It's all fun and games 'til someone loses a... [Seeking Fale Noble]

[Calavera]

Junior Lord Bosro Fale slouched into his wicker chair with a weighty sigh. He hated tea parties. Hated socialising at all if he had to do it with his parents or idiot cousins. And most of all he hated his sister, who was hosting this excruciating chore of an event. Settled down at his seat beneath the delicate sprawl of the gazebo, he suffered through it for the sake of his reputation. And for the pastries.

His mother and father were chattering about some upcoming marriage. Unless it was his, who cared. His sister, the little kiss-ass, was chirping away at Mother's side. Like everyone else in the family didn't already know she was destined for a life of meaningless brown-nosing and nothing more. Rashmillah was so transparent. It sickened him. Someday he'd marry a Borsail Lady, have a whole litter of fat little babies, and all this would be in the past.

Bosro chomped off a bite of cochra and washed it down with a sip of sweet berry tea. The food was all right, at least. And the bard gently plucking at her harp in the corner, she wasn't bad either. Not on the ears or the eyes. Bored with his parents and disgusted by his sister, he focused on the pretty young thing kneeling upon her cushion. A newer acquisition of his family's, she was some Atrium wash-out who hadn't cut it as an aide but possessed musical talents worth nurturing. She had quick, nimble hands. Her expression as she played was almost angry, as if concentrating so hard on her work made her furious.

The beginnings of a grin crept up Bosro's mouth. He remembered when he'd put such a similar look on Rashmillah's face. That morning when he'd snuck into the bathing chambers and emptied packets of brown dye into her bathing salts. Her moonlight-fair skin and hair had turned--and stayed--sewer-shit brown for days. Even through the brown, her face was so red...!

Snickering to himself, his mood now much lighter, Borso finished his tea. His parents had also finished theirs, and with that they took their leave. Bowing beside his sister, Bosro murmured a goodbye to his Lady Mother and watched them sail off down the gazebo steps, leaving the siblings alone.

The bard, her strumming hands now quieted, rose up from her crouch on the floor.

"More tea, my Lord?" she asked, voice so soft he almost had to strain to hear it.

"Well I wouldn't say no." He pinched up his cheeks in a smile for the girl. He mentally willed Rashmillah to piss off somewhere. He could see himself enjoying the company of this bard very much.

He held out his teacup, letting the quiet young woman fill it. Her hands weren't steady as a lifelong servant's, that was for sure. But there was a certain pride he took in moulding the service staff to his liking. He could perhaps do to her what the Atrium could not.

"I believe I'll take my leave," Rashmillah said after a moment, gathering the silk of her abaya. She rose with a brief, forced smile to Bosro, who didn't even bother returning the gesture.

"You do that, sister," he said. "His Shadow." Waving his teacup dismissively, he took a sip, easing back down in his chair. The fruity tea had a deep, sweet complexity that he rather liked. It had apparently been brewing for a while, because the flavour was rather strong this time...

-

Rashmillah was halfway down the gazebo's steps when the first surprised choking sound sputtered past her brother's lips. She paused.

"What's that, Bosro?" she called over her shoulder. Glancing up, she met his stare with a perk of her eyebrows. His pink, bloated cheeks almost eclipsed his squinty little eyes, even as wide as they currently were with surprise.

"Huh," she said aside to the bard, pleased. "You were right. It worked near instantly."

Rashmillah swept her satchel around to her side and picked through it, taking her time. When she withdrew the length of black silk, she shook it out directly in front of Bosro's face. She didn't want him to miss a second. She didn't know how long the peraine would last, but she didn't need long. All she wanted to do was scare him a little. Or, well, a lot.

"Don't you worry," she said, yanking the black silk hood over her brother's head. "It's just a harmless prank."

It's time to make your debut.

I'm looking for a Fale noble. Decadence, whimsy, and merrymaking with an undercurrent of Allanaki mayhem. There is a lot going on in Fale right now and the ideal applicant will be someone who can dive right in and carve out a place for their character amidst the chaos.

Applicants will be:
-  familiar with Allanaki society and politics
-  capable, passionate, energetic roleplayers
-  willing to engage with the rest of Allanaki high society and stir things up

Please send me:
-  A character concept including name, brief biography, and description.
-  A few ideas you have for events or schemes your PC might run.

Send applications or questions via the Request Tool to House Fale. The deadline is Sunday 18th March 23:59 server time.

[Calavera]

A couple players have asked if we could extend the role call deadline to Sunday night because the Friday deadline was inconvenient for some. I see no problem with this.

Thanks very much to those who have applied so far. Applications now close Sunday 18th March 23:59 server time.

[Calavera]

This is now closed! Thanks to all who applied, you'll be hearing back shortly.