Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Potter Kira @Lava Alckon Farim @Rodiak Nahir @Helo Rohit
Mentions: @Tae Kalliope @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Oso Cassius/Milo @CitrusArms Stratya
Attire:Dress, Hair

---

Anastasia’s eyes lit up as Rohit raised his glass in perfect sync with hers, a laugh bubbling up from her lips like champagne. “Oh Rohit, I knew you’d get me!” she chirped, leaning in with affection dancing openly across her face. “And you’re so right. I love everything about the Alidasht. Like, for one?” Her tone shifted to conspiratorial delight, “Sitting here with all of you is like eating candy with my eyeballs. It’s got me feeling a certain kind of way.”

She gave an exaggerated shimmy of her shoulders as if shaking off the excitement, then giggled and dramatically downed another glass of Gods-knew-what.

As Rohit had continued, she gasped. “A party for the poor!” Anastasia repeated with rising excitement, practically bouncing in her seat. “That’s brilliant! You made it sound like the kind of celebration I’d sneak into even if I weren’t invited.”

“A party for the poor....What a… lovely idea.”

"Right, Nahir!? For real!" Reaching out with a grin, she gave Rohit’s arm a playful tap with her fingertips.“You're literally the smartest person I've met today. And I am absolutely stealing that idea—and if you don’t come help me host it, I swear I’ll pee on the floor right here and now.”

She gave a tiny mock-scowl, lips twitching as she tried (and failed) to keep a straight face. However she ended up smiling again nonetheless as she added more seriously. “Publicity or not, if we make even one person feel special… then we’re doing something right.”

With a soft clink of glass, she raised hers once more in his honor, her voice full of warmth.
“I want it to be the most fun day they’ve ever had!”

Then, from beside her came Farim’s familiar, soothing voice. “Your generosity knows no bounds, Princess. I do agree that it sounds like an enjoyable little adventure to give back to those that give the land and country so much.”

Her gaze flitted to him with a beaming smile, cheeks flushed with excitement and just a hint of intoxication.
“Right, Farim? I can’t believe no one’s done it before. We have so many parties—boring ones at that—and we never bring the party over there!”

She gave a little sigh as if the absurdity of that fact weighed on her, then reached for another sip—and paused mid-motion as Kira’s silken voice slinked into her ears: “...Say the word and you can receive whatever performance of your wish.”

Anastasia froze. Her brows rose with delicious intrigue as she slowly turned her head toward Kira, an amused and thoroughly entertained smile spreading across her lips.

“Oooh, my little vixen?” she purred, her voice dipping into a sultry velvet. She leaned in closer, the candlelight catching the mischief glittering in her eyes.“You should be more careful saying such tantalizing things in a princess’s ear…” She let her voice drop even lower.“And worse still… keeping me curious.”

Her gaze swept over Kira, slow and languid, lips parted just slightly as she tilted her head.
“So tell me, Kira…” she whispered, lashes fluttering ever so subtly, “what kind of performance would you want to give me?”

And then—“We do not give the poor illusions of grandeur... We give them order. Stability... Fear. And in return, they serve the empire. Not dance beneath its gates as if they were kings.”

Anastasia’s expression soured instantly. The flirtation evaporated from her eyes and she grimaced, her gaze sliding to the Grand Vizier with unmasked judgment.

“Do not mistake charity for policy. Nor applause for loyalty... But by all means… plan your feast. Let them twirl in borrowed joy. And when the food runs out… Let us see if they still appreciate it.”

She stared at him deadpan, her eyes slowly blinking as if struggling to comprehend whether she had actually heard him correctly… or if her drink had just cursed her with hallucinations.

The corner of her mouth twitched, and then—like a wine cork popping—she let out a single, incredulous laugh.
She leaned subtly toward Farim, her tone feathery and mock-hushed.

“My Gods, your father sounds dreadfully boring.”

Then she turned toward Hafiz more directly, her head tilting just so, a glint of boldness shining behind her smile. “Tell me, Grand Vizier,” she began sweetly, “have you ever actually been invited to a party… or do you just stand outside of them brooding about how people are enjoying themselves too much?” Perhaps lucky enough for the princess, Hafiz's attention was hyper-focused on something across the room.

Annoyed, he hadn't heard her, she followed his gaze to find Cassius had Milo St.Claire pinned against the wall. She rose up, immediately with furrowed brows, with concern for her friend, then her gaze shifted to the sight of Kalliope on the floor on top of that guy with the boat from the tavern. Captain Sjandehk. She nodded her appreciation of the sight, impressed that Kalliope was getting it on with a Captain. And even better, Kalliope went over to help Cassius. All seemed well in the world once again.

"This is why a bastard will never rise to match one born from dignified blood.”
Anastasia's expression ran cold, and a slow blink followed, her gaze flickering toward the source of the comment, but she said nothing for now. Not yet.

"Good prevails once again." Anastasia mused under her breath as she sat back down and looked at Kira, who had started up talking again. She immediately gave two thumbs up as she beamed at her. "Yeeessss Kiki. Let's bring all the cultures, all the foods, all the languages! Let's spoil them! And I can probably get my girl Captain Stratya to bake with me again." She clasped her hands together with a smile at the thought of her beloved Stratya. And at that moment, Farim seemed to love the idea too, and she returned the knuckle squeeze, grinning excitedly at him.

Farim’s voice danced then beside her ear like a well-aged promise:"I am even willing to part with some coin in order to get this event … how you say … on its legs? On the one condition that I get to hear more of that beautiful cello performance from you, Anastasia.”

Anastasia turned to him with a raised brow, her grin curling wickedly at the edges. “Yes, sir,” she cooed, eyes gleaming. “You help me get this event on its legs and I’ll throw in a private performance just for you...”

For the briefest moment, she held his gaze like it was a dare—then her cheeks puffed full with stifled laughter. Leaning in closer, she dropped her voice to a whisper, barely keeping it together:
“And then you can get me off my legs, if you know what I’m saying…”
She paused just long enough for tension to hang—“Open ‘em for business.”

That was it. The dam burst. Anastasia erupted into a fit of loud laughter that drew eyes from those nearby, her shoulders shaking as she doubled over slightly in her seat.

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Oso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo
Mention: @Tae Kalliope

---

The wine no longer looked like wine.

Charlotte's hand still clutched the stem of the glass, her fingers numb from how tightly she held it, but she didn’t dare let go. It was changing. Red turned to blackened garnet, and then, beneath it, an unnatural hue surfaced...A pale, sickly blue. Like ice. A sudden cold settled in her lungs like frost creeping through cracks in stone. It filled her bones. Her skull. It was the kind of cold that didn’t touch the skin but dug deep and stayed.

And worst of all, it was somehow familiar.

A voice barked near her ear—loud, close, furious: “Stop thrashing!”

She flinched hard, her heart slamming against her ribs, and her head jerked up. Panic rushed to her eyes and she found herself meeting the gaze of Lorenzo, who was looking at her with concern. “Lottie, would you prefer white, instead?”

Charlotte blinked and quickly summoned a smile that was perhaps a touch too polished to be real.“Oh—no, thank you. Truly, I’m quite all right.” Her tone was lilting and wrapped in her usual warmth. Her fingertips grazed the stem of her wineglass with graceful indifference, as if it hadn’t nearly slipped from her trembling hand moments before. She then averted her gaze, and that was certainly a mistake.

Because as her gaze shifted across the table, it collided directly with Alexander Deacon’s. He was already looking at her with a smile from the underworld itself. It stretched too wide, too slow, as though it had been peeled across his face rather than formed by genuine expression. The corners of his mouth didn’t stop where they should have—they climbed a little too high, just enough to make her stomach turn.

And his cold eyes didn’t match the expression at all. They gleamed with a dark, unspoken satisfaction, like he knew something she didn’t. Like he had already won, and was simply waiting for her to realize it.

Charlotte’s breath caught. She tore her gaze away, her brows knitting ever so slightly, as if the gesture alone might hold her together.

“...I’m just dandy.”

The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. Lorenzo hadn’t even asked how she had been doing.

Has Deacon done something to me? The thought came unbidden, quick and sharp as glass. No—I have to stop letting this get to me. Whatever this is… It’s not real.

Her smile faltered slightly, the edges softening into something sadder. If I keep slipping like this... I'm going to be the one embarrassing him this time.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Though the contact was gentle, Charlotte had flinched in her seat and gripped the sides of the chair. She glanced over her shoulder nonetheless, with eyes that shimmered with the weight of her fear, reddened just slightly at the rims.

“Hello, good evening. You are Charlotte, yes? I am Sjan-dehk. We have met before. Sorry to surprise you, but you look…” He trailed off before continuing, “Not very good.” Charlotte’s expression faltered, her lips parting in surprise, but before she could reply, he stumbled over himself to amend the statement. “Sorry. You do look good, in the pretty way. What I mean is, you do not look well. You are…Are you okay?...You drink too much? ...You need…I mean, do you need water or something? Or to go some other place to rest?”

“You’re not dying. You just need to lie still.” The voice was softer than Sjan-dehk’s, and it did not belong to this room, to this moment.

Charlotte hesitated, her smile frozen at the corners, and then she seemed to suddenly animate again, "Ah, hello! I remember you Sjandehk. Last we met, I believe, was over a rather impassioned discussion with cheese." Her eyes sparkled faintly, as though she meant to jest, though there was a touch of weariness behind the warmth. “You're very kind to worry, but I assure you, I’m quite alright. Just a touch lightheaded, nothing more.” She paused then, her expression softening with quiet gratitude, a warmth blooming behind her eyes. There had truly not been many in Caesonia who would have gently checked up on her in such a gentle manner. After a beat, her mind wandered back to when he had also defended her at the beach, and she found herself admiring his consistent thoughtfulness.

With the kind of tender care a grandmother might offer while taking a child’s hand for reassurance, Charlotte reached up and enclosed his hand in both of hers. She offered a small, sincere squeeze as she added, “But truly, it’s very thoughtful of you to check on me.” Her smile lingered, gentle, though her hands retreated and her fingers moved underneath the table to tightly wind themselves in her skirts. “You came all the way from Viserjanta, yes? Tell me—how have you liked it here so far, and what have you gotten up to?”

Sjandehk's company was comforting at the least. Yet despite all the strange things she had been seeing and hearing, her mind was most haunted by the incessant presence of his name. She had made it a few moments now, thanks to the supernatural mishaps, without glancing his way. Charlotte had even told herself it didn’t matter. That she had made peace with it. But strength was slipping through her fingers like water, and in the quiet of waiting for Sjan-dehk’s answer, she let herself turn her gaze.

It was meant to be brief.

But the moment her eyes found Cassius across the room, she couldn't tear her gaze away. He was leaning against a stone column beside Kalliope, their bodies close enough that someone might assume it was flirtation. Kalliope’s posture was easy, a smile ghosting across her lips as she looked up at him. Cassius had one hand braced above her on the wall, his head tipped low as if whispering something only meant for her. From where Charlotte sat, they could have been any beautiful pair in any ballroom across Caesonia.

And then, he looked right at her.

Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world felt unbearably still.

He didn’t smile. Neither did she.

Then, just as quickly, he turned back to Kalliope, offering her a hand.

Charlotte felt something tighten in her chest, a quiet ache that settled beneath her collarbone. She lowered her gaze, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, and folded her hands in her lap to still their trembling. All she could do was try to make herself hope he would go sit somewhere else with her.

---

---

“If you're going to make backhanded compliments, you should put some more power into it… Like when you slapped Violet in the face.” He let the reveal of the information hang for only a second, only allowing time for a quick glance at Violet. “Perhaps using your palm is your strong suit. Careful Mina. If he's bold enough to strike Count Damien’s daughter, I doubt he’d hesitate to do the same to a niece… and to answer your question, Roman. I don't think I’m too good for His Majesty's generosity and food but… I know I am better than someone of your ilk. Enjoy your freedom while you still have it, Lord Ravenwood.”

Roman didn’t miss a beat and couldn’t help but to give a hearty laugh in between bites of food and gulps of wine. It was to him quite humorous to think this ‘advisor’ would already drop the facade after one prod. This did tell him that he wasn’t there for diplomacy, he would have handled it better.

A commotion towards the doors pulled his attention away from Alexander and he couldn’t help but laugh again at the circumstance. He didn’t recognize the girl, but he did recognize the man he had an enlightening conversation with at the arena, Sjan-dehk. This one he would have to reach out to again see how the envoy was received with Eric.

Now it was time to round on the man see how far he could poke him, see just where those sensitive buttons were. He knew just where to start.

Roman gave a polite nod and a smile towards Wulfric and Callumn for their comments, he had to stop himself from taking a second glance at Callum though. He was different in a way he could not question right now, something about his perceived confidence and posture. This he would be sure to bring up to him later at their next secret meeting.

“Their royal highnesses honor us with their words as their wisdom in these games far exceeds our own.” His gaze turning back to Alexander with a glance to Mina and Violet, “Here I was expecting for the two of us to exchange in thinly veiled insults like gentlemen, yet you skip right to accusations.” He took another bite the food really was good and his reactions to every bite said just as much. “Truly though you must try some of these dishes they really are to die for.”

Wiping away crumbs and grease with his napkin from his face, “As for my freedom? I have faith in this great kingdoms' courts that they will be as just and fair as his majesty king Eden Danrose himself.” He continued with his smile and cheerful tone, “Now then onto these accusations, which I might add is an interesting course to take, a real punch to the gut.” Again, he chewed through another bite of food just as carefree as before, perhaps it was misplaced confidence.

He shared a glance at Sebastian at his words but didn’t give the slightest reaction to it other than that acknowledgment. “There is some truth, that I can lose some finesse with my movements when I’ve been drinking, and we were drinking.” He gave Violet a wink as he finished another glass of wine to emphasize his words. “You could say that something meant to be a gentle caress out of passion could have been a bit faster than one would like sometimes, but thus is the effects of the poison we know as alcohol.”

Now to try a different angle, "On the topic of… passion. It’s quite admirable, the devotion you show to your wife. It reminds me of the traditional virtues we hold so dear in our kingdoms. A wife's place, protected and cherished... though one does sometimes wonder if such... zealous protection might inadvertently isolate her from events such as these." Taking yet another bite of his food.

"It's a delicate balance, isn't it, Alexander?" He said with a seemingly thoughtful expression. "Maintaining a virtuous image while enjoying the...” His shifted darted between Violet and Mina for just a moment. “Pleasures life offers. One must be exceedingly careful. Rumors, like wildfire, can spread quickly in court. And sometimes, the most well-intentioned gestures can be... misinterpreted. For your sake, and your wife's reputation, I trust you can navigate these waters with the utmost discretion." He said with a smile unsure of how this would work out but sometimes theatrics and false embellishment could be fun.

It was a mistake to look.

Sjan-dehk knew that. He didn’t even have any reason to look; not a good one, at least. But when Charlotte shifted her gaze, he—despite his better judgement—followed suit, and found his eyes wandering over to a corner of the banquet hall that, up until now, he’d been trying to ignore.

There, Kalliope stood, stunning as ever in that green dress that wrapped so beautifully, so perfectly around her body, and with scarlet tresses flowing over her shoulders like the evening tide. A smile graced her lips, a smirk that was tantalising, teasing, and promising all at once, and so, very enchanting. It complemented her eyes perfectly—bright, verdant eyes that glimmered with a playful, charming brand of mischief. Such a look about her face would’ve certainly brought a smile to Sjan-dehk’s, and warmth to his heart, had it been meant for his eyes.

A shame, then, that it wasn’t.

Rather, it was meant for Cassius’. The man leaned over her, a hand braced against a pillar, and the space between their bodies so close that Sjan-dehk could scarcely think of what it suggested apart from intimacy and affection. A pang clawed at his heart, and it ached as it thumped in his chest, as if his ribs had shrunk around it. Strange discomfort settled uneasily in his gut. He swallowed hard, forcing down a lump that had grown in his throat without him knowing.

He didn’t like any of this. He didn’t like how close Kalliope was with Cassius; he didn’t like the air that was around them, and least of all, he didn’t like how he was acting like such a fool. A total idiot, even. For what reason did he feel all these things? He simply couldn’t understand it.

“So confusing,” he muttered without realising it. Then, he remembered that Charlotte had asked him a few questions. A flush came over his cheeks. He shut his eyes for a moment and coughed into a fist, hoping to mask his earlier disquietude. At the same time, he tried his best to clear his mind.

Truly, he was being an idiot.

“I-I mean, your city, your…Country, it is new to me, still. So it is confusing.” He stood ill-at-ease before her, unsure of what to do with his limbs. After a moment of fidgeting, he simply folded his hands on the small of his back, his posture straight and upright, as if he were giving a report to Lady Adiyan. “But it is nice, from what I see already. Interesting. Different from Viserjanta. In looks and in ways.” Speaking relaxed him by a touch, and he smiled at her. “Still plenty to learn, plenty to discover, but that is the fun part, yes? As for the things I do, I sailed around your waters. The places, they…”

He trailed off, deciding halfway through his words that bringing up his skirmishes on the sea, his battles on land against pirates, and the things he’d seen along the coast, would be a terrible idea. Clearing his throat, he continued simply, “They look like nice places. I will sail more and see more, most likely. To explore and maybe see if I find anything interesting.”

A frown rippled across Sjan-dehk’s face as he pulled up memories of the other things that he’d done. Such as wandering Sorian’s streets, strolling on the beach, tramping through the slums at night, or sneaking into a crooked nobleman’s estate. All with Kalliope. And right now, just thinking of her was like jabbing his heart with a sour, stinging blade. He shook his head slightly.

“And I met people,” he said with a shrug. “And looked around your city. So, I have not done much, yet.”

A brief pause. Then, he nodded to the glass in Charlotte’s hand. “You should not have wine. Water, that is what you need.” Without waiting for a response, he looked around for an empty glass, finding one sitting in front of the empty seat beside Charlotte. He plucked it off the table and reached for a jug of water.

Out of habit, he looked up to check on Iyen. The Sudhrayarn was still sitting where she was, with her back facing him, and her face facing Count Blackwood. As he prepared to fill the glass, however, he also caught sight of Kalliope and Cassius again. She still looked radiant and lovely as ever, her smile still managing to capture Sjan-dehk’s attention from across the room. His shoulders sagged, and a quiet, resigned sigh left his lips, however, when he saw Cassius offer her his hand.

He chewed on his lip for a while, then looked away. Perhaps this was for the best. The two of them looked happy together. It wasn’t as if Sjan-dehk even knew what he wanted, as far as Kalliope was concerned. A whirlwind romance on foreign shores, to be spoken of fondly in years to come? Maybe something more?

What did it matter?

A Jafin like him was like the shifting waves of the open seas, and Kalliope, a flower of the land. To be with her would be to deny his nature. And to be with him, would be to deny her the chance to grow and flourish.

“All upon the waves and beneath the sky have their places,” Sjan-dehk muttered beneath his breath as he filled the glass.

And his place wasn’t with her.

“Such is the Way.” He’d said those words many times before, but never so bitterly.

He returned to Charlotte, along the way dragging the empty chair beside her closer with his foot. “Put your glass down, please,” he said as he sat down. Then, he leaned forward, concern painted across his visage, and touched his fingers against Charlotte’s neck, just beneath her jaw. “No heat. No fever.” He swiped the back of his palm against her forehead, at the same time brushing loose strands of dark hair away from her eyes. “No fever,” he repeated with a smile. “So you are not sick. Only drunk.”

It took a moment for him to realise what he’d just done, and when he did, a crimson flush washed over his cheeks. “S-Sorry!” He blurted out, immediately leaning back. “I, ah, I do that for my sister, when she is not feeling well. To check…Body heat. And you, ah, you remind me of her. A little.” He cleared his throat, then extended the glass of water to her. “A-Anyway, here. Water. You should drink more. Wash the wine away from you, yes? Then, you will be fine.”

Time: Nighttime Sola 28th
Location: Dinner event
Interaction: Roman @ReusableSword Alexander @FunnyGuy Mina @Tae Wulfric @SilverPaw Calbert @Princess
Mentions:



“If you're going to make backhanded compliments, you should put some more power into it… Like when you slapped Violet in the face.”

Violet sat in stillness, the flickering candlelight catching the edge of her wine glass, casting fractured shadows across her porcelain features. The commotion around her was drowned beneath the hum of something far more unsettling. Her name had been spoken. Not once, but many times now by those at the table. Once with that charm-laced cadence that pulled at the softest parts of her, and again with a compliment so perfectly timed, so carefully dressed, that she might’ve blushed had she not already built a fortress beneath her skin building layer by layer as her secrets were laid bare for all the hear.

Her lips parted slightly as if to speak but she stopped herself. Scarlet stirred like an ember roaring into a fire.

A prickle beneath her skin. Not fear, something older. Something colder. Her chest felt hollow and full all at once, like a breath she could never finish taking. Her pulse, throbbed in her neck, not fast, not slow, just there. Reminding. Repeating. Her face sotfening into an eerie calmness.

The memory of his warmth—it flickered. His promises once felt like refuge, like a fire in the dead of winter. Now, they lay curled in ash. Forgotten. Her mind reached for them, grasped, but they slipped—like fog between fingers.

She took and idle sip of wine as the rest stained her lips, a smile that wasn’t hers played at the corner of her mouth. Sharp. Knowing. Tired.

Inside her, Scarlet twisted, coiled. Not a scream. Not a cry. A hum. Low and biter.

The sting on her cheek returned. It was not fresh, but not healed. Just present. A ghost of the flesh.She blinked once, slowly, and saw it all again: the kiss meant for someone else, the crowd, the gallery, the slap.

Trust turned to rot, affection to theater. The man she thought she had love for was a trick of the light just like her reflection in a cracked mirror. Her hands trembled, just slightly, before stilling again.

Why did this moment feel like she was at the stables again? Her face being smothered deep into her truth but would she bite.

Roman’s forked words came again, jabbing at Alexander’s bloodline, his worth.

Pulling from her thoughts, Violets head turned slightly toward Alexander, her eyes watching his hand as it stabbed into the food on his plate. No ring. Curious. Alexander without his ring at such a large gathering with the king here no less. That didn’t seem like a choice. It made sense now. Protective. Angry. Honest. She felt the storm brewing between the two men and the tension curl beneath her ribcage. She wanted to feel angry at his remark about the slap, to feel betrayed that he would air out such a private situation so freely at the table but Alexander only spoke what Violet was too afraid to say outloud.

Alexander had treated her with a harsh hand, that much was true, but she started to see as time continued on that he had kept his word to her.She would have died had he not forced her awake. And yet she was faced another lesson that he attemped to show her. One he had once asked her about, Could she trust Roman. Her answer had always been yes. Until recently.

She set her wine glass down, the sound sharp but not loud.
She turned to Wulfric, who was watching her with that knowing, princely quiet. She tilted her head ever so slightly in acknowledgment as the others at the table awaited her response, to confirm or deny Romans actions.

“I find myself less interested in choosing between the two of them,” she said, calmly addressing the entire table now. “And more interested in understanding why I was ever made to feel I had to.” She responded to Wulfric in an unamused tone.

Her eyes glanced back to Roman as he continued to speak. His words were sharp amongst his laughter, eating as if the words he spoke had no effect on the person who had held him in such high regard.

She felt the burn behind her eyes, her throat closing as her eyes fell from him shutting for just a moment as she attempted to center herself. Her breath caught in her chest as the knife he weilded so freely stabbed her, deep and slow with each word that left his lips. His laughter twisting the blade with ease as her fingers clenched at the fabric of her dress hidden from anyones eyes.

Her scarlet eyes glanced up at him.

Violet didn’t flinch.

Not at Roman’s laughter, nor his smirking glances, nor even the wink he dared toss in her direction like they shared some private joke. The only betrayal more deafening than his words was the ease with which he delivered them. As if the promises he'd once whispered to her were nothing but kindling for his amusement now.

He had said he would start a war for her… to help her find a way from this curse. Instead he strips her naked with his words shaming her in front of everyone while attempting to imply Alexander as a horrible husband to Leanna. Throwing her in the mud was one thing but going after Alexander was another. Scarlets eyes depend with a building flame. She had been wrong, she had been so wrong about everything.

Her fathers words caught her at surprise as she glanced over at him, feeling the warmth of his hand graze hers. “My darling,” he murmured, the gentleness in stark contrast to the storm he had just conjured, “you owe no one here an explanation. Not him. Not this court. If you would like me to handle this, I will. If you would like to speak further, you need not look for permission. Only know…” “…I will stand at your side, no matter what.”

Her chin rose as he finished speaking. “Thank you” she said softly so only he could hear her. “I would like to handle this myself” Scarlet said softly before directing herself to Roman.

Her voice was soft and razor-edged. “You seem to find great satisfaction in feeding yourself, but far more in starving others of dignity Lord Ravenwood.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his—no warmth in them now, no trace of the girl who once fell for his smile. “Insults masked as jest. Compliments given with a cheek still wet from someone else’s kiss.” She let out a gentle laugh as the irony amused her as she glanced for a moment at Mina.

“It’s curious, though. You claim concern for a woman’s reputation…” she tilted her head just slightly, “…while dragging mine so elegantly through the mud. You speak of virtue and passion as if it's something to be mocked—while you, in the same breath, muse aloud about imagined entanglements between a husband and his wife, creating scandal where there was none until you decided to offer false entertainment while gorging yourself with the grace of a street dog.”

Her voice dropped as her eyes narrowed in on him “I am not a tale for you to twist. My reputation is not a game piece on your board for your amusement. I am Lady Violet Damien, and if anyone here has forgotten what that name means…” She leaned forward, just slightly, her voice lowering “…I invite you to continue.”Her sharp crimson eyes pierced at him with an even sharper edge then the blade he so freely twisted into her.

She reached for her glass of wine as swirled it slowly within the glass “If that was your idea of passion, I assure you, your touch left no warmth worth remembering.” her voice cracked under her breath, the small truth of hurt peeking behind her mask that only someone with a keen ear could hear. She lifted the glass to her lips taking a long drawn out sip before setting it down.

”Careful with your wine Lord Ravenwood, we wouldn’t want another moment of passion to slip out…” she said venomously as Scarlet struggled to keep her poise. Her lips curled into a smile as she winked at him with a condescending expression.

Stratya Durmand

Time: 28th Sola, Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Military Formal, in Caesonian colors
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting
Family Dirk + Crest, worn on the right
Swordbreaker, also worn on the right
Interactions: Torvi @Tae, Zarai @Rodiak
Mentions: Iyen @Apex Sunburn, Callum @Helo

The gap in attendance in front of her actually gave her a nice window to hear the discussion surrounding Lord Roman. It wasn’t perfect, she’d have prefered to be closer if she really wanted to listen, but with the closest conversation being the rather quiet pair of ladies two seats down, she didn’t have a lot of auditory interference besides the occasional frequent disturbance. A cough caught her attention, as well, not a casual kind but one that came from, for example, a strong, unexpected alcohol. It was that guard(?) that had entered with - she recognized him now, from the tavern! Aye, aye, she’d seen his name on the list, too. Now that she had the connection to put it to, it all clicked together. Yes, the foreign captain at ol’ Toughy! Right right right.

So, his guard. She’d just gone for a sip of wine, she could see it in her hand, though that was about all she could see. Did she not like the wine? Really? Stratya had a hard time believing the royal selection could be bad, perhaps it was simply not to her tastes? Whatever the case, Stratya saw an opportunity to promote her brother’s business and offer her favorite drink. It helped that her brother made her favorite drink.

Before she could call Garcian over, a voice called her attention.

”You seem like you would be far more interesting company than an empty chair.”

Caught in the middle of a bite of food, the oak of Stratya’s eyes turned to be met with a piercing gold. Certainly, she was more interesting than an empty chair. That would be devastating, otherwise. Before she could finish her mouthful and shuffle over, the woman came to her.

After two years of being a titled busybody, she was finally starting to catch on that she could just relax. The Queen kept telling her to, in so many words, rest on her laurels - just a little - and it was finally starting to click. So, suddenly, the prospect of doing as she pleased and disregarding the strict application of the seating arrangements didn’t seem so daunting. At this point, with the absences so established, it seemed natural.

“And if you are worried about seating arrangements, do not be.”

Her face turned to meet her left hand with her napkin, to dab at her mouth so she might present a clean face. The knight began, “I migh’a been, once,” and she turned to face the woman again, the woman who had come very close, who was leaning down generously. The knight’s cadence slowed, her eyes wandering briefly, “bu’ nae longairr,” her gaze started down the dress - more like she turned into it - traveled up the silver hair, danced briefly around the freckles on her checks, the strength of her brow and jaw, then down her back and over her curves before coming back to her eyes. What stunning eyes.

Was this what high-class flirtation was like? Ooh, the subtlety of it. The woman took a rib off the knight’s plate, and Stratya couldn’t help but watch. The crystal stein of amber to match Torvi’s eyes met the knight’s lips to hide the smile there. Seduced by a rib? Seducing with a rib - it was working, too. Willing to be seduced, the brunette rose to follow the locks of lunar light.

At the same time, Callum rose from his seat. Oh? And, right, that woman still needed a different drink. She motioned for Torvi to give her just one moment, then turned and motioned for her steward to come closer with the same hand. She whispered softly into his ear, pointing out the guard woman, as well as requesting some for her seductress new acquaintances. In that time, she was able to hear much of what Callum said; it helped that they were both standing. That looked like Callum. That voice sounded like Callum, but his words did not. She knew more about him than she actually knew him. Maybe this was some side yet unseen? That struck her as wrong, but she couldn’t say for certain. She couldn’t help but think of how she found him on the ground in the slums, the other night, too.

Orders given, the knight went to take her new seat, when she noticed the shadow hanging out around Torvi’s seat. She gasped slowly, a wide smile of carefully contained excitement curling the noise, “an’ ‘ow did I miss this matchin’ beau’y of a beastie?” She crouched and took a knee for stability, at a respectful distance, before offering her hand, somewhere the large wolf could sniff it without having to move too much. She’d introduce herself thusly, or try to, before seating herself. You shouldn’t push yourself on animals when you first meet them, especially a wolf. Her reflexes were sharp enough that she’d be able to snap her hand back, but she was trying her best to be respectful and make such a consideration unnecessary.

Her mantle was shuffled carefully around her shoulders as Stratya sat again, “my family keeps a pe’ fox, th’ darrlin’. She’s a swee’earr’, she is, named ‘er Zephyrr. Everry tyme I visi’, she trries tae sneak up on me. Sometimes I catch ‘err, sometimes she manages. Sometimes I le’ ‘err, hehe.”

Stratya regaled them, though kept it brief, with a tale of how the fox had been found as a wee kit with nae mama tae be found. “I’d always been taugh’ t’ nae disturb t’ order o’ things. Crrit’ers get ea’en, that’s just ‘ow it is. But, then, the lit’le thing finds me and currls up be’ind me. How d’ya say nae? Not I. It may as well have asked ferr ‘elp.” As she told her story, her hands brought yet more food to her plate, with the occasional bit passing her lips even as she did. A small portion more of those unbelievably tender ribs made it, and Stratya made a point to slow her pace ever so slightly as she kissed the sauce from her fingertips, turning her head to meet her right hand. Her eyes had closed with the motion, and opened again with her gaze aimed for those golden snares as she cleaned the last bit.

Her gaze lingered for a moment, a slight, flirty smile lifting the corners of her mouth as her gaze then turned, sharing her attention across the table - not one to be rude. Her story continued. She had decided to take the fox kit with her, cuddling the little thing in her arms. Her parents had been.. surprised, her mother was less than pleased but her father was interested, and let her keep the critter, after she explained herself. Now, they’ve got a fine member of the family that would even help on hunts.

She took a sip of her mead and sat back with a satisfied sigh, then she looked at the wolf she’d introduced herself to. “T’ two o’ you must ‘ave qui’e t’ interrestin’ tale, aye?” Her eyes flitted over to Zarai, across the table, “aah, but I wouldnae be askin’ ferr a rrepea’, am I?”

This was all so, so very confusing.

When Sjan-dehk had asked Iyen to accompany him to this…Banquet-thing, she’d assumed that it wouldn’t be anything too different from the feasts she was used to. There’d be a lot of eating, a lot of drinking, some drunken fun, a fight, or two, or three, and maybe one or two people thrown out—Sjan-dehk and herself the most likely candidates, she’d thought. But the night would still, ultimately, leave everyone with good stories and fond memories.

And so, the tension that stretched taut through the air, palpable even beneath all the festive veneer, came as an unpleasant surprise.

Really, these Caesonians were almost as bad as the Sejatis, the Vasenyans, the Kawuns, or anyone from the Central Islands. And the only reason Iyen considered the Caesonians to be worse was solely because at least the Central Islanders had the decency to let everyone finish eating before clustering into their little groups to gossip and slander each other amongst themselves. But here? There was no such thing. Eating, chatting, and possibly conspiring all seemed to happen simultaneously.

Iyen’s lips twisted in a frown. Honestly, how was anyone supposed to eat like this? Even though she didn’t understand enough of the language to know what exactly was being said—thankfully—she’d accompanied Lady Adiyan to enough noble-filled events to recognise the tone high-borns liked to use with their stabbing words and pointed, subtle—or not-so-subtle—insults. It didn’t matter the dialect, or language, that irritating tone was always the same.

Well, Iyen supposed that was the case with the nobility. They really were all the same, regardless of where they came from.

She allowed her eyes to wander around the hall. A force of habit, more than anything—a good bodyguard had to always be vigilant for threats, and even though Lady Adiyan wasn’t present tonight, Sjan-dehk was, although if she had to be honest, she was more on the lookout for anyone he might be a threat to.

An impish smirk pulled across her face as she found him with a pale, dark-haired girl, the same one she’d met at that excessively yellow place a few days ago. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine, and Iyen made a mental note to tease Sjan-dehk about it later. Really, it was just too amusing that he, who had never seemed to care much for women, was having such a good run of luck here, on foreign, faraway shores. There was this girl, and then there was that–

Well, think of a person to the Shadowed Green, and so they shall appear.

Iyen’s surreptitiously turned her gaze towards the red-haired woman in green, who walked past Sjan-dehk with feigned nonchalance. The two’s eyes met, and while the Captain’s face was frustratingly hidden from Iyen’s view, the woman’s wasn’t. Something flashed in her eyes. Something Iyen didn’t know, and couldn’t name, but was almost certainly there. She turned away just as the woman took her seat, yet another frown replacing her smirk.

This woman was also so, very confusing.

Sjan-dehk may have believed himself stealthy and quiet, but Iyen had caught snippets of what he’d said to the woman in the hallway. And he’d said many things. Many sweet things. Many kind things. And he’d also made many promises, promises that Iyen had no doubts he’d fulfill, regardless of cost and trouble. And for her part, the woman had seemed receptive to them. She’d seemed vulnerable, and true, and heartfelt with him, and that was why Iyen hadn’t said much when Sjan-dehk had been carrying her. Not as much as she could have, certainly.

But what had the woman done when they’d reached the hall? She’d so insistently, so violently, wormed out of Sjan-dehk’s hold, a hold which she’d asked for in the first place. Iyen had thought it amusing at first, but when the woman had made a quick exit to run off to another man—granted, a friend whom she wanted to help—Iyen’s suspicions were aroused. And when she saw the look on the woman’s face, the positioning of her body, and the shadowed gaze in her eyes, Iyen’s amusement turned to indignation. Had this woman’s protestations simply been because she didn’t want to be seen in such a state by her actual lover?

Well, if that was the case, Iyen wasn’t going to let it slide. Not without getting a word in.

She glanced over her shoulder at the woman, who’d sat down. With a grin on her face, a smile akin to that of a cat about to play with a new toy, Iyen shifted herself to Sjan-dehk’s empty chair. Not before giving the Count a quick farewell—however garbled it may have been—of course. “Kali, is it?” She began, a smile on her lips as she reached for a chunk of hard-crusted bread. “Thought I’d take the chance to talk to you, now that Sjan-dehk’s not here to interrupt us.”

She pulled the chair a little closer, until she could speak just loud enough for Kalliope’s ears. “Tell me,” she went on, tearing the chunk of bread in two, placing part of it on Kalliope’s plate, and taking a bite out of the other. Iyen took her time to chew and swallow before continuing. “Is playing with men’s hearts a hobby of yours, or is Sjan-dehk just that unlucky of a bastard to catch your eye?”

Her smile—wicked, daring, and somewhat angry—never left her face.

Iyen giggled.

It probably wasn’t the smart, or even right, thing to do, but really, what else could she have done? Kalliope was just being so, so adorable, reacting the way she did. She reminded Iyen of a wounded animal, backed into a corner—stung by hurt but trying to hide it, trying to put up a tough face, and all the while lashing out wildly, hoping to score a winning blow.

And so, like a tiger playing with its prey, Iyen decided that she could afford herself a little fun.

“Oh my, my, where do I even begin?” Her voice was melodic, as if those words were lyrics to a song. “Did I hit something sore?” Another tittering laugh, this time accompanied by a teasing, almost mocking, grin. “All I did was ask one simple question, Kali. You didn’t have to spoil me with so many words! Please, allow me some time to give you a proper response, okay?”

She hummed a tune, tapping a finger on her lips as she swept her eyes over the table. A shallow bowl sat in front of her, by a plate piled high with meat—chicken, she assumed. Iyen dipped her finger into the bowl and licked the white granules off of her finger, beaming when she recognised the taste. “Here,” she said to Kalliope as she pulled the bowl over, and grabbed two drumsticks from the plate. One for herself, and one for the red-haired woman. Again, she placed it on her plate.

“Sjan-dehk would hate it if I stabbed you,” Iyen went on to say. “And he’d hate it just as much if I flirted with you, too, and…” She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “To be honest, you’re not my type, anyway. Sorry!”

Sitting back, Iyen gestured to the bowl. “So, here’s your salt.”

She tore a piece from her chunk of bread and popped it into her mouth. “You’re right, I know nothing about you,” she began after chewing and swallowing. Her smile flickered away for a moment. “But you also know nothing about me, isn’t that so? You’ve been through things? You survived things? So have I.”

Salt in her wounds. Water in her lungs. Screams in her ears. The waves, pushing her under. Dark, endless waters, pulling her under. A hand on her head, pushing it towards the sky.

Iyen pushed those memories away.

“So that means we’re on equal ground, isn’t that so?” Her grin returned, and she ripped off another morsel of bread. “And besides, our pasts have nothing to do with any of this, Kali. Well, not our pasts from so long ago, anyway. It’s what I saw just now that concerns me, actually.”

She popped the soft, fluffy chunk of bread into her mouth, savouring its warmth and taste as she pondered about her next words. Provoking Kalliope any further wasn’t going to do her any good. It certainly wouldn’t be any fun—not now, at least. But peace offering, no matter how slight, would be too close to surrendering for Iyen’s liking. She wasn’t going to give ground. Not when she was doing this on behalf of a close friend.

The facts, then.

“Mm…Maybe I should tell you what I saw,” Iyen said at last. Her dark brown, almost black, irises looked up from under long lashes, and met Kalliope’s bright, leafy green eyes. “Or maybe, what I heard. What I saw and heard, that’d be better, wouldn’t it?” She giggled again. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I’m not making this easy for you, am I? I’ll get started now, okay, so listen!”

She cleared her throat before continuing. “What I saw, was a woman who seemed to be so, so sweet with Sjan-dehk. And what I saw from him, was him being the biggest idiot I’ve ever seen him be in all my years of knowing him. Do you think he’d say such things to just anyone?” The pause that followed was filled with tension, as Iyen intended. “I heard what the two of you said to each other. Parts of it, anyway. It was really sweet stuff, by the way. And I saw how you looked at him, and how he looked at you, and how you looked like you were enjoying yourself in his arms. Which, by the way, he’s never carried me that way. I’ve always just been a sack of rice to him.”

She let out a short laugh at that thought. There had been no bitterness in her words, and no malice; only a casualness that one might expect from someone sharing a story over drinks. “But oh my, what a surprise it was when we got here! I honestly thought he’d touched you somewhere he shouldn’t, with how much you were struggling. It was like you just couldn’t wait to get away!” Her grin turned into a smirk, and it widened into a wicked look. “To get away to find someone else, I might add. Someone whom you seem to be very, very attracted to.”

Leaning back, Iyen turned her eyes up to the ceiling and tapped a finger on her chin. “That really confused me, to be very honest! All this while, I thought that you might actually like Sjan-dehk, but now what am I to think?” She looked at Kalliope. “You can tell me about all the hurt looks you’ve given him, how you feel so, so much pain, and that you really, really care for him, more than I do.” The laugh that followed was almost derisive, with how sardonic it was.

“But,” Iyen continued. “I find it hard to believe when you don’t seem to have thought about how he feels at all, Kali. Or perhaps you were far too distracted by your other man, hm? Or maybe you’re hurt because he seems to have found another lady?” She nodded to Sjan-dehk, behind Kalliope, and the girl he was talking to. Without waiting for Kalliope to react, Iyen rolled her eyes and continued. “Don’t worry. I’ll play nice and tell you right now that he’s got no intentions with her. He never does.”

However, she couldn’t help but add. “Not yet, at least. Who knows the future?”

She chuckled and turned away from Kali at last, to face the table. “I don’t think you’re a villain, by the way, so let’s not be too dramatic. And I’m not threatening you, either. If I were, you’d know it. I’d make sure that you did.” She paused to pick up her glass and take a sip. “But I am telling you. Don’t play with Sjan-dehk’s heart. Be serious about him, or not at all. Otherwise, I’ll be really, really upset.”