the gross quiddity [open]

[kamille]

On the pavement was the black-carpeted stage. Not a raised platform at least two feet high with stairs attached on both sides, but a thick wooden board shifting under Kamille's steel boots as he and a line of soldiers marched to their seats of polished mahogany chairs. The organizers realized the offending lack of formality and had gathered florists and gardeners to add a majestic flair to the lifeless, out-of-place makeshift stage. A series of rectangular flower pots, dressed in a flowing rich violet fabric and gold ribbons, bordered the stage in the purple of tulips and the green of their slim leaves. It brought nature in and was standing out frivolously in the stone walls of Brissa.

No one had warned or invited the people of Brissa. A week ago, preparations were made all of a sudden, inconveniencing the busy town square. They learned immediately what it was about and it stirred much surprise and – some – anger. But like the town's constant breeze that came and go like a traveller, the feelings evaporated, replaced by a different gossip.

The occasion itself was no longer relevant. The townsfolk bent out of their windows and watched huddled on the front of doors and houses with crossed arms to get a glimpse of the town's well-dressed visitors under the canopy far across the stage. Somber-faced dark mages stood around the canopy, radiating an aura that made some people hesitant to look. But many chose to brave it. It wasn't everyday that the Queen would come.

Kamille had been in Brissa long enough to know that these people made curiosity a past time. The on-goings in the court didn't reach their shore town, having always enjoyed an independent reign of prosperity with their resources. What went on in the court spurred them for one pretentious moment and it was gone in the next.

When the Queen took the throne and cut connections with the Grimleal, these people raged. So many unspoken things had been flattened under the middle class's apathy. Including Kamille.

He didn't listen to the procedural speeches. It was different and shorter than the previous ceremonies. There were more black hoods and dragons around too back then. Instead there was now an emphasis on the crown. He wondered if the “Queen” was shifting in her chair each time she had to sit through these events.

Kamille sat rigidly and moved automatically. He had rose slightly earlier before the royal adviser could finish calling him. A strong gust of wind passed, cutting him off, but Kamille didn't hesitate in his staunch steps. He moved up front, saluted by two soldiers who had been standing like statues from the beginning of the ceremony, and pinned with the emblem on the red sash circling from his right shoulder to his left waist. He was praised, honoured, promoted. Then, addressed to speak.

Plegia boasted the most powerful navy in the continent. Before Kamille, not more than three hundred soldiers stood in attention.

“We exist in a world where beginnings are a matter of perspective. The idea of a new dawn is an invention brought about by our mortality. There is only one beginning, one dawn that was the first among the innumerable. We share a single history, a single past, but we continuously splinter off to different paths. These points are what we call 'a new beginning.' In reality, the present is but a continuation of the past.

“Thousands of lifetimes have brought us through unimaginable roads to bring us here today. Admiral Tremere accomplished his task to continue bringing the nation forward. I intend to do the same. To further dig Plegia's roots in history, to sustain the needs of the people for peace and stability, to be the foundation keeping the county strong, I, Kamille, will lead for progress and give my life to our mighty sovereign.”

The scripted round of applause followed. From afar, it looked Kamille shared the blankness of his fellow soldiers' faces. But having to stand still and in position, the soldiers had their expressions pooling at their eyes. It was Kamille that did not breathe an air of emotion.

He was praised, honoured, congratulated. The ceremony was over, the soldiers were set aside, and the politicians came in, gathering near the royalty. There was a celebration. Kamille left.

Glory to Plegia.

---

(This is an open thread, taking place before Grima was revived. If you didn't know, Tremere was Maeve and the Plegian royalty's uncle who was assassinated by the Grimleal. The death of a royalty added tension on the people though the townsfolk of Brissa appear indifferent to it. As such, Kamille's promotion was done quietly. I've asked Katya's permission to have Maeve present. The rest of her siblings, Inessa and Beatrice may or may not be present. Anyone can post up if they want to make an appearance. I'll post again after others do for the actual interaction in the thread. This is more like an intro and I thought this event was relevant enough to write on. Remember, this is a minor event. Chances are, you - your character - haven't heard of it.)

[Maeve]

The Queen, quote marks unnecessary, did not shift in her chair. She sat almost still, soft breathing the only motion that prevented her from being statue-like, a sculpture crafted to seem like queen: stone with no heart, save for her bleary eyes, red from crying. Maeve had adored her uncle. She knew that, as an admiral and military leader, the man had probably had his darker sides, but she only remembered him fondly, as a kind uncle that helped her learn her letters and to tie a sailor's knot. His passing cast a rather dark light on this ceremony. She rose from her seat after the proceeding was over. Taking a few moments to linger, to speak empty but encouraging to the courtiers and politicians that surrounded her, Maeve played her queenly part. "Thank you," she said, her smile shy. It had been fine at first, but after a few minutes, she found that she did not want to speak to the masses, even if it was only a small handful of politicians here. "Your words warm my heart, good sir. Indeed, I find myself well, although I shall miss Uncle Tremere very much. I am not expert of military affairs, but I expect great things of our new admiral." On and on it went. Empty words. Condolences. Nobles to appease, but for all her dedication to being a good queen, Maeve did not want to appease. She wanted to mourn. This was enoguh, she decided. Interrupting one courtier in the middle of his sentence, she spoke, her voice mellifluous, "I thank you for attending this ceremony; it was good to have your company. I am sure Admiral Kamille was honored by your presence. Now, I have matters of state that I'd like to discuss with him. I bid you adieu." With her head held high--though her eyes were still red and sleepless--she swept out of the town square, a few of her personal guards a few steps behind her. She bit her lip. Not sure if she actually wanted to find him--if she couldn't find him, she could just go back to bed--she looked for Kamille. @anyone kamille (or no one, this could be her exit post lol)

[Ophelia]

Death was always a somber occasion. Even more so when it was a family member that had died. The Captain of The Royal Guard, Dame Ophelia sighed wearily as the ceremony began to draw towards it's end. Soldiers had lost their beloved commander and the Royal Family lost yet another member in what felt like so short a time. And more than that, her Queen had lost a beloved uncle who always treated her well. Ophelia did not know the man well, but he had always struck her as an honorable one during the few times they had spoken before. But what perhaps got to the golden haired warrior most was the false words of the courtiers. Kamille had vanished almost as soon as the whole thing was done, wanting to get away.

And after formal words were spoken so too did Queen Maeve with a turn and her head held high. Her azure cape swished about as Ophelia quickly turned to keep up with the retreating young woman. The Royal Guards gathered about their ruler in a loose half circle with most of them remaining a few steps away. The only one that dared to stand near her, to be ever at her side in this time of grief was their Captain. The Dame walked alongside Maeve, a stoic expression on her face.

"Do you want to go home?"

Ophelia spoke softly, her tone containing a hint of her shared grief. But only the Queen would hear her Captain's question.

---
Tags: Maeve kamille

[Maeve]

It occurred to her that Kamille hadn't left the procession as soon as he could because he wanted to be found. Maybe she shouldn't bother; he'd turn up eventually. She could sent out a summons for him later tonight after dinner. Maeve was a queen. When it came to options, she tended to have plenty. The problem was that all those options sounded like excuses, and the crown sat heavily enough on her head that Maeve couldn't accept any excuses. "I do," she answered in a tiny voice, "more than anything else, I do--but not yet. Thank you though, for asking. It is--I... I appreciate the thought." Maeve tried to smile, and she found a small one that was made more out of courage than anything else. She found it easier with Ophelia around. With her, the world was a little brighter even when everything seemed so dark. "I should do as I said I would, Dame Ophelia, lest the nobles find me weak." Red-eyed and pale, she looked fairly weak. Maeve would need to work on that. "Are there men enough to find our new admiral? It seems that he's made a clean escape from the ceremonies." Ophelia kamille

[Ophelia]

"I should do as I said I would, Dame Ophelia, lest the nobles find me weak."

Ophelia looked over to Maeve now, a slight grin developing as Maeve persevered in the face of her sorrow. The new Queen was quick to take to her responsibilities, much like her elder brother and father before her. There was a certain strength that ran deep in this family's veins. And it was what drew her to serve them with such devotion.

"Are there men enough to find our new admiral? It seems that he's made a clean escape from the ceremonies."

"Of course, your majesty. Shall we go to him or have him come to us?" She awaited Maeve's reply and then set her Guards about looking for the Admiral. Ophelia was not sure where he had gone, but one of her Guards would find him one way or another. For the time being though, the Captain was content to not stray from Maeve's side. After giving out the orders she then began to speak with Maeve once more.

"You have my condolences for your uncle as well, Lady Maeve. I didn't know him well, but I do know how much he meant to you. You always had a smile on your face whenever he came to the palace." It was a fond sort of memory. Maeve always did seem like she'd rather be out and about back then, much like her younger sister Inessa these days. Though admittedly, the snow haired woman was alot less shy.

---
Tags: Maeve kamille

[Maeve]

"I can go to him--" she stopped herself. Maeve liked helping people, and she'd never minded going to the people rather than waiting for them to come to her. Was that supposed to be a thing of the past now? Her father usually made people come to him. She should follow her father's example, she decided, trying not to remind herself that he father had ended up dead. "N--no, nevermind that. My apologies, I speak without thinking. I believe it'll be easier if he comes to us." A shadow of a smile crossed Maeve's face, a hint of a dimple and a crease at the corner of her eyes. There was warmth in the memory of her uncle's visits, perhaps warmth enough to temper the cold emptiness now that he was gone. "Thank you. He was dear to me, and he did his utmost to be fill the void of my father he passed away. Yet I fear there shall be no one to replace him in turn." She tried to laugh, and it sounded a sob wearing a cheap mask; she looked down. "Perhaps that's best. I don't know that he'd want to be replaced." In a fashion, it was easier to focus on those that had died: her father, her brother, her uncle, even Ascher was as good as dead to her. When she thought about who still remained, she could wonder how much time they had left. "Ophelia?" she said, dropping her title. Maeve reached out, then pulled her hand back, hesitant. "I have a favor to ask. Or I believe it's a favor. Perhaps it's not, perhaps it's merely a wish. I--I don't know, but... don't die. Please. I do not think I could bear it." kamille Ophelia

[Ophelia]

Ophelia certainly didn't fault Maeve for her sorrow, but she did like how strong the young Queen was trying to be. Maeve would need it when dealing with the council of Dukes. She wouldn't be surprised if one of them had the nerve to try and make some sort of play by using the Queen's loss. Ophelia was ripped away from her concerns however when Maeve began to speak once more. It seemed like quite some time since the snow haired royal had called her golden haired protector by name, without title or rank.

Ophelia's face softened slightly and she crooked an eyebrow up in mild confusion as Maeve at once began to reach out and then swiftly retract her hand. And then came Maeve's request. A heartfelt plea, more like. And it did strike Ophelia to the core. This... this was just the latest in a long line of tragedy for the royal family. The death of her father, the exile of Ascher, and the one that Ophelia too felt a great pain over, the death of Sin. The Captain of The Royal Guard began to raise up a hand herself, reaching out slightly and gently took Maeve's hand into her gauntleted one.

"I promise you, Maeve... That I will never leave your side. I will always be here for you. It would take the Fell Dragon himself to stop me."

Her voice was soft and she gave Maeve a true smile, her own words full of passion as well. Ophelia meant it all and more. Grima himself would have to come down and smite her before Ophelia would leave Maeve to suffer alone. She had to endure so much already, it was not right to bring on more sorrow. No, all of the royal family and all of Plegia deserved a brighter future and Ophelia would give them just that.

---
Tags: Maeve kamille

[kamille]

Kamille had made his escape quickly but he did not hide well.

From the town square was some trailing alleys and a grand road converging to the southern sector like rivers on a map. Kamille didn't use any sort of special secret passage to get through. He used the same road every other person used.

No one gave him a second look. They glanced once, saw nothing extraordinary, and, in three occasions, said hello. Brissa was one of the navy's largest outposts. Kamille and the soldiers were not unfamiliar faces.

Passing through a curving intersection, the stone neighbourhood changed and Kamille was met with the scene of a busy wet market, crates and tables of fresh fruits and fishes piled up in a stair formation, a style that repeated across the lines of stalls that went on to the harbour at the very end of Kamille's sight. Chatter of customers bargaining and vendors endearing filled the air, which was occasionally swallowed by the horn of a ship and the squawking of a sea gull.

Kamille relaxed, though no doubt he didn't realize the sudden ease in his breathing.

The market was noisy and excitable. People moved left and right, their senses engaged in busy activity. The jarring flower-fashioned stage was miles behind him, its solemn-spoken ritual sinking to nothingness in his ears. It felt like he had finally been undressed of the colours of a clown and that he really appeared with a shred of dignity, without the desire to cringe at his own image.

He could ignore the murmurs, the protests, the indignation. But it was impossible to ignore his own voice, his own sight. His own skin.

Now he would move on. He had moved on. Forward, just like his gaze hovering at the thirties of ships docked at the harbour. Onward in the future where he belonged.

“Admiral.”

The recognition was instant. Kamille could not miss them in the ceremony. A small group of Royal Guards approached him. In the background behind the guards, a young woman looked on curiously, having pointed them to Kamille.

“The Queen wishes to see you.”

Kamille began to turn around. “I will meet her in Berbanya. Have any of my officers escort her to the ship.”

The guards looked on in shock.

“Admiral – Sir, how dare you!” the guard exclaimed. “To have the Queen come to you...!”

“Worry not,” Kamille smoothly pacified. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. An oversight, he realized. “I only mean it for Her Majesty's sake. I know this town well. There is no establishment fitting for a discussion with the queen.”

“You are not the one to decide that,” the guard said stiffly. “We are in-charge of the Queen's well-being. Your only concern is to obey.”

Kamille debated for a split-second to reprimand the guard, but he decided against it. Whoever this man was didn't matter. His rank was inferior than Kamille's. But that was the straightforward way of looking things. He was not cognizant with the affairs in the palace since Maeve became queen. Were the guards always this cocky?

Kamille nodded. “Of course.”

The guards didn't look satisfied but they said nothing more.

Maeve Ophelia (Either one of you can state that Kamille has come.)