the lives stolen from them.

It is disheartening to hear the tale of these people. I am lucky to live in a nation where the horror stories being described to me would be unlikely, but it does not change the fact that not even is as fortunate as me.

If you have the time, please donate to those in Gaza. They could really use it.

❤️💚🖤

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA

PALESTINE, YOU'LL BE FREE!

[barovianlark]

“How did I ever let you talk me into coming here?” - sol 🐺 🐕

"i'm very persuasive. it's one of my talents." a smile touches valentyna's lips, as she walks in sync with him, a warm hand resting lightly atop his forearm. (she has to try to stay in her body. at least, for now. it wouldn't be fair to her plus one, if she just gave into being a spectator in her own body. like she usually did.) her heels clack against the stone tile as they follow the usher towards the ever-growing sounds of revelry.

there's a brief a pause at the door, the moment before it swings open to announce them. "if it's any consolation to you- i think you look very dashing this evening." a pause at the door, the moment before it swings open; she glances sideways at sol'rys, masks firmly in place. the ballroom is the battlefield of those who consider themselves above the common man. this is the battlefield she had grown up on, made up of courtly intrigue and the bodies decadent nobles.

the golden light from the chandler washes over them as the door creaks. eyes are already on them. "thank you for accompanying me."

paper faces on parade. // @starlyht

[barovianlark]

❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ - sol 🐕

valentyna's mournful song draws to a close, the reanimated and dancing corpse of the latest fool who attempted to take her life, now falling silent and still for the rest of time- the last notes of her song carried away with the wind.

"it's not that different from casting 'speak with dead', in my opinion." more macabre in it's aesthetics, maybe. but it functioned the same. she takes a sip of water from her canteen. and pauses. she realises, with the urge to bury herself in a grave, had come off as totally strange again, blase about death. "it it startled you, i'm sorry. my bard college is themed around..." she gestures vaguely. "this. death. communing with spirits. things along that line."

bg3 pt2 starters. @starlyht.

[barovianlark]

one has to wonder what late ruan ai lin saw in this man. to seek him out. valentyna often found herself trying to put herself in the shoes of her mother- to see whatever it was that the woman saw in her father. valentyna has always failed to understand ai lin.

she wants to stomp her feet like a child. she bites down on the urge. restrains herself, holds herself with the same chilly distance that the rest of ravenloft held her in. he wants her return to her gilded cage. to return to her her empty life, absent of joy or comfort or comradery. to return to being little more than a doll to be put on display for others. and for what? she has tasted freedom. freedom from the restraint of being the youngest daughter of strahd von zarovich- the freedom to be valentyna ruan, no strings attached.

she rolls her eyes at her father's plea- no... it is not a plea. it is an order, a command. this is all just mere formality. because if he wants her back in her gilded cage- it's not a matter of if, but rather, when. valentyna can still buy others time to get out of the blast zone of her father's sight.

"i'm surprised you even noticed my absence. i truly didn't think you'd want me to return- considering everything that has transpired." valentyna tries to keep her voice calm, apathetic, nonchalant. but... there's a tinge of anger, frustration, resentment. "i don't want to return. i am rather enjoying my time off the leash you and your consorts like to keep me on."

" little bird. come home. " strahd stands before her, eyes narrowed, tone not inviting the argument that he knows will come anyway. valentyna is the most like him, unlike the rest of his brood of disappointing lap dogs. the others inherit little more than his temper. or if they're lucky his looks. valentyna got his battle sense and his will. a worthy successor.

in his bloodline there are only three. valentyna, lyssa, and monika. monika is too soft. lyssa lacks the tenacity required to lead. no there's only one choice. and yet. here she is, the petulant runaway. " ravenloft is so empty without you, my lark. " / @barovianlark gets her father in the worst mood ever.

[barovianlark]

he's gotten them both a little cake with two candles. it's simple, and the icing's gotten a bit messed up on the way here, but it's more than either of them are used to, isn't it? " happy birthday, sister dearest. i love you. " ( i know i'm early shhhh )

valentyna's birthday was always celebrated- but never in a way she wanted. white linen clothes and a party fit for father's reputation, planned by her- but never meant for her enjoyment.

the salon/sitting area that once was meant to be shared between a mother and child does not often see guests- it's a private space, one of the few places valentyna can be... herself, one where she does not need to preform. (she is always preforming. always acting. here is her backstage, her dressing room. the actress disengages from her character.)

despite, or possibly because of the misshapen appearance of the cake, the kindhearted earnestness of it is evident- and a smile splits her lips open, revealing the same fanged teeth as ezra's. "thank you." valentyna bring herself to say the words i love you too, back- for fear he'll disappear into the fog and mist from whence he appeared- but those unspoken words ring clear in her voice. (i love you too, dear brother! thank you for letting me celebrating our birthdays together.) "i believe i have a desert wine that will pair quite nicely with this. we can sit and eat in here together."

@sondsara.

[barovianlark]

"i have a feeling that the gods are setting up some kind of terrible punchline up to an awful joke." valentyna wrings the rainwater from her pink braid. irritatingly, she notes that the mud and rain is going to waylay them for the day. it's hard to find good company to travel during the cover of night, and frankly- while she wouldn't call the person traveling alongside her the best company- a sellsword is a sellsword, and according to her father's 'wisdom': the best ones follow the most lucrative flow of coins.

of course, the siren song of coin is made sweeter if your father is a vampire who has been alive for about half a millennia.

once her hair has been wrung out, valentyna opens the wooden door for her companion. dawn is a still few hours out, but the bright sunlight of this plane made it preferable to travel by night. and the air was different than the misty, foggy hellscape masquerading as her homeland, it did feel lighter here- but it was also uncomfortable for her. "are you interested an early breakfast? my treat, of course."

@starlyht's sol'rys ❤️‍🩹'd.

[barovianlark]

your hair's a mess. - sol :/

waking up was always hard for valentyna, who once had dedicated maids to raise her from slumber, to make her presentable for the courts of barovia, on the days that she had to be outside her rooms. "hm?" sleepily, slowly, valentyna sits up from her spot under the covers- and a hand reaches up, and she finds it briefly caught in a snarl- then slumps back into the bedding with a yawn.

"i'll brush it in a bit- i still have to bathe and dress and get something to eat before we get going, and-" a red gaze briefly glances over at sol'rys- the tips of her ears and cheeks rosy. "did you get any rest?"

the morning after. @starlyht // sol'rys.

[barovianlark]

"unfortunately, i'm going to have to pass on this one. it's a great premise, but i feel its too niche to be marketable outside of the core base."

Sometimes, her capacity for bifurcated reasoning allows Riley to react with split-second timing and reply to conversations with acerbic wit. But sometimes all it spits out is:

“Chastity cage, but it looks like Gonzo from the Muppets. Sharks, I'm asking for seven million dollars. What do you think."

[barovianlark]

why are you making that face again? - sol :/

"i received a message from a former associate of my father inviting me to a ball tomorrow evening." valentyna despised such events- no one approached her, no one danced with her. all stared at her like she was some kind of living toy that sang and preformed for a crowd like a statuette in a music box. (the memory of her debut haunts her nightmares- of hungry eyes and that redhaired woman's dead and drained body on the marbled floor, lace veil floating around her limp body like a puddle.) "unfortunately. i'm in no position to refuse his invitation, especially since he asked to meet on behalf of my cousins and for my homeland- but... i've never had a good time at any of those things. i just know it's a mind game, especially since i don't have a chaperone for it, nor do i have any of the proper dresses, shoes or accessories- and i am not interested in frivolously wasting my gold on an outfit i'd wear for just a night or two."

tragedy of the stern. @starlyht.

[barovianlark]

It grated on him like little else could. The clothing piece in front of him had something askew in the lacing. “We should have someone’s head for this.” He muttered. A small sewing kit produced out of his pocket to fix the error of some ill-begotten tailor. He noticed Valentyna arrived. “You must forgive my lack of decorum. Some idiot decided sub-par work was enough.” He didn't know who the garment was for, but it bothered him enough to fix the bloody thing.

someone was apologizing to her? and it being one of her father's consorts, no less? she'd laugh if it didn't feel like a twisted dream to her. even more surprisingly to her, seemed to actually notice her presence, and didn't just choose to continue ignoring her, nor just start openly antagonizing her. "there's no need to apologize." her crimson eyes follow to the shirt, and her painted lips press into an irritated line. it was sloppy work- subpar, barely fit for common folk. on closer inspection, she notes that the seams were also shoddily done- any long term or extensive use of the garment would cause splits in the arms and sides. (valentyna can't help but feel slighted once more by whatever governed her life.)

"if you require any extra needle and thread, any lace or fabrics or just tailoring tools in general- you can send a servant to my room and i'll see to it that you receive them." considering she kept most those tools in the room next to hers that she had claimed as one of her own spaces- with literal physical barriers to deter those who would snoop around in her things by forcing them to go through the locked door in her antechamber, deep in her heart she still knew that the other consorts still snooped around in her private spaces, one way or another. "i have to go figure out which misguided fool decided this was appropriate craftsmanship- and see to it that they properly understand what it means to attempt their hand at underhanded trickery with house zarovich."

@apalestar.

[barovianlark]

Astarion may not know them, specifically, but he knows those features well enough. Recognized them. He was a relatively new face in Ravenloft. Thus still growing acquired with the results of the Baron’s various dalliances over the years. “You’re one of his, aren’t you? That would explain why the eerie doorman let you in.” His eyes cast over them, taking in their clothing. “You’re better dressed than some of the others I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” They still don’t have the best looking hair in the castle though.

the staccato of heels against the worn wood floor stop at the first spoken word, and red eyes are turned to the unfamiliar voice. her gaze is apathetic- distant, and an inaudible sigh slightly raises and lowers her shoulders in resignation.

"correct." valentyna does not give the stranger her name- this man is a passing dalliance for her father. he will disappear as swiftly as he appeared in her life, there is no reason to give any him any weight in her heart or mind than a curt politeness. "the children of house zarovich are expected to look no less than perfect in the presence of company." she nods once in thanks towards him, wordlessly satisfied someone at least acknowledged her status as the the defacto trendsetter of barovia. "whether or not my other half-siblings can live up to our father's wishes is another matter."

@apalestar

[barovianlark]

" i heard you dropped by while i was out of the castle. what did you wish to discuss?"

"i wanted to know if the merchants and dressmakers i had sent for had arrived, and if the gold for them had been set aside. it was on my mind as of late, especially after i sent letters and never received a response back." valentyna picks at the flaking nail varnish on her nails. "did rajadin not tell you?"

@strvhd

[barovianlark]

" drain me. "

[barovianlark]

sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila.

"huh?"

@shrymped