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!
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 6, 2023 13:10:13 GMT -5
(For @berengar, before shipping out)
It was Evanthe's night off and she wasn't going to waste it for nothing. She'd only stopped off at her home—hers, not her family’s—long enough to change into something that wouldn’t mark her as a noble to anybody that didn’t know their fabrics. Most people did not. After she pulled her wild mane of hair back into a bun, she set out to the Sour Sailboat Tavern to start the night out.
She arrived at the tavern and the place was bustling with people. Perfect. Who liked to eat and drink alone anyways? She approached the bar and sat, “Bottle of whiskey,” she said to the bartender whenever he walked by and slapped a few shiny gold coins on the counter. Once the bottle was set in front of her, she'd pour herself a shot, knock it back, and then eyed the room for people she might know as the liquid warmed her belly.
When Evanthe Curran waltzed up to the bar, Ber was already partially through a bowl of cheap stew and an accompanying cup of water. As she settled into the empty seat beside him, he had glanced over to the side at the motion, but not having immediately recognized her, he paid her little mind until the clinking of gold on the counter and the relinquishing of a bottle of whiskey caught his attention.
With the double take, he recognized her as Officer Curran, a paired witch he’d seen in passing but had never interacted with in any great capacity. He watched as she tossed back a shot and then glanced around the tavern. Ber didn’t glance away fast enough; they locked eyes. After a brief moment, he gave a brief nod and tipped his glass slightly at her in acknowledgement. “Ma’am.”
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 8, 2023 11:36:03 GMT -5
Her eyes landed on a young man she recognized from the military wing. What was his name? Bernie? Benjamin? Bernice? Nah, not Bernice. Something with a B. His last name though…Squalling…no, no Stormcrest. That’s it. She’d figure out his first name later.
“Mr. Stormcrest,” she nodded like she didn’t just have trouble remembering his name. She poured herself another shot, but didn’t drink it right away. She studied him. He didn’t seem particularly happy. She wasn’t sure if that was because he was unhappy she was there or if that was his natural face, “You not drinking?” She nodded to his glass of water, “Shame.” She reached over the bar and grabbed a shot glass when the bartender wasn’t looking and poured some whiskey into it and slid it over to him.
One face in a sea of countless unpaired soldiers, Ber hadn’t expected a paired officer to recognize him at all, but perhaps he had gained some notoriety after the ball. He nodded at the acknowledgement and turned back to his stew, spooning a few more bites into his mouth as he did his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes drilling into the side of his head.
When she spoke again, gesturing to his glass of water, he glanced over at her and then at the offending drink, but before he could offer a response, she had already passed judgement and poured him some of her whiskey. Somewhat amused, Ber reached out and drew the shot glass closer to himself, swirling the amber liquid once or twice as he looked back up at her. “Thanks,” He said, lips quirking upward for a moment before he gave her a slight toast and tossed back the shot. It burned going down. With some of the taste lingering on his tongue, he considered the now empty shot glass, which he returned to its spot on the wooden bar. “Not bad. Can see why you got the bottle.”
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 12, 2023 12:40:17 GMT -5
Bertrand…Bert…Berk…Berric…Bernardo…knowing his first name really didn’t matter. They were not anywhere close to being on a first name basis and she didn’t expect to be anytime soon. But Terra Nova, it was bothering her.
He accepted her offer of a shot—he didn’t know it but she really wouldn’t have taken “no” for an answer—and she lifted her glass to return his toast and knocked it back.
“Yeah, it’s decent stuff,” she filled her glass, and then the one he drank out of and slid it back toward him, “Tastes better with company. Care to join me?” She again eyed his stew and glass of water, “Shame to be at a tavern and not drinking.”
Pausing in the middle of eating another spoonful of stew, Ber glanced first at the refilled glass and then at Curran as she set the bottle back down on the bar. He swallowed that bite then shoveled another one into his mouth, gesturing to his glass as he did so. “You sure?” He asked, once his mouth was empty again. “You paid for this.” And he had no intention of paying her back for whatever he consumed at her behest.
Her question was answered with a shrug. As far as he was concerned, she had joined him, but he had no intentions of leaving just yet. And the water in his cup instead of whiskey? Wanting something more flavorful than what the mess hall had to offer, Ber had come to the tavern for a meal and nothing more, and water had proven cheaper than whiskey. With little desire to show up to work tomorrow nursing a hangover and the desire to save money, he hadn’t planned to buy any drinks tonight, but a little free alcohol couldn’t hurt.
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 13, 2023 20:13:37 GMT -5
“Yeah I’m sure,” she gave Stormcrest her Cheshire grin, “Who wants to drink alone?” She held up the bottle, “Can’t finish this by myself, can I?” She could, finish it herself, and she had done so before. She’d been a little wild when she was the young soldier’s age. Not that she wouldn’t indulge in such a way nowadays. However, the school of hard knocks had taught her to be more selective about when and how she cut loose.
Normally she would have tried to see if Kat or Ben was free to go out, but she didn’t want to take the time to track them down. She’d make do with…what’s-his-name.
“So whatdaya say? Join me?” She tapped the bottle, “Just this bottle.”
Truth be told, Ber couldn’t say that he particularly minded drinking alone when faced with the alternative of drinking with a stranger, but he was more inclined toward solitude than most, even if he rarely enjoyed it. Still, with the way she seemed particularly keen to share the bottle with him, he doubted that he would manage to escape without at least this next glass of whiskey. It reminded him a little of Abbott trying, for whatever reason, to convince him to drink on the job, but neither Ber nor Curran were on duty right now, so…
Free drinks it was, even if he found the prospect of drinking with an officer a little weird. At least the whiskey would be decent. “Okay,” He said with a shrug before shoveling the last of his stew into his mouth and washing it down with water. Now that he had agreed to stay a little longer, they probably had to find something to actually talk about. Though he recognized her face, Ber knew nothing about her beyond her rank in the military. And, apparently, that she bought an entire bottle of whiskey when she chose to drink.
Well, that was something, at least. Pointing lazily in the bottle’s general direction, he asked, “So what’s the occasion? Or do you just really like that whiskey?”
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 16, 2023 16:46:35 GMT -5
“An enthusiastic one, eh?” Evanthe’s smile did not falter. She wondered if he got friendlier drunk, or if he just got more standoffish. Well, she was about to find out if she had anything to say about it, and she was a persistent one.
He pointed to the bottle of whiskey and asked her about it. She looked at the bottle in question, poured out a shot and drank it before answering, “Got an anniversary coming up,” she said, “So I thought I’d buy a bottle for the occasion,” a bottle to help her forget, but he didn’t need to know that, “Aaaand it’s a great bottle!” She would pour him another shot, “Doncha think?”
“So I’m assuming you’re here to avoid the slop they call food in the mess hall?” It was the only reason she could think of to come to a tavern and not drink something stronger than water. She also avoided it when she could. Still, it wasn’t an excuse for Bertrand or whatever his name was to not drink.
“Something like that,” Ber agreed dryly, tone neutral but not remotely enthusiastic. He avoided further elaboration by reaching over and downing the second shot of whiskey, which she had poured him earlier.
Returning the glass to its place, he took another swig of water and glanced across at her when she mentioned buying the bottle to commemorate an anniversary. “Well, congrats,” He offered, assuming that it was a happy occasion, though he refrained from asking why she chose to celebrate by drinking with a random soldier in a tavern instead of doing something with friends. Assuming she had friends. Plenty of officers, like Woodwick and Abbott and probably even Terach and definitely Winters, were undoubtedly too irritating to have friends. Curran could have been the same.
As she poured him another shot, he eyed it for a moment – either she was oddly generous with her alcohol or really desperate for a drinking partner – but didn’t reach for it yet. Instead, he looked back at her and chose to answer her question. “Yep.”
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 19, 2023 11:59:06 GMT -5
Stormcrest’s answer only added to her certainty that he would be a happy little duck when properly inebriated. She couldn’t wait to see if she was right. Social experiments—especially ones conducted from officers to privates—were probably frowned upon, but Evanthe didn’t really care. Time to see if the grump was capable of letting loose. It didn’t even occur to her at that moment that his morose behavior might be due to an officer cursing him with her presence during his time off.
He congratulated her, and she flashed him something between a grin and a smirk, “Thanks,” she glanced at the shot glass when he didn’t immediately knock it back. Pacing himself? Or was he onto that she was trying to get him wasted? Either way, the kid couldn’t have many friends if he was constantly frowning. She didn’t see anyone who looked like his friends nearby either.
“Know any drinking games?” She asked out of the blue. That would be a sure way to get him plastered. She might even be able to sneak in a second bottle when he wasn’t looking.
Any drinking games? Ber glanced sideways at Curran, who seemed way more into drinking with a subordinate than he was about drinking with a superior, and failed to think of a polite way to say that he knew plenty of them but had no desire to play any with her. They weren’t friends, even if he had apparently unwittingly taken on the role of such companions this evening. So he sidestepped the question entirely.
“Not really in the mood for any drinking games tonight, ma’am,” Ber offered instead, reaching out and swirling the amber liquid in the glass in front of him. He set it back down and looked over at her. “You shipping out anywhere next season or staying here?” Loathe as he was to talk about work when he didn’t have to think about it, he found himself even less inclined to start any personal conversations with the veritable stranger sitting beside him.
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 21, 2023 12:55:59 GMT -5
He didn’t seem keen on drinking games. How dull! Ah well. She’d just make a drinking game of her own. She’d take a shot for every time he scowled…then again, doing that might get her completely wasted in a matter of minutes. This private was a cheerful guy, after all. Maybe a shot for every “Ma’m” he shot at her. Or for every time he changed the subject, “Suit yourself,” she said and knocked back another shot. The room had gotten a nice little sway to it, like she was on a ship.
“I’ll be staying here,” she said to his question, “I got back from Coheed not long ago and they won’t want to ship me out again so soon,” she started to refill her glass, ”How about you? Are they shipping you out anywhere anytime soon, or are you too fresh out of training for that?” although she wasn’t sure if they’d spare someone who was too green from those places. It was really hard to tell what went through the heads of the higher ups sometimes, but she supposed orders were orders, even if the orders were questionable and stupid at times.
Ber would gladly suit himself. More than willing to let her drink the bulk of the whiskey, he watched as Curran knocked back another shot and nodded at her reply to his question. “They’re sending me to Cambria,” He said in response to her own, lifting his own glass and swirling the liquid inside of it again. “Never been there before, or to Coheed. They sound like they’re pretty different from each other.”
Post by Evanthe Curran on Jun 26, 2023 19:20:21 GMT -5
“Mm, Cambria,” she poured herself another shot, and went to pour him another one, but saw that he’d not touched his drink. She tapped his glass, as if he’d forgotten it was there, “Not as fun as Coheed, or so I hear,” maybe it would be more fun being a guy though, but she wouldn’t share that with ol Bernardo Stormcrest, “Haven’t been there myself though, I've only been to Coheed. I’d watch yourself though, most of them aren’t that fond of men,” or she thought they weren’t. Why live away from men if unless men were disliked? Eh, she was too tipsy to care, “I think they have similar beginnings though.”