The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Io cursed under his breath as he hobbled down the streets of Lorendale, hands stuffed firmly in his thick coat.
He never thought this day would come. He hated it with every fiber of his being. The young Demeter did not feel hate or anger often, but this...this was a different story.
It always was when Oriana was involved.
The seamstress was always looking to outdo him at every turn...at least, in Io's mind. Her work on several duchesses' dresses at the latest gala were lauded and spoken about in the higher circles for months, while Io's own design for her Royal Highness Herself was never so much as mentioned. In fact, Her Majesty had inquired of Io to incorporate elements of Oriana's stitching design into her next garment. He'd been trying and failing at the chain stitch for weeks. So much so that he ruined the import of garnet Nevermere velvet that had cost a pretty penny and a remarkable delay in acquisition. There would be no way to order more before the dress was due.
Which is why he found himself in need of Miss Oriana.
The young man stood outside her shop for several minutes, muttering to himself as he paced. No matter how he spun it, there was no other way he could devise to fix this.
With a final sharp sigh, Io opened the door, limping into the relatively warm building.
"Miss Oriana!" He called, willing his hands to relax out of fists. Io glanced at the dresses she had up for display, pushing the begrudging respect from his mind. "Are you in?"
Last Edit: May 20, 2023 21:57:08 GMT -5 by Deleted
Oriana was not prone to envy but the man who limped his way through her door certainly made her feel something similar. A family business serving the crown, it must have brought so much attention that you never went a day without business. It was annoying, especially since it was squandered on a man with little attention to the finer details. It was more infuriating, that was the word that the seamstress chose, because it was better than seeing green around a man who didn’t seem to know what he had.
”Mister Demeter.” Standing up from the dress she had been working on she kept her polite smile up and her posture perfect. He was nothing to envy, at least that’s what she assured herself as Io entered the store. Probably there to boast about the dress he had been commissioned. It was the talk of all the merchants, the fabric he had brought in and how beautiful it had been. Fit for a queen, so of course Oriana had drawn conclusions and broken a few toes rather than the merchants nose.
Her eyes flicked over the man in front of her, but there was nothing new or noteworthy. ”Are you here so I can fix the stitching on your pant leg?” She doubted it but sometimes it was the simple things that got you through the day.
“Hmph,” the man snorted incredulously, but did hazard a glance down to ensure nothing had come loose. “Not in the slightest. Not every hem needs a triple crossback, Miss Oriana.”
Io shifted, trying to stand a bit taller, with no thanks to the squeaking protest of his metal appendage.
There was no way in the kingdoms he was going to tell her he’d ruined Her Majesty’s dress. He would just have to dance around the truth to get what he came here for.
Io never was good at dancing.
“No, I was wondering if you had any velvet in your stock. Garnet preferably. Ruby, burgundy…honestly at this point any red may have to do.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting away before returning to make eye contact. “I am willing to pay premium, of course.”
"Maybe it doesn't need it, but it certainly gives it a better quality." Sniffing with disdain, she certainly wouldn't have put the time or effort into it, but he didn't need to know that. No she would absolutely pretend otherwise, the more she could make herself seem superior the better.
So as she waited for the tailor to get to the point, Oriana watched him awkwardly shift around. It piqued her interest, and it made her wonder if this wasn't just a gloating session. Not that he was prone to them but she just expected it from her biggest competition.
And then Io started going on about velvet? Beautiful red velvet, and her lip curled a little. "Oh? What's the rush my dear? You should order from Baron Kent. I just talked to him this past week and he said he had imported the most beautiful garnet velvet." He really should have known that everyone talked, did he honestly think he could get away with this?
"Right," Io cleared his throat and bit his lip. "I knew such a thing would not escape your notice, Miss Oriana."
His rival was ever focused on the smallest detail, after all. The chances of him getting out of the situation unscathed, socially at least, diminished by the second.
"Unfortunately there was an...error in shipping. Tragedy, really. The shimmer would have made the most stunning form-fitted halter top." He paused to curse himself under his breath once again for his mistake, then refocused on the seamstress. "I'm short several yards with a tight time table, so unfortunately I cannot wait for the Baron to import more. I just need to know if you have a bolt in stock. I'll pay you double whatever it cost you, and we can be on our ways."
Watching Io it was rather hilarious to see what lies he would come up with. She didn’t know why he was, but it was certainly something she planned to find out. What was the point in letting him get away with something? Men got away with far too many things, no she’d play whatever game he wanted and rip the rug out from under legs, well leg! That would be fun and put a smile on her face. The day was boring anyways.
”An error in shipping? Oh well that simply won’t do not when the queen’s wardrobe is involved, you reported him surely? Come look at what we have then.” Sweeping to the back with elegance she didn’t want for the tailor. He could keep up or not, or fumble with another lie if he so chose.
Opening the door she started to look around, even though she knew exactly where to look she had more questions to ask. ”How much fabric do you need then?”
"Certainly it was just an unfortunate accident," Io winced, following the woman to the back of her store. "No need to mention it to him either, I am sure it is remarkably embarrassing for all involved."
It certainly was for Io.
The tailor stumbled in his distraction, quickly gripping onto the doorframe to regain his balance. He simply cleared his throat and shifted to lean against the wall, moving his gaze to the racks of stored fabric. The man's eyes unwilling widened, brow raised at the variety of printed florals in stock: each design took hours if not days for the artisan weaver to make, and the price of such material certainly reflected it.
"Oh, seven or eight yards," Io replied as nonchalantly as possible, fully aware Oriana knew the standard amount for a ballgown. His pride pushed him to add; "And you do know geometrics will be the favored design of nobility next season, yes? I'd advise you update your stores sooner than later if you don't wish to be left behind."
Oriana waved her hand as if to assure his nerves. "Don't worry, I'll be kind, but he must know this isn't acceptable. He has a sweet spots for sweet things, I'll make sure to soften the blow." If Io wanted to pretend it was the merchants fault to her then that would be the story she told others.
How else was she supposed to take his words? If they were true it was not proper in the slightest. And if his words weren't true? Well then the demise of the merchant was on Io not on Oriana.
"Seven or eight yards? I had heard there was twice that shipped in, dear Io I think that Baron Kent has sold some of your fabric off. We will remedy that with the guards immediately, awful." Pulling out the most hideous and dull red she sighed and shook her head. "It's such a shame, the things you could have done with that beautiful fabric."
Looking at Io she completely ignored the comment about geometric designs. She hadn't known, and now needed to buy more fabrics, something that was bothersome.
"Ah, I believe there was a misunderstanding," Io stuttered.
Of course Oriana would push the point, the nosy seamstress. He regretted ever coming to Oriana, but what choice did he have? He couldn't very well show up empty handed to the Queen herself.
"Certainly Baron Kent did well to deliver the fabric to me, per his usual high standards," Io shifted his weight between his foot and his prosthetic. "Yet the problem still remains that I now find myself without enough usable fabric to complete the order for Her Majesty. The details truly aren't important."
As Oriana pulled out a distastefully flat red, Io wrinkled his nose. "Certainly that's not what you sell to customers. That texture could hardly qualify for velvet, and it looks like a guard's used battle dressing."
The stuttering, the seamstress knew that she was getting close. She should probably feel bad, torturing the poor boy like that, but she didn't. Served him right for having a job she wanted.
Usable fabric, Oriana couldn't help but smile a little wider. Oh this was just delightful, somehow the fabric had been ruined by Io, and that was just, well slightly pitiful but mostly joy to Oriana's ears. "We both know I am all about the details now Io. What ever happened to the beautiful fabric?"
Putting the fabric back she kept pretending to look a little more. "Mhmm quite right, something else...." She already knew exactly what fabric she was going to offer the tailor but the longer she took the more details she could get. And the devil was in the details.
"Well," Io cleared his throat, eyes wandering everywhere but the seamstress. "You know how it is, the er...difficulty of abnormal fabric density. It snapped several of my regular needles, but the thicker sort left rather striking holes in the fabric."
The tailor bit his lip. Was Oriana truly taking so long to find the fabric, or was it his own guilt and embarrassment drawing the minutes into hours?
"Besides, her Majesty requested the dress be in a traditional Lordendale style as the founders of the Rainecourt family wore generations ago." Io had been shown a few painted portraits of the style and had been trying to recreate it. The problem was, Io was terrible at traditional styles, simply unbothered to follow patterns and pre-conceived ideas. He thrived in the spur of the moment designs, eccentric and radical and...he was out of his element with this request. Somehow he had to remedy that, and fast. "Velvet simply is not suited to a puffy, flowy gowns," he offered, a not entirely false excuse. "Unless you have some way of making it work."
Running her hands over the fabrics she couldn't help but break her big toe in excitement. Poor, poor Io, he really should have gone looking for help somewhere else. But the seamstress saw this as an opportunity as well, more than just a reason to poke and prod the bothersome tailor.
"I prefer bone needles when I'm working with velvet. Do you have a set?" Her's were quite special of course, all from the femur's of her family members. So they were strong, and they helped her everyday just like family was supposed to. Of course she would keep that part to herself.
When Io finally asked the right question, Oriana made her way over to the fabric she really wanted. A beautiful garnet, although probably not as magnificent as whatever fabric he had ruined. "I'd love to help Io, you should have said that from the start, I've certainly got plenty of ideas." Holding the fabric close to herself, the seamstress smiled at the tailor, feeling quite victorious.
Bone needles? Was there truly so simple a solution for working with the difficult material?"I'll...have to pick up a set," he replied, mentally adding it to the list of next purchases.
Io couldn't stop a muttered curse as the seamstress offered her 'help'. This is what he had been afraid of, Orianna trying to steal the commission as it were. But why should he be afraid if he knew his work was superior anyways? Besides, he did not have the time for another mess up and needed that dress complete. Still, if she--
His thoughts stopped abruptly as he looked up to see Orianna holding the red velvet up against herself. It was probably the first time his artisan eye had stopped to take a look at the woman. The deep, royal red brought out a striking warmth in the seamstress's face, framed almost perfectly by her golden blonde hair.
It was certainly the first time he'd seen Orianna as a woman.
His mouth open and closed a few times before he was able to finally say, "Fine. Very well. I've only a week and a half to complete it for her Majesty so I can't afford to lose much time."
What was he doing? He certainly couldn't afford to lose his exclusivity to the royal family...but, that would happen regardless if he failed this assignment.
Ivory needles probably weren’t the biggest rage, but it was the second sewing set she had received as a child. After her gift had developed her mother had seen it as a chance to improve her technique, and it certainly had. She could make stitches that might seem impossible that way, and it made her work incredibly precise, not at first of course but it had come with time like all skills progressed. So while it was an amazing tool for Oriana, she really had no idea if they would be helpful for Io. Honestly it would be even more hilarious if he hated working with them.
Watching as the tailor decided on her offer of help, she assumed that was the reason for his mouth opening and closing like a fish struggling outside of the water. She hoped she had played her cards too early, maybe she should have let his desperation get a little worse? Something about Io was hard to read at times which was incredibly annoying, but finally words came from his struggling mouth, and she smiled demurely.
”Perfect dear Io, two heads will be better than one I’m sure!” Walking gracefully over to the tailor she held onto the fabric, still not trusting him to take the fabric and pull a runner. He seemed the type. ”Do you have your sketchbook then?”
Io's face flushed as the seamstress approached him, (was it a saunter or a walk?), still clutching the red velvet. Averting his eyes momentarily he exhaled deeply, trying to cool his head. What had gotten into him of late? It was like a teenage boy discovering the allure of the feminine form for the first time. It was true he was losing the zeal for his work that he once had, but he hardly needed that obsession directed at every eligible bachelorette in Lorendale.
Especially Orianna.
Her question helped ground him in where he was, and more importantly who he was with. This was his rival, one who would stab him in the back if he let his guard down. Io knew he wasn't at the top of his game to be navigating such a delicate matter as allowing the seamstress to work on the queen's dress and risk his career but...he'd have to try.
It made him wonder if this wasn't what the queen and nobles felt like, ever politicking in debates and relationships.
"Here," he pulled a small leather journal from his pocket, flipping through to the desired pages. "The sketches based on Her Majesty's request and paintings of gowns at the time. They've panels making up the bodice of the dress, but velvet certainly won't hold the shape like the traditional weave, much less allow a poofy skirt piece."