Time: Evening
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interactions:@Lava Alckon Farim @Silverpaw Wulfric
Mentions: @Helo Callum @Oso Cassius
Attire:Dress, Hair

---

“If you bully my sweet little brother again—THEN I WILL NOT BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!”

”That will teach him - friendship status with a princess like yourself is a rather huge deal, no?”

Anastasia paused, eyes narrowing with a pout that could rival a stormcloud. “Exactly! Not because I'm a princess—just a cutie like me.” She shook her head. “Tragic.”

Farim gently tugged at Anastasia’s sleeve with a friendly grin. ”Perhaps he is having issues at home and this is the cause of his outburst? It is written plain as day along his face the man seems to be going through some things. But may I also share something with you?”

She was thoughtful for a moment, then she smiled and agreed. “Perhaps. She sighed, shoulders dropping. “I probably won't remember that happening in an hour anyway. Hope he feels better then.”

Then she leaned in a little, curious despite herself. “Okay, what? What are you gonna share? Is it juicy? Is it scandalous?” Her eyes sparkled.

”I do not know how to say this properly - but whatever it is that is standing there, it does not appear to be your brother. His flesh, yes. His clothes, yes. Even his face, yes. But there is something sinister about his demeanor - call it a hunch but I would like your opinion on this. Is that really your brother? You may answer later, I shall cover this with another question to make everyone less….suspicious?”

Anastasia's brows knit together as she took that in, her heart fluttering as she eyed her younger brother. Why wouldn't that be my brother? Oh... Is he talking about magic? Callum did show me his magic... Maybe something went wrong.

Her gaze lingered on Callum, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sleeve. “You’re not wrong. He’s... different tonight.”

”Sorry - such gruesome details of Alidasht court are not my favorite thing to discuss. But now that you know how we have typically handled such outbursts in the past. How is it your royalty deals with such moments? Aside from the Queen brandishing blade and threat - will there be more to come of this or shall this be swept under the rug?”

She scrunched her nose. “Mmm… Well, mother usually pushes father to do something if things get really bad. But honestly?” She lowered her voice a bit, glancing around. “He only steps in when it personally annoys him. So unless someone throws wine at his face, it’s usually just... ignored.”

She paused, then added with a slight shrug, “I guess we’re more of a ‘sweep it under the royal rug and pretend it’s fine’ kind of family.”

Anastasia’s brows furrowed deeper as she continued watching Callum. Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Suddenly, she rose up. “I just gotta go talk to him—he’s my baby brother, Farim.” Her voice came out soft, teetering between tipsy and achingly sincere. “Even if he’s all grown and tall and moody now. He used to fall asleep with jam on his cheeks.”

She moved to step forward, instinctively reaching for him—only to pause. Her heart gave a soft, confused thud. Callum was leaving! She hadn’t even seen when he got up, but there he went, fading out of the room like smoke through fingers. Her hand lingered in the air, reaching for someone no longer there.

“...Fuck, he left.”

A few seconds passed before she straightened with a breath and turned toward Farim. “Okay. Plan B. I’m going to talk to Wulfric.” She gave him a half-smile. “You can come if you want. Wulfy always knows what to do, and it's fun when he pretends he’s not happy to see me.”

She didn’t wait for confirmation, and Anastasia then made her way across the room and quietly slid into the chair beside Wulfric—the seat Callum had been in before.

She tilted her head toward her eldest brother, her smile small but genuine.

“Hi, Wulfy,” she greeted. “How are you doing over here?”

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, Matthias @Rodiak, Hafiz @princess, Nadim @JJ Doe
Mentions: Zarai, Callum @Helo, Morrigan

Gideon had, in his gentle way, told her to mind her own business. Stratya had let silence reign in her response. She didn’t really feel like hollering down the table any further, anyway. She could possibly say something about receiving guests with sweet and not sour, but, ah. There was enough shouting going on.

The center table had tempers rising rapidly. She couldn’t hear Roman well. His voice carried, but it was muffled because he was facing away from her. The rest of the conversation told her plenty enough. In particular, Cassius Damian had some very daring things to say.

He swung wildly with his words. Where she had been cautious and poked at Victoria from afar with a lance, this man came in with a great double axe, all wide swings and fury. The person behind him was all he cared about, get out of his way or fall. Admirable, on a certain level, but she couldn’t help but-

The Queen rose to her feet, violence in her stance. This drew all of Stratya’s attention.

”_{Aw, shite.}”

Suddenly, she was ready to spring to her feet, possibly vault the table. There were two empty seats on the other side, plenty of clearance between. She’d prefer the Queen not shed blood, especially not on all this delicious food. If anything, she could humiliate this man in a duel. They didn’t need to escalate things.

Two shouts stunned the argument. First, Duke Lorenzo, then, the Princess. The first threw everyone off, and the second cut the tension. Stratya sighed, relieved and drew her chair back into place, “think I’ll ‘ave tae werrk wit’ ‘err on tha’..” though her eyes were still on Cassius Damian. Hadn’t he gotten on rather well with Callum at Drake’s party? They’d seemed to bond over Cassius’s bastard status, not this scorn and spit he was spouting, now.

It was a curious thing, as well, to watch Cassius’s fury drain away, like it had melted into nothing. There at one moment, simmered down and then lost the next. That was something that took mental training. The broad swings he’d been taking earlier spoke against such discipline. She’d been confident he had enough to not start a fight here, but.. had that earlier disturbance been him, as well? Behind her, among the columns. She hadn’t seen.

And now Charlotte Vikena appears? The Captain’s eyes darted to the king and then looked away again with a grimace. There was that same disgusting manner he’d regarded her with, that she’d tried so hard to ignore. It made her skin crawl. She had to guess he’d ogled every young woman that came before him today.

Lady Zarai had gotten up. Three empty seats across from her, now, and many more all across the hall. Zarai had said something about water, right?.. was that not water, there?

Her eyes shifted back to Lady Charlotte, for just a moment. She seemed impaired, but not.. drunk. No, Stratya had seen plenty of drunk, before. That was not drunk. That was.. something else. It seemed familiar. Disturbingly so. So many oddities tonight. It couldn’t all be coincidence.

Sir Matthias had appeared while Stratya had been otherwise occupied. Zarai and Torvi had greeted him - if you could call what Zarai gave a “greeting” - and now the Caesonian knight turned to find the Varian knight at his freshly adjusted seating - with cakes! Importantly, she turned just in time to catch Lady Morrigan lean toward Prince Callum, and caught the words on her lips.

If Lady Morrigan was also suspicious of him, then that sealed it.

“So many running. A banquet should not feel like a battlefield. And yet…”

A dry chuckle, a brief glance of camaraderie, “tell me ‘bou’ i’.”

Stratya turned her attention to, “Serr Ma’tias, I ‘ope ye’ve ‘ad a fine evenin’.” She eyed his cakes, as two servants came by with a stein of mead, each. One for Torvi, one for the absent Zarai. Stratya glanced at Matthias, “brring i’ rround, would y’ please.” Looking at the servant, she tilted her head indicatively toward the other knight. She fought the urge to just reach across for it. “Perr’aps I c’n interrest ye in a-”

A crash across the banquet table caught her attention. A dog was on the table. She’d heard grumblings about the Alidasht penchant for animals, but this was the first time Stratya had agreed without reservation. That animal should not be in this hall.

What she did not agree with was striking the beast. Her jaw dropped. That creature, clearly a pet, likely had little say in the conditions of its life. It was cared for and wanted for little, she had to assume, but its circumstances were not its own to control. Therefore, it could not be blamed for its behavior. It was up to proper training to teach pets how to behave. The fault did not lie with the pet. That much she knew.

Her jaw tensed as it closed, joints clicking quietly as it unhinged and rehinged in anger, before it settled into place. She drew a slow breath through a scowl as she stood and grabbed the largest bone from her plate, and hissed with a sigh, “excuse me ferr a momen’.”

He’d opened a bottle of fire, thoughts of Zephyr stoking the flame.

“Grrand Vizir Hafiz Kadirr!” As her feet carried her around the High Table, that rage focused into a still blade. Rarely heard fury roared across the hall, “we have laws against tha’ sorr’ of disgusting conduct in our lands. You WILL NAE strrike yours orr any otherr pets within ourr borrders.”

She passed behind the Queen, “and in case I need tae be explicitly clea’ with yourr,” she paused meaningfully, as though choosing a word. She chose none, “self,” spat, like speaking of him disgusted her, “tha’ goes for servants, peasants, commoners, and whatever else you’d fancy calling them, too. Naturally, anyone else. That would be assault.”

She marched toward him, all fury and rage, burning, seething, holding a-... a bone? And then she marched past him, and as she did, the anger seemed to melt. She smiled sweetly and knelt down, holding her her hand out with the bone, “ooh, y' poa, swee' thing. Come, come. Where’s y’ master, ey? We’ll ‘ave tae ‘ave a talk wit’ 'em abou’ all this, at’s ferr trrue.”

A bone, an irresistible dog treat, at a very uncertain moment in this dog’s life. A sweet, gentle voice, from a strong-seeming person. The dog approached her and accepted the bone. The captain received him with many pets and adorations, “oooh, there’s a good boy, yeaaah. Aye, aye, wha’ an ‘andsome lad, too! Did that nasty man,” a pointed glare at the nasty man in question, “hur’ you, y’ swee’ thing. Ooh, you didnae deserve tha’, sweet baaaaby.” She took a look at his collar, for his name. It was in Alidasht.

She stood, and turned, holding her hand out for the doggo to follow her. Her gazed fixed to Hafiz, though she spoke not to him, “come along, puppo. I’ll keep y’ safe ‘til yer maste’ rreterrns.”

The fury was still there, waiting for him to make a mistake. Daring him to.

Sjan-dehk was just about to tell Iyen off for interrupting, when Kalliope spoke.

And for a moment, he relaxed. There was something refreshingly familiar about the playful notes, the hints of mischief that coloured her first few words, that calmed the tempestuous thoughts in his mind, and eased the wearisome weight that pressed upon his heart and shoulders. For a while, all felt as they should be, as if his troubles from earlier had been naught but a figment of his own imagination.

Of course, that Kalliope hadn’t disagreed with Iyen certainly helped.

He answered her smirk with a grin of his own. Words gathered on the tip of his tongue, the beginnings of a quip to counter hers. But before he could say anything, she apologised.

Then, she explained herself.

He listened in silence, the mirth on his face cooling to an expression more sombre, more serious. His eyes remained locked on Kalliope’s, except when she averted her gaze, and the one occasion when he threw a sidelong, questioning glance at Iyen. The Sudhrayarn woman didn’t look at him, instead coughing into her fist and gaining a sudden, deep interest in the embroidery of the tablecloth before her. That told Sjan-dehk everything he needed to know. He let out a quiet sigh that existed more in his head than upon his lips, and shook his head slightly.

Remorse dripped from every word, every syllable that left Kalliope’s mouth. Each was like a knife piercing him to his core, filling him with self-reproach for having been so selfish. This entire time, he’d only thought of his own feelings; how it’d stung when she’d left him for Cassius; how she’d left him in a mess of tangled emotions, and how discontented he’d felt about the whole situation. Had there ever been a moment during his self-pity when he’d considered how she might have felt? Or even tried thinking of other reasons for her actions that didn’t involve him?

At several points, he wanted to speak up, to tell her plainly that she didn’t need to apologise. That she had nothing to apologise for. But the words wouldn’t come.

And so, he continued to listen in silence.

Only when she’d finished did his voice return to him. “Kali–” He began quietly, but quickly stopped himself, his eyes momentarily closing in thought. She’d taken the time to give him a proper explanation. The least he could do was to take the time to think over, and give her a proper reply.

He dragged an empty chair over—the same one he’d sat in while talking to Charlotte—and placed it in the middle of Iyen and Kalliope, forming a ring of seats. “You don’t owe me an apology, or anything, really,” he said as he sat down. “The fault’s mine for, ah…” A faint flush washed over his cheeks. He hooked a finger into his collar and tugged on it. “Assuming certain things. In hindsight, I should’ve guessed that there were people from your past here, after…Well, you know, after what happened in the hallway.”

And in hindsight, he should have also guessed that those people had great capacity for danger. Hafiz had certainly seemed that way.

“Assuming certain things, huh?” Iyen’s amused voice piped up.

“Not now, Iyen,” Sjan-dehk replied quickly and smoothly, as if this was something he’d dealt with umpteen times before. He didn’t even look at her, although her words did resonate with him. Kalliope had explained why she’d wanted to so desperately get away from him, earlier, but still Sjan-dehk wasn’t sure whether his assumptions about her relationship with Cassius were right. And that uneased him greatly.

No. Now is not the time. With a swift rebuke, he pushed those thoughts aside. They could wait.

“If anything, I should be thanking you,” he said with a little smile. “I’m used to being the one protecting, not so much the one being protected. It’s new to me.” He chuckled softly before continuing. “But I’ll admit that I feel…Better, knowing that I didn’t do anything to make you, ah, feel ashamed. I didn’t mind it, carrying you in here. It felt…”

His voice trailed off, and he finished his sentence in a bashful murmur. “Nice.”

Iyen let out a barely suppressed giggle. Sjan-dehk shot her a look, and she simply hummed in response.

“Ignore her, she’s just being…Iyen.” He shook his head, cleared his throat, and turned back to Kalliope. He grinned—a small, hesitant one, but a grin nonetheless—and reached out for her shoulder again. “But you don’t have to worry too much, Kali,” he said and leaned forward, resting his palm upon his smooth, supple skin. “Think I might’ve told you this before, but it might be worth repeating, now. Whatever fight I get into is my choice. If your enemies want to mark me, or notice me, then let them. You’re…A friend.”

Friend. It described his relationship with Kalliope perfectly.

And yet, he didn’t like it. There was a bitterness under it that sat poorly in his mind.

“You’re important to me,” he corrected himself, before he knew what he was saying. “I-I mean, well, you’re an important friend–”

Iyen gave him a slap on his shoulder, and not a gentle one, either. “Stop it, Sjan-dehk,” she said, laughing, and looked at Kalliope with an expression that was half apologetic, and half ‘I told you so’.

“You stop it,” Sjan-dehk said and shot her another look, but with much less vitriol than before. It was more out of embarrassment, than any sort of genuine irritation or annoyance. He drew in a deep breath, quickly looked around the banquet hall, then returned his gaze to Kalliope. “But yes, if anyone wants to come after me because of you, then I’ll just have to fight them.” He spoke casually, as if he were talking about a mere future fishing trip. “It wouldn’t be the first time I got involved in courtly nonsense that turned violent, and I’m still here, so I’d say that I’ve got a pretty good track record with these things.”

He grinned and gave Kalliope’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Besides, someone has to watch your back as well, I think. Can’t let you do all the protecting.” Without thinking, he slid his thumb over her joint. He didn’t even notice what he’d done, so focused was he on looking her in her eyes. “And it looks to me that things are coming to an end, anyway. Most everyone’s gone.”

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: Drake @Lava Alckon
Mentions: Thea, Lorenzo, Zarai, Hafiz, Nadim
Attire: “Why was I not told red was the color for tonight?”

---

”But I shan't speak out about it publicly.” Mr. Neutrality refused to crack, Drake offered not a sip of tea, not a crumb of drama to add to the feast.

“Then I hope to have the opportunity to meet with you privately.” Leo countered, with a raised eyebrow and a sip of wine. He watched Drake pour almost a full bottle of red into his wine glass. Either something was bothering the guy, or given the events at the man’s birthday party, maybe he was a little bit of a drunkard. Perhaps Leo would try again after Drake had finished off a glass or two.

”Call me a fool if you wish, but I am a man who still believes in love of the truest form - and I may yet have found that in your sister, to be perfectly frank. It honestly makes it even harder having to sport my political voice like that in front of her. But it felt like things were simply building into an inevitable topple - so I hope you understand that is not my normal state. I tend to prefer the more stoic and measured spectrum of emotion.”

“I wouldn’t call you a fool Drake. There are worse vices than indulging in romantic optimism.” Leo popped a bite into his mouth, pausing to chew before continuing. “Thea isn’t fond of the games politics requires us to play but you handled the situation as tactfully as one could.” He answered as Drake continued speaking and even slid a slice of Beef Wellington onto Leo’s plate. The offering was met with a nod of thanks.

”I also like to think we share the same sentiment on protecting our family through the means we find the most fitting. It’s rather poetic in a sense.”

“Poetic? Maybe.” Leo shrugged. “But I can’t think of anything more natural than wanting to protect one’s family. Someone has to be the one that holds everything together. The one who keeps the foundation solid and builds upon it for those who follow after us. Some men treat this like a burden, but it is a mantle to be worn with honor. I think you get that, Drake, I like that about you.” Leo admitted as he carefully cut a bite from his portion of wellington. It was exquisite, and made even better by the lack of mystical weirdness that followed his food.

”If it makes you feel any better - no words that others may share about your sister carry any weight to how I feel about her. It only proves that they are blind to the person she really is.”

“Exactly who is saying what about Thea?” He asked abruptly. The calmness in his tone now replaced with a sharp edge of ire.

As if on cue, Duke Lorenzo continued his tradition of publicly placing his foot inside his mouth. “I do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of these young Varian girls with no self-worth!” Any good will Leo had for Lorenzo turned sour.

Leo’s head snapped in Lorenzo’s direction. “Hey! Shut it, old man. I’ll make you eat your words, pendejo! You don’t know shit!”

He clapped at Zarai’s words. “He’s one to talk. Some noble’s have not a shred of dignity to them.” There was no hush to his tone, whenever Lorenzo returned from his talk with Alexander, he was certainly getting an earful from Leo.

From the otherside of the room a dog let out a yelp of distress. Leo rose from his seat and looked in the direction of a large dog who had clearly just been struck by the Grand Vizier. He had half a mind to toss diplomacy aside right then and there but one of Caesonia’s knights appeared to be handling the situation already. Albeit, a bit too kindly for Leo’s tastes.

“I hope we can both agree that a man who strikes a dog outta be strung up by his balls and left there.” He half muttered as he sat back down in his chair.

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @Oso Cassius @JJ Doe Fritz @FunnyGuy Lorenzo/Alexander

---

“If you were poisoned, should you be out here eavesdropping rather than on your way to a doctor?”

His question brought a faint flush of embarrassment to her cheeks, mingling with her already heightened nerves. "I am not entirely certain that poison is the culprit," Charlotte replied quietly as she accepted the lens, her hands betraying her with a subtle tremor as she lifted them to her eyes.

"I’ve scarcely eaten nor drunk tonight, but the vividness of the hallucinations makes such a possibility impossible to dismiss. Symptoms like these—distorted perception, disorientation—are consistent with alkaloid-based toxins..." Her brow furrowed gently, the gears of her mind visibly turning behind her blue eyes as she studied the muddied edges of her aura through the lens. It was perhaps clouded. But still, she withheld any rash conclusions, though the chill twisting down her spine whispered otherwise."...Yet, regardless of what ails me," she added, her voice softening but the steel threading through it unmistakable, "I will not—cannot—leave my father at the mercy of that villain."

“These symptoms… do they feel similar to that night at the masquerade?”

Charlotte shook her head gently as she returned the lenses to Fritz. "No, dear. This is different," she murmured. Her gaze followed Fritz’s demonstration with the tumblers, the corner of her lips curling faintly as recognition stirred in her expression. Her expression grew tender, her voice a whisper filled with profound sincerity. “Thank you, Fritz. You always have a remarkable way of appearing precisely when I need you most.” She smiled faintly, a fragile, gracious thing that did not quite reach her eyes.

With that, Charlotte pressed the tumbler to the door. Her breath slowed, lashes lowering as she focused, allowing the muffled chaos beyond the wood to filter through—every word, every syllable sharpening into clarity:

“Don’t pretend to be foolish! You know exactly what this is about!”

“I… I don't, your grace… If it's about your shares with the Black Rose Trading Company, your hefty investment is more than secure, I assure you.”

“Oh! Hmm… let's discuss this matter quickly and then we can talk about you and Charlotte.”

Charlotte inhaled sharply, her heart suddenly loud in her ears. Lorenzo has an investment with the Black Rose? A hefty one at that? The revelation struck her like a slap, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

But before she could tumble further down that spiral, a hand landed upon her shoulder.

She gasped aloud, then her body recoiled on instinct. She looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed, until her gaze collided with his.

"Lottie..." It was Cassius, staring down at her with those eyes—those damn eyes she had only moments ago watched flicker with careless flirtation toward Kalliope. For a fleeting second, a cocktail of emotions bloomed within her: frustration, confusion, jealousy, and something she dared not name. But the chaos within her dulled as her gaze lingered upon his face.

"You shouldn’t be here. Not like this. I know you think whatever’s happening behind that door matters, and maybe it does... But right now, it doesn’t matter more than you." His eyes flicked briefly toward Fritz in a way that suggested he was trying to garner an ally in his pursuit, then back to her. "You look like you're about to fall over... your skin’s cold, your hands are shaking. Whatever’s happening to you... it’s not going to wait until you get the answers you want."

Her brows drew together once more, but this time not from fear—no, it was protest now, indignation flickering beneath the fragile veneer of her composure. There was a flood of responses rising inside her, a torrent of words she wanted to unleash. She wanted to say them all... To remind him she wasn’t some trembling damsel to be told where she should or shouldn’t be. That he, of all people, had no right—no right—

But then Cassius took her trembling hands gently in such a manner that the tension melted from her features like frost beneath morning sunlight.

"Come with me. Please. Just for a little while... let me make sure you’re alright."

The words were soft, coaxing—utterly at odds with the man who had moments ago faced the entire court with fire in his veins. Yet, it wasn’t his words that dulled the blaze in her chest. Though the anger still simmered behind her eyes, the fight seeped from her shoulders, "Very well," she whispered, "In a moment… but first, I must be certain he’s safe." Her tone left little room for debate, as did the flicker of stubbornness that returned to her gaze. With that, she inclined her head toward the door, lifting the tumbler once more to her lips, determination painting her expression with resolve.

“Terrible. Absolutely terrible! She came back home with her eyes low and barely able to sit down to listen to how my performance went at the theater! I'm sure you heard. I won the damned thing! No contest!”

“And… what about now? Lottie. I she doing better? I believe I noticed her spea-”

“DON’T YOU!”

“Don't you dare say it, Deacon! Don’t you dare tell ME what you saw! Are you blind?! Do you not see that I am her father?! The only parent she has left… I saw everything she did tonight. I saw how she slowly crumbled away… She crumbled away and lost her self-worth while staring at her reflection in her wine glass… Do you want to know what else I saw, Deacon..? Hm?!”

"Lost... my self-worth?" The words left her lips in a fragile whisper, like the ghost of a thought spoken aloud before she could stop herself. Confusion furrowed her brow, as if the words themselves cut deeper than she could immediately process.

“What I saw was the moment my Lottie decided any man who could so much as breath… was worthy enough for her embrace. And it's all because of you… isn't it?”

Charlotte stared at the door, lashes trembling as tears welled in her eyes, blurring her reflection into something unrecognizable—a broken, desperate silhouette she refused to claim as her own. Is that truly how he sees me? The thought rang like a death knell in her mind.

“Lorenzo, I’m sorry. Truly, I am...but I am not the man who wounded her heart. That dove is too precious. A rare soul that young woman is... In truth, Charlotte was in a similar state at the art gallery as well. One moment, she was wallowing in something deep. Drowning in it. The next, she was preening over me. She even attempted to kiss me...but it was our first outing together and in the public eye… you and I, we both know how such an intimate exchange would look… with a married man at that. I was only trying to protect her in my refusal but… I do wonder now, Lorenzo. Who could have hurt her… Twisted her mind in such a cruel and awful way?”

So that was how Lorenzo saw her. A pitiful, foolish girl. So starved for affection she’d drape herself over any man who so much as breathed in her direction. Just another desperate, simpering whore. That was how they all saw her now, wasn’t it? Ever since that cursed ball.

And truth be told, she had thought she’d stopped caring. But she had been wrong. Because perhaps what some strangers thought in a gossip column hadn't mattered. But what her father thought did.

Her stomach churned violently, and for a moment, she thought she might

TW Sickness [+]

spill its contents onto the stone floor beneath her.

The sour burn of humiliation clawed at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down bitterly, forcing it to stay where it belonged.

Had she been naïve to believe Lorenzo—her father—would see her? Understand her? And yet, here she was, still glaring at the door like a child, clinging to a hope already shattered in her trembling hands. Foolish, broken hope that he might see through Alexander’s honeyed lies. That he might believe she had not preened over that serpent of a man. That she had not tried to kiss him of her own will—that he had twisted her mind, not the other way around.

It was one of the moments where there was too much to say, so much so that she could scream. So much that it strangled the words in her throat. Only a suffocating silence followed as she pushed herself to her feet, skirts brushing the cold stone beneath her trembling legs. Her face remained the portrait of composure, but inside, something ancient and feral twisted. And when she rose, the mask cracked... not into tears, but something else. Every breath felt jagged, caught between fury and heartbreak, and in that breathless, unbearable moment, she braced herself to throw those doors open.

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Room
Interactions: @samreaper Kazu
Mentions:
Aesthetic: ♞ Dress♞ Hair ♞Shoes

---

Everything in Olivia’s head went quiet the moment his lips met hers. The shock of the moment completely stunned her. It was as if someone had immobilized her using a spell. Why was he kissing her? Didn’t he hear anything she’d said? She was bad luck–a walking, talking human black cat–bad luck, that was jinxed, cursed, whatever word fit her. In the end, she’d be his downfall. Confusion and fear wrapped around her mind and began causing her head to pound. Part of her wanted him to stay and wrap his arms around her. The unconditional love was something she craved deep down. It was a feeling she was unused to feeling. Any compassion toward her felt fake or temporary, because at some point she’d either ruin that person’s life or fuck up. Even Charlotte’s and Cassius’ warmth toward her had felt alien.

Both warmth and dread spread through her. Tears filled her eyes and raced down her cheeks. For now, her dark magic tendrils dissipated around her. Her head was quiet, and the emotions were a wild storm inside waiting to be unleashed. Recklessly, Olivia returned the kiss. It wasn’t experienced at all; she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. Genuine happiness rushed through her. Once she realized what she was doing, and quickly broke away with wide-eyes. Her expression was wide-eyed and filled with mixed emotions. She clenched her fists and grasped her head. The tendrils began returning and she buried her hands in her hair.

His words echoed in her mind. The memories of their meeting, hanging out together, chasing fireflies, of him being bullied and mocked and her beating the people up, and Calbert holding the gun to his head, rushed through her mind’s eye. A mixture of anger, frustration, joy, self-loathing, fear, and happiness raced through her. Olivia took several deep breaths. The voices began creeping back in. She was poison–something he continued to drink until she’d stripped him of his life. He needed to understand that. Kaz's words that she was his sun, his light and his warmth, challenged it. He was a moth attracted to her flame. Olivia tensed and her pupils struggled to remain green. Then, she realized how she was bending back to the darkness, and broke down sobbing. Fortunately, she wasn’t loud enough to be heard by the feast, sine there was enough drama going on.

Her voice was a blubbering mess. ”I don’t want you to leave. Please help me.” Her strawberry wet hair became plastered to her face and her green eyes begged him to defy her words. Run, Kazumin–plese.