rosavelle | Welcome to Rosavelle!

Entry tags:

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

I - Arrival

[The biting winter air of Miyama was traded all too quickly for the humid warmth of a garden that would put alchemists to shame. Archer moved, a breath caught in his throat when his strength failed him. A tall and imposing figure, he stood in the grass dressed in thin cotton clothes better suited for cheap, repeated washes above any sense of comfort. Around his ankles, cold steel bit into his skin and his shoulders squeezed in pain from the awkward angle his wrists had been locked in before him. He couldn't utilize his magecraft with them on, though it was hardly the first thing that came to mind. Padding through the grass had been one of many attendants set out to politely greet him, though on closer inspection they wore an expression of troubled concern.]

Sir, I apologize, but it seems there's an inconvenient binding that's been brought along with you. Do you happen to know of a key to remove it?

I've misplaced it. [Humorlessly, he responded and lifted his arms. He could see the number printed on the ragged cloth shirt he was wearing: 1020. Something in him quieted further, recognizing what it was, almost in tune with the twisting feeling of hunger that made those restraints feel even heavier. The Princess. What sort of miracle worker were they to even need his input in the first place? Being put back into a living body, none the less the one he once called his own, was nothing short of a miracle. Never the less, he held up his arms when politely asked to and shut his eyes with a deep-seated sigh. That fatigue felt closer to death than he'd realized and the scruffy state of his hair and the bags under his eyes weren't suggesting a particularly healthy disposition then and there.]

I hate to impose but does anyone possess the capability to remove these bindings?

[OOC: Getting the exposition outta the way! Feel free to respond after his bindings are mysteriously mangled by

asagami while Archer's having a drink.>]

II - Banquet

[If there were any feelings of discontent over being touched and apologized to for any number of inconveniences in being fit for fine attire, Archer had kept it quietly to himself. There wasn't any sense that he felt anything in particular after that experience, every moment draped in silence that treaded the territory between polite submission and utter indifference. It was only after that agonizing reconnection with human contact that he was directed to the Banquet Hall in file with a number of other guests of varying degrees of interest and speculative glances.

No longer cutting a suspicious figure and instead striding with a measure of casual indifference, he'd mingled around the crowd with eyes set on the splendor of the banquet hall with a soft inhalation of appreciation. The Princess' speech left him quiet and focused, almost resolute to the reality of where he was and under whose care. The absurdity of it had already seized him and yet it still seemed to fall to the back of his thoughts when trays were opened and revealed. He would eat. Of that, there was no doubt, but it should have said plenty that he picked up a glass of wine before anything else. He'd not rush to eat when there were plenty of excitable youths looking to lay claim to plates.

Still, he'd planned a strategy. So as to not stick out as a wallflower, Archer placed lingered just outside of the line leading to the tables as his stomach twisted in knots, positioned so he could simply pretend he was watching the dancers performing their waltz.]

III - Home, sweet base

[Hydrangea: Inside]

[While most would find themselves curious to explore new lodgings to appreciate the polished opulence provided for their enjoyment, Archer found himself quietly appraising each room he had access to with a quiet scrutiny reserved for home appraisers. Looking for something to tend to, mind and busy with might have fed into the perspective that he was paranoid, even if it was anything but. He didn't need to use his eyes to gleam details when he could just touch one wall to understand a room's inner schematics.

When he realized the entirety of that common household was wholly immaculate, he bore a great and heavy sigh. Pouring himself a glass of tea, he'd poised himself at a window to let it warm his hands and blended in with the quiet corner window he'd found.]

-

[Hydrangea: Outside]

[Wasn't a sniper better suited to his perch? It wasn't as if he had a reason to venture outside but it couldn't be helped that his curiosity got the better of him. Scaling the castle walls seemed to be a gross sign of disrespect, so he'd settled on hopping up to the roof of his new residence to watch the sky instead. There was nothing to it, he'd thought. Even when he was alive, he hadn't looked at the stars very much.

He was only there to have a moment alone and to make distance with others who deserved their peace.]

[ooc: Feel free to wild card me through discord!]

[It's taking a bit for Fujino to understand. Really, being in a new place and everything else is a lot to take in, even with the potion that's been given to her moments ago. She's holding up a little better and is still trying to get her bearings, passing by when she hears a request and peers from behind some of the attendants gaggling about.

Oh dear, that poor guy...she bites her bottom lip in hesitation. She kind of wants to help. Should, but a tiny part in the back of her mind nags at her. What if she's seen as weird?? Then again, it'd be equally bad if she were to just simply move on! Especially since it's she just got here!! She has to be good, be normal, so-

With as much volume as she can muster (which is not a lot, really), the soft tone of her voice rings out amongst the crowd.]

Um, pardon me, but- I believe I have a way to remove them...

[The attendants nudged him as politely as one might lean into a man as solid as he was, grateful smiles offered to her just for the merit of raising her voice.

He came through the crowd, arms held awkwardly in front of himself by merit of his shackles alone and, through messy white locks and with hunched shoulders, Archer watched Fujino. There was a frayed look about her, even if she was one of the few who'd so much as glanced their way and though he looked an utter mess, he was unerringly polite, and without hesitation.]

If it wouldn't inconvenience you, miss.

[She nods, returning his politeness with a small smile, trying to mask the little bit of nervousness lingering in her as she looks over his shackles. Deep breath, in and out-

In an instant, her eyes shift to an iridescent glow of red-violet whilst dark pupils form, ringed with a tinge of green; a split-second groan of metal gives way to a sickening 'skrunch', before the shackles clatter to the floor.]

That should do it...

[Should, except the minute worry gnaws back up to the surface. Ugh, what if that might have been cutting- or rather, twisting a little too close for comfort??]

Are your hands alright, sir?

[She'd done little more than glimpse at those bindings before he felt and heard the twisted scraps of metal loosen from his wrists. All at once, pain flooded into him but there wasn't a drop of blood to be found. His fingers squeezed into tight fists and opened, letting scraps of steel fall into the grass as a series of emerald lights in the form circuitry began running from his fingertips to his shoulder and heart.

A bead of sweat ran down from his brow to his cheek, though his soft and distant expression had yet to change.]

Truly amazing.

[There were still the shackles around his ankles but he wasn't concerned for them. Rather, the first thing he'd done once he'd caught his breath was to bend at the waist, bowing his gratitude to Fujino in earnest.]

So, you have my thanks.

Archer | Fate/Stay Night | Hydrangea

I - Arrival

no subject

no subject

no subject

ii

no subject

no subject

no subject

iii - outside

no subject

no subject

no subject

II

no subject

no subject

Hydrangea: Inside;

no subject

no subject

Banquet

let's get these anxiety-ridden souls to eat