The Nation of Saverilla Crest ~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~ The Abbilati Crest
The breeze was soft on her face, gently brushing across her skin, stroking it, cooling the small sunburn that she had received after falling asleep in the sun the day before. It was quite noticeable in her normally-pale skin, with her bright green hair only intensifying it.
Atonia sat atop the large, beaten-down old building that was once an apartment complex for several families. Not that it still wasn't; people still lived in the building. The environment was terrible, but it was a home, and a home it would remain.
Despite her upbringings, she respected the people that had less then she had growing up. As she sat, munching on an apple she had stolen from the basket of a rich man's maid, she mulled over her thoughts.
Yes, she was, indeed, a princess. But she did not feel like one. Instead, she felt as though she were a common thief at that moment in time. She had been traveling throughout the nations for several years now, learning the customs of the people of the nations she would one day be conversing with. She had been living among the middle class and poor people, and had often gone without to learn of their ways, to live as they did.
However, one month, two weeks, and four days earlier, she had received a letter via pigeon from her parents, the current rulers of the Nation of Saverilla. It stated that they wished for an audience with her, to which she agreed. It was not as though she and her parents did not get along; in fact, she adored seeing them. She only wished that they would respect the choices she made, respect her choices for her life. She understood why they were as protective as they had always been, but it could become a bit stifling at times.
Atonia bit the remainder of her apple and flicked it over the edge of the building, leaving it for the birds and other animals that would pick at the remains. She supposed it was time for her to drop in on the small group of men below her, who were no doubt the other competitors she would be joining for the tournament that was to come in only a few weeks time. She took a few moments to go over the meeting with her parents, though, and stretched out her legs before her, crossing then at the ankles.
They had welcomed her with open arms, and she had stayed in the kingdom for one week, to visit with her family and have some time to relax. Two days after she had arrived, her parents and the Council of Saverilla had held a meeting, in which she was to attend. She was then informed that she had been chosen to represent Saverilla in the tournament. She had heard rumors of the battle that would occur, but had not once thought that she would be the one chosen to fight for her Nation. She never once thought that her parents would have allowed it. But the Council's decision had always outweighed the King and Queen when it came to the protection of the kingdom, so they truly had no choice in it what-so-ever.
Finally, Atonia slid down the roof and to the edge, where she balanced perfectly. A church was beside the building, which then led to the docks, leaving a small road in between the two. The gathered men were standing before a statue of the Progeniter and had now surpassed introductions. She had been informed that, of the seven nations, she was the only girl, aside for one. Having traveled through each nation, she recognized the attire of each man in accordance to where they were from.
She flipped from the side of the building and atop the statue of the Progeniter - for she had never truly believed in him - and easily slid down his arm. The people that saw gasped and called further attention where she now was perched in the crook of his elbow, her derriere fitting perfectly into it. "Well, hello down there," she called cheerfully to the people staring in disgust and shock up at her. She swung her legs slowly back and forth, the white cape that was attached to her white, skin-tight clothes flowing with her movement. "What a fine day it is indeed, Perialis!" she cheered in agreement. She placed her hands on the statue's arms beside her and flipped lithely from it, dropping the several feet and landing without a problem in the middle of the small circle of men. She turned around and held a finger up in front of a poorly-dressed man and smiled. "You are from Tavaro, and," she turned to the remaining one, the one clad in heavy armor, " And you are from Luther," she stated confidently, stepping back and out of the circle as she did so. She straightened her outfit, crossed one arm behind her back, and one across her stomach, just above her hips, and then proceeded to bow. "Atonia Abbilati, Princess of Saverilla, at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you all," she smiled as she straightened and faced them. She turned to 'Perialis'. "I have actually been here for awhile. We'll all be taking that ship," she said, pointing to a medium-sized boat that sat in the water. "It will no doubt be a tad cramped, but we'll have to deal," she shrugged.