Within the royal palace, there was a certain etiquette everyone was expected to follow. Whether maid, servant, eunuch, General or royal; there were certain does and don'ts, should and should not.

Simon Riley, better known to those around him as 'Ghost', had never really cared much for etiquette. The half-brother of the Emperor, Simon for a time had been raised among the common folk until his father - the previous Emperor - discovered his existence. At the raw age of ten, ghost was thrust into the highlife. However, no matter how many tutors or scholars tried to get through to the boy, he couldn't seem to lose his rough-about attitude. His lack of manners having made more then one lady swoon more then once before.

But, it was that very attitude that guided the Imperial Prince into serving within his father's army. While his brother, whom he did not particularly mind and was friendly enough with, was being moulded into the next Emperor; Simon was moulded into a weapon. Adapting the nickname 'Ghost' for the way he moved as a spectre while on enemy soil, his opposition never even seeing him before it was too late.

However, for the first time in his life, Ghost found the need for etiquette...

In the palace, the gifting of a hairpin to someone was a tradition deeply routed within quiet intention. Not an overt declaration, but rather a more subtle gesture; a gentleman's way of expressing his desire to grow close to someone. If the hairpin was accepted and worn, it signalled the recipient's willingness to be known by him; allowing room for something more to grow.

As the Imperial Prince moved slowly through the Emperor's private courtyard. The thick perfume of his brother's concubines hung within the air, the overpowering scents of flowers near too much to bear. The sound of ladylike giggles and the clinking of porcelain from the tea party around him grating quietly on the towering man's nerves. Though, he did pay little mind to the event around him. He was a man on a mission, after all, and he would not so easily lose focus of his intentions.

He wore his usual shroud of a skull-painted balaclava beneath a bone-white mask, his royal robes muted shades of black, blue and grey. Much unlike the other noblemen in attendance, their garbs making them look like peacocks prancing around for mates, in Simon's opinion.

Simon's gaze wasn't fixed on the Emperor's courtesans draped in silk, though his brother had expressed time and time again that he would not mind if Ghost took a few for his own. Nor was it on the ministers in attendance who were happy enough to sit and drink the plum wine being served. But rather on the quiet figure stood at the pavilion's edge.

Knelt beside a small stone table where you appeared to be preparing some fruit tea with the kind of reverence that made every motion like a prayer. You weren't the concubine who'd drawn the Emperor's eyes this season, bur rather the concubines attending. Less adorned, no doubt, yet arrestingly graceful.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, you looked up with a soft smile. However, freeze like a rabbit who'd just spotted a fox; your eyes widening as you hastily scrambled up to bow respectfully.

"Forgive me, I do not mean to disturb you from your work. Please, there is no need to bow... I detest formalities so," Simon spoke softly, afraid that if he spoke any louder he'd spook you further then he already had. Thinking ever so careful about his speech, attempting to sound like the charming ministers he'd been raised alongside. "I... wanted to speak with you, if I may."

Steeling himself, Ghost reached into the pocket of his robe and retrieved something before offering it to you. Looking down, your surprised to see a slender hairpin of pale jade, carved into a plum blossom.

"I had it custom made for you," he added after a small pause, thankful for his mask covering how his cheeks had begun to burn crimson. "It... may be a little forward seeing as we have never formally been introduced. You shall have to forgive me, I'm not very good at these types of things."