rosavelle | Welcome to Rosavelle!

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intro

Welcome to Rosavelle!

INVITATION

You're going about your day when you notice an envelope that most certainly wasn't there before. It's beautiful, if a little old-fashioned: pale pink paper, sealed with a pressed flower instead of wax and your name written in looping cursive that shimmers faintly in the light.
Inside, the letter begins;

Dearest friend—
Goodness, I hope that isn't too forward. We've not met, after all. But I have been told that when one writes an invitation, it's important to sound sincere.

My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle. It's a little island kingdom far, far away - so far that it may not exist quite in the same world as yours.

I know this must sound terribly strange, but I'm writing because I need your help. You see, my coronation is approaching soon, and Rosavelle's magic - the Everbloom - responds to the strength of one's heart. It's said that a ruler must understand love to truly awaken it. Not just romance, mind you, but all kinds of love: friendship, kindness, care.

The trouble is… I'm not very good at it. I've read so many books about love, but real people don't seem to follow the same rules the novels do.

That is why I'm writing to you. The Everbloom - our most ancient and wondrous magic - has granted me the means to reach across worlds. I'm inviting a handful of remarkable individuals, like you, to Rosavelle to help me learn. Not only to teach me what love means to you, but to help me see how it can bloom between friends, companions, and strangers alike.

I promise you'll be treated as an honored guest.

... It goes on like that for a while, whole paragraphs assuring you that you can leave whenever you want, no time will pass back in your world, the Everbloom's magic will keep you safe, etc etc… honestly it gets to the point that it starts to sound less like an invitation and more like a contract. But then, mercifully, the writer finds their footing again:

If you'll come, I'd be so very grateful. I know this is a strange request, and you owe me nothing - but still, I hope you'll consider it. Rosavelle is beautiful this time of year, and it is my hope that seeing it alongside fresh eyes will allow me to see it more clearly as well.

With all my thanks (and my hopes!)—
Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré

Maybe you accept right away or maybe you dismiss it as a prank or something equally unimportant. No matter what you think when you first read it, your mind eventually turns back to that invite and your find yourself thinking that it might not be a bad idea…

And once you do, you feel the world going soft and sweet around you, the scent of blooming flowers filling your nose - and before you can quite process what's happening, you realize you've accepted.

ARRIVAL

You arrive in a haze of soft, rosy light. For a moment, everything is weightless - the air around you hums faintly, thick with warmth and the heady scent of flowers. When the haze fades, you find yourself standing beneath a vast glass dome that stretches impossibly high overhead. The light filtering through its pink-tinted panes paints everything in gentle rose and gold and petals drift through the air like drifting snow.

You are standing in the Everbloom's Greenhouse. The walls curve upward in graceful arches, every pane glimmering faintly and the air is warm, fragrant, and shimmering with faint motes of magic. Flowering vines climb the supports, colorful blossoms of all kinds spill from hanging baskets, and everywhere you look there's flowers, flowers, flowers.

At its heart stands the Everbloom, a colossal tree the likes of which you've never seen before. Its smooth trunk is faintly luminous and the canopy stretches so high that you can't see where it ends, vanishing into a haze of golden light and drifting petals. The air around it hums softly with power and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at it in awe.

A moment later, movement stirs: castle attendants glide forward in elegant uniforms, carrying towels, refreshments, and generally doing their best to make sure everyone's arrived safely. After all, you're not alone. Around you, other figures begin to appear - some blinking in wonder, some already steady on their feet. Each seems as out of place as you, drawn from distant worlds and disparate lives but under the rosy light they all seem to come together like flowers gathered into the same bouquet.

Those who stumble are gently guided toward a bench cushioned with flowering moss. Cool towels and drinks infused with rose and mint are offered freely. Eventually, once it seems like everyone's arrived and mostly gotten their bearings, one of the attendants - a lady-in-waiting as you'll eventually find out - speaks up.

"You are most welcome to Rosavelle," she says, dipping into a polite bow. "Their Princess will be hosting a banquet this evening to greet you all properly. Until then, please take your time to get settled and familiar with your surroundings. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."

For now, you're free to mingle. This is your chance to get your bearings, meet your fellow arrivals, and explore your surroundings. Beyond the main atrium, you can glimpse winding paths lined with blooming hedges and fat, colorful blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, you can faintly hear birdsong. You feel a little tug somewhere in your chest and if you follow it, you might just come across a flowerbed somewhere in the Greenhouse that you somehow know as your own.

After some time to mingle and acclimate, the attendants return, clapping their hands gently to draw attention.

"It's nearly time to prepare for the evening banquet! If you'll come with us, we'll see to your attire."

DRESS UP

You're led from the warmth of the greenhouse through a series of winding marble corridors until you're ushered through a set of grand double doors into a suite of guest rooms bustling with motion. Tailors, stylists, and attendants hurry between privacy screens, racks of lavish garments and trays piled high with glittering jewelry. Silks and satins gleam and lace and velvet catch the light in soft waves of color.

Tailors and stylists bustle about, armed with measuring tapes, pins, and brushes. The staff are cheerfully firm about making sure everyone looks their best for the banquet but nobody's forced into anything they don't want; the attendants listen to everyone's preferences and somehow find something flattering for even the most reluctant participant. Whether you comply with good humor or grumble through the process, it's impossible not to get swept up in the flurry of preparation. … of course, if you're determined to be a grump about the whole thing, you're welcome to wait outside until everyone's dressed up nicely.

The attendants encourage everyone to chatter as they work or even to lend a hand to another guest struggling with their ensemble. Maybe it's out of curiosity - the staff are polite, professional, but it's clear that dressing guests from other worlds is a novelty they want to enjoy.

As final adjustments are made and mirrors fill with transformed reflections, the bustle slowly quiets. Attendants exchange satisfied looks, then guide the group once more through the corridors. The faint strains of music drift down the corridors until at last, you find yourself before the towering double doors of the Azurite Banquet Hall, carved from the stone it takes its name from. The lady in waiting pauses just long enough to smooth a wrinkle here, adjust a collar there, and make sure everyone is present before pushing the doors open.

BANQUET

The Azurite Banquet Hall glows with warm candlelight reflected in polished marble floors and the air inside smells of wine and roses. Long tables stretch the length of the hall, each one dressed in embroidered runners and heaped with platters of food that look almost too beautiful to eat and in the corner, a string quartet plays a soft, lilting melody.

At the head of the room stands your host, Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. Draped in pale gold, they look every bit the part of a royal... though the slightly nervous way they adjust their posture speaks of someone not entirely at ease in the spotlight. When they catch sight of the assembled guests, though, they brighten a bit. Their hands are clasped too tightly around their wine glass, but their voice is bright and earnest.

"Ah - good evening, everyone! I - well, goodness, where does one even begin?

First of all, thank you. Truly, thank you all for coming here - to Rosavelle, and to me. I know this must all seem terribly strange - one moment you were in your own world, and the next you're here. It's strange to me too, you know. I've been imagining this for weeks, and yet somehow it still doesn't feel quite real.
Ah - oh! I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle, soon to be its sovereign, though I admit that still feels a little surreal to say aloud.

I invited you here because - well, I imagine all of you read your invitations. The Everbloom, our kingdom's oldest and most sacred magic, is bound to the heart and mine is… embarrassingly, quite uneducated in such matters. I couldn't imagine anyone in this world I could burden with such a problem and so I thought - perhaps - those who come from other worlds might help me."

... suddenly, they look sheepish.

"That said, ah - there is a small complication. It is. Um. Frowned upon by most scholars to interfere with the affairs of other worlds, even with the best of intentions and I fear it would cause quite a stir if word got out. So for the time being, we'll need to keep your origins a secret. Please don't worry, though - we've arranged everything you'll need. Over the next month, we'll be teaching you about Rosavelle and all its customs so that when you venture out for the Wilting festival, you'll feel quite at home.

I realize that's rather a lot to ask, and I'm - well, I'm deeply grateful for your patience. I promise to do my best to make this worth your while.

So, once again, thank you. For answering my invitation. For being here, together, tonight.

Now then-"

They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.

"To new beginnings, and to the bonds we have yet to form. May they bloom as beautifully as the flowers of Rosavelle... oh, that sounded quite good, didn't it? A toast - to all of you!"

As the toast echoes through the hall, the music swells again - a graceful waltz this time - and attendants sweep forward to usher guests toward the buffet tables.

There's something for every palate: platters of lemon-butter shrimp and rosemary-crusted fish, seared scallops on saffron rice and fillets of calendula-cured salmon alongside oysters resting in crushed ice and lobsters cracked open beside dishes of herb butter. It's not all seafood, either - whole roasted ducks glazed in something fruity dot the table, alongside lamb, chicken and a mouthwatering roast beef.

Between the platters, bowls of vegetables offer roasted root vegetables glistening with sweet glaze, delicate salads strewn with edible petals, caramelized carrots, blistered cherry tomatoes and crisp greens grown. And, of course, baskets of warm, golden bread wait beside whipped butter and creamy sauces.

If you're in the mood for sweets, there's desserts in dizzying abundance: sugared fruit tarts, meringues shaped like blossoms, chocolate soufflés dusted with candied violet, and pastries of all kinds filled with custard, chocolate and all manner of fruity, flowery fillings.

A side table gleams with crystal decanters and goblets: bottles of wine, deeply colored mead and delicate floral liqueurs seem to be the alcoholic offerings but there's carafes of chilled fruit water steeped with mint for anyone who's not inclined towards spirits.

If you're feeling bold, the cleared space near the musicians makes a perfect dance floor. Perhaps you find yourself drawn into a dance, or perhaps you linger at the buffet, trading stories with a stranger over a shared plate of sugared pastries. Or maybe you'll take the opportunity to introduce yourself to your host now they've made an appearance.

Eventually, as the night wears thin, the quartet's melody softens to a gentle hum. Candlelight flickers low. The attendants appear once more, smiling as they begin to guide everyone toward the final stop of the evening.

HOUSEWARMING

The banquet winds to a gentle close and ne by one, the guests are gathered once more by the castle attendants who lead the way through dimly glowing corridors. The halls are quieter now, the rosy light of evening filtering through stained glass in sleepy shades of pink and gold. Everyone is lead through the castles and out into the grounds, their splendor only a little dulled by the darkness starting to settle over the castle.

"Your lodgings are just ahead," the lady in waiting says, her voice hushed out of respect for the hour. "You've each been assigned to a house - named for the flowers that chose you."

Slowly but surely, everyone's names are called and each person is supplied a heavy brass key to a house named for a flower you may have seen blooming somewhere today. When they speak the name of your house, something in you stirs with faint, inexplicable recognition, like you know it already - or maybe it knows you.

In any case, the barracks themselves are nothing like the name implies: warm, inviting, and softly lit by enchanted lanterns. Each house has its own cozy common area where low couches and plush chairs are gathered around softly glowing hearths. A long table in the center has been set with some late-night comforts, in case you somehow have any room left in your belly - plates of fruit and pastries, steaming pots of tea, and rich cocoa dusted with rose sugar.

The attendants leave you to settle in for the night, with a promise that the barracks staff will prepare meals from tomorrow onwards but mostly, you'll be left to your own devices. You could just track down your room and crash for the night but now seems as good a time as any to get to know your new housemates.

(CODE)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ah. Yayoi's words are cutting a little close to home. Countless nights he's went to sleep on an empty belly and an aching back, thanks to Pop eating the last of their rations while standing on him. Wondering when he'll find more food that'll last him. It's a fear he deeply sympathizes with.

That being said...]

If you're that worried, take something with more longevity. Meat goes bad fast if ya' don't store it properly.

[Just some advice, whether she takes it or continues taking those slabs isn't any of his beeswax.]

You don't trust the princess? They seem alright enough t' me. It'd be a waste of time to give us the boot after all this prep work, anyway.

[Zero condensation or judgement like that's a crazy thought however. Alright doesn't equal altruistic enough to not do as Yayoi suggests. Royals in his world aren't as magnanimous as Callie's being.]

Do I look like I have a place to store anything in this?

[she's not stuffing food down her cleavage for later, ranma. But she is definitely just chowing down on meat.]

... The princess seems fine. But eyeballing it, there's like fifty people here. Those of us who answered the letter, and then some people are the princess' staff. If this place thinks summoning us was that bad, then all it takes is one person slipping up, or one worker betraying the princess to a rival, and we're all screwed. What happens to us if the princess gets put on trial for doing this?

[She takes a bite of meat after all that.]

Can you trust this many people to all keep their mouths shut? Because I can tell you now, I can't lie to save my life, and all it'll take is one person asking me the wrong question.

[Deadpan:]

I don't mean here and now!

[She can if she isn't a hecking coward! Boobs are basically women's natural compartments. Ranma learnt that from watching Shampoo and whenever he needed to hold something while his hands are full and quicker to pull out than from hammerspace.

Yayoi's worries has some merit to it, Ranma can concede. Getting five people to keep important secrets on the DL is an arduous task. Getting fifty-yay people plus their lackeys and anyone else in the know to keep their lips shut is next to impossible? Doable, probably, but very unlikely. Just one lout blabbing to the wrong person or in earshot of an eavesdropper to screw them over.]

Nah, I can't really. [Admitting matter-of-factly.] If the princess was like most royals or people from home, they'd wipe people's memories as a contingency. Though with how badly they want us to keep hush-hush 'bout this 'adviser' nonsense, either they're not or magic like that don't exist here.

Memory control... If that exists here, it's going to be a problem.

[She starts thinking.]

They're not using it, so either it doesn't exist here, or they can't use it, or they have enough morals not to use it. Probably the last one. So... Now we're going to have to plan for the consequences of things getting out.

Hah, now I know they're nothing like the princes I know.

[Kirin and Toma and all the rest wouldn't give using mind control a second thought before doing it.]

Best case scenario, they just send us home with a slap on the wrist. [A passing glass-half full thought, before it surrenders to the more fatalistic and frankly realistic idea.] Worst case scenario, they don't and...

[Throw them in the gulag, or stick them in a guillotine, if they're merciful. Monarchs can be cruel and inhumane in doling out punishments, so he can't exactly voice what the consequences might be as that may just give false hope.

Hmm.]

Got any experience with going on the lam from people wantin' your head?

[Asked like that's a normal question anybody would think of. To him, it is. He'll be fine surviving on his own while being hunted. Majority of the time spent in China was doing just that.

But everyone else unfortunate enough...?]

... I was homeless for about four years. I'm used to stealing food and running from the cops.

[THIS IS WHAT RANMA MEANT, RIGHT]

[I MEAN. Ranma doesn't bat an eye at her answer or look at her like she said something horrific so. Yeah might've been, tbh]

Same deal here. Except for longer, and the part 'bout the cops. I think.

[Pop did occasionally haul their asses quicker out of a town, often with their supplies "miraculously" refurbished...]

Sounds like the two of us'll do alright if we gotta go on the run, dunno 'bout the rest of these guys.

[Jabbing his thumb in the general direction of party-goers.]

You too, huh?

[She's looking at Ranma with appraising eyes. She doesn't seem surprised... She's all too familiar with what might drive a teenager to become homeless.

She then turns to follow his thumb.]

... Best case, we all just get sent home. But... Whatever happens, I'll protect them.

Yup, for most of my life.

[Nerima's the first home he sojourned at that he didn't have to up and leave for an extended period. Or, well, guess that ain't true anymore.

Yayoi's declaration earns her an affirming nod, sharing the sentiment. Martial artist's duty, after all. From what Ranma can tell from taking a glance at, she appears fit enough to maybe be trained in the arts too. Enough to plant the following question in mind:]

You're a martial artist too?

Huh? A martial artist?

[... well, one form aside.]

Not really. I've never done anything formal or fancy like that.

[Huh, that's slightly disappointing. But not for too long. Just 'cuz someone's not a martial artist don't mean they don't know how to throw down.]

Are you some kind of bodyguard, then?

[Is he really going to go down a list playing a guessing game until he lands on a correct answer?

Yes, yes he is.]

Nothing like that, either. I guess I'm a detective now, though. Mostly I just fight monsters.

[A detective? That's the last job he would've thought of! For obvious reasons of being unable to picture Sherlock Holmes putting up his dukes. With them all being from different worlds, maybe that's how detectives operates in hers?]

Monsters exist for ya' too, huh. [Must be a constant staple.] I didn't get a good chance to go explorin' before... [He gestures his hands over his white tux.] Y'know, they dragged me into this.

[Cracking his knuckles, putting on a determined grin.]

But if ya' do find any here, lemme know. I can take care of 'em, and protect the rest!

Well, yeah. Why wouldn't they?

Yeah, I haven't either, but... Don't worry about it. I'll handle it. That's my job.

[And she doesn't think just a martial artist could handle it...]

[Shrugs.]

We're all from different worlds. That's what I've heard from other guys anyway.

[Dismissively waving with a blase smile.]

Really, it's cool, I've got it. It's a martial artist's duty to protect people from monsters.

[Do a better job than some detective, that's for sure.]

Duty? What do martial artists have to do with monsters?

What do detectives? Aren'tcha supposed to solve crimes like murders?

[Two can play at this game.]

What? No. I mean, maybe most detectives? But we handle monster-related problems.

Yeah? Well, so do martial artists. Any that's worth their salt follow a creed to protect the weak and innocent from monsters or danger.

[Huh. That's... important, but.]

And what if the weak and innocent one is the monster?

[wut?????]

Like... the monster's just existing without botherin' no one, or...?

[Is this going into the whole 'men is the truest monster' philosophical debate. cause he ain't half as smart to get into that]

Yeah. When I say 'monster-related cases', I mean any of those.

Sometimes a monster is rampaging and we gotta beat them down. But sometimes, a guy is just stuck in their monster form and needs to find an apartment. Or sometimes a monster is rampaging because they can't figure out another way to get what they need.

[She folds her arms.]

Oh.

[Okay, that makes more sense.]

Most of the monsters I've faced off are mindless brutes, or spirits or yokais looking to mess with people or make their brides or take their bodies. Although...

[Cronching on a piece of fruit. What, he's a growing boy, it's a party, let a man eat.]

I've helped out that Pantyhose guy every now and again, and he turns into a monster too. [Ranma you can't just drop- nvm.] Then obviously, if they're not hurtin' people or they're innocent, I'm gonna help them, duh.

[Ranma follows his morals along with his honor. He's got common sense and heart to lend a hand to those in need.]

...

P... Pantyhose guy....?

[she's not going to judge gendershit but she is confused by the name.]

That's his name, Pantyhose Taro. Got a curse that turns him into a bull-yeti-crane-eel abomination.

[he wanted it changed to something terrible like awesome taro but besides his... unique curse his original name's how ranma can remember him]

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