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rosavelle2025-10-30 12:15 pm
royaldecreemods) wrote in rosavelle2025-10-30 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
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;
... 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:
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.
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.
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.
... suddenly, they look sheepish.
They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.
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.
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.
"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.
no subject
[An uncomfortable level of familiarity.]
...Alright. [Darin takes another drink.]
Well, here's your chance. Ask me anything. I'll answer whatever you want. Can't trust unless the other person offers themselves up to be trusted, right?
Do your worst!
no subject
What is your honest opinion of witches?
no subject
Witches?
[He echoes the name.]
I...huh. I guess I never thought about it...
[He crosses his left arm under his chest and props his right elbow in his upturned palm, bringing his hands to his chin. If she wanted to know, and he's never thought about it before...well, it was time to consider it. Trust can't be earned unless he tries, right?]
I mean...I've never met one. People call them monsters and say they do bad things like cast curses and hexes, right? At least that's what people on my world say. They say they're hideous and nasty and will do all sorts of awful things to people. Especially kids.
[He pauses, his gaze lifting towards the ceiling.]
But people say things about everything. And one thing I've learned is that people don't know anything about anyone unless they make an effort to learn. The way I see it, if a witch doesn't hurt anyone, what right does anyone have to call her a monster? Maybe she's monstrous because no one wanted to give her a chance. Maybe all it takes is just asking her who she wants to be rather than deciding who she is for her.
[He nods, satisfied with the conclusion he's drawn and drops his hands to his hips with a smile.]
Doesn't everyone deserve the right to decide who they want to be? And doesn't everyone deserve the chance to prove everyone else wrong?
1/2
no subject
She takes another drink from the bottle in the hopes it'll wash away this uncomfortable feeling. Instantly a fresh coat of red stains her cheeks and she has to glance away. Sheer habit.
Why should she feel bad for being suspicious? Why is this guilt knotting up in her chest? ]
That's pretty gracious.
no subject
[Darin blinks twice owlishly.]
It just kinda sounds like common sense to me. Besides...
[He leans forward, hands on his hips, grinning from ear to ear right in her face.]
It's way more fun proving the world you're better than they think you are and seeing the looks on all the faces of the idiots who looked down on you.
[He shoots her a wink.]
no subject
...kkhh- [ She can't help it. She's snickering before she can really stop. Best she can do is hide her mouth behind her hand. Relief makes her shoulders go slack. Tonight is a night of surprises and lowered guard.
She can't remember the last time she could relax at all. ]
Well, alright. You're not wrong...I guess.
no subject
Besides, I don't know what witches are like where you come from, but I'm willing to bet I'd like them a whole lot more than the people back where I come from.
no subject
Maybe. They certainly don't waste their time trying to cast hexes on children. Grown adults at least have done something to deserve it.
no subject
Now...since you totally blew it and didn't ask me anything deeply personal, it's my turn to ask you a question!
[He straightens up and makes a big show of tapping his chin, pretending to think. He looks her up and down, that selfsame smirk appearing on his face.]
Well...you definitely broke me out of my mood. So, I think I at least owe you something.
[Darin that's not a question.]
[Except it's all part of his natural showmanship. He lowers his hand towards her.]
Wanna dance? You've got your whole life ahead of you without having to worry about Fiends. Might as well have a little fun.
no subject
The answer makes her head tingle with dread that runs down her back. Of course he'd ask for a dance. It's a party, isn't it? And she's probably the only one who can't do that.
She really blew it without even trying, and the sentiment echoes on her downcast face. ]
I...don't know how to dance.
no subject
I'm a blacksmith. We're not exactly known for having the twinkliest of toes.
no subject
Are you giving me permission to step on your toes, then?
no subject
Besides, if it gets you to smile? I think it'll have been worth it.
[He inches his hand forward again.]
I think it's a win/win for you. What've you got to lose?
no subject
It's the wine. She can blame it on the wine if she seems a little too carefree. Someone saw her, the Shadowfrost Witch herself, dancing—poorly or otherwise—as if the world was hers? She just got carried away with someone else already obviously tipsy. They were having fun.
...maybe she's thinking about excuses too much. Maybe she really should try and live a little. ]
Alright, fine.
[ Darin gets the near empty wine bottle shoved into his empty hand. Hah, find a place to put that first, blacksmith!! ]
But remember, this was your request. No take-backs.
no subject
[He wipes his lips with the same arm he holds the bottle with, then takes Fatima's hand in his empty one, leading her to the dance floor. On the way, he deposits the bottle upside-down very prominently in one of the crystal vases holding flowers that adorn the many tables, making for a very strange looking centerpiece.]
[Once on the dance floor, he turns to Fatima.]
I've only ever regretted one thing in my life, and that's running away when I should have stayed. Since then, as long as I'm moving forward, I've got nothing to take back.
[If only Fatima knew that his one regret would have been staying to die with the rest of his family.]
no subject
She should indulge in social frivolities more often if this is the result. ]
Then, I guess we have the same goal. Not to stomp on each others' feet, I mean.
[ Nevermind that her fingers grip onto his hand as if for dear life. ]
no subject
I dunno. Think you could trust me not to hurt you?
[He looks around briefly at the other people dancing. He's never done this before but...it can't be that hard, right? Move to the music. Just how do they have their hands?]
[...Ah.]
[Well...he's come this far.]
If uh...you'll excuse me.
[He lifts her hand then places his other on her opposite hip, just askew enough to be somewhat at the small of her back. With that, he clears his throat and, finds the beat, and starts to move.]
...See? Not so bad. Maybe a little boring to my taste...
You...alright? You can tell me to move my hand if you want, I was kinda just mimicking everyone else.
no subject
She follows along with Darin's lead with considerably stiffer, uncertain steps, but she gradually eases up. The brush of his leg against her skirt tells her precisely where his feet will land and she has plenty of time to move her own out of the way. Nowhere near graceful, but it's passable. ]
Oh...I didn't really notice your hand. It's fine.
no subject
[A thought occurs to him in this moment. Maybe she's worried about people looking at her? After all, Darin is used to getting weird looks because of his hair color. Maybe she's worried people are judging her because their hair color is so similar to one another. And while there's plenty of people here from other worlds with outlandish traits...maybe certain stigmas carry across worlds?]
[This is a lot of thinking for him and not nearly enough acting.]
[So, if she's not at all worried about where his hand is placed, he decides to go for broke. He sweeps her around, picking her up and then dipping her in an exaggerated flourish that does not match with the music at all. A move that's sure to get people staring at him.]
Hey, loosen up! Don't worry about making any mistakes and getting weird looks. If you do, I'll just make a bigger one intentionally to get people to look weird at me instead.
[It doesn't help when they're together so that looks fall on both of them so he maybe didn't think that through. But hey, the sentiment is there?]
no subject
Is he trying to embarrass her?! He's drawing so much attention to the pair of them with this outburst. Worse still that his face is so close when she's upright again. How is he so close?! ...a-ah...right, dancing... ]
I-I'm...I'm plenty loosened up...I'm getting the hang of it!!
no subject
You're sure my hands aren't an issue? They probably feel pretty rough.
no subject
[ Making her say such a thing. She can tell her cheeks are red all over again! ]