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!
Oriana watched as Io slipped into sleep, doing nothing to interrupt. She had work to do, and got to sewing with two needles after a few minutes, then adding a third eventually. She would make sure the dress was done, and the tailor could get some rest after his wild afternoon and evening.
Two hours slipped by, the sun starting to set outside, and the red dress completed. Oriana stretched, looking at the man on the floor. Io had been a perfect addition to her day. Still, the way his face occasionally twitched in his sleep, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made more of an effect than she had planned.
Holding up the dress she smiled, putting it out on the table before turning to the sleeping tailor. Kneeling on the floor she leaned over, kissing Io on the cheek and patting him on the chest. "Io, wake up, it's starting to get dark out."
Post by Io Demeter on Jun 30, 2023 17:10:33 GMT -5
Io jerked a bit, vaguely aware of someone saying something...and a touch...and a kiss. The tailor's green eyes slowly blinked open, staring blankly for a bit as his blurry vision sorted itself. His brow furrowed, puzzled as the fuzzy shape turned out to be Oriana, leaning so very close to him. He opened his mouth to say something, but he suddenly realized...he was nude. Everything exposed to the woman kneeled beside him.
Jolting to sit up, Io quickly worked to pull up his strangely sullied trousers and button them, but he froze as his memory came back to him. Oriana had done so much more than seen. She had felt. She had tasted. And Io was terrified.
"We ah..." Io glanced between his pants and Oriana, biting his lip with a slow nod. "I suppose that really happened then?"
What had he done? No, he had not forced himself on her nor paid a brothel for services, but certainly after this he was no longer...well, clean. Right? Where did this leave him? His chastity for waiting for marriage?
And what of his and Oriana's relationship? He glanced over her figure before returning to her face. Certainly more smitten and in awe of her than before. Was there anything the seamstress wasn't an expert at?
"Right, then," Io swallowed, trying to ignore a bit of stickiness as he moved to stand. "The dress for the Queen."
It took a bit of trial and error with his prosthetic, gripping on to a table to hoist himself up. Between his stained pants, unbuttoned shirt, and disheveled hair he was sure he looked like a mess. Everything felt a bit surreal to Io, still having difficulty fully understanding that Oriana had in fact...well, helped him. That he now had some experience under his belt, literally, and he was not sure that was a good thing. His mind existed in the duality of gratitude for Oriana pushing him beyond the limits of ecstasy, and tremendous guilt over what he had allowed to happen.
The tailor paused, frowning and tilting his head as he saw the completed dress laid out on the table. "Oriana...how long was I out for? You shouldn't have had to spend hours on it by yourself..."
To no surprise, Io continued to act adorable, pulling at his askew pants as if she hadn't seen what was underneath. Or maybe he had thought it a wild dream, surely something to haunt his dreams the next few weeks. At least hopefully Oriana hadn't put all that work in for him to forget her all too quickly.
"It did. I enjoyed it too Io." Stroking his cheek, Oriana smiled before moving to stand, and offering out a hand to help him up should he need it. The poor man was probably still reeling a little, and it only made her happier. Maybe it was cruel to relish in his confusion, but that was just some collateral to pleasure.
Shaking her head, the seamstress sidled up next to Io to look as the work she had done. The bones were sewn in to support the weight, and every stitch was her perfect standard. "It only took two hours, we had already done so much work before... Well you must have forgotten how close we were to finishing after our lessons."
"You did?" Io blinked, swallowing. "That ah...good. Very good. You are quite an amazing woman, Oriana."
The tailor had worried a little that her actions were merely for his benefit, almost a charity for his inexperience. But if she had enjoyed it as much as he...well, there were things to be discussed. No matter what, their former shallow rivalry would be forever altered.
He took her offered hand and thanked her, Oriana's surprisingly strong grip making the process much easier for him. His amputated thigh was spared much pain from awkward positions, only small stings reminding him of his disability. Between her hand and resting the other on the nearby worktable, he was able to establish his balance fairly quickly.
"Truly?" Io's brow furrowed as he rubbed his chin. "I suppose such details are hard to remember after experiencing ah...you."
The tailor wondered if anything else had happened that evening that he did not remember, but was certain Oriana would tell him anything of importance. The beautiful, talented Oriana...should he have come for her help earlier or never darkened her door at all? It was difficult to say, especially as his mind kept replaying the events of the evening. Of her touch, of her lips, of how she made him feel...
Io bit his lip to ground himself in the present, taking a moment to examine the dress. The shape was marvelous, and each panel looked even...he ran a hand experimentally over the velvet, pleased that the nap all ran the same direction. The seams were hardly visible: a quick inspection of the interior revealed perfectly portioned stitching. It was certainly worthy to adorn Her Majesty.
"It's perfect," Io nodded with a smile. "Though, I suppose I should not have expected anything less from you."
The tailor paused, glancing down at the seamstress who had taken a spot next to him. If she allowed, he would lean down and plant a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"Are you quite sure about what you said earlier?" he shifted his weight, tilting his head. "About not wishing for a courting partner?"
"And you are a good man Io, this doesn't change that, allowing yourself to feel pleasure on occasion does not make you a bad man." He had said his father was a lothario, but that didn't mean Io should avoid experiences he could be afforded. Surely women besides Oriana had made advances given how handsome he was. For a long time she had been saving herself for some odd reason, and then when she let the world open up her life had changed for the better.
As he commented on the perfection she smiled and nodded. "We worked well together, I hope you'll keep me in mind for future endeavors." Always a business angle, the seamstress was sure that this dress could be the first of a great partnership. Especially since this was going to the queen.
As Io moved to kiss her cheek, Oriana would turn her head ever so slightly so it landed at the corner of her lips rather than just her cheek. The tailor was far out of his depth with her, and every second was worth it's weight in gold. And Oriana's time was certainly worth gold if she was to be consulted on it's value.
"Oh Io I wish it was that simple, but I am not suited for courting. No matter how much I enjoy your company... And other parts of you." Letting her eyes trail down suggestively, Oriana looked back up at Io and winked. This had been a fun little experiment for her, but Io was not the man for her. She needed strength not the soft and gentle touch that someone else would surely deserve.
"I...suppose not," Io rubbed the back of his head, glancing down. He still was not so sure, but dwelling in guilt would benefit no one. He'd enjoyed it and so had Oriana...was this something most men and women did? That certainly would not be a proper question to ask Oriana, though he was certain he was not the first man she had helped. It was frankly none of his business.
But was this something his future wife, whomever she may be, would accept? Io would not blame any woman he might court for engaging in similar behavior. He'd always imagined his future wife as more experienced in order to teach him what to do.
"We do work well together," he agreed, a faint smile as he looked from the dress to her. "Though I will have a much more difficult time not keeping you in mind than the alternative, Oriana."
Even now, how could he not think of the touch of her hands, of her lips? How could anyone who had experienced the love of a woman continue normally in life? They had to do it somehow, or all married men in Lorendale would never leave their bedrooms.
As Oriana shifted so that his kiss planted on the side of her lips, Io's eyes opened a bit wider before falling to half-closed. He was more than happy to indulge a bit in those rose petal lips once again. The tailor finally pulled back, straightening up as he began to button up his shirt.
"I respect your decision," Io dipped his head, but jerked his head up at her compliment and gaze. His cheeks flushed with a lopsided grin, a tingling twitch from downstairs a potent reminder of just what the seamstress had enjoyed. "I admit I have enjoyed your company like no other. Perhaps when I come back with your silk gown...?"
The tailor left the rest unsaid. He did not wish to push her or overextend his welcome, as it were. But he did want Oriana to know that he had very much enjoyed the time they spent together.
"Think of me often then dear Io, I won't mind if you fantasize a little." Laughing lightly she really was having quite a fun day. Who would have thought that the tailor could be such fun. Normally he seemed such a bore, limping around with a grimace or polite smile on his face. Now she could picture a totally different part of him whenever she saw Io, it gave her a sense of power over the man. Maybe she should have just thrown caution to the wind... Alas.
Smoothing down Io's shirt as he buttoned it up, she nodded her head as he mentioned the next time they would see each other. The silk gown, she had almost forgotten that and it brought a fresh smile to her face. She would surely look beautiful in whatever, but even she had to admit that the tailor had a knack for sewing. And then there was the possibility of some more fun with the tailor when he eventually finished.
"Well who am I to deny a repeat of such a splendid time." Oriana grinned, winking at Io. He really deserved so much better, but seeing as there was nothing she was holding him from, she didn't feel quite as bad on the matter.
Post by Io Demeter on Jul 17, 2023 17:58:57 GMT -5
"Understood," Io grinned up at that, then allowed a small shrug. "And the same goes for you. That is, if you want to fantasize of me."
The words felt awkward in his mouth, but he did hope he was not forgotten as quickly as another piece of work for the seamstress. It was becoming a bit evident to him that this was a physical act of enjoyment for her. That was a revelation to him, who had imagined his own growing feeling reflected in Oriana. Still, whether she truly liked him or not, Io could not deny he loved the way she made him feel. He would not forget that first sweet release anytime soon.
Her hands smoothing out his shirt left his skin beneath tingling. Io knew he'd have to extract himself from her shop soon or the whole process of dressing would be a waste. His face reddened a bit as she agreed to his insinuation of future fun with her wink. She really was a beautiful talented woman. One who wanted to keep her options open, by the sound of it. But, he must not have been so bad if she was willing to go again. If she called him a splendid time. It would truly be a wonder if he got any sleep tonight with the thought of Oriana spiraling through his confused mind.
"Right. Good," Io half-bowed and shuffled, hands moving from his pockets to readjust his trousers and belt. "I suppose I best be off, then. Thank you for your help with the dress, Oriana...as well as your help with ah, me," he tried a small smile through a furrowed brow. "I will be presenting the dress to Her Royal Highness tomorrow and give your name, as promised. When I return with the silk gown we'll work through commission costs. If that's agreeable to you?"
Last Edit: Jul 27, 2023 19:22:37 GMT -5 by Io Demeter
Smiling at Io, she tapped her finger on her lips and let her eyes travel up and down his figure, nodding her head. "Maybe I shall." Winking, she turned to start cleaning the place up. She was just going to have to do the rest of her own projects another day, but it was worth it to get in on a project for the queen. And to give Io a little taste of what she could do.
She could only hope that the man would take some of her advice. He could really do well for himself, she was sure of that, but only if he got over his fathers issues. And if giving him a little help under the belt made it that way? Well that Oriana was glad to give him a hand in the matter.
"That sounds perfect my dear Io." Turning she smiled and nodded her head. Curtseying deeply enough that he would get an eyeful of her bosom, she straightened with a smile. "Until next time."
Post by Io Demeter on Jul 27, 2023 19:58:17 GMT -5
Io's head tilted with a half grin as she seemed to examine him: he rather liked this thought of being desired. That night or day Oriana might be thinking of him...that was exciting in its own way. He'd certainly be remembering the entire experience of her.
He still hadn't figured out if he was supposed to feel guilty or elated over the whole thing, so his emotions swung like a pendulum between the two.
Then Oriana curtsied right before him, eyes automatically trailing down her face to a now very exposed window...Io shut his eyes, shaking his head with a rising blush once again.
"Ah, right. Next time," Io fumbled through a bow, forgetting he'd already offered one, before extracting himself from the store with the completed dress.
What was he doing? Io asked himself that many times as he hobbled through the streets of Lorendale to his shop. He held the dress high, loosely folded to avoid any fabric touching the ground. But his eyes were glazed, darting from one direction to the other in reflection of his mental battle. He'd let Oriana...he'd...he'd enjoyed it. That was wrong. It had to be. He was supposed to save himself for his wife...and while he hadn't traditionally slept with Oriana, was there a difference? Was there? Io genuinely didn't know.
It took a few minutes to fumble the key to his shop from his pocket, and then place the dress on a mannequin bust, smoothing out any wrinkles gathered on the trip. His reflection in one of the many mirrors in the shop caught his eye, and he had to pause to truly look. It was dark enough that, should he squint and imagine the dim reflection a bit taller and more muscular, he could almost see his father. Was that who Io was becoming? Destined to always fall in the footsteps of his old man?
Honestly he wished for all the world his dad was here to talk through it. He could not, would not bring the night's events up with his mother or his sister. It would only upset them, he imagined. Io needed a judgement-free peer, perhaps someone like @sebastian to just drink and work through the issue. But Lord Snow was a noble, and really would probably find Io's struggle with sexuality uninteresting and perhaps perverse. A mentor then? Io had always looked up to Prince Augustus Rainecourt, but again would never dare broach so sensitive and vulgar a subject with royalty. No, Io was left rather alone with his thoughts.
Thoughts that brought his hand trailing over where Oriana's had been. Thoughts that reminded him of what a terrible man he was for such things.
It wasn't long before Io decided to spend the night in the shop, no energy left to face his family and their eventual questions. Io was terrible at lying, and knew one day, one form or another, they would find out. Maybe he'd be kicked out of the house, his mind supplemented dismally. He may as well get a head start by getting used to sleeping in the shop.
So, Io drew every curtain closed, removed his outer layers of clothing, and sprawled out on a rug. He couldn't sleep. So he remembered Oriana.