#dellarosula

[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

[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?"

[iustitians]

ooc; biannual status report

I mean, idk if it'll end up actually being biannual, we'll see. But I figured that now that he's been around for half a year (damn time flies), it's a good time for an update.

First off: Neuvillette's blog has received a fresh look, and all of his pages have been updated. Feel free to take a look if you want!

Second: thread tracking. To start with, I owe plenty folks an apology for how long I've been taking with some of those. The muse had a quiet time, to be honest - Neuvillette refused to come out of his office for all of April and most of May. But he and I are back full swing now, and I will be getting to the backlog I have not yet cleared very soon, with a goal of clearing it before the lore part of the event begins.

Under the cut are the threads that I consider active and ongoing. Please don't look at the ping as me rushing you or anything if the thread is in your court! This is just for both your and my information. If there is a thread here that you'd like to drop, by all means, let me know - I do not mind at all. If we have a thread going and it's not here, please also tell me - try though I may, I'm nowhere near as organized as Neuvillette is and I may have missed it.

Thank you all for your patience, and for being here! I'm excited to continue writing with all of you.

Active threads

Over and Under - Wriothesley @dukemeropide (partner's turn)

Do You Want to Build a Sandcastle? - Kaveh @aesthetecomplex (partner's turn)

The Explosion Will Be Otterly Devastating - Cyno @sumerananubis (partner's turn)

Of Raindrops Falling Abundant - Lumine @lightcffireflies (my turn)

I Think We're Gonna Have to Kill This Guy Monsieur Neuvillette - Navia @dellarosula (my turn)

Let's Do It Baby I Know the Law - Rosaria @rosarots (my turn)

Can We Stop Blowing Up Research Institutes, Please - Alhaitham @inscryptions (my turn)

Herbology for Melusines - Qiqi @qihuaque (my turn)

Lantern Rite - Wriothesley (partner's turn)

Ripples - Kaveh (partner's turn)

Hydro DPS Politician Communication - Kamisato Ayato @mabiku (my turn)

Deep Diving - Sedene @sedena (my turn)

It Takes Three - Rosaria & Kamisato Ayato (Ayato's turn)

[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