Yros

an auspicious day, she announces as she whisks herself from her bed chambers. her harried maids rush to attend her, flustered by the fact that the matriarch has risen. her daughters look on in varying stages of surprise as constables hustle to attention and dapifer's rush to corral herds and choose the best for the coming feast. "a feast," the courts whisper together, heads bent close with insidious gaze following the heralds that all but sprint down the halls in their panic to get the events the matriarch demands started. a feast! but what of the thau-" a stern glance of the constables, and a murmured threat, has the words dying on their tongue.

instead, they gather in the crown hall and look up to the matriarch where she lounges on her gilded throne.

plain, by all accounts, painted in shades of white, grey and brown, but accentuated by jewels and golden chains that lay at her throat, her wrists, her haunch - but the eye, naturally, turns to the crown atop her head. welded bits of gold and gems, bent to create a delicate tiara placed atop her brow, the shade matching the rich yellow that stretches down her mohawk.

"{citizens!}" she purrs, her voice low and throaty, slow and rolling. there's no hurry in her words, her motions, as she curls a paw in front of her to toy with a chalice laying before her. "{wintertide comes close to its end and with it, we shall expand!}" a glance to her daughters, hanging at her shoulder, jaw inclined to Hollyhock. "{my heiress has been dutifully working to find a solution that will open the southern continent and allow the courts to return to their rightful homes.}" had she? the matriarch doesn't know - but it sounds good, even if it were a pretty lie.

"{but for now, i relish in your company.}" another lie, no doubt - you have not seen hide nor hair of the matriarch since her former heiress met her death. "{and we are due for a celebration.}" a paw lifts in something of a grandiose gesture to the masses. "{a week celebrating you. tournaments of strength, storytelling and feasts, feats of thauma,}" a stirring at this, which quickly silent with a few well-placed orders. "{so go, enjoy yourselves.}" she all but commands, waving her paw once more and attention immediately turning to her daughters - uninterested, it seems, with the masses once more.

OOC NOTES.

This event will last 2 OOC weeks ( and is about a fortnight IC )
During those 2 weeks, you may make posts set during the fete! Choose [EVENT] in in your prefix and table to let your fellow players know what your thread is set.
This thread is meant to be the official start - it is a bustling, busy sort of chaotic event in which everyone is rushing to and fro while the Matriarch watches. You may post here as a "starter" or post elsewhere.
You are not required to partake in the fete, but you will gain various little prizes throughout if you do! Keep an eye out for Divine Will and their events that are posted.
Oh and just as a reminder... thauma is still on the fritz from the eclipse and no one seems willing to acknowledge that. How strange. The Matriarch's Constables, in fact, make quick work of silencing anyone who voice their concerns.

It is all coming apart at the seams, and she is watching it in real time. Smiling, laughing, inclining her head–she watches as her mother unravels like fraying fabric. With every inch unveiled, the material catches, ripping asunder. Dutifully, faithfully, Hollyhock mends the tears before the public can see. It’s what she has always done, what she is expected to do. For the first time in her life, however, she isn’t quick enough. Citizens have taken notice, those who had not previously are taking interest. Sleight of hand and honeyed words can only deflect so much, and while the heiress does both of these things, they are no longer viable courses of action. So, she becomes proactive, forgoing all efforts to mask her mother’s growing madness. There are politics to shape and minds to mold, and time is not on her side.

Hollyhock dresses well, as always, adorned in flowers and regalia and gold ( practiced, the painstakingly carved image of the eldest daughter ). No cracks can show. She covers them in sociable and mirth. Standing devotedly at her mother’s side, she smiles and reacts appropriately, playing her part. At the Matriarch’s revelation of Hollyhock’s intentions, she does not balk. It isn’t a lie, but it had not been meant for public consumption yet, either. Her expression never falters.

Thank you for your unyielding patience and your beloved companionship as we work to return all of you to your rightful homes, she says, once given the chance, hoping to instill what confidence she can. Hollyhock remains at her mother’s side until she dismisses the crowds, seeking to look eyes with her, if the opportunity arises. There will be no time for celebration for Hollyhock. She has too much to do and an expedited timeline to accomplish all of it.

the matriarch pulls herself from her apparent stupor and gemini blinks rapidly - surprise and, if she were to admit it, distaste in her fiery gaze. the middle child can only watch the coming disaster and winces to think of what Hollyhock is going to have to try to clean up when their mother is done with her mad speech. but she lingers in the background, her back curved in a sullen slouch, her long legs donning various golden bangles and a gold crescent moon pinned to the fur at her temple. it's an annoyance, and one she rarely wears, but it was insisted upon today. absently, she lifts an adorned paw to tap at it and another sibling reaches to still her hand. gemini's frown deepens and she slides her gaze to her unfortunate eldest sister.

as their benevolent leader's dismissal, she catches the look passed between the two and she winces again, her ears tipping back to her elegant skull. she clears her throat and finds her feet swiftly, hurrying to the heiress' side with a loud, dramatic sigh. {so boring,} she whines, her voice pitched high in an annoying complaint. it's all a guise - and she uses what they expect when they look at her to her advantage.

she always has.

the matriarch simpers at gemini's antics and turns away, leaving the girls to their duties. she heaves a sharp little exhale and juts her bony shoulder to her sister's, intending to steer her away. {are you alright?} she murmurs, her lips barely moving and voice low enough that it's meant just for her.

Divine Will

Hollyhock

Gemini