#dellarosula

[dukemeropide]

quite the bargain for you, i must say!

"Wow, a visit from the President of the Spina di Rosula herself. This business with the intergalactic pop star must be pretty important for you to set aside personal issues to come all the way down here. Why don't you join me for my afternoon tea and we'll discuss Miss Robin's freedom?"

(45 minutes later)

"... Long story short, you'll have to take it up with the court."

"Thanks for the twenty."

[huntersoath]

"I'm not scared. Not of you."

"Today's duel was quite dramatic, did you hear? A huge change in pace, everything's been so boring lately..." A woman speaks in a hushed tone, excitement flashing in the depths of her eyes.

"I did, actually. I wish I had been there. I feel like I really missed out on the drama." Another woman, slightly shorter, held an umbrella over the both of their heads in an attempt to shield them from the light patter of rain.

"I heard his family was in the audience. When it was all done and over with, his wife rushed up and had to be escorted away by the Gardes. I feel a little bad for his son, though... He kept begging for Daddy to get up."

"Seriously? That sounds like something straight out of an Opera, you know. Still a shame that I didn't go."

"That Duelist, Clorinde... She's really scary! I wonder how many people she's killed? And she doesn't even bat an eye!"

"I don't know, I try not to think too much about it..."

Chewing at the inside of her cheek, Clorinde opts to take a longer route home, the detour specifically chosen to avoid any of the populated areas of the Court. ---- "He wouldn't yield." The normal mask of impenetrable calm on Clorinde's façade had begun to crack and crumble under the pressure of her words. She's meant to be a pillar of strength and reliability, her every action and every word measured and deliberate. But as with everyone else, there are bad days. There's days where it's harder to keep a straight face, where it's harder to suppress the feelings that threaten to swallow her whole; when she's presented with the past so plainly, replaying the final moments of Callas Caspar over and over and over in the back of her mind until the only noise she can hear is Navia's scream of anguish. "He knew he would die. He knew it. And as always, I made the conscious decision to do my job, as he made his. There's... no justice to be found in tearing families apart."

Truthfully, it's rare to have such a second guess about her profession. She's always understood the implications of her role, and for the Fontainian public to refer to her as a glorified executioner is not entirely wrong. The blood on her hands has seared into her skin until Clorinde can no longer remember what it felt like before she took a man's life-- there are times at night where she wakes up panting, nails digging into her skin with the sole intention of scraping the memory of red splashed across her palms. There are times where she feels as if she is drowning, where she dreams of a time where on the opposite end of the dueling right, there lies Navia; unmoving, run through with Absolution's blade, and the life essence of another Caspar smeared across her shirt, her skin, her blade. She's not talking about today's duel anymore.

Clorinde's hands are balled into fists so tight that her knuckles run white; they grasped and clawed at the fabric of her skirt as she hunched forward slightly, staring at nothing in particular on the floor. A tremor slowly spread to her arms, and then her shoulders, almost as if she was making a poor attempt to carry a great weight that her body was wholly incapable of bearing. "I don't know how you do this. How you choose to keep me close." The words were blurted without care, far before she has a chance to truly think about it. Yet despite the primal fear that set into her gut, she raised her gaze to lock with the other's-- violet eyes appearing cold and beyond reach, a stark contrast to how she normally presented herself to Navia. She trusted her, implicitly and without hesitation, yet... Navia kept a lion in the den far too close to her to be deemed safe. Clorinde's fangs dripped with blood, and she is beloved by the public, yet only when she is securely caged behind the boundaries of the dueling ring. When everyone is safe from her deadly claws, keeping their distance as she strides in circles around her prey. The stares she gets and the hushed whispers she hears in her wake confirmed the thought on a daily basis. "I'm not scared. Not of you." Navia's tone was softer than she'd ever heard it before, and Clorinde's brows knit as her mouth began to shape around some protest, awful and devastating. The tremble in her lower lip gave away her train of thought, threatening to succumb to the trench that never failed to drag her deep into its depths. Her voice wavered as she spoke, coming out as more of a choked reply than anything else. "I killed him, Navia."

Her eyes, typically steady and discerning, have lost their usual sharpness-- where her breathing normally remained steady, her chest began to rise and fall with a subtle, uneven rhythm. Clorinde felt her eyes begin to water, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek in a futile attempt to force her tone to remain even and calm. She's highly aware that she didn't deserve this treatment. Navia never had to allow her back into her life, but she did. She did. Perhaps she shouldn't have. Quickly, Clorinde covered her face as the tears began to fall-- and this might be the first time Navia has ever seen her cry, ever since Callas's death and since the seemingly irreparable damage to their relationship. She doesn't want to cry, she doesn't deserve to cry for something like this-- because ultimately, it's her who threw the wrench into the cogs of their relationship, even if she had no other choice but to honor Callas's wish to die by her hands. It's her who drove her blade into the chest of today's opponent, and into the chest of the only man who had treated her like a daughter. "I killed him. I'm sorry, Navia."

She repeated the apology almost as if it were a sort of mantra, curling in on herself as her words are broken by the occasional sharp breath punching through her lungs in the same way a bullet would. If it was Navia holding the gun, she'd take that bullet. It was only fitting, after all, for a daughter to properly avenge her father's killer- perhaps that was the justice she deserved all along.

@dellarosula

[unfxllenone]

aaaaaaaaaaaand 100 boops for my favorite partner ♡ !!!

Nothing could make me feel more welcomed than 100 boops, partner 𓆩♡𓆪

[sweepingthunder]

[CUP PONG] - From across the dimly lit table, Navia flashes her opponent a wide grin. If their previous encounters are any indication, this will be the nation's least eventful game in perhaps ever. Not that she minds, frankly. The little ball twirls between her fingers as she lines up her shot and-

-it bounces harmlessly to the floor.

"Seems my luck hasn't changed since our last game, Mr. Jing Yuan."

"Quite the contrary. I recall your aim being rather precise last time we met." Tossing the small ball upwards, it lands gently in his palm. As Navia whiffs her shot, a contemplative shake of his head. "Or perhaps, you've given it to someone else..."

As he takes aim, his eyes narrow. The ball whistles as it soars through the air, and eventually, a gentle plunk as it lands easily into cup. A smirk, as a few more balls are shot and land into the cups of Fonta. "Such as myself. Drink are on me, lady Navia." After succeeding in 4 shots, he misses his 5th, and cracks his knuckles. Already off to a great start.

[huuuugestmoney]

♡ aheemheem

[ kiddo meme ]

listen i don't know much about miss navia aside from 'boss of fantasy mafia' but that is Enough to know that this child would get into So Much Trouble ❤️

misc -navia eye colour, sampo eye shape/pupil -unfort doesn't Quite have navia's fabulous curls in the back but makes up for it in sheer volume -confident lady for sure

[balemouns]

about navia ... :eyes:

Send me “About [NAME]” for my character’s thoughts on another character! - accepting!

"spina di rosula and poisson are nearly one in the same; very little in the underground city is untouched by the spina, and their proliferation spreads into the court of fontaine as well up from the city's underbelly. it was a relief to see a favor for a favor exchanged between us several months ago. and in several respects, I believe miss navia and I actually have much in common -- capacity to identify shared interests and avenues for cooperation, but operation from the shadows, like a slow bleed from the core."

a breath. "but, why we operate our respective organizations also differs greatly. altruism is not necessarily an aim of the house of the hearth, where spina di rosula seems as though they'd like the people of fontaine to perceive that as their primary aim. whether that's truly the case with their occasional extralegal operations... it's hard to say. the house of the hearth, meanwhile, does not pretend to be anything other than what it is."

[phantomiaou]

"I heard it was an emergency. I came as quickly as I could!"

And by all accounts, the refined president of Spina di Rosula would appear as though it is nothing less. Cheeks flush a warm pink, eyes wide with a concern so undoubtedly sincere. She hurries to open the bag tucked beneath her shoulder, offering its contents to Lynette for inspection.

"Tch... How terribly unfair that they would leave without ensuring every passenger's belongings were accounted for! Oh, I do hope at least one of these is to your liking..."

She presents more sunglasses than a single person could ever need. Perfectly reasonable to her, of course. A lady simply cannot enjoy the beach without a pair, after all.

all those months ago, when lynette and her brother had been undergoing their trial, the president of the spina di rosula had introduced herself to both twins as a guardian angel. and perhaps that is the case.

lynette turns in the direction of the other woman's voice. here she comes running—warm, like sunlight, right to the rescue. nosy as ever, but lynette only means that in the very best way.

"ah. miss navia..."  how had she known to come back? violet eyes glance up at her, flushed cheeks, sincerity and all. then lynette's gaze drifts to the bag of sunglasses. wait, that was the emergency? not the vanishing boats?

oh. she gets it now. lynette takes only a moment to process before reaching out, selecting a pair that looked closest to the president's. slowly, hesitantly—as if holding something precious because she certainly is—she slides them up the bridge of her nose.

"thank you. do i..."  her head tilts back up, those eyes behind tinted lenses searching for navia's approval.  "...do i look alright?"

[cisoriaseams]

"Chioriiiiiiiiiiii~!!"

As insistent as the late summer breeze, Navia pushes through the door of the Chioriya Boutique. It's still early, watery sunlight just beginning to warm the streets of the Court of Fontaine, and so it is blissfully quiet in the small shop. Not that Navia would have paid it much mind were it rush hour or any other time, but it is more convenient, in any case.

She parades herself straight to the other woman's counter, grinning all the while. In her arms is a bolt of fabric, carefully draped in an old coat to conceal its true nature. With little regard for what she may or may not be interrupting, the young president presents her gift atop the counter with a rather dramatic unveiling.

"Ta-da! Happy birthday!"

The fabric is... arguably plain in appearance-- just any other bolt of cream-white cotton-- but Navia has no doubt that Chiori will recognize it for what it is. Or what it is not, which is any old broadcloth.

"You have no idea what I had to go through to get this. There were these special sheep on this super weird island..." A dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh! But I know you'll make something just darling with it!"

The bell rings, and the shrill excitement is all the indication needed to know of Navia's return. Her most regular client, her most well-paying client, and perhaps her one friend in Fontaine.

Chiori rises from her knees, putting off the ballgown she was working on so diligently. A sigh of melancholy, her diligence uprooted by the desire to socialize. A worthy sacrifice.

A few steps to the side, and a rather... dull looking wrap of fuzz is placed before her. Squinting and hiding her apprehension before a poorly masked grimace. "Oh, lovely." It truly felt like Navia would bring in the most outlandish fabrics or ideas, and then expect her to make riches out of rags. It's— It's—

"Soft. Wait a minute..." Immediately, disgust turns to intrigue as she unfurls the well-maintained fabric. Despite it looking like a once-soft blanket that'd been washed about 100 times and become matted, the texture was nothing like the appearance. Perhaps some TLC might just make it work...

"Thank you. This is... incredible, actually. And a fair amount too. I'll be sure to make something special... Although it is... soggy. Did you get this wet intentionally? I can dry it and hopefully fluff it up a bit but... it's certainly an odd choice." A little smile as her gaze shifts from the wool up to her companion. "Thank you, Navia. This is a wonderful present..." awkwardly, she extends an arm, silently ushering her to give a hug.

[inscryptions]

[DRESS UP] - "How about this one?"

She presents the stranger with her selection, a hanger laden with ebony silk. Golden embroidery peaks out along hems, depicting a pattern of falling leaves that flows along the fabric as though upon water. Navia smiles.

Of course, the man had not asked for her help, but she knew an undecided mind when she saw one. ( Not that it was particularly hard to tell, he had been pondering the stall's racks for quite some time now. )

"Go on, then. Give it a try!" She offers the garment forward, eyes glittering and smile wide. It'll flatter him phenomenally-- of that she is already certain-- but this is a matter of proving herself right. Not that she's ever wrong on these types of things. "I insist."

In those rare instances where I have the pleasure of encountering Liyuen silk, I have always appreciated the softness and breathability of the cloth, a practical material I could see myself wearing daily. I've entertained the idea of owning a silk garment or two before, which is why I'm currently perusing the selection of a clothes stall in the harbor. Their inventory is... quite large and varied, and I debate whether it would be more practical to buy just one piece or several, as well as how often I would wear them. Though I'm not exactly a vain man and typically prefer comfort over style, it would be nice if they looked flattering on me at the very least.

But... which one do I choose?

A high, melodious voice with a Fontainian accent interrupts my thoughts, and I turn to find a woman with flowing golden hair and tasteful dress holding a hanger out towards me. The proffered garment, a sleek black robe highlighted with gleaming embroidered leaves, arrests my attention. It's nice, reminiscent of my usual outfit while incorporating Dendro patterns, and it appears to be my size. Why didn't I include such a fitting piece among my options? It must've been buried quite deep, otherwise I would've found it. The lady's forwardness aside, I appreciate the offer of assistance. "You must have a keen eye for fashion," I reply, taking the robe from her hands and examining it. Yes, I can see myself wearing this frequently, though perhaps it's a little too nice for forays into the desert. "Thank you for the suggestion, I'll try it on. Wait right here."

I duck inside the empty changing booth and make short work of switching my upper garments for the robe, and oh, it feels heavenly against my skin. It fits perfectly too, the reflection in the mirror revealing that it compliments my figure well. With a small smile, I exit the booth and return to the blonde's side. "Well? Does it pass muster?"

[mrch7th]

probably isn't smart to just walk through random doors, huh? but march 7th is a nameless for a reason— the strange and unusual aren't enough to dissuade her natural curiosity, and there aren't any more logical voices of reason around to do so. besides, she's had stranger dreams before.

and so, between one step and the next, she finds herself face to face with, uh...?!

march yelps and throws herself backward without warning, nearly knocking into the decidedly more human companions— well, until she squints and realizes one of them is mr. jiaoqiu, another is...some other species, and then a pretty blonde lady that actually looks human.

“ack— sorry!” arms fly out to balance herself as she stumbles the remaining distance between them, then catches herself as friction finally slides between the soles of her shoes and the ground. two-toned eyes glance between the three before her now. “hello!” she chirps shortly afterward. “i'm march 7th, nice to meet you! i guess we're supposed to fight...” a vague gesture in the direction of the weird things she'd just stumbled away from. “...these things?” is what she ends up finishing with. “they don't look very friendly...”

nothing really out of the ordinary for march. no rest for the weary, or something like that, right? if only she had some milk tea, then she could really kick into gear...

jeez, all her training on the luofu really did a number on her cravings.

energy roll◞　3! -3 energy :　march 7th 10/10hp uses master, it's tea time! on navia 10/10hp.

just as she thinks it, a cup of immortal's delight appears in her hands. march blinks down at the sweet temptation in her hands, bemused, before furiously shaking her head. no, no! dream or illusion or whatever this was, she can't have another one! all the milk tea she drank on the luofu was already bad enough. instead, she turns to the blonde lady with a smile and holds it out to her. “do you wanna try this? it's delicious! it always gives me a good boost before a battle.”

✿　@dellarosula , @spicehill , @sedena

　❅　bubble up like soda pop!

spiral abyss  |  floor one　 ▪  ▪  ▪ 　team five

[huntersoath]

[WATER BALLOONS] - She knows better than to think she can sneak up on Clorinde.

After all, even were she not a famed duelist or descendent of a Marechaussee Hunter, their lives have been intertwined long enough that the other could certainly recognize her even by only the sound of her footfalls. No matter how quiet Navia tries to make them.

So then she must launch another tactic: deception.

Hands in plain sight, she skips up to match the stride of her dearest friend. If there is mischief in her smile, well, there is no helping that.

"Look at you! My, enough time away from the Court and, dare I say, we may just wipe that too-serious look off of your face for good." Her shoulder knocks against Clorinde's, teasing, before she stops walking altogether with a sudden gasp. In a display of utmost distress, Navia begins urgently rifling through the bag tucked beneath her shoulder.

"Oh no, I could have sworn..." A sneaky glance upward, the only fault in her otherwise very convincing act, to make sure the other is watching. Good. "I had brought a gift for you along with me. It was just here, I..."

One swift motion, disguised by the anxious flurry of her faux distress, is all it takes. A carefully hidden balloon, tucked in her palm, saved until the other is just close enough-

POP!

It bursts with a perfectly timed squeeze, dousing them both in sun-warmed water. Navia can't help it; she erupts into a fit of laughter.

"Found it!"

Whether she wanted to be or not, Navia's intentions had almost always been easily discernable-- especially when she was wanting to cause trouble. That was one of the many traits she appreciated in her childhood friend; the propensity to throw a wrench into even the most carefully laid plans, keeping Clorinde on her toes. It was always a refreshing change of pace from her normally rigid schedule. The grin stretching across Navia's face was infectious, and she returned the expression with a warm smile of her own. It was impossible to remain entirely stoic in the blonde's company, and it often was her downfall. "Not quite. I still have to hold some sort of professionalism-- my reputation as a Champion Duelist is rather important. Though you're welcome to rise to the challenge," Her tone is light-hearted, gently pushing back against Navia's shoulder bump as way of expressing her contentment with the situation as a whole. Upon hearing her friend's gasp, however, her face contorts into concern... Not that others would discern that, but there was no doubt that Navia could. She knew Clorinde too well. Something was off, though. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but the blonde was up to something-- it became evident in the nervous glance at Clorinde, and she allowed her suspicion to simmer in the back of her mind. Besides... She could indulge Navia. Whatever tricks she had up her sleeve, she would gladly go along with. And, of course, as if on cue-- the balloon splashes her with a generous amount of water. Her eyes squeeze shut and she wrinkles her nose as a result, her bangs becoming completely soaked and hanging at a rather pitiful angle. Alright... If Navia could have her fun, so could Clorinde. There is no warning as she opens her eyes and dips low to wrap an arm around Navia's thighs. She hoists the smaller woman up and over her shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes, making a small grunt of effort as she did. It wasn't exactly a difficult feat, considering how many times she had lifted the other woman in the past. Ignoring any protests, she makes a beeline for the crystal clear water lapping at the shoreline. No doubt, it's slightly cold, but she doesn't particularly care; it was nothing she couldn't handle, and she knew that the same would go for Navia. Easily wading into the deeper waters, Clorinde lightly chuckles as she unceremoniously dunks Navia into the water. Her own shirt and shorts are soaked through at that point, and she makes a mental note to toss them on the beach where the sunlight can dry them out.

A rather cocky grin stretches across her face, one specifically reserved for her time with Navia. It's only in her presence that she becomes a bit more expressive.

"My, my, Miss President. It seems you've been bested this time. Better luck next time, perhaps?" @dellarosula

[unfxllenone]

[PHOTO OP] - "Well, if it isn't my most beloved partner!"

One arm comes to sweep the other girl into a warm embrace, laughter honey-sweet in her voice. "C'mon, friend! How about something to remember me by the next time you head off?"

So distracted by the tasks assigned, Lumine hardly takes note of the blond approaching her -- an oversight on her part, considering this is exactly where she ought to be expecting a run in with the Demoiselle herself -- but even still, that warm, familiar touch is surely welcome. The Traveler's own face brightens in response, and there's no denial toward the shift in proximity.

"Think you've read my mind!" She chirps, easy as anything. Another prized possession for the album tucked away in her teapot? She might even take two!

Lumine shifts, parting only to hook her arm with Navia's for an easier stride, before making a beeline to the nearest Kamera operator. Boy, are they ever swarming the place..! Only natural for the Steambird's home base, and alongside the festivities -- "Say Fonta!"

[dustymetaltrail]

steel and sea .

starter for @dellarosula .

what a situation he's been put in , he thought infiltrating this airship -- taking out a few IPC , grabbing some intel and darting would be a quick and simple task . . . who would've known things could go this bad ?

it was a trap , set just for the gunslinging cowboy cyborg , surrounded by what felt like hundreds of IPC and bigshots , who all looked way too smug about this .

reasonably so -- beaten , battered , exposed inner workings of his mechanical body , scratches and cuts on his face , heavy breaths coming from him , hand still on his gun despite it all .

eyes darted around the room -- every exit was covered , wasn't it ? this situation isn't looking good for him .

even still , he had a smug grin on his face , did they really think he didn't have a way out ? he spun the chamber in his revolver , before firing one at the ceiling , which was paired with a loud explosion .

the wall behind him burst open , of course he had an escape plan ready , he just needed to get to the right spot . . .

" alrighty then -- toodle-oo , forkers ! "

he tipped his hat , as they started opening fire , he fell backwards , diving straight down off the side of the ship , into the body of water below him . . . what's going on ? why was his vision feeling all blurry ?

. . .

. . .

on the shores of fontaine , those walking by would see what looked like nothing more then a hunk of metal washed up and left to rust , those who looked closer would see a rather fancy looking hat not too far off . . . those who looked even closer ?

they'd see boothill , partly buried beneath the sand -- they'd see a mix of man and machine , unconscious upon the shores .

[dukemeropide]

It's then that Wriothesley finally stops, and between the quieter, almost forgotten storefronts down this out-of-the-way street, lets himself laugh. Navia had been so earnest, so unwilling to try to backpedal her way out of what he thought for sure was an unwanted hole of her own making, that he can't help it. And almost as compensation for giving her the runaround, he offers her a rare, genuine smile - one that wrinkles the downturned corners of his eyes.

"Nothing," he answers and then chuckles again. "But I'll remember to call on you if I ever do."

He's impressed, really, that she'd jump into the water for him, of all people. And ruin her expensive dress, no less. Even if she'd been bluffing, her resolve to stand her ground in such a way makes her a formidable business partner. Wriothesley makes a quiet note of it. One hand comes to his hip, chin raised in good spirits, as he examines her face for a second more - to let her find her footing in the conversation again.

"I'm actually looking for something that the Fortress' Head Nurse might like," he resumes after a beat, the mirth cooling but not quite returning to his usual frigidity. "I'm sure you've met her. She's fond of makeup and clothing, but I don't have the slightest idea about where to start."

Oh, damn him. Of course he would make a remark about what she was so dutifully trying to ignore the implications of. Navia shrugs, a very intentional display of indifference.

"Everyone's my friend, really." She isn't lying-- it's just that he hadn't exactly ever been apart of the aforementioned everyone. It has yet to be determined whether or not she regrets this change.

"Dihua Marsh...? Eh... I mean-" Navia blinks down at her elaborate skirts, hand-made and pinned perfectly into place. It would be far from the first dress she had ever dirtied, and surely it would all wash out eventually. And if Wriothesley was recruiting her to help then that must mean whatever he's looking for is worth more than a little dry cleaning.

So she resolves that it'll be fine, probably, and she'll wait to decide if the title of friend remains until they're back home.

"Sure! It'll be an adventure," always the ever unwavering optimism that she is so well known for, even when a touch forced. "What exactly did you lose down there?"

[iustitians]

learning a very important thing about humanity today with @dellarosula

[spicehill]

the name rests at the tip of his tongue, just barely out of reach; a flower that grows on this planet, high on the cliffs and crevices of stone. but rather than ask the friendly-looking fellow at the counter ( who seems to be... staring ), jiaoqiu remains determined; it'll come back to him eventually, and he may even spy its name printed on one of the cards that label the countless wooden drawers of pharmaceutical ingredients before him. a deep blue, nearly violet; horn-shaped collection of petals, arched downward as though in mourning. it wasn't bluebell, though that flower was found on other planets and had nearly-identical properties. use as an adhesive, requires careful measurement for a bitter-tasting cure for digestive infections, can even act as a hemostatic agent when applied topically.

closed fan feathers tap to chin in thought as he continues to scan each row carefully -- what was it called, again? -- and he eventually looks over his shoulder to spy the man at the pharmacy's counter, finding himself finally greeted by a nervous chuckle as the shop attendant finally asks a question. can I help you find anything?

-- and a reply comes quick, even. "no, thank you. just browsing."

eventually, jiaoqiu finds himself stepping out of the pharmacy -- he'll try to think of what the ingredient was called later. but he stops momentarily at a flyer nailed to one of the posts just outside, at the top of the stone stairs... and it seems its caught the attention of a young woman, too. was it added here since he went inside? ... or maybe he's just now noticing it with someone else looking at it, too. "hm... a strange place to place an advertisement, isn't it?" ... just as easily a thought voiced aloud as an attempt at polite conversation, but he takes a closer look, too. "am I reading this correctly -- a job posting?"

@dellarosula.

flower of lapis, shape of a horn.

swirl: professor kettle job openings with @dellarosula.