#e: crownstrial.

[siblonos-blog]

sick of being poised. | selfpara.

     uncertainty has never been slate’s friend, and yet here he was in the nicest clothes he owned sitting across from a camera with the very emotion he didn’t want to feel humming through his veins along with his silver blood. he was trying desperately not to fidget, not to show how nervous he was, but he was only succeeding about half the time. he tried not to question his own decisions, that could lead him done far too many dark paths than he cared for, but with each passing nanosecond slate found himself that much closer to wondering how the hell he convinced himself to do this.

     question one. the interviewer shuffles through their bag before crossing one leg over the other once they have found exactly what they were looking for. they seem to show little regard for your time and could careless how long it takes to get the interview started. you could be on a tight schedule, but it would appear that you will likely run late the rest of the day at the rate the interview is going. they glance up with the slightest smile on their face before looking back towards the note cards in their hands. again — time is a concept they have no intention of comprehending at this moment, so when they finally clear their throat, there could be a bit annoyance in your answers given the fact you have every right to. “ could you introduce yourself to the camera? “ that is all they ask from you. they could have done so sooner, but they go back to their note cards with little direction when to start. they glance up again and wave a hand as if to signal some type of response on your end with a single finger pointing towards the camera. a red light soon appears to show that it has began recording.

     slate was glad he had nothing more pressing to get to than his books, not that the person in front of him would care either way. there was something frustrating about how little they clearly cared, acting as if his time was worth absolutely nothing to them or worse, something that they wanted to take as much as possible of. he briefly considered that they were trying to cause him to be more anxious than he already was, but he dismissed that based on their complete lack of interest alone. however, even if it wasn’t their intention he was still getting more worked up with every moment of silence and he worried that at this rate crownstrial would be over by the time they even asked him one question.

     finally they spoke, short and sweet with no real direction at all. slate forced his face to remain a smooth mask despite his desire to draw his brows in confusion. he glanced at the camera just in time to see the little red light blink on, and plastered on a wide, polite smile despite suddenly feeling like a thousand eyes were on him. “i am lord slate, the lone heir to house blonos.” the lie rankled, and rethinking it he wasn’t sure that asserting himself as the only heir of a high house would help or hinder him.

     question two & three. you have barely finished your sentence when the interviewer shoots another question out without regards if you had anything else to add. “ why are you doing crownstrial? “ the question is simple enough that it should be brief and easy to answer with honesty being the best policy in this moment. however, the interviewer tilts their head to the side to show that their is a brief moment of disbelief. “ are your words true? do you mean what you say? can we trust you? “ the heaviness of the interview becoming rather apparent as you could swear that there is a smirk on the edge of the interviewers lip before they blankly stare towards you ; the red lip from the camera is still flashing at you. this is the moment where reality sets in, and you can feel the weight of country’s eyes staring at you. they may not see this at this very moment, but you swear that you feel as if this is a live stream to the world. you give what you perceive as your own truth and give your best expression to the camera.

     the next question came rapid fire, barely giving slate time to breathe before he’s expected to have another fully formed answer to give to the camera. he considers all the reasons he’d signed up for this, well aware that taking too long would make it look like he was coming up with a story. there were too many angles he could take that would only damaged his chances so he went with the most direct. “i’m doing crownstrial because i believe in what king orion is trying to do, and he deserves a partner beside him that supports the direction he’s attempting to take this great country.”

     slate refused to let their obvious disbelief trip him up, just as he refused to swallow the lump rising in his throat. the wrong move here, looking too nervous or unsure, could be more detrimental to him than anything he says, and he was well aware of it. “i don’t make a habit out of lying,” that was a lie in and of itself, but the people didn’t know that. and besides, in his mind this was very different than any of the other lies he’s told over the years. “and i’m not changing that for this or anything else. i wouldn’t say something if it wasn’t the truth.”

     question four. the longest sigh rolls from their interviewers lips as they quickly pause the recording once you’re done giving your answers. they get up and head for the door with little said in your direction. they are gone for a total of ten minutes before returning with food and water in hand ; something you could have desired if asked. “ let us pick up where we left off. “ they take a bite from their food, browsing the note cards once more. they open their mouth to respond, but decide that finishing their bite is best. a hard swallow follows as note cards soon flood the floor as they slip from the interviewers lap. they glance up at you to see your response, expecting you to retrieve the note cards from the floor. the red light flashes on and another smile takes over the interviewer’s face. “ do you agree with the ideals of our king? “ every question seems to either set you up for a successful interview or a complete fail as everyone will be able to read your expression in this type of situation. you do not have seconds to react as the camera never stops recording. you make the best of the interview expecting more to come, but that seems to be the last question for you.

     slate could feel some of the tension leave his body as the red light went out, a welcome respite from the weight of a million eyes. he adjusted his coat as they left, barely hearing the murmured instructions to wait. with the camera turned off he allowed himself to fidget in the quiet, shifting in his seat and smoothing down his jacket so many times that he might has well have been an iron. finally they came back, a glass of water in one hand and an apple in the other. slate wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, but he would have considered it common courtesy to extend an offer to him. the socialite in him saw the act for what it truly was: a power play. they were trying to show that they could do what they want, and make him squirm at the same time.

     he wasn’t going to fall for it, nor was he going to fall for whatever they were trying to pull when they dropped their cards. the part of him that was raised to be polite and proper at all times reared it’s ugly head as the interviewer crouched on the ground and gathered their cards, but he squashed it with the insistence that this was what was best. they flash another smile as they return to their seat before giving slate his next question, finally one there was no need for him to overthink. “as i just said, i absolutely agree with the king. norta’s customs have remained unaltered practically since it was formed, and king orion is finally doing something about it. clearly not everyone agrees with him, but he’s doing the right thing, and i wholeheartedly support it.”

     question five. the interviewer gives one last glance over cards that you can easily see that ask about your hobbies and passions, which would have painted you as relatable, but they stick with the harder ones. the light continues to flash for what seems like hours when the interviewer reviews a few things in their lap then points to the camera again. “ now give a closing remark. keep it short. i will cut whatever I do not like. “ there is a superiority in their tone as they look at you, and you could swear they are trying their best to get a reaction out of you. it is ultimately up to you on how you respond, but patience will get you far in moments like this as the red flashing light is a reminder of those that are to watch soon enough. you give your answer. the interviewer grabs their things with a quick push on the camera to cut it off. anything that happens next is ultimately up to you as no one is watching.

     slate sees them flip past simple cards, easy cards, without so much as a pause. part of him is glad, the more questions they ask the longer the whole thing will take, but he also knows that part of a good public image is being someone people can relate to, an opportunity the interviewer is deliberately denying him. after what feels like ages they speak again, another power play that slate has no choice but to play right into it. closing remarks were something he’d come prepared for, unlike everything else that had been asked of him so far.

     he let his smile shift from the polite one he’d been wearing for a majority of the interview into a grin full of excitement as he addressed the camera. “i’d like to thank the citizens of norta, and you,” he added, letting his eyes move to the face of the interviewer that the camera couldn’t see for a brief second before returning his full attention to the machine. “for their time and this opportunity. long live the flame of the north.” as soon as the camera was off slate was up and out of his seat, heading for the door with not another word to the interviewer.

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[archeonads]

            EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheonold]

            EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // roles

[zairasamos-blog]

⌜ & heavy is the crown ⌟ ┋ interview.

Zaira composes herself by building a foundation of confidence around the iron of her spine — and when the interviewer takes his seat across from her, searching through his satchel for essentials and not returning the smile that she greets him with, she does not falter. She waits for the young man to finish, watching as he crosses one leg over the other with the clear intention of making himself comfortable. A smirk is all that graces her lips at the sight of his slow pace, having already cleared her schedule in preparation for the interview. 

Her entire life has been spent paving a concrete path to the crown, so she exudes nothing but patience and understanding. He looks up with a lazy grin before returning his gaze to the note cards in his hands, nodding along as he readies himself. Zaira plays with the idea of straightening her back and tensing her stance, but she chooses instead to match the man’s casual demeanor. Crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, she nearly sighs in relief when he clears his throat. “Could you introduce yourself to the camera?”

She turns to face the machine, softening the expression of her features and pursing her lips. Her posture remains frozen until a signal is sent by the man to start the recording, and as soon as a red light begins to flash on the device, she draws in a breath. ❝ I am Zaira Anais of House Samos — twenty-one years of age. I am grateful for the chance to present myself to those that I have not had the opportunity to meet personally, and I sincerely hope that all of the viewers are doing well. I also wish the same to you. Thank you so much for giving me your time. ❞

No response is given to her kind words, and Zaira is quick to swallow any and all frustration as another question is spoken within seconds of giving her introductory statement. She had known better than to expect an easy conversation, and she cannot fault the man for doing his job by testing her emotions. Her ambition to become queen would be fruitless if she could not handle this minor obstacle, and it is not in her nature to fall short during public endeavors. Zaira is not phased, and she listens intently to all that he has to say, no matter how brief. “Why are you doing Crownstrial?” It is the simplest of questions, but also the most important. She tilts her head to the side, feigning a look of contemplation, before addressing the matter at hand. 

❝ As the heiress of my family, I am familiar with holding the weight of many expectations. My life has been spent becoming familiar with Nortan politics, positioning myself as not only a daughter of privilege, but one who is open to change. I hold nothing but love for my country and its people, and as someone who has so deeply sought the chance to find myself in a position of leadership, I am more than willing to admit to the flaws surrounding this kingdom. Our people are not wholly united; there is a line between Reds and Silvers that is not easily crossed, and considering the events that only just recently rocked our nation — something must be done to combat this. Voices must be heard and actions must be made, and although I do not consider myself a boastful woman, I know of my skills and what I have to offer. I am not here for love, and I am not here seeking glory. I am here for Norta, and for Norta alone. I would give anything for the opportunity to join our king on the journey of healing. ❞

A look almost close to disbelief crosses the interviewer’s face, and Zaira tightens her jaw at the display. She refuses to be caught off guard, and no matter how infuriating the smirk that plays on his lips might be, she holds back on the urge to challenge his authority. This is his field of mastery, and she will abide by his rules. “Are your words true? Do you mean what you say? Can we trust you?” Heaviness sets in, the interview taking a turn for the serious, but this is something that Zaira has practiced for throughout the years. The world will watch and they will judge every little slip of grace, so she shows no hesitation before facing the camera and replying with firmness. 

❝ I wouldn’t be here if they were not true. I’m not going to waste my time or the king’s. If I was not serious about my intentions, what would that make me? A fraud, for one, but also someone who would be setting themselves up to fail. I will do everything in my power to make it to the end of this competition, and if I see my goals realized, I do not plan to fall short of what I have promised. When I say that I will carry the torch of Norta into a new age, I mean it. I’m not afraid of being burned — but I certainly won’t set the flame myself. ❞

The sigh that rolls off of the interviewer’s tongue causes Zaira’s fists to clench, but her irritation is visible only in that single moment. The recording is paused as he gets up and heads for the door, and she waits for an explanation that is not spoken. She is left alone for ten minutes that are steadily counted within her head, and when the man returns with food and water, she only smiles and welcomes him back to the room. “Let us pick up where we left off,” he starts once seated, taking a bite from his plate and savouring the flavor as he reads through his note cards. 

He is too distracted by the task of swallowing his mouthful that he doesn’t have the chance to react to the cards that slip from his lap. They land on the floor with a thud, the ring holding them together making a clanking sound that causes him to flinch, and Zaira checks to make sure that the camera is still off when he sends her a look that seems to expect assistance. Once confirmed, she lifts a hand and controls the metal that binds the note cards together. They rise from the ground and land on the man’s lap within seconds, all without neither of them having to break a sweat.

The interview is resumed when the red light once again begins to flash, and he wastes no time with returning to his questions. “Do you agree with the ideals of our king?” Obviously this is meant to bring a reaction from the audience, something that will test the competitors’ ability to appease the opinions of all citizens, but there is only one that matters to Zaira. Let the Silvers whine and the Reds beg — she is here for the king to take notice of her.

❝ Of course. Orion is new to his title, and he should never be held to the standard that his father had been expected to meet. Our king is a new man, with new ideas and dreams for Norta’s future, and it is our duty as members of his kingdom to trust him. Whether I become queen does not matter — I must always believe in my king and have faith in his choices. We are young, he and I, and even in the span of empires, so is Norta. It is in our nature to grow and better ourselves, and I cannot fault him for having a vision. Hope is an important thing, something that must be had for a society to prosper, and I know without a doubt that Orion has that much. It is a beautiful, powerful thing — and I will never tire of it. I will always follow my king. ❞

She sees a glimpse of the cards in the man’s hands as he glances over them, feeling joy at the sight of one that touches on hobbies and passions, but he flips through it without even taking the time to consider it. Zaira’s warm expression holds steady, smiling at him as he makes his final choice, then she follows his finger when it points to the camera. “Now give a closing remark. Keep it short. I will cut whatever I do not like.” She is surprised that he is closing the interview so suddenly, but perhaps it’s for the best. The tone of superiority in his voice is noted, but Zaira submits to it without any resistance. 

❝ Thank you once more for this chance, and I would like to speak directly to the people of Norta. Know for the first time that power is not only in the hands of Silver citizens, but also the Reds. Our world is changing, and now we all have the chance to play a part in the making of history — and trust that this first Crownstrial will be remembered. I have prepared for this for the majority of my young life, and I will not fail Norta in its time of need. I am here for the burdens, for the trials and the moments of stress, and all of that will be worth seeing our kingdom finding its place in this new and uncertain future. Rest your faith on my shoulders, and know that I will carry it with grace. Good day. ❞

The interviewer grabs his things and leaves his seat, turning the camera off and walking to the exit of the room. Zaira stands and extends a hand, focusing on the heel of the man’s extravagant shoes, sensing the metal within the structure and bending it to a severe angle. He falls to his knees with a sudden squeak, hands catching the ground and shaking in an attempt of holding himself up, and she walks to his side while smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress. He looks up at her and she gives him the same false smile that she’d been wearing for the whole interview. 

❝ Learn your place. If any of that is corrupted or edited, I’ll know who to trace it back to. And I don’t waste time with pettiness. House Samos cuts, and those who get in our way? They bleed. ❞

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app

[adsarcheon]

  EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

One queen, lonely and forlorn is left to raise a KINGDOM on her shoulders. S t r e n g t h embodied in the sinew and [ lithe ] [ limb ] of her body, muscle torn from labor, from decay. She rises and the kingdom with her but what can one sustain? New is not dirty, not tainted by a lack of understanding. NEW IS NECESSARY and she s t r i k e s at tradition with an iron sword, g o l d e n hilt firm in her hands. Old laws die in the fire in her eyes and new ones rise from the ashes. She governs, she makes, she ( burns ) and in the glow of her embers CROWNSTRIAL remains.

                                      home // ask // plot // rules // app