The king decides to raise the taxes on French citizens.
I mean, who would've seen a revolution coming? It was a sensible solution and now you're in line, about to get your head sliced by the quick death of a guillotine. Well, somebody told you that you'd love a few more seconds decapitated, but you don't want to think about that now.
But you and your spouse are saved mysteriously. Not only is it your duty to stay undercover in your own country, but now you must undo the damage done on your Homeland.
You can be the King or Queen!
(I know we’re already in one together but may I join? If not and you want someone new I completely understand)
(no that's fine! I like your rp style anyway!)
(Sweet! Thank you! Could I be the queen?)
Yes!
Name:
Age:
Appearance:
Personality:
Other;
Thanks!
Name: Charlotte-Fey de Bonheur (surname can be changed but it means “good luck”and the irony is beautiful 👌)
Age: 23(? I can change it if you need)
Appearance: Dark brown hair usually kept in fancy braids or an extravagant bun, diamond shaped face down to a soft chin, face always patted in white powder to cover any imperfections (mostly her freckles around her nose and cheeks, and a birthmark beside her lip), dark red lipstick, she has a bit of excess weight on her from eating so well with little exercise but a corset and elaborate dresses usually hide that for the ever desired skinny waist
Personality: Despite seeming quiet to most of the people she meets, she likes interacting in large crowds and parties. She takes part in the designs of her own immodest dresses for immodest get-togethers in the ballroom. Outside of interacting with the high court and nobles, she “wastes time” playing the harpsichord and singing, albeit very badly. Her harpsichord is better than her voice
Other; “voted” most likely to spend wayy too much money
Name: King Peter de Bonheur
Age: 25
Appearance: a clean shaven man with very rich black hair and blue eyes. He still looks like a teenager, perhaps from his beardlessness or the fact that he stands at a pitiful 5'6. Peter has a Roman nose that is considered unsightly for the French, as they love inward-sloped button noses. His lips are thin, his jawline is adeuqate. Overall, the King is not a very impressive man.
Personality: Peter struggles to be a good leader for France. His father died when Peter was very young, so his grasp on leadership, to say the least, is very weak. He barely knows the ins and outs of economics or math, as he spends most of his time in the humanities like poetry and painting. For the most part, his advisor is the one running the country.
Other; Self conscious about his height. Because of his appearance, most officials don't take him seriously.
(Awesome, I like him
Should we start before the uprising or after?)
I say before, establish their characters a little. We could start with their courting/romance to flesh out their relationship, then skip or steadily work towards the revolts?
At fifteen, Peter knew about girls. He knew about them. How to act, how to bow. How to kiss their hands and give them a false sense of royalty. How to dance and keep himself distant, because he knew, just like every other royalty, his love life was a deliberate, ineffable plan.
He brushed black hair off his eyes. He looked sad at himself. Born with a slight downward slant in his eyes, Peter always looked tired, disappointed. He wondered if that made him unapproachable. And this was an especially worrying point, for today: he was meeting his courtee, Ms. Fey. Everything comes down to this one interaction, it will dictate either a life of happiness or one of drawn out, endless, lifeless loveless bondage.
Even as a thirteen year old girl, Charolette loved the magic of parties. She didn’t care about boys so much as how they bowed to her like she was the queen of France and not just a princess. She would curtsy back to them and marvel at their decorated suits, “Good evening,” she spoke to each of them in her poised accent, just as she had practiced with her mother.
Charolette blushed as one of them kissed her hand. He was elaborately dressed in a blue tailcoat and wig. He was much older than her, maybe in his early twenties, but that didn’t stop her from admiring his dress.
Peter left the safe confines of his room. He would much prefer to stay there, comfortably shelled from the rest of the world. But choice was a commodity. He was just grateful the ball was in the castle, so the walk would not be far.
After a few hours, Charolette grew bored of the same sight. She glanced around the ballroom to examine the ceiling. She began to wander further from the bland chatter of adults, eventually finding herself in a hallway. She could hear the music from the ballroom, but curiosity pushed her down the hallway. She squinted at all the portraits, sometimes trying to reach and touch their golden frames.
"Hello?" A voice called at her from far down the hall, the son of the widowed queen.
Charolette froze and turned her head down to the voice, “Ah shit..” she breathed, “I’m sorry sir, I was just looking.” She didn’t recognize him as the prince, at least not yet. She lowered her arms to rest over her skirt, which was adequately puffed by panniers.
He pursed his lips briefly. "It's, okay. Party too much for you?" He guessed, staying at his comfortable distance.
“No, not really. It was quite nice, actually. It became too bland for my taste, all the adults were talking and not paying attention to me.” She pulled her lips into a snarky smile, a smirk, “What about you?”
"I'm not a fan.. of.. parties," he replied.
“Ah, well, I am.” She genuinely smiled now as she looked back up at one of the portraits, “Who’s this?”
"My father," Peter replied blandly, shifting his lips. "He's passed,"
“Oh…,” Charolette quieted for a few seconds “I’m sorry about that. What’s your name?” She began walking towards him.
"Peter," he answered quietly. "Yours?"
“Charolette-Fey. But most of the people I’m close to call me Lotty,” she replied.
"Ohh," Anxiety spread across his expression, he almost looked faint. "Bon, bonjour, Charlotte, sorry, my, mother has spoken much of you." He stammered.
