Dom-i-licious
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« Thread Started on Feb 14, 2008, 10:30pm » | |
In a world plagued with chronic betrayal, only a few key players achieved high rank. Generally they were born into it, cursed from birth with the gifts of seductive, persuasive tongues and easy access to power. They were trained from the time that they could first comprehend society that to rule should be everyone's ultimate goal, a dream for which no price was too great. And thus Blythe landed herself on the Seelie throne.
Blythe was a classic elf; tall, graceful, with moon-pale unmarred skin and delicate features. She had striking, violet eyes that gazed through people and always seemed to be watching something, and floor-length brown hair. Her gorgeous, polished appearance befitted the Seelie court, though it had played a minor role in her ascension to the throne.
The Seelie court was one of superficial beauty and a rotten core which people spent their entire life navigating around. Masked by the strong silk of attraction, sweet words and bright lights lay the same deadly traps that cliched all the vibrant fey courts. If anything, their subtle nature only made the dangers more perilous.
It was a innate understanding of these political webs that had permitted Blythe to rise to her current throne. Her family had held a network of allies, and as her rivals had systematically had unfortunate accidents the ruthless fey had won these allies' hearts and minds, for the time being.
Currently the court was in relative peace, which was to say that it was a seething mass of torn schemes and blooming plots. Blythe ruled supreme in the midst of this woven chaos, as she had for the past human century.
Despite her short period of time ruling the court, Blythe had successfully maintained the semblance of peace that the Seelie fey delighted in. Sacrifices had been made, of course; fey had been abandoned, killed, or traded away, but lives were a small price to pay.
The vicious queen thought about all of this as she looked over the throne room from her high, elegant chair. Blythe sat straight in her seat, in a manner befitting of her high status, long hair carefully coiled into exquisite ringlets cascading off the chair's arms. Her torso was encased in a lilac corset, matching the violet eyes that were in constant motion. Beneath the corset a shining white silk gown lay in rustling folds around her.
A delicate hand reached up, waving away a confused looking petitioner. "Speak with my chamberlain, please. Does anyone else require a audience?" her voice was bell-clear, both a invitation and warning.
OoC:
Anyone can join into this, even as mere observers. Lets get this party started! 
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