[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/UTPkRs4.png[/img] [color=#758173][H1]Mina Blackwood[/H1][/color][/center] [color=#758173]Time:[/color] Evening [color=#758173]Location:[/color] Banquet Hall [color=#758173]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/fhncIJ0.jpeg]Dress & Hair[/url] [color=#758173]Interaction:[/color] [@Helo] Callum/Clarence, [@ReusableSword] Roman, [@FunnyGuy] Alexander/Lorenzo, [@Tpartywithzombi] Violet, [@SilverPaw] Wulfric, [@princess] King Edin & Queen Alibeth, Calbert, [@Apex Sunburn] Iyen [color=#758173]Mentions:[/color] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/BCGMDwO.png[/img][/center] Mina’s fingers stilled on the stem of her wine glass, her expression smoothing into a mask of pleasant civility. But the burn that crawled up her spine was unmistakable–slow, deliberate, furious. Edin’s words weren’t just condescending; they were a performance. A public warning, thinly veiled in power and patronizing charm and the way his eyes lingered on her, like she were meat on the banquet table rather than a noblewoman in her own right, sent a sick chill beneath her skin. She didn’t speak right away. That alone was her first act of defiance. And then, she smiled. Not sweetly. Not coyly. Something far more dangerous. [color=#758173]“Of course, Your Majesty,”[/color] she said, her voice velvet-draped steel, [color=#758173]“and I thank you for the clarity. It’s always helpful to know precisely what’s expected of a woman.”[/color] Her eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should have on his goblet–the weight of it, the way his fingers wrapped around the stem–and then they slid to Queen Alibeth with the same measured grace. [color=#758173]“I imagine the burden is all the heavier when a woman must carry the crown… and the kingdom that comes with it.”[/color] She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she raised her own glass. Not in toast, but in perfect mimicry of Edin’s earlier motion. And drank. Then Mina’s hand stilled on her wine glass, the glint in her eyes dimming as Roman’s words sank in. The easy charm, the mocking turn of phrase–“a gentle caress out of passion”--soured on her tongue like curdled cream. She knew Roman. Or at least, she thought she had. But this? This flippant cruelty, this public smearing of Violet under the guise of jest, felt wrong. Not just unkind…[i]unnatural[/i]. It carried the same off-kilter polish she’d seen earlier in Prince Callum. Too smooth. Too controlled. Like something [i]else[/i] was steering the man beneath the skin. Her gaze flicked between the two of them, a chill blooming at the base of her spine. [color=#758173][i]No, not men. Puppets.[/i][/color] And something about the way Roman looked at her, how he lumped her in with the “pleasures” and “rumors” like she was part of the theater, made her stomach turn. Her jaw tensed, lips pressing into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. If this was a game, she wasn’t sure what side Roman was playing for. But she wouldn’t call him out. Not yet. Not here. Because if she was right–if something [i]inhuman[/i] was at work—then Violet wasn’t the only one at risk of being burned. She sat in poised silence, but her eyes followed every word that passed between Calbert and Violet like a hawk tracking a storm on the horizon. In her observations of others when visiting Caesonia, she had always known Violet to be composed, delicate but sharp…But this? This was something else entirely. Watching her unravel, just enough to reveal the bruised heart beneath, stirred something in Mina that felt dangerously close to guilt. The glance Violet cast her way, full of quiet accusation wrapped in irony, didn’t go unnoticed either. And perhaps it stung more than it should have. Her fingers brushed the rim of her glass again, thoughtful now, nervous. It was like a shadow had passed behind Roman’s eyes, the same unsettling shift she’d glimpsed earlier in Prince Callum. Not identical, no, but eerily adjacent. A false composure, like something else was holding the reins too tightly. Mina wasn’t one to chase specters, they often chased her, but it wasn’t paranoia if the pattern began to repeat. Her pulse ticked under her skin as she quietly replayed the glances, the words, the cracks in the mask. What if it wasn’t just Roman? What if whatever was hollowing him out had touched Callum too? What if it was coordinated? And gods help them… what if they weren’t the only ones? Mina flinched as Violet stood, her hand trembling in the air, fury dissolving into devastation. The sight cut deeper than she expected. It had only been days since she had put someone else in Violet’s position. She’d watched Munir’s heart break in real time when she betrayed him with carefully chosen words, thinking she was protecting him. The sting of that choice hadn’t faded; it clung to her like ash, smoldering. Watching Violet unravel now wasn’t just painful, it was a mirror. One she hadn’t been ready to face. Her jaw tightened, the wine in her glass sloshing from the force of her grip. She set it down carefully, deliberately, but her fingers trembled as they left the stem. Violet’s heartbreak wasn’t hers to claim, but the familiarity of it made Mina’s stomach twist. And then there was Roman. Sitting there. Unbothered. Watching the girl stumble away in ruin while he picked apart dessert like it was any other evening. Something cracked. Without a word, she leaned toward him, her hand snapping out to grip his forearm–not gently, not playfully, but with force. Her voice was low, sharp as a blade but threaded with something fragile beneath, using Lorenzo’s distraction to her advantage. [color=#758173]“We need to talk.”[/color] Her eyes, usually warm and teasing, burned cold. [color=#758173]“Now.”[/color] She scooted her chair out some and tugged on his arm, not rising unless he decided to indulge her. Meanwhile, Count Sebastian Blackwood had, for a moment, entirely forgotten that anyone had spoken to him at all. His wine glass hovered just inches from his lips, untouched, as his eyes tracked the escalating drama across the table–Calbert’s icy words, Violet’s trembling devastation, Cassius’ volcanic fury, and Roman’s increasingly disturbing composure. It was chaos. Refined, dangerous chaos. For a long, stretched beat, Sebastian simply watched it unfold with the strained poise of a man who had once hoped this evening would be uneventful. Then, belatedly, his brow furrowed as something tugged at the back of his mind. A voice. A question. Earlier, Iyen had posed a question to him, one that had piqued his interest. However, the ensuing drama had diverted his attention. Now, as he turned to respond, he noticed Iyen engaged in animated conversation. A striking redhead now had her full attention, their interaction looking far more engaging than whatever polite diplomacy he might’ve offered. Realizing the moment had passed, Sebastian offered a faint, self-deprecating smile and returned his gaze to the table. He reached for his goblet, swirling the wine absentmindedly, the rich liquid catching the ambient light. The once-inviting banquet now felt distant, as if he were a solitary figure amidst a sea of revelry, his thoughts adrift in the undercurrents of courtly intrigue.