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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.
A
Oh? That's pretty cute.
I've heard that talking to flowers helps out, but I didn't think people took it quite so conversational.
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Ah- well, n-not normally, no. I'm, uh. It's kind of a special case? Something I'm used to from home. Between the feeling I get from it and the color, I just, well... it felt right. Like having a crowd here to offer me support when I'm really not sure what I'm in for.
[As she speaks, it sounds a little less like she's winging it and more like her actual feelings. Still kinda sketch though, and she still seems a little jittery.]
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[that's a girl in a karate gi. best start believin' in animes, little girl, you're in one.]
I was on the way to see what catches my eye, here, too.
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Thanks, I think? I don't know that I've heard any secrets to keep of yours, but I've got your back if I do. [Ena lets out a breath.] There's a lot to see, but definitely try to find your garden. It's... it tells you about yourself, but it's also kind of reassuring? Grounding, maybe?
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[... She closes her eyes, feels the faint tug of her bond.]
Do you think it works the other way, too? That people can understand you better if they see it?
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I don't know, does looking at this tell you anything about me, other than that I talk to flowers like they're crowds that came out to see me perform?
[The flowerbed certainly doesn't seem that impressive, a small assortment of gray, pink, and purple flowers framing and supporting a few roses, a small hydrangea and geranium, and the one larger forget-me-not in the center. The lot look like they've seen better days, but not for lack of care; the garden is watered and there are no weeds. They just seem like they've had to weather a storm or six. But they might have come out the other side stronger for all that.]
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I don't know... Who... Exactly, but...
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Something in her chest pulses, as if in happy agreement, and she glances down at the garden again. At the forget-me-not she's linked to, somehow, some way.
Magic is bullshit-] Magic is bullshit.
[Ena covers her mouth belatedly, but the damage is done, and it seems a little half-hearted.]
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[It would, in fact, make things so much easier on everyone back home!]
But I guess turnabout's fair play, I could show you the way to mine.
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[The day Miku shows up here is the day Ena has to do a lot of really fast talking. Unless it isn't Niigo's, then her brain will just break.]
Don't feel obligated. I mean, if you want to show me, I'd like to see it, but you don't have to just because I showed you mine.
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[Famous last words, Akane.]
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[Still, she's heading that way, regardless.]
[And oh, no.]
[What is THIS.]
[Why are there thorns everywhere.]
[why are there brambles.]
[What's with the chrysanthemums?]
[Is that a wild rose?]
[Somewhere in there is a hyacinth, presumably????]
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...yeah. If you hadn't invited me over to look, you'd probably never let anyone willingly see this. This tells me you don't let people in right away. You have a cute, fun side to you and you're happy to show that, but when you do things, you expect them to be a certain way, and most people are... not that way, and get in the way. So- walls. Sharp, pointy, obstinate walls, that persistence will eventually get someone through, but they might get a little scratched up first. There is a soft side in there, but you've gotta get through the pointy bits to earn the right to see it.
[She glances back up.] Am I in the right general direction?
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[God damn what a MURDER. Read for absolute filth on sight of her plot.]
Well, people can come see it anyway, right? I can't exactly stop people.
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But you're right. Anyone could see this. But if they didn't know you, hadn't talked to you, what does this tell them? It's hard to even see the flower in the middle. If they're not looking for it, they might not even try, or they might think the wild rose is it, in which case they're shallow and not trying to understand you anyway. The five-second read is "unapproachable", which is super wrong, you're friendly, you just don't like dealing with people that aren't paying attention.
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Okay that's a lot closer. There's also... Some history as to why I tend to be eager to be a prickly little miss, but if I were to tell that story in full I'd be here all week.
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[Ena grins.] I'll tell you as much of mine as I can... file the serial numbers off of, too. Some of it's not entirely mine to tell, but it's made me who I am.
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[BOY DOES SHE.]
Though to make my own long story extremely short: when you're both martial artists, fights can get... loud, and my family was never the best at communication.
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Yeah, I can imagine that getting nasty and making it hard to make yourself understood.
Oh, but if we're swapping short versions: my asshole dad convinced me I couldn't make it as an artist, so I joined a music circle as the artist and we put out singles once or twice a month. And sometimes I sing and dance with the circle and a few split off bits of a friend's personality in another world?
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But uh.
Split-off bits...?
[This already has the sound of an incredible level of context.]
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The friend I'm talking about is under a lot of stress, and has been for a while. It kind of... hit a breaking point after a certain incident, about two and a half, almost three years ago? And she somehow made another world, and a person in it named Miku that's supposed to represent... well, I haven't figured out her deal. The other ones are easier. Anyway, that was before I met her. Since then, every so often when something super stressful happens to her or us, suddenly there's another one. There are... six now? There hasn't been a new one in a while, so I'm hoping there won't be any more, and that might mean she's getting better. But I probably shouldn't be holding my breath.
[She sighs, shaking her head; she really does sound worried about her friend, but she's visibly setting that aside because it doesn't exactly matter in this garden outside time.]
Right, uh. After we put out new songs, we have a wrap party that usually ends in us going to the other world for a bit, and we'll usually sing one of our songs - usually the new one, but not always - and we'll just... feel choreography coming on? It's super weird, but it feels good, and it's really good for decompressing. And one of the people in that world will usually sing and dance with us.
[...she very carefully doesn't mention it's usually the one that was in the song, because K was using their Virtual Singer software to make the song...]
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[She's seeing the shape of it, at least?]
Like in a musical?
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[Still, she nods along and they start walking.]
What's the genre K works in?
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