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 Paris Bashar on Feb 10, 2024 13:56:51 GMT -5
As the applause died down and the partygoers started to make their way toward the refreshments, Paris stood and made a direct line to Cam Pyetr. He acknowledged Edith Byron with a dip of his head before turning his full attention to Cam. “It’s truly a marvel what you’ve done, my lord,” he said with barely contained enthusiasm, “Unfortunate that the weaker sensibilities of the other sex have blinded them to your accomplishment. I hope it does not dismay you.”
Paris’s eyes were alight with interest in a way they hadn’t been the entire evening. “If you could be persuaded, my lord, I should be ever so interested in witnessing what methods you employ that are so effective…”
No one stopped her or Grant Delaney. Rather when she got to the door, her head still held high, she found Isolde and held her gaze for a moment. It wasn’t humor or mocking that laid within her gaze. Not as the head of a mighty direwolf appeared beside her and the two of them gazed within. Memorizing faces, a few of those who approached with smiles and the ones who seemed uneasy. They weren’t the only ones who left, and Norah didn’t head home.
Post by Keelan Morrigan on Feb 10, 2024 20:40:16 GMT -5
Keelan sat silently during the show and during the exchanges between Cam Pyetr and @norah, his face or body language couldn't be read as to where he fell on the spectrum of entertained or disgusted. However he knew exactly how he felt, concerned. This all exposed Cam Pyetr for all that he was and that was something he could work with and explained what was going on with Edith Byron. He didn't move when it was all said and done but he returned his attention to Violet Bashar, "If I were a Witch, I'd be very worried," he whispered to only Violet. He saw value in the women of Nevermere and had never agreed with this societies stigma of them, better seen than heard, but Keelan knew they held all the raw power here. They triggered the werewolves curse and moved mountains. The women of Cambria fell into this category as well, they held their own against the savage men of Coheed and now they endure the mockery of small dicked Cam Pyetr.
He watched the Bashar men. It made him ponder marrying into the family.
Post by Violet Bashar on Feb 10, 2024 23:34:03 GMT -5
Violet was not sure how she felt about seeing the Cambrian’s performance. If she were not a Bashar woman, perhaps she would have been completely disgusted, and in a manner of speaking she was, but not in the way one might think. As a Bashar woman, she was used to being under the thumb of the men in her family, even if she sometimes wiggled free of it. Nevermere itself even had restriction on women, and such control really was nothing new to Violet. So ti wasn’t the act of controlling the woman that disgusted her. She found the whole thing rather gauche. It reminded her of something a commoner-made-noble would do. Something to show off what a big fish they were. She wanted to sneer in her old blooded snobbery. But she held the urge in and she played her part and put on a facade of a girl that was completely enraptured with the performance as if it were the height of entertainment. Keelan Morrigan had advised her about Cam, and she wanted to see what sort of a man he was. Perhaps Ares Bashar would be interested in looking into him with her…although by the looks of her cousin, Paris Bashar, her uncle may already have his finger in the cam flavored pie.
“Worried indeed my lord,” she said, missing his meaning, “a sickening display.”
The moment of redemption was souring quickly, and Cam wanted nothing more than to get away from the noise and ire. He didn't mind being the center of attention, but to be the center of negative attention was like having a hot fire burning around him. Which way could he turn to escape the heat? Was there any merit in attempting to put out the flames, or was he better off running?
Edith Byron 's encouraging words were a surprising balm. His mother had rarely had kind things to say to him, and he knew she was even now preparing a list of critiques of his behavior, words, posture, and expressions to go over after the event. He glanced at Edith and felt an ounce of tension ease from his shoulders.
Then @norah spoke again.
Each measured work was like a knife cutting at his ego. Her curtsy spoke more voluminously about the death of her respect for him than her words, but he kept his face as neutral as possible and responded with only a curt nod, biting his tongue to control his face as she swept out of the room. Like a harpy ringleader, he saw the disapproval on other faces in the room, saw a few others rise to their feet and head for the door. This was how women were. They came in smiling, flirting, ready to be entertained, and turned on a dime into hateful, angry monsters. This was why the Beldam was needed, because women without restraints were all more barbarian than the caricature Isolde had portrayed.
When Paris Bashar spoke, Cam looked at the young man anew, assessing him in a fresh light. He'd been pleased to know other nobles were interested in getting involved in the Beldam, but he recognized the light in Paris' eye and resonated with his words. Resolve filled him. He was not the last sane man in a world run by unhinged witches. He gave a firm, approving nod.
"You must come out to the Beldam tomorrow and see our work for yourself. There is certainly opportunity for a man of conviction."
He excused himself and made murmuring noises as he stepped away from his chair and left the room with Edith, heading to the main parlor to find a drink and a quiet corner to hide in. He didn't want to see Isolde again, and he'd avoid the smoking parlor if he could. He hoped the rest of the evening would proceed without further controversy--in fact, he hoped no one else spoke to him. Some guests had already left . . . he hoped those who remained would be content to simply eat, drink, and cavort until they were ready to go home.
The musicians resumed their playing, and servants once again circulated with trays, this time loaded with sweets and delicate pastries. Cam's mother took over the tone of the party in an attempt to save it, circulating busily to encourage merriment and jokes, trying to put the last few minutes far behind them all.
Last Edit: Feb 17, 2024 11:17:35 GMT -5 by Cam Pyetr
Post by Elodie Atwood on Feb 18, 2024 14:38:55 GMT -5
Elodie frowned a little in confusion at Norah’s exit. She was not a political woman herself, but what she’d seen here was all a display of good fun. The woman was a Cambrian, after all. One in custody for her wrongdoing. This little display was hardly hurting anyone…was it?
@nithya had left, and Elodie huffed a little at benign left alone by her two seat partners. She took a sip of her champagne, looking around for any who might provide entertainment now that the primary entertainment had made its exit.
Post by Paris Bashar on Feb 22, 2024 8:17:57 GMT -5
Paris was not an overly expressive man—as all proper men of Nevermere ought to be—but Cam Pyetr’s offer did summon a smile to his features. The fascination for his work was certainly the primary draw, but coupled with the opportunity to be of service to his father? Irresistible.
“It would be an honor,” Paris said with a slight dip of his head, “It’s worthy work, particularly in the times we live in.” Paris dare not go further. He had a suspicion that his beliefs were shared by his conversation pattern, however…one could never be too careful. Besides, better not to discuss such things in mixed company.
Post by Ibrahim Bashar on Feb 29, 2024 8:50:33 GMT -5
Ibrahim smirked slightly, hiding it well. The plan was working. Cam Pyetr had invited Paris Bashar to come to the Beldam. Ibrahim squeezed his son's arm. He was proud of Paris.