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[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 Page 101

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Lava Alckon
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Lava Alckon

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Drake


Time: Evening of the 28th
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions: Thea @Tae, Kilian @Oso, Gideon and Victoria @princess, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy Ariella, @Tpartywithzombi, Leo @Helo, and Stratya @CitrusArms



The conversation with Leo had proven pleasant. Drake swirled the wine and raised a brow at Leo’s private invitation. ”Curious what a man has to share behind closed doors? Can’t say I blame you - those are where the most interesting conversations happen.”

”I may not look the part, but I am always hearing or reading gossip. Not for the sake of carrying the next trend - if anyone I tend to find that what someone says about another reveals more about themself than anyone else. Whether it’s the content of the message or the delivery itself.”

The lord placed the glass down and took some time to enjoy the beef wellington. He gently smiled as he chewed the perfectly cooked steak fit in the middle of a layer of bread crust that carried all the juices of the rare meat. A quick splash of his drink to rinse anything left, and he was ready to resume his cadence.

”Heavy is the mantle that men such as we carry in times like these. Heavier still are the dresses that women must wear, sometimes to hide their strife.” Drake paused, letting the words sit in the air a moment. ”I’m sure father can attest to the level of peacekeeping that is required to keep things personable. Whether at home or at the very castle that rules our nation apparently.” The man turned his head back towards Leo. ”From what I’ve observed thus far - it seems public scrutiny from one's own is something you too wrestle with as well.” In reference to the earlier spat from their mother, as well his own, Drake spoke out gently against both such cases. Not out of disrespect - but more out of disapproval.

”So I am appreciative when people such as yourself step up to the plate to curb it.” Around this time there was a declaration of Varian women and their lack of self worth. Drake felt his fist clench a little. Say one more word you lout. Lord Edwards paused, and sighed. Perhaps he was proving too quick to drink under such stressful factors.

”Duke Vikena.” Drake projected his voice for once, feeling the rebellion brewing in his chest. ”Are such brazen words wise in this setting? I believe we are here to congregate, not aggregate.” He simply left it at that - it seemed the man was plenty overwhelmed, and likely was vomiting whatever errant thoughts came forth. Still, he would rather not have women of any country be openly disrespected. Least of all Thea.

As his brain shifted over to her - his heart softly ached. He hoped she was okay. It had been a considerable moment. Even with Leo’s supportive words, Drake felt he could’ve spoken to her softer or kinder - regret creeped on the edge of his psyche while he finished the last of his wellington. ”Should we perhaps check on the ladies?” Drake asked Leo.

Just as Drake posed the question, across the room another explosion of activity erupted. The man Drake knew to be the “Grand Vizier” had just struck a dog in public. ”Is cruelty just another part of dinner to them? First it was knives out now its fisticuffs. And to an animal no less…” Drake frowned at the poor furry creature being comforted by the Guard Captain. He had just learned from Farim in the talent show that their culture values animals - perhaps this wasn’t as true as he thought? Or perhaps the man behind the strike was more sinister than he appeared.

Pencilling that train of thought for later, Drake finished his glass and abstained from anymore for the time being. ”I think such brazen acts of violence only show how weak of a man you truly are. Bullying the weak is a small man’s game in an attempt to seem bigger than they really are.” Drake absentmindedly chewed on more of his food for a moment - his eyes locked onto the far table for several moments as if reading each and every one of the Shezadis and Shehzades.

But that analytical gaze was broken by the sound of chains and thrusted doors. As the grey haired man made his way to center stage and scanned the room, Drake held a cold and stoic impression. It wasn’t until the figure that was chained up that Drake suppressed the urge to gasp, instead calmly addressing his father.

”Sir, who is this man who is put together like something from a thriller novel? And why is he carrying Geneveive out in chains like this? Did he get approval through you before just taking someone from our staff?”

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Hidden 1 yr ago → 1 yr ago Post by princess
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princess

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Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Lava Alckon Farim @Rodiak Nahir @Potter Kira @Helo Rohit [@Citrus Arms] Stratya @JJ Doe Hala @Oso Killian


The moment her voice rang out, Hafiz stilled with narrowed eyes.

Captain Stratya Durmand had called his name like a challenge, like she had a right to summon him, as though “Grand Vizier Hafiz Kadir” were a title to be barked across a banquet hall like a butcher calling for scraps. The audacity of it crackled in his mind. His name was not meant to be hurled in anger. It was meant to be breathed, cautiously, in reverence or fear. And yet this... soldier, this knight in costume, dared to brandish it like a weapon.

His eyes didn’t move at first. His hands remained clasped, the curve of his mouth untouched by expression. But beneath that mask, the rage bloomed as the foolish woman spoke.

She spoke of laws. Caesonian laws. As if they applied to him. Still, it was a clever attack.
The publicness of it. The theatricality. She had turned him into a villain before an audience, stolen the narrative before he could spin it himself. That alone made his blood run hot.

But worse than her tone, worse than her accusations, was what she had implied: that he, Grand Vizier of Alidasht, should be held to the standards of peasants.

And she used the word disgusting against him? He had killed men for less.

His gaze finally shifted, slow and exacting. His smile remained absent, but his thoughts turned dark and fast as she hurried off to coo at an animal that was not her property.

Taken Nadim as though she had the right. As though the property of a noble house from Alidasht could be seized like some mistreated orphan in the slums. And not just any noble house.

Nadim belonged to Hala.

To Hala Sami, the child of Vali Malik Sami, one of the Sultan’s most loyal and dangerous men. A child he had personally trained, personally protected, and personally invested in.

“My father is the second wisest man in Alidasht, right behind the radiant Sultan, himself. But it is a weak and foolish man who mistakes violence for strength.” Hafiz glared with irritation hearing Rohit's voice and watched as he followed after Stratya. It was... astonishing.

And disappointing in the most specific way.

Because Hafiz had not entirely dismissed Rohit. He had, privately, believed the boy had potential—if he could be shaped. If he could inherit his father’s wisdom rather than just his charm.

But now Hafiz saw it clearly: Rohit wasn’t Navi Amar’s son. He was his shadow. And his shadow would rather stick up for a woman who stole someone's animal rather than his own countrymen.

"Her, disgrace you? " Hafiz’s head turned sharply, the motion too fast, like a scythe through tall grass. His eyes locked on Kira not with shock, but with a seething contempt.

She had spoken as if she mattered. And worse—she had spoken to him as if he did not.

"There have been more rumors and talk of you than her.Throwing that in her face is rude and unnecessary. It goes to show everyone who you are inside. I’m sure the talk of you hitting a dog will be in the paper, so everyone in Caesonia knows who you are,”

"Nahir is ten times the person you will ever be. " Hafiz glanced at his pathetic, trembling niece, who had been unmasked ever so easily, and found himself unconvinced. "Looks like you’re the one flailing in this dinner. How many scandals are you involved in now? Nobody is like you because they don’t want to be; you’re cold, cruel, and lonely. The sands of Alidasht have told tales of your misdeeds, Hafiz, and they’re not good. Nahir will always be better than you.”

Her voice still hung in the air. Rumors? Papers? Lonely? She dared imply he stood beneath his own niece?

Then, ever so slowly, Hafiz tilted his head, a small, venomous smile curling at the corner of his lips before the two of them could quite depart. “Do tell… pet.” The word slipped from his tongue like poison dripped into wine. “Just what rumors?”

He let the question hang in the air, daring her to answer, then began to whisper just for Kira to hear.

“That I am cruel?” he offered very softly into her ear, smiling wider.
“That I do not love?” He chuckled then—low, dry, and humorless.
“That I drink poison for breakfast and slit throats before prayer?”

He straightened slowly, his tone only sharpening. “I do. And I have.”

And now his voice dropped even lower than before.
“Because where I come from, little girl, rumors are not slander.”
“They are warnings.”

The sound of his Farim's voice then found his ear before he could say much else. ”What was that about wisdom and restraint again? Shall I have the artisans capture the moment you get an entire room full of potential allies in a frenzy? Come now, even I think you are better than this. A man only rules through fear for as long as people are willing to be afraid. A ruler who feeds ego over humility begets only one thing…rebellion with passion. And passion…. Has killed more empires than it has built. But you knew that already, did you not?” The Grand Vizier did not turn to face him. He did not dignify the interruption with a scowl, nor a sigh. No, he remained still.

Hafiz had bled for his empire. Had whispered nations into obedience, and survived a thousand court intrigues while Farim was still learning to tie his sashes. And now the boy spoke to him as though he were a fool caught mid-tantrum. As though Hafiz Kadir—the Grand Vizier of Alidasht required moral correction from his son?

It was almost funny.

Almost

And like all bright, wayward students, Farim remembered the lecture—but never the lesson.
He spoke now like a critic, not a son. Like a foreign diplomat, not blood. And that, Hafiz would not abide. But Farim had not given Hafiz time to reply as he left rather quickly and there were other matters for Hafiz to attend to now.

A simple, crooking of his finger summoned one of the servants that had been brought along for his bidding. His expression remained unreadable, but the chill in his gaze was enough to silence even the murmurs nearby. He leaned in, speaking low enough that only the servant would hear.

“Find Hala Sami.”He allowed that first command to settle, as though it were an imperial decree. “Tell them that Nadim”— his voice grew even softer, darker, laced with cold amusement, “was used as a weapon by my niece, Nahir. She pushed him upon me at the royal table… in front of foreign royalty. A spectacle of disobedience and petulance.”

He watched the servant’s face pale, then continued, slower now. “Then a Caesonian knight seized Nadim as though he were an orphaned beast. Stole him away from our table. Lied to the court. Claimed I had struck the creature. Bey Rohit Amar supported it uncharacteristically. ”

A smile curled at his lips—something that might have passed for amusement if not for the hatred that simmered just behind it.

“Tell Hala to come immediately. Their pet has been kidnapped by a fool and traitor, and paraded like a martyr to earn applause from children.”

“If they value Nadim’s dignity… they will come now, before the dog becomes a pawn in someone else’s game.”

He waved a hand, dismissing the servant with the finality of a judge lowering the gavel.

“Do not delay. "

Then he rose and made his way toward the King and Queen.

However, he paused and slowed his movements as the doors creaked open. A stranger entered not with force, but with precision, dragging a spectacle in his wake. Hafiz did not sit again… but neither did he move forward. He watched. The game had shifted, and he intended to learn the new rules first.

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Hidden 1 yr ago → 1 yr ago Post by princess
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princess

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


“I was observing the most recent highlight of this banquet.”

Anastasia immediately craned her head to peek back toward the area she’d just floated away from. Her amber eyes scanned the scene—Hafiz, looking like he’d just lost a food fight to a goose; wine, duck, and what was possibly oil glistening across his shirt. Stratya stood nearby, calm as ever, casually petting a smug little puppy. Moments later, Rohit joined her, instantly making it a full-blown puppy party.

Her brows rose. Then her lips curled into a delighted little “o.”

He leaned next to Anastasia’s ear, and whispered with a smirk, “Do you think his owner did it on purpose?”

“You did not abandon Shahzade Farim just to ask me how I am, did you? Since so many people have taken their leave, why do we not find a room for our conversation, as well? If you agree, feel free to lead Shahzade Farim to the beige drawing room. I will join you in a moment.”

Anastasia tilted her head thoughtfully. “Or maybe the dog was just bored to death and needed something to do. Can you blame him?” She gestured subtly toward Hafiz, stifling a giggle. “Honestly, Wulfy, you’ve got to hear that guy talk. So boring. I’d fling myself at a table too if I had to sit through it any longer.”

She gave her brother a cheeky grin. “Poor doggy’s a victim of poor taste in conversation.”

Then she flicked her chin toward Farim. “Naaaah, he’s coming alright. I invited him along.” Her eyes lingered on the sight of Farim whispering something to Hafiz. “He likes to drop spicy little insults in his dad’s ear every few minutes. Had to take care of business first—it’s his thing. Oh, and we both wanted to see you. And talk about Callum. So we can go to the beige room for sure.”

As Wulfric stood, Anastasia popped up beside him with a grin that could’ve lit the room, and two thumbs up in greeting aimed at her parents. Then, she waited in place for Farim to catch up. However, it was then the doors creaked open. The clinking sound came next, and her brows arched the moment she saw him. Her eyes dropped to the chain in his hand, then back up to his eyes. She sat upright, frozen, as the chain dragged behind him like a cursed party favor.

And then the woman appeared.

Bound. Gagged. Barefoot. Dragged like a prize pig.

Anastasia’s mouth fell open, and it hung there. She stared in absolute horror for the entire time. Every bone in her body screamed that something was really wrong, but her brain was having a hard time assigning it a name. She glanced over at her parents, hoping for context, but her mother didn't seem at all concerned. Thus, Anastasia decided that it wasn't anything actually serious. Her eyes narrowed as the man finally spoke. She squinted hard, as if adjusting her vision might help decode whatever theater this was.

The silence of the room thickened, yet in her mind, cogs were spinning frantically. Farim's voice soon found her ear and slowly, she turned toward him. Her voice was low, shaky, and dead serious as she replied:“Okay. I don't know him. And I know I’m not the smartest person here but…” She looked back at the display, eyes wide. “Is this, like… a kink thing?”

“I mean the chains, the theatrics, the floor-length coat? Look I'm all for kinks. I don't yuck others' yums... But in the middle of a banquet is crazy. Even I wouldn't do that.” She gestured subtly, leaning closer as if afraid the man might overhear.

Then, suddenly, she laughed, soft at first, then shnorted.

“Gods. Caesonia's gotten weird.” She shook her head, brushing it off with the same ease she used to ignore most problems. Then she spun on her heel and flashed Farim an exaggerated wink. “Anyway, Wulfy wants to talk. Beige drawing room. "

Before moving, she swept by a side table and grabbed not one but two wine bottles like party favors. With one cradled under each arm, she shot him a grin. “Follow me please!”

She led the way out of the hall, pace light and breezy despite the eerie tension behind them. At the door to the beige drawing room, she paused dramatically and glanced over her shoulder. “Welcome to the beige drawing room." With a smile, Anastasia swung open the door, then looked back to inform Farim, “It’s beige.”

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Tae
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Tae

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Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Interactions/Mentions: @Apex Sunburn Iyen & Sjan-dehk @Oso Killian
Aesthetic: Outfit



Her breath hitched softly at the way he said it.

“You’re important to me.”

And then the backpedal. The stumble. The red that crept into his cheeks as he tried to soften the meaning of his words.

Kalliope could have let him off the hook. Could have smiled and let it pass, could have teased him again, let the tension break like sea foam on the hull.

But instead… she just looked at him.

Something in her gaze changed–not sharp, not mocking. But quiet. Unreadable. It was the look of a woman who was used to chasing meaning through half-truths and broken loyalties. Who knew exactly how dangerous the word important could be.

And still… she let herself soften.

Her lips parted, then curved–subtle, slow, and far more vulnerable than she meant them to be. The warmth in her chest hadn’t left since he first touched her shoulder. Gods, how it lingered now that he’d said the one thing she hadn’t dared admit she wanted to hear.

Not wanted. Needed.

When he leaned forward again, hand returning to her shoulder with that same steady calm, her breath stirred. Not sharp, but shallow. Her pulse quickened as he spoke, and that thumb–gods, that thumb–moved in slow, unthinking circles.

It was stupid.

How one simple touch could shake loose so many things she’d spent years locking down.

Her armor didn’t crack so much as shift, like a blade turned edge-down instead of out. It didn’t matter that the world had teeth or that her ghosts were stirring. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to lean her whole weight into his palm and let herself forget, just briefly, that she had anything to fear.

He said he’d fight for her. Without blinking. Without bravado.

And for the second time that night, her throat tightened.

She reached up slowly, fingers brushing against his wrist–not gripping, not pulling away. Just resting there. Feeling the warmth. Anchoring herself in it. Her voice came quieter now, the strength behind it raw but deliberate.

“You’re important to me too.”

There. Simple. Honest.

Her thumb brushed along the edge of his wrist. Barely a gesture.

“You definitely didn’t do anything wrong, Sjan-dehk.” Her gaze dipped briefly before finding his again. “I did. I didn’t tell you the truth when I should’ve. I was afraid. Of what I saw. Of what it meant. But not of you.”

Her next words came out on a breath.

“Never of you.”

She meant to say more. Maybe even tell him everything. But then…

The door groaned.

The hall shifted.

And everything began to change.

Kalliope’s fingers went still on Sjan-dehk’s wrist.

Her breath caught–not the soft, fluttering kind from before, but something sharper. Held. Like prey suddenly aware of a predator in the brush.

The air turned colder, or maybe it just felt that way. The way the wind swept in, unnatural and deliberate, licking at the candles and stirring her hair, made her stomach twist.

Something was wrong.

Not politically wrong. Not scandal-wrong.

Wrong.

Her eyes left Sjan-dehk’s face, drawn past the circle of warmth between them and out to the growing silence beyond.

And then she saw him.

Tall. Pale. Precision-made.

The man who entered didn’t just command the room, he changed it. As though the hall had shifted its very shape around him. As though the air now moved to his rhythm.

Kalliope’s jaw tightened, her spine instinctively pulling straighter as her eyes dropped to the chain. She didn’t recognize the man, but she recognized the weight he carried.

Chains. Dragging.

Not symbolic ones.

Not metaphoric.

Real.

The sound hit her like a blade to the spine. That scrape–metal on stone–was something she hadn’t heard in years, but it reverberated through her like it had never stopped. It was a sound that didn’t just echo in the hall.

It echoed in her.

Her hand, still resting on Sjan-dehk, jerked before she even registered the movement. Her fingers found his sleeve and gripped–tight, trembling for just a breath. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and for a single, vivid second she was no longer here.

She was somewhere darker.

Somewhere where chains dragged blood across the floor. Where men screamed and no one came. Where she was not Kalliope, but a number. A shadow. A whisper behind a locked door.

Her body didn’t flinch. Her face didn’t show it. But her grip did. She clung to Sjan-dehk’s sleeve like it was the last tether to the present.

Then she blinked. Once. Twice. And the world returned.

The chain dragged again. A woman followed. Bound. Familiar.

The silence deepened. The temperature dropped further. Kalliope’s hand slipped from Sjan-dehk’s sleeve, curling into her own palm beneath the table, but not before she gave him one last squeeze. Subtle. Enough to tell him something had rattled her.

She scanned the nobles. The gasps. The stunned faces. The queen’s calm. The king’s shadow.

This wasn’t a scandal.

This was a statement.

He didn’t even look at the king.

He looked at the queen.

And Kalliope, who made a living off understanding when danger smiled in silk, knew in that instant that this man wasn’t here to make a scene.

He was here to make a point.

The words barely registered–something about introductions, about decorum–but her instincts were already screaming.

This… this was the problem she’d been waiting for.

The threat she’d sensed but couldn’t see.

The monster at the door, but it didn’t look like Hafiz.

It was something else entirely.

She glanced sideways, first to Iyen and then to Sjan-dehk. Her voice didn’t rise above the silence, but her lips moved enough for him to read.

“Stay close.”

Her eyes never left Killian. Not now.

Not until she knew if he was going to raise that chain again…or who he’d drag next.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by JJ Doe
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JJ Doe

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Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Sola 28 1739; Nighttime Hours
Location: Castle Dining Room
Interaction(s)/Mention(s): @princess @Apex Sunburn @FunnyGuy @Oso


Given the peculiar events plaguing this season, magic had been high on Ryn’s list of suspects regarding Lady Charlotte’s affliction. One closer look through the enchanted lens transformed suspicion into grim certainty: a shadowy veil draped over her magicae like a funeral lace.

An active curse.

The symptoms Lady Charlotte had described to Captain Wasun—then kindly reiterated for Ryn’s benefit—helped narrow the possible spells. Not sufficiently, regrettably. These lenses, useful though they were, also offered no distinction between a single curse or several layered atop each other. Without Wayra’s considerable expertise, his means of aiding Lady Charlotte remained limited.

Beyond the door, voices spoke of business dealings between Duke Vikena and Black Rose. Ryn’s gaze met Lady Charlotte’s across the dimly lit space, eyebrows furrowing in silent commentary. The plot grows positively labyrinthine.

Lord Vael-Damien’s arrival drew his attention. A quick gesture brought him close; a finger to lips counselled discretion. Then Ryn returned to his highly dignified career as a professional eavesdropper.

Mention of laudanum shipments sparked connections. Dr. Crane’s “prescription” for the Duke’s sleeping difficulties came to mind, as did the list of herbs they had discovered in His Grace's chambers. Did these shipments also include those mind-altering substances?

A soft, broken whisper pulled him back to Lady Charlotte. “Lost... my self-worth?” Tears gathered until her eyes resembled fractured sapphires. All that remarkable composure she had tried to maintain throughout the evening began to crack.

Ryn set aside his tumbler. “Charlotte.”

She would not look at him. Could not, perhaps. Her gaze had folded inward, fixed on whatever bleak landscape the spell had painted across her thoughts.

Gently, Ryn turned Lady Charlotte to face him. Taking her hand, he pressed it against his chest where his heart beat steady and sure. “Breathe,” he whispered. Softer still, “Here. With me.”

He drew in a deep breath, held it for seven counts, then released it slowly. “Do you feel that? In through your nose…” His chest rose beneath her hand. “Out through your mouth.” It fell.

Again. “Yes, that’s it. Just focus on breathing.”

They found the rhythm together. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Stillness settled over the hallway. Somewhere in the castle’s stone bones, the air shifted. A strange hush pressed in around them—not silence exactly, but a hum beneath the silence. As if the castle itself had chosen to join in.

“Your father,” Ryn began on an exhale, “is perhaps one of the most guileless noblemen I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” Fondness warmed the observation. “He often speaks before his thoughts are fully formed.” In. “Which leaves the rest of us guessing at what he intended.” Out.

“But even in the short time I’ve known His Grace, one fact remains unshakeable.” Another breath. “His love for you runs deeper than words can express.”

A smile touched his lips, soft as candlelight. “You know this, don’t you?” Eyes drifting shut, he continued. “Think back. Remember the moments you’ve shared.” Air escaped his lips.“The difficult times you weathered together. The bond you formed.” The next breath replaced what was lost. “Don’t let this curse twist those memories.”

“Because you know, deep down…”

Exhale. “As surely as the sun will rise.”

Inhale. “As the shape of the moon shifts.”

Exhale. “As the tide will pull the sea.”

Their eyes met.

“As certain as this next breath—” And it came, slow and full.

“—you are loved.”

The castle seemed to sigh in agreement, its stones settling deeper into foundations laid centuries past.

“Not just by your father, mind you. By plenty of others too. Those who’ve passed on…” He reached for Lord Vael-Damien’s hand, bringing it to Lady Charlotte’s, clasping them together. “And by those who are still here. You are beloved.”

“Even if there are moments you think otherwise… You are loved. Even when you feel undeserving of it… You are still loved.” A gentle squeeze. “We wish only for your happiness. Hold onto that thought.” Ryn murmured. “When you feel your heart cracking, you know the people who’ll help remind you.”

He released their hands with care. “Hang in there. Dawn will come.”

Retrieving the bottle from the floor, Ryn poured water whilst addressing Lord Vael-Damien. “Unless you have a way to lift curses, Lord Cassius, I’m afraid all we can do at the moment is provide moral support while it runs its course.” He handed the cup to Charlotte, but watched the Lord’s reaction closely. “If these symptoms began earlier today, I suspect they should end come morning… If not…” The words hung in the air. “Well. Alternative measures will be required.”

Ryn repositioned his tumbler against the door.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by CitrusArms
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CitrusArms Space Spatula

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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: Rohit @Helo, Farim @Lava Alckon
Mentions: Nahir @Rodiak, Kira @Potter, Anastasia @princess, Drake, Zarai, Hafiz, Nadim, Kalliope @Tae, Torvi, Alibeth, Gideon

Her seat faced the incident, so she’d seen most of it unfold. Nadim had already leapt onto the table by the time she could observe. Truly, that beautiful hound had been handled poorly all around. Poor thing. Rohit’s apparent familiarity with Nadim was a welcome balm. She smiled softly, seeing the two get along, though her gaze only turned aside for a moment. She wasn’t done with Hafiz. Not yet.

It seemed Hafiz had quickly turned his corner of the table against himself. Stratya wasn’t the only one to admonish him – but one presence, in particular, hadn’t escaped her notice: Nahir – not one who had admonished the man, but had been the first to interact with Nadim in the incident. It could be argued she’d incited the incident, but she had only reacted to a creature suddenly upon her. Such a reaction was one Stratya had a hard time blaming her for.

An inquiry naturally followed: why had Nadim jumped onto the table at all? Was it really poor impulse control? It didn’t seem so. On the contrary, Nadim appeared well-trained, judging by his interaction with Rohit. Certain commands excited him, yes – but he didn’t seem the sort to run off without prompt. So what happened?

While Rohit entertained Nadim, Stratya's focus was on Kadir. Farim’s words about ruling through fear prompted her to reexamine the man her gaze had pinned down. The timing of his use of the word “pet.” The quiet command issued to a servant. Nahir’s trembling hand as she reached for Kira’s. Kira’s earlier, spiteful words. It all painted a certain kind of man.

The kind who played chess with lives.

Kadir had made a move, and now it was her turn. Better not sleep on it. She turned to Rohit, “y’rre familiarr wit’ Nadim’s masterr, then? Hala, was i’? Aye, tha’d be a rreyt rrelief, if y’ could mynd ‘im ‘n ge’ ‘im back to ‘em.”

She’d intended to invite him to sit in one of their empty chairs, but a sound caught her ear – metal. Not the drawing of a weapon, but rattling. Like a flail, or –

Captain Durmand turned as the doors of the hall opened. Suddenly, Hafiz was the least of her present concerns.

She leaned slightly toward Rohit, whispering with a certain underlying urgency, her eyes scanning the banquet table, “perr’aps y’ go fin’ ‘is masterr, ‘en. There’s also a sea’ on tha’ end open.” She managed to get him the invitation, anyway.

Rohit seemed gentle. Perhaps she could spare him from the scene about to unfold, or at least Nadim from being anywhere near the Grand Vizir. If the doctor meant to sit across from her hadn’t arrived by now, perhaps he wasn’t coming.

The man with the chains must be one of the Queen’s witch hunters. The only one unaccounted for was Killian Hale. He carried quite the presence. Stratya had heard tales of those consumed by fury – who lived through it, only to become a smoldering remnant of what once was, even visited some with her father when she was little. That was this man. And yet, he stood, carried himself differently. Whether his fire had died and rekindled anew, or simply never burned out, this man's rage still burned.

The sound of chains affected some more than others. The woman with the foreign captain, for instance, seemed particularly unsettled. Something about the man suggested he would not be admonished for bringing such chains into the hall. Lady Zarai had openly berated Duke Lorenzo earlier – would her bravado hold here? Stratya hoped she wouldn’t need to rescue a drunken fool tonight.

Into the banquet hall, the witch hunter dragged a servant from the Edwards’ estate – the same one who’d given Stratya a dummy recipe. Close in taste, reasonably strong, but not what she’d drunk at Drake’s party. Lord Drake, who allowed only a flash of shock to cross his expression before he leaned slightly to consult his father.

Her confrontation with the Grand Vizir, it seemed, had reached an interlude. She wanted to return to the beautiful woman waiting by her seat. Hopefully, she could draw things involving Nadim to a smooth close, with Rohit 's help.

She gave the man a small, subtle motion of her head to proceed, her voice low, “I shoul’ be ‘erre f’ this.”

With that, she made her way toward her seat. A little giggle, followed by a sharp shnort, caught her attention. She paused, mentally confirming what she’d heard, then turned – watching as the Princess spun away, muttering something about things getting weird. Weird? Did she… think this was a sex thing?

Maybe that was easier, for now.

Her eyes flicked to Farim. It looked like Stratya wanted to say something, but her gaze shifted to Killian. Not the time. She returned her eyes to Farim with a communicative grimace as she began to turn away. If she was right – and she was fairly certain she was – this could get unpleasant. Anastasia was avoiding the truth of the matter entirely, which probably wasn't healthy, but perhaps it would come up again later.

Turning from Farim, she continued around the table and to her seat.

Killian reeked of danger. Stratya doubted Genevive would escape unscathed. It pained the knight, but what could she do now?

The lawful punishment for witchcraft was death – any magic, even a prank. The crime hadn’t been violent, and Stratya had the authority to be lenient or harsh. Perhaps she could have used the woman for information, or a new set of hands under her command. Something somewhere she could be watched closely. This man moved with an intensity she preferred to save for combat with a hated foe, and the Captain was sure he had no such merciful intention.

Was that how Killian’s flame was fed?

Her gaze found the Queen as Stratya came to her seat, seeking for a reaction that had likely already passed.

Genevive was certainly to be punished, but whatever this man had in mind seemed like it would be too severe – too violent, for what had been a non-violent offense.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Oso
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Oso

Member Seen 41 min ago

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @FunnyGuy Alexander, Lorenzo @princess Charlotte, @JJ Doe Count Fritz





Cassius hadn’t even meant to listen, but he heard everything.

He had crouched there beside her, and beside Fritz, just to make sure she didn’t faint. He only wanted to ground her, or at least that was the reason he gave himself. But now he was hearing it too…The words and accusations, Lorenzo’s misguided idiocy, and Alexander’s fucking lies.

Charlotte trembled beside him, he could tell that every fiber of her being wanted to burst through those doors. He wouldn’t let her, not like this. But thanfully, he didn’t have to stop her. Just in time, Count Fritz stepped in.

Fritz took her hand gently, placed it against his chest, and began to walk her through the simplest, yet most powerful thing in the world. Breathing. And somehow, it worked.

The tension in her shoulders loosened, if only slightly. The frantic look in her eye began to dull. When the Count revealed to Cassius that she had been cursed, he pushed the stress of the revelation out through a long exhale.

“Thank you.”

He spoke it softly, genuinely. And then, his voice dropped just a little further.

“I’ve dealt with curses before... not quite like this, maybe... but enough to know that you’re right. For now, all she can do is endure.”

He looked down at Charlotte again, still holding her hand with no intention of letting go.

Her face was pale and tired, but calmer now. Maybe the worst of the storm had passed, who knew, but at the very least he hoped relief was imminent for her. He could see in her posture that her plans had changed. She no longer reached for the door…Good…At least that part was over.

He rose slowly, guiding her up with him, his hand never leaving hers.

“Count Hendrix...” Cassius looked to the man, his tone respectful, “...would you mind giving us a moment?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Would you do her one more favor and keep listening? If anything else comes through that door, anything important... let us know later.”

And with that, Cassius turned, drawing Charlotte gently behind him. Their hands remained clasped as he led her away from the door, away from the noise and the rage and the pain of what had been said.

They moved down the corridor, past tapestries and statues and all of the other fancy bullshit places like this were riddled with…through a small, arched alcove and into one of the old servant nooks just off the hallway. It was quiet, and that’s all that really mattered.
Once inside, Cassius finally turned, his eyes sweeping over her with a quiet intensity that was unmistakable in its worry.

“You alright?”

The words weren’t poetic or as charming as his usual fare. He watched her face, her body language, looking for the truth in all the spaces he could.

He stepped closer, just enough to bridge the gap between them, his voice was gentle as he spoke again. “You don’t have to talk yet if you’re not ready... but I need you to understand something.”

His hand reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture uncharacteristically careful. “No one gets to define you. Not a prince... Not a count... Not a prick like Alexander Deacon... Not your father... Not me… Only you get to do that.”

He paused though his gaze never left hers.

“You hear me, Lottie?”

The silence pressed in, but he didn’t shy away from it, instead he continued and his next words came out even softer.

“You are not weak.”

He took another step closer.

“You are not shameful.”

His hand found hers again, thumb brushing gently across her knuckles.

“And you are not alone.”

He let those words hang in the balance of what little space remained between them.

Then, quieter still…

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. Anything.”

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by samreaper
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samreaper Laughing Imp

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Kazumin Nagasa




Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Room
Interactions: @potter Lady Olivia/Percy,
Mentions:



The moment his lips clumsily pressed to Olivia's, his mind nearly spiraled at the realization he had just boldly kissed the woman on the precipice of a meltdown. Who also had dangerous magic tendrils hovering and threatening to envelop his best friend…

And his big brain move was to kiss her?!* Urgh..nononono, Kazu you fucking idiot?! Of all the stupid..gutsy..why?!* Feeling like he had just massively screwed up; unsure what foolish thought pushed him to do such a stupid bold act and intended to quickly pull away to apologize and try to explain..

Unexpectedly, to his complete and utter shock, she returned the kiss in her own equally inexperienced way.

And his mind went blank as if it short-circuited from the overwhelming rush of heated emotions and confusion, his heart pounding and skipping frantically as if a marching band was stamping through his chest, blasting their instruments with passionate gusto. Almost suffocatingly so, finding it difficult to breathe.

All the discomfort, doubts, shame, and confusion then melted away, and in this brief shared moment, genuine happiness rushed into him like a burning inferno that left his flushed face red as if he had held his face to a flame, the sweat slicking his beet-red face attesting to that.

Then their lips parted. The red-faced Kazu, his eyes kept shut and body tensing up, prepping for a possible slap, did more out of reflex than fear, though he doubted Percy would react so badly normally, the current tense circumstances made things much more sensitively risky.

* Ugh..last time I listened to the grumblings of my gut…But I haven't been smacked or burned by tendrils so far…and she did kiss back. My first kiss…awkward but so far not tha-* Ruminating on his thoughts as he begrudgingly opened his eyes to peer at the wide-eyed Olivia, a myriad of emotions roiled in those tear-glazed green eyes, where the flickering black had lessened, while confusion etched most prominently in her features.

He could do little else but gulp with a shaky inhale, relieved to see the overflowing magic seemingly dying down, and for a moment hoped he had succeeded in calming her down, only for it to come back and in stronger force as he witnessed Olivia break down and collapse into blubbering tears.

At first he feared he screwed things up afterall and felt immense shame; tilting his head downward some. Hating seeing the strong and proud woman who took on any challenge head-on, reduced to her knees, crying, with the deadly tendrils returned slithering and hungry to claim her for their own.

A mixture of fury and guilt struck through him, leaving Kazu stunned and unsure of what to do. Dreading that it was his actions that had pushed her over this edge and fearing he might have lost her again..After finally getting her to trust him enough to open up.

”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.

Her words were a bit hard to make out through the blubbering, but he understood the plea for help easily enough and started a step forward. But then he saw the warning gaze in her eyes that screamed for him to run.

At that moment, the cowlicked blonde could feel the increasing heated pressure swarming around Olivia. Terrifying and dangerous to behold, the intense shifting of the air nearly overtook him with fear, causing him to take a step back, his breath catching in his throat.

Turning his head partially towards the door behind him as if a small part of him contemplated fleeing. As he did so, though, he would notice that the banquet hall had become considerably quiet; too much so for a few simple groups, and a faint sound like something being dragged was barely heard through the door. From the cracks, an icy coldness seeping through would soon be felt against his back.

The icy shiver gave warning of a different kind of danger having entered the banquet hall. Kazu’s body shuddered, feeling the unknown chill while a woman close to a magical fiery meltdown before him.

Whatever was occurring in the banquet hall, while worrying, also left him grateful. The timely icy sting of its uncertainties helped him shake off the dark magic’s intimidation, and with a shake of his head, pushed out the cacophony of thoughts before they could make him hesitate or fill him with doubts and fear.

A quiet, dashing drop to her side, ignoring the deadly tendrils and her harsh warning, and threw his arms around her. Hugging her tightly like a comforting blanket.” Shh… it's ok. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered softly, recalling how she held him together when he felt as if the world was going to drop beneath him.

Holding her closer, using his body to cover and hide her from the view of the world that only ever judged and scrutinized this poor girl because of her wondrous gift and because of her parents sought to use her as nothing more than a tool..a weapon.

“ Like hell if you think I’m gonna run and leave you to..to these…vile things.” He cautiously motioned the tendrils with a harsh glare.” They can try all they like, but a waste cause the Percy I know never stays down. With or without magic, you’ve always kicked ass and gotten back up. But..but it’s clear you’ve fought too much, too hard by yourself…well, no more…now that I finally caught up to you, I’m not letting go again. So if you want to go giving in to this dumb, wicked magic, then you’re gonna have to blast me off this balcony otherwise!”

Nodding his head defiantly as he held her closer, refusing to relent even if she tried pushing him off or the tendrils attacked him. For he was tired of Percy pushing away anytime he got close, afraid to believe he cared about her and not the gift she held. While wondrous in its own right, what Kazu cherished was her passionate kindness and boundless hunger; how she smiled and laughed to him and his antics instead of disdain or disgust..or was ignored and overlooked by most.

She had been there when he was alone, but..she never allowed him the chance to do the same for her. That above all hurt him most, and yet again tried pushing him away; this time, she would surely be lost this time, he could tell, but would not let it win..would not let whatever this was take her from him, not again.

“ I love you too much to let you continue going off alone…and be devoured by wicked magic or that bastard Calbert..or anyone..I’ll fight them all, long as I can stay at your side….even if it hurts.” His words a soft, warm whisper, spoken with genuine honesty, hoping she can believe and accept that he just wanted to stay with her.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by SilverPaw
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SilverPaw

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Attire: Banquet fit, a simple princely crown
Date and Time: Sola 28th, 6pm
Location: The Castle
Mention(s): Kilian, Alibeth
Interaction(s): @princess Anastasia, @Lava Alckon Farim

The moment Wulfric's hand touched the handle of the beige drawing room, hairs rose on his nape, stopping him mid-motion. It was one of those there-and-gone feelings. A premonition of danger. It was an instinct he knew better than to ignore.

With one hand, he creaked the door open, while his other reached for a hidden dagger.

Nothing.

No one.

It was empty.

Wulfric frowned. He had spent time talking to the servants, yet Anastasia and Farim had not arrived yet. Certainly, they might have lingered in the hall to talk, but…there was that niggling suspicion.

Don’t tell me something happened the moment I stepped foot outside. It was irksome, but just in case, he strolled back to the hall. Before he reached it, he spotted a harried servant departing from that very direction. He stopped the man, who was thin as a reed, pale as a ghost, sandy hair framing wide brown-green eyes. Upon the prince’s prompt, he introduced himself as Andreas.

“What is going on in there?”

“Y-your Highness,” Andreas bowed. “Uh…I’m not sure. Some man brought in a chained woman. I think he spoke to the queen?” He scratched his head. “I didn’t really…khm, I figured maybe it was time to summon back the other guests.” His eyes shifted sideways, and Wulfric guessed he used the opportunity to flee the unknown.

The prince smiled thinly. “Oh, I expect it might be. Before that, however: is there a place I might see what is going on without being spotted?”

“Er-well, if Your Highness doesn’t mind the servants’ passageway…”

“Perfect.”

That said, the prince followed the servant to a seemingly solid part of the wall. At a press of Andreas’ palm upon a part of a pillar’s relief, a soft click echoed. The man slid a panel aside, and led him into a well-lit corridor wide enough for food trolleys to pass through uninhibited.

“Here, Your Highness.” At an intersection, they began to ascend. At the top, the man fiddling with something produced another click, and they emerged behind an archway on the second floor. There wasn’t anything so grand as a balcony, merely a narrow ledge leading to the high windows lining the banquet hall.

So, they were on a cleaning accessway? Fascinating.

From where he was, he had a decent view of the hallway when he peeked from beyond the archway. At the same time, thick curtains obscured him from the view of those below – if anyone even thought to crane their necks that far up.

Wulfric saw the black-coated, white-haired man. The stranger practically oozed killing intent. A bound, gagged, barefoot woman was dragged behind him, leashed on a chain. Like a dog. Or a slave.

The unknown man watched the queen. The queen watched him in turn, calm and expectant.

He recognized this scene, had witnessed it many times before. It was a show being set up. A stage play sprung upon them, trying to force every single person into a predetermined role.

Wulfric exhaled, nostrils flaring. He’d seen enough.

He turned on his heel, and returned through the servants’ corridor to the hallway proper. The sandy-haired servant followed him quietly. “I have one more request, Andreas…” Wulfric beckoned him closer, and imparted his instructions.

“Understood, Your Highness.” The man did not seem particularly enthused about returning to the banquet hall. But then, all he had to do was pass an order to another servant, after which he was free to leave.

The royal strolled to the designated meeting point, an alcove on a hallway leading to the kitchen, and waited. His servant-spy was cautious enough that it took a few minutes for him to arrive. Without a word, the agent in the guise of a middle-aged employee handed him a scrap of parchment. The two new arrivals’ magicae were noted. Too, the servant relayed in whispers what he’d witnessed. Wulfric nodded, and said, “Keep watching. If anything else is needed…you will know.”

The spy bowed, then they went on their ways without another word.

By the time he returned to the beige drawing room, Anastasia had arrived, leading Farim.

“Ah, it seems I am just in time,” he smiled, entering after the two did. He waited until the door was closed before posing his question. “You wished to discuss Callum?” He looked towards his sister and the shahzade, eyebrow arching.
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Hidden 1 yr ago → 1 yr ago Post by JJ Doe
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JJ Doe

Member Seen 1 mo ago
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Hala Sami
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
28 Sola, Night
The Grand Banquet, Outside
@Tae @Lava Alckon @Tpartywithzombi @Helo

“How convenient it must be to waltz into someone else’s storm and play prophet when you’ve never lived a day in their skin.”

Hala let the silence breathe for a beat. Then came the laugh—it started low in their throat, curled upward, and spilled out in a ripple. They weren’t sure what amused them more: the way Thea said it like she was delivering some sacred truth from the mountaintop, or the fact that she actually believed it landed.

You don’t know me. What a classic. As if trauma came with exclusive rights.

No one’s ever spent a day in someone else’s skin. That was the entire burden of being a person: you didn’t get to trade places, no matter how loudly you whined about it. And unless Thea had the gift of mind-sight—and given her performance so far, Thea wouldn’t be able to read even with glasses—then how would she possibly know where Hala had walked, tripped, fallen, or flown?

More likely, Thea just hated not being handled like spun sugar. So she hissed and spat. Cute.

“Well,” Hala said once the laughing died down, “your story’s hardly original.” Cognac eyes dragged over Thea like fingers trailing through dust. “Let’s see… Daddy was cruel. Mommy was distant. Naturally, you reached for whatever numbed the ache. Booze. Drugs. A blade, maybe, when nothing else bit deep enough. But none of it helped. It never does.”

Hala cocked their head, “Then somewhere along the way you found someone to latch onto. A friend, a lover, someone who promised to stick around but—plot twist—they didn’t. Because they realized this…” they waved their manicured hand at the entirety of Thea’s being, “was exhausting.”

From beneath the folds of silk, the small warmth trembled. Hala slid a hand beneath the fabric, fingers stroking soft fur. “Did I miss anything?” Hala paused for the drama, not to give Thea time to answer. There was no need to: جبتها على الجرح.

“But hey, if the only time you feel loved is when people pity you? By all means, marinate. Go get your next hit—your dark-haired knight in shining armor is probably next in line, desperate to kiss, lick, and suck your wounds.” Just another tragic little heroine, high on sympathy. One of those addicts who never actually wanted to get better, only the attention that came with being broken. The kind Hala had seen far more often among the privileged. After all, when you’re handed everything, you get the luxury of flaunting your pains, big and small.

“Since I’m apparently in the prophecy business tonight, here’s another one for free. Nothing changes until you do the actual work. Stop begging other people to love you and figure out how to do it yourself.” Boredom seeped in fast and Damsel In Distress #1341 was already blending into the background. “Only you can save yourself in the end.”

With that, Hala turned without ceremony. One final flick of the wrist, and they faced the other two. “Hello.”
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Rodiak
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Rodiak 𝔪𝔦 𝔪𝔞ñ𝔞𝔫𝔞, 𝔪𝔦 𝔥𝔬𝔶, 𝔪𝔦 𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯

Member Seen 12 mos ago



outfit ♘

C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s : Torvi @Tae
M e n t i o n s :





Mathias smiled nervously under the sharp, glacial gaze of the silver-haired woman. “I must apologize,” he said, glancing briefly at her name tag. “Miss Jur-Jorviksdottir. I fear I may have already eaten one, and the other…”

His voice trailed off. He’d taken the second pastry in quiet memory of his late wife, but that was a sentiment better left unspoken here and now. Instead, he offered a sheepish smile. “I’m halfway through. But I’d be glad to offer my non-servant services and fetch a replacement, for both of you, if you’d like.”

At that moment, Lady Lesdeman rose without a word and left their taBLE, leaving behind her untouched mead. One by one, others around the table began to drift away as well. Mathias blinked, belatedly realizing just how late his arrival had been. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he wasn’t quite sure.

His eyes brightened when another knight, clearly about to offer him a drink, opened her mouth to speak, but the moment passed before she could get the words out. Mathias's gaze flicked back to the mead. Would Lady Lesdeman mind if he stole it?

Then came the yelp.

The sound cut through the air, followed by a flurry of motion. Mathias watched the Grand Vizier all but slap a dog from his person. The knight cringed, his mouth tightening as he spotted Stratya rising from her seat and moving toward the man with purpose.

“It says much about a man, how he treats animals,” Mathias said, more to himself than anyone else, though Torvi was near enough to hear. His voice held a quiet bitterness. “Innocent creatures deserve better.” He hesitated, then added, “Not that I’ve heard many kind things about him, frankly.”

He wasn’t the sort to speak ill of nobles, he knew well enough that halls like these had ears, but some things deserved to be said, caution be damned.

“Are Caesonian banquets always this lively?” he mused aloud, his eyes drifting once more to the abandoned glass of mead.

“She wouldn’t mind, would she?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Standing, Mathias leaned across the table and retrieved the drink, fingers curling around the cool glass. But just as he lowered himself back into his chair, the hall fell into an abrupt, unnatural hush.

He froze mid-motion.

The atmosphere had shifted. He could feel it pressing against his skin.

Slowly, Mathias lifted his gaze toward the source of the silence. His posture straightened, and his expression hardened, brows furrowed, jaw tight, every sense alert. Everything of what he saw felt wrong.

“Miss Jorviksdottir,” he said quietly, eyes not leaving the growing tension across the hall, “I think this banquet has just come to an official end.”

He raised the glass and drained it in one go. Whatever was coming, he’d prefer to meet it with a buzz warming the edges of his mind.

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Hidden 1 yr ago → 5 mos ago Post by Potter
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Potter

Member Seen 2 days ago

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Rodiak Nahir ☁ @princess Hafiz
Mentions: @CitrusArms Stratya
Aesthetic: ☁ Hair ☁ Dress ☁ Necklace ☁ Shoes

Kira allowed her shoulders to relax. Hafiz had walked off with an unknown destination. Good riddance. He left a bad feeling in her stomach. Had she crossed paths with someone akin to Marek? She watched him for a moment and then turned her attention to Nahir. The Shehzadi’s hand reached for her own, and Kira returned the gesture. Before either of them could make contact, the scenery changed drastically.

Kira froze and watched. A witch hunter entered the room and dragged a chained woman behind. Her eyebrows rose. Marek would definitely want to know about this. She kept a close eye on the man and remained silent. An empty hand subconsciously reached up to her necklace and tucked it under her dress. The coldness in the room was frosty enough to freeze everyone permanently. Movement caught her eye and she noticed Prince Wulfric watching from above, briefly. She glanced back down at Nahir, then her gaze scanned the room.

During the nonsense, several of her targets had left the room: Cassius, Leo, Thea, Olivia, Kazu, Charlotte, and Fritz. She cursed herself. How did she become so distracted? Her attention was now honed in, and she continued watching. She remained poised, watchful, and inconspicuous beside Nahir.
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Hidden 1 yr ago → 9 mos ago Post by Potter
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Potter

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Olivia

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


Olivia sank into Kazumin’s hug. Her tears began to slow, and she sniffled. As she melted into his grip, she buried her head against his chest. His words soothed her racing heart. For now, the tendrils had left, and there was only Olivia. The effects of the dark magic had left her drained. Olivia pulled away and wiped her eyes and nose clumsily with a napkin from her dress’s pocket. A giggle escaped her once her gaze met Kazumin’s.

”I… Well, that was…” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. ”...Unexpected.” She giggled again and pulled him into a fierce hug. Her voice was soft against the wind ruffling their hair. ”Thank you, Kaz, for sticking by me and helping me. I love you, too.”

She turned to the banquet room. It had gone deadly silent, except for the sound of chains being dragged. Curious, scared, worried and alarmed, Olivia poked her head in. The sight before her caused her breath to catch. What the hell? Is that what I think it is..? Her eyes widened and she glanced at Kazumin, then she quickly moved away out of sight from the banquet.

Olivia checked her hands. There wasn't anything around her. Her gaze met Kazu’s and she turned back to watch the scenery. Her skin paled and she took several deep breaths to calm herself down. Her hand reached for Kaz’s and pulled him to her side closer to grip his sides. They were in over their heads.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by FunnyGuy
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FunnyGuy

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Lorexander Deakena

Time: 6 p.m.
Location: Entry Hall, The Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Alexander's suit and Lorenzo’s fit
Interaction:
Mention: Charlotte @princess


Last time on Roses & Daggers…


“Lorenzo, I’m sorry. Truly, I am…” He lied easily as he had waited for a moment like this to return. “...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…” Alexander felt Lorenzo quiver beneath his grasp. “…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.” Lorenzo slowly but surely faced Alexander, his visage sad and pitiful as if he could shatter if he decided to simply squeeze his shoulder in comfort.

“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?”

…

There was a moment of pause and silence between the two men. To describe that as simply that was easy. In truth, a predator had its jaws locked around a prey’s throat, canines piercing and preventing the windpipe from providing oxygen to the brain.

Isolated and weakened, it was a surprise that Alexander chose not to indulge in a swift act of violence. To remove such a piece from the board would be easy. Who’d even miss him? Charlotte? His servants? Who did he truly have?

Yet, the thought hadn’t crossed the mind of the man who wore such a pleasant smile.

“Whoever it is, it doesn't matter. What's most concerning now, is that she's hurting, and she needs you, her father, more than ever in her time of weakness.” Alexander placed his other hand on Lorenzo's other shoulder, his eye boring into his now. “She is your treasure, is she not? The only person who has a place in your heart… Who fills it so completely that it hurts you to see her in such a way.”

“Lottie… is- She’s the most important person in my life.” Lorenzo's voice was weak despite the emotions he felt within. His soul was shouting the words, but his mouth failed to deliver them appropriately. “This… This courting season…” Lorenzo scowled, blaming the only thing he could think was the problem without evidence. He'd blame the choice of her drinking red wine over white if it were something to cling to.

“Shh… You're thinking too rashly, my friend.” Alexander's voice was like a silk blanket draping over Lorenzo's shoulders. Unbeknownst to him, however, that soft comforting fabric was contaminated with unseen disease and plague.

“But, it's the only thing that's changed! We were fine before all this! She was a normal girl! You- You don't know the strange things I’ve witnessed her do,” Lorenzo challenged fervently.

“I don't, but what will you do, Lorenzo? Lock her away and keep her isolated from the world? Is that normal? Lorenzo Vikena. You are looking at this in the wrong way.”

“No! We need to return to Veirmont! We need to go back to-”

“Normal?! Lorenzo, it is not this city that has changed your daughter. It's the people, Lorenzo… Think! Who have you let into your home? Who have you allowed access to your daughter without you knowing them?” Lorenzo appeared as if he might say something, but he took too long to think of a retort, or rather, Alexander was too swift.

“How much did you know about me before this evening? How much do you even know now? You were lucky I had good intentions for Charlotte, but what about the others? Do you know them? Their intentions for her? Their influence on her? The masks they wear and the faces beneath them?”

“I trusted Lottie's judgment. Was that wrong of me?!”

“Was it? You tell me.”

“… I don't know! I’m just trying to give her a good life! The best one I could give her. To have her not worry so much! I just…” Lorenzo could feel a familiar tingling in his eyes as his voice nearly cracked.

“Lorenzo, listen to yourself. Think about all she’s been through.”

“I know…” Lorenzo nearly whispered.

“How vulnerable she must be.”

“I know…” His voice was shakier as his lips quivered.

“She lost her father to sickness at such a tender age. Sickness. It lacks mercy, Lorenzo. Imagine it. Charlotte had to watch the strongest man she ever loved slowly fade away from this world with no ability to stop it.”

Lorenzo's head hung low, as his knees became weak, but Alexander had him and would not dare let him escape from this.

“Then, her mother. Suicide. What kind of mother leaves behind their child? And what does the child think of their mother abandoning them so selfishly?” Alexander leaned in closer to Lorenzo.

“And then you. You isolated her. With good intentions, I know. You wanted to be away from the tragedy, but… what do you think happens to someone who keeps losing people like this? She's not you, Lorenzo. She has holes in her heart that are too deep to be filled by you alone… and so she seeks…. So many around her, wearing smiles and speaking prettied words, but you know better than anyone that there are actors all around us.”

“We could leave… Veirmont is different.”

“And hide forever? Do you think she’d like that? With all the friends she's made?”

“I don't know…”

“Lorenzo… Lorenzo, look at me!” Lorenzo lifted his head, meeting his gaze. He appeared to be such a different man than the one who led Alexander into the hall. Face reddened, eyes puffy, and face wet with tears. “Good, now listen. Let her do as she wants. It's too late to change anything. Sometimes, you have to let the youth see the error of their ways. Let them stumble and fall. And when that happens, you and I will be right there to catch her. And then we can crush whoever happens to be the cause.” Alexander shrugged, but his smugness quickly morphed into distress.

“Aagh!” Alexander shut his eyes tightly and pushed Lorenzo from him as he was suddenly afflicted by a sharp headache. Lorenzo, unprepared, fell backward onto his rear with a high-pitched yelp. Lorenzo was initially appalled by the act, but concern quickly grew within him as he watched Alexander place a hand over his forehead while using the nearby wall to support his weight.

The pushed too much and too far in such a short period of time. Alexander just needed a moment, but what would this evening give him instead?


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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Winners wear red & black!
Interactions: Ari @Tpartywithzombi, Thea @Tae, Hala @JJ Doe



His head tilted as his smile widened. “Ruined her dress and sent her fleeing into the night.” The creature occasionally known as Clarence elegantly outstretched an arm and flicked his fingers, miming the haste with which Victoria had scampered off. He chuckled as he added, “And did you see the look of her face as she fled? Delightful. A serving of just desserts for the wretched Duchess.” His shoulders shimmied as his arm dropped back down to his side. It had been the first sampling of the night’s chaos, as a carefully assembled feast soured into a series of scandals.

HIs attention flicked to the stranger, Hala, who had ignored his greeting to argue with Thea. The pair attempted to wound only with words in the manner that this age of humans had grown so fond of, pretending that it was more civilized than answering such a challenge with violence. It was only less effective, less final, and far less fun to watch.

“Bitter that your efforts to convince the prosaic St. Claire to suck at your wounds have been fruitless?” He asked Hala, watching as their hand slipped into their flowing collection of silks. “Petting yourself to the sound of your own voice? I guess that’s one way to love yourself.” Clarence added as his smirk worked its way into his voice.

He nodded at Thea who suggested returning to the feast. “Time to see what dear old dad had in mind for the finale to his disastrous feast.” He glanced at Ari and then towards the doors, time to find out what that new tension in the air was all about.
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Hidden 1 yr ago → 1 yr ago Post by JJ Doe
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JJ Doe

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⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Hala Sami
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28 Sola, Night
The Grand Banquet, Outside & Inside
@Helo @Oso @Tae @Tpartywithzombi @princess @CitrusArms

“Bitter that your efforts to convince the prosaic St. Claire to suck at your wounds have been fruitless?”

A theatrical sigh escaped Hala. “With how disappointing this whole night’s been, he’s going to have to suck more than my wounds to make up for it.”

“Petting yourself to the sound of your own voice? I guess that’s one way to love yourself.”

Their lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but promised far more entertainment. “You say that like it’s supposed to be an insult.”

One hand disappeared into the silk draped across their chest. When it emerged, it cradled a small, trembling bundle of cream and dark points—a dwarf rabbit no bigger than their palm. Yara’s enormous eyes blinked at the assembled group before she pressed herself against Hala, seeking comfort from the tension thick in the air.

“There’s no shame in loving yourself,” their voice softened, fingers finding that sweet spot behind Yara’s ears. The rabbit melted under the touch before burrowing back into the safety of luxurious fabric.

Moving closer, Hala studied the prince. Something was off-kilter, had been from the start. The way he held himself, the cadence of his speech, even the expressions he made. None of it matched the stories about him.

“Not that you’d know anything about that, from what I’ve heard about you, Callum.” They let his name drop like they were testing how it tasted. Head tilted, Hala’s gaze traveled his features. “Though you’re apparently not acting like the prince people know tonight.”

Fingers drifted upward, hovering near his chin without quite making contact—close enough that he’d feel the warmth, the almost-touch more electric than actual skin on skin. “Almost like you’re not Callum Danrose.”

For a brief moment, they held each other’s stare. If Clarence dared a taste, it wasn’t anger radiating from Hala, not disappointment either—just flat, stale boredom.

Rapid, urgent footsteps cut through the night air.

“Hala Sami!”

The servant’s voice cracked with panic as he stumbled into view, chest heaving from his sprint. Words tumbled out in a frantic rush: “The Grand Vizier sent me—Nadim—he’s been kidnapped by a Caesonian knight!”

Every trace of playfulness and boredom evaporated from Hala’s demeanor, spine snapping straight, eyes sharpened to razor points.

“Who.” The word carved itself from ice.

“Knight Captain Stratya Durmand,” the servant gasped, still struggling for air.

Silk robes billowed behind Hala, sweeping toward the castle doors. Mind racing faster than feet. Calculating. Strategizing. Preparing for war. “Where?”

“She’s still in the dining hall.”

A sharp click of tongue against teeth. They reached the heavy doors and inhaled sharply through their nose, then exhaled as they pushed inside.

The dining hall wasn’t the same room they’d left. Whatever had happened in their absence had shifted the energy, charging it with the aftermath of one storm while it crackled with the promise of another.

Nervous fidgeting caught their attention. “That is her, over there.” The servant’s finger guided Hala’s gaze to the knight captain—country manners stuffed into knight’s clothing.

Although they wanted to march straight over for a confrontation, Hala knew this wasn’t the place or time. With a hunting cat’s grace, they settled themselves behind Grand Vizier Hafiz.

And waited, ready for him to say the word.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by princess
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princess

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Duke Gideon Edwards



Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interaction/Mention: @TpartywithZombi Ariella @Lava Alckon Drake @Helo Leo


Gideon felt the atmosphere shift before the doors even opened.

A sudden chill slithered across his skin, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck like an animal sensing the approach of danger. His breath caught, as a low, metallic scraping echoed through the hall—a sound he knew too well.

In an instant, the banquet vanished, replaced by the darkness of an evening long past. He was sixteen again, heart hammering painfully in his chest, kneeling on damp grass behind a thorny shrub as panic filled his veins. The cold night air filled his senses; the rustle of branches pressed against his trembling limbs. Beside him, the twins were frozen, their breathing shallow, eyes wide in fear. He could still vividly recall the way Walter's hand had clutched his tightly, how all three of them had stared in helpless dread, as a figure in black dragged a heavy iron chain across the stone walkway.

And now, decades later, Gideon felt that same shadow descending, the same icy dread pooling beneath his ribs as the banquet doors swung slowly open.

When he stepped into view, Gideon's knuckles went white around the stem of his wine glass. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, his eyes locked on the cold, calculated calm that radiated from the man at the center of the room.

His gaze flicked in search of his daughter. Her expression was still controlled, but he could not forget the danger that lurked just beneath her skin, buried but never truly gone. Panic seized him with silent claws. If any of them had sensed anything——then she was no longer safe. None of them were.

The moment the captive stumbled into view, Gideon felt nausea rise bitterly in his throat. It was Genevieve, one of the women his wife had employed. He had seen her before. And he had seen all of this too—the desperate eyes, the silent plea, the ruthless accusation made without words. But he also vividly remembered the reckless brown-haired boy who had once been the fire that burned defiantly against such cruelty... but he wasn’t here now. Gideon was alone.

And this time, the one at risk was one of the few people he could not bear to lose.

Gideon’s hand trembled subtly as he set the glass down, forcing himself into composure even as the banquet hall dissolved into chaos around him. He knew what would come next, what always came next.

He leaned forward, steadying himself, heart thundering beneath his composed exterior.

Because he knew with bone-deep certainty: if that white-haired man learned about her, he wouldn’t hesitate. He would drag her into the open, bind her wrists with iron, and erase her life in the name of order. But Gideon would never let that happen. He couldn't.

And in that moment—perhaps more deeply and profoundly than he ever had—he understood Walter.

... I will do whatever it takes to protect her. To protect both of them.

Drake’s voice broke through his storming thoughts:

”Sir, who is this man who is put together like something from a thriller novel? And why is he carrying Geneveive out in chains like this? Did he get approval through you before just taking someone from our staff?”

Gideon’s gaze never left the hunter.

"...Find the girls, son."

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Hidden 1 yr ago → 1 yr ago Post by princess
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princess

Member Seen 18 hrs ago



Time: Eveing
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interaction/Mention: @Oso Killian


Queen Alibeth Danrose remained perfectly poised, the stoicism in her features a maintained mask of composure. Yet internally, a spark of dark satisfaction flickered through her veins like an electric current. She had anticipated this moment. Planned for it, even.

And now, as Kilian strode through the hall, dragging iron chains, Alibeth felt a surge of vindication. Here was a tangible message delivered to those fools, a clear statement: magic and its chaotic undercurrents would not be tolerated in Caesonia.

And especially not from Marek’s pawns.

Her eyes glittered with carefully restrained triumph, the only outward sign a subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth. This man, Kilian, was exactly as promised—a blade to cut away the kingdom's festering corruption.

King Edin, however, was in an entirely different state of mind. Inebriated and flushed from his indulgences, he initially watched, open-mouthed, as the display unfolded. For a fleeting moment, there was a sharpness in his gaze—a flicker of sober awareness that betrayed he had, in fact, anticipated this. Alibeth had warned him ahead of time, after all. But as the chains scraped louder and the drama crescendoed, his expression shifted. The seriousness evaporated, replaced by a lazy, self-satisfied grin, as if the entire affair had been orchestrated solely for his entertainment.

He slapped the armrest of his throne with a boisterous bark of laughter, thoroughly delighted.

“Oh, splendid! Absolutely spectacular!” Edin's voice echoed unnecessarily loudly in the silent hall. He leaned toward Alibeth, his breath thick with drink, “You really went all out, didn’t you, my dear? I suppose this is your way of spicing up the evening!”

A hiccup punctuated his enthusiasm, and he waved a hand towards Kilian, utterly oblivious to—or perhaps choosing to ignore—the tension vibrating through the room. Whispers of shock and outrage rippled through the guests, but Edin merely lounged back in his throne, smug and immensely entertained.

Alibeth allowed herself a subtle sigh, then rose gracefully to her feet, projecting authority. “Welcome, Kilian,” she addressed him, her voice steady and resonant. “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”

For a moment, she let the silence hold, let the court wonder, let them fear.

“For those of you who may not yet understand the necessity of this interruption,” she continued, her tone cool but not cruel, “allow me to clarify. The woman you see before you has been apprehended under my directive. She was responsible for tampering with the refreshments at the Edwards’ recent gathering—a calculated act designed to sow chaos and bring harm to our noble class.”

Alibeth’s gaze swept across the assembly, allowing each noble to feel the weight of her words. “It was not mere mischief,” she said. “It was an assault. One that endangered many of you here tonight. And more gravely, one that put the royal children themselves at risk.”

The ripple that passed through the guests was immediate—gasps and murmurs as they shifted in discomfort, horror painted across their faces.

Alibeth let the reaction settle, then with a faint, chilling smile, she inclined her head toward Kilian. “Please, seat yourself and enjoy what remains of the banquet. You have more than earned it.”

Then, without so much as glancing at her husband’s flushed and grinning form, she lowered herself back onto her throne with the effortless dignity of a queen.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Oso
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Oso

Member Seen 41 min ago



Time: Evening
Location: The Royal Banquet
Interactions: @princess Queen Alibeth, @Helo Leo, @Tae Torvi & Fenrys




Kilian had not moved.

Even as the Queen’s voice settled over the court, he remained exactly where he was...still, sharp, and completely in his element.

The chain in his hand hung loose now, its weight resting in coils along the floor. His grip hadn’t shifted, his expression hadn’t changed, but his absolute conviction radiated from him as though it was its own being entirely.

He looked toward Alibeth then. Not the king, nor the crowd…Just her.

His eyes met hers with no pretense of deference, only the steady, watchful certainty of a man who understood exactly what he had just delivered. Not just the drama of it all, but the impact that would continue to ripple through Sorian from now on. And for a moment, something like a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth...not wide enough to be vulgar, but enough to suggest he was enjoying himself. Enjoying this display.

He tugged at the chain, but only slightly. Just enough to draw it forward a few inches, just enough to let the links scrape the floor and remind everyone that the woman behind him was still there, still bound, still silent.

His voice came low, smooth, and unhurried.

“The Queen honors me with her words. But she is no less true for her compliments. This kingdom is wounded. Struck with the gravest of injuries and bleeding out day by day. That wound has been left to fester. It has become infected. You all have been made delirious by the sickness that pulses through the veins of this city like sepsis.”

Kilian let the faint trace of amusement curl around the edges of his expression like smoke. But it did not deter from the severity of his words. Slowly, he began to walk.

Not toward the dais, but through the center of the room…the chain clinking softly behind him with every step. The woman followed without a word, her white dress trailing behind her, her eyes lowered. Her bare feet barely made a sound, but the chain filled the silence for her.

His path ended at one of the long tables. His seat waited there...Torvi on one side, Fenrys sprawled at her feet like a sleeping god, and Lord Smithwood on the other.

He came to a stop, the chain pulling taut behind him. The woman obeyed without command, her posture straightening as she took her place behind his chair. Kilian didn’t look at her, not even once. Instead, he continued.

“This once great city has become afflicted by the corruption of Magicae. I have come here, along with my companions from the Vanguard, to cut that rot from the wound in this city and to cleanse it. We are here to heal the wounds of corruption left in the wake of the arcane. I will rescue you from the maw of abomination.”

He stood there for just a moment, letting the weight of the silence deepen between his words.

“The good people of this kingdom deserve peace. You deserve prosperity. The innocent deserve to be kept safe from the evils that lurk among you. We will find that evil and bring it to justice. Despite the dramatics… I am not here for spectacle. I am here for results. Together, alongside my brothers and sisters of the Vanguard, we will ensure that you are protected from the ultimate threat to our kind.”

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand… and let the chain fall from his grasp.

The clatter of iron against marble was loud enough to jolt the room. It rang out sharp and clear, shattering whatever composure some of the weaker nobles had managed to maintain.

Kilian lowered himself into the chair like it had been waiting for him. Like he belonged there more than anyone else in the room. The captive, Genevieve, stood still behind him, exactly as she was meant to

One gloved hand found the edge of his goblet. He didn’t drink. Just turned the cup once with his fingers, slow and absent, while the tension twisted tighter around the room.

Then, finally, he spoke again.

“Today begins the reckoning. You have my word… Now please, do carry on with the merriment.”

A very poignant smirk tugged at his lips.

“I’d hate to be the only one enjoying myself.”

And with that, he leaned back in his chair comfortably and took a sip of wine from the goblet. Turning his attention first to Lord Smithwood, Kilian offered the man acknowledgment in the form of a nod and raised his glass to him before turning his gaze to Torvi.

“It is so nice to see you again, þruma. And you…” He said, first referring to her by the nickname he gave her and then looking over to her loyal protecter, Fenrys. “…I see your mother has been feeding you like a king.”
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Hidden 12 mos ago → 12 mos ago Post by samreaper
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samreaper Laughing Imp

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Kazumin Nagasa




Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Room
Interactions: @potter Lady Olivia/Percy,
Mentions: @princess Charlotte, Alibeth @JJ Doe Fritz @oso Kilian



Kazumin held onto Olivia with stubborn determination as the tendrils loomed about ominously. A terrifying sample of the woman's potential magic, what those who saw her may have subconsciously picked up on, possibly cursing or jinxing them.

The tense air was almost suffocating, trying to choke him with fear. And though the cowlicked blonde was indeed scared. The thought of losing this scared, trembling girl to the wicked magic born out of her cruel parents' need for revenge horrified him too much not to fight for his most cherished friend.

These next few seconds would be the most tense, with every second like a booming tick down to an uncertain fate..

Just as his lungs reached their burning limits, he thought for a second his sweat-slicked body was burning; he felt Olivia’s body sag and relax, sinking into his arms with the heated shimmering tension fading away around them.

Having been unknowingly holding his breath, Kazu finally let out a relieved gasp as the intimidating pressure relented, following the muffled sobbing, now soft sniffles.

“ Y-you’re ok..you’re safe.” He whispered into her hair, said to assure himself as much as it was to comfort her, his hand gently stroking her back, brushing some strands of her damp strawberry hair.

When he sensed her trying to pull away, his body initially tensed, reluctant at first out of worry. But relented shortly after and allowed himself to sit back on his knees with uncertain concern.

He sat there, anxiously gulping, watching Olivia take out a napkin to clean her face, fretting over what she might do first now that things calmed down and then..she giggled.

Her eyes met his as she did so, and with it knew that she really was ok..for now. Finally letting himself relax with a tired chuckle, nervous chocolate brown eyes peered back with a nervous smile, searching for…well, he wasn’t sure, but no longer seeing the flickering spots tarnishing her lovely eyes was a wondrous sight.

Hearing her giggle, after everything, was music to his ears that soothed the aches in his nearly roasted body. Laughter had always been one of the most enjoyable sounds to beholden to Kazu, for laughter was always something meant to be shared, and getting Percy to laugh alone made enduring it all worth it.

”I… Well, that was…” She spoke up or attempted to, the words getting caught in her throat, seeming to struggle with what to say. This only made Kazu more nervous, unsure of what to even say as well.”...Unexpected.” That single word summed it up quite well.” A-heh…couldn’t put it any b-” Kazu tried to respond, only to be cut off upon being pulled into an unexpected fierce hug that nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

The embrace was strong, yet filled with warmth; a soft, comforting warmth enhanced by another hummingbird's sweet giggle he longed to savor properly. Though before he could let himself enjoy the hug, he had felt his hair being rustled, which, while it felt nice, was also a bit embarrassing considering the circumstances.” H-Hey! I-”

”Thank you, Kaz, for sticking by me and helping me. I love you, too.”

Whatever cheeky comment or playful remark he thought to voice evaporated on his tongue upon hearing what she said. His head tilted downward, then, using the rim of the hat to hide the upper half of his flushed face, eyes and chest roiling with fluttering confusion that left him at a loss.

“ ….course I would..Pe-..Olivia, you….” Kazu stammered out in incredulous disbelief, flustered. His tongue scrambled for the words like a narrowly caught ball teetering at the tips of his fingers, but this whole ordeal left him mentally fried and overwhelmed; hell, he still couldn’t believe what he had done, as she said, unexpected.” I…I’m just glad you’re ok..and…and still you…” He said on a relieved, chuckling sniff, his words somewhat nasally from the bit of runny snot.

Opening his mouth, preparing to say more, but the event within the banquet hall continued and had developed into something impossible for even the two on the balcony to ignore.

Seeing Olivia turn to look first, following in her wake to catch sight of the source of the icy chill that had overtaken the air, a man dressed in black garb akin to that of a hunter. A mere glance at the man’s emotionless, cold face with those icy, calculating, sharp eyes was enough to demonstrate the man’s dangerous aura. Then the unsettling dragging of chains pulled his attention to its opposite end, face paling at the sight of the bound woman, who appeared to have been dragged along.

He wasn’t sure what to think, though this showed that their conversations would have to be put on hold as this wasn’t the time or place, sadly so, despite how much he wanted to discuss and air things out. Sharing another gaze with her showed both understood, and for the sake of keeping his head on straight, he chose to think of this whole hectic exchange as two besties patching things up. As he wasn’t sure how he felt exactly, either with the dark magic pressure pushing to require something more drastic than a mere hug.

After moving to a more secluded spot, keeping close to her side as he could sense her unease growing once more. Then the queen rose with an authoritative projection that silenced the room with a proud welcoming of the hunter as if the killer had been personally invited.

The queen spoke on, explaining the purpose of the bound woman’s current predicament. Something about tampering with refreshments at Edwards' party and sowing chaos? Turning his attention to the captive, who with her head kept down like a broken animal, he grimaced, sick to his stomach, that the queen could openly treat this as a good thing?

And as he felt Olivia cling to his side, he couldn’t help but imagine her in the woman’s place. His breath hitched with a tight squeeze of her hand. A part of him wanted to get her out of this blasted hall, but didn’t want to risk drawing attention, not with the person, Kilian, as he was named now, demanding attention.

“The Queen honors me with her words. But she is no less true for her compliments. This kingdom is wounded. Struck with the gravest of injuries and bleeding out day by day. That wound has been left to fester. It has become infected. You all have been made delirious by the sickness that pulses through the veins of this city like sepsis.”

Each word that spilled from the man’s lips was vile and churned his stomach as the man practically called Percy a festering sickness, magic users in general which had Charlotte come to mind as well causing his brows to furrow with concerned worry as he peeked the woman besides him with a firm comforting squeeze to her hand.

“The good people of this kingdom deserve peace. You deserve prosperity. The innocent deserve to be kept safe from the evils that lurk among you. We will find that evil and bring it to justice. Despite the dramatics… I am not here for spectacle. I am here for results. Together, alongside my brothers and sisters of the Vanguard, we will ensure that you are protected from the ultimate threat to our kind.”

Hearing him prattle on about peace and justice with talks of not being here for spectacles, then what did you call such a grand entrance and announced by the queen on top of it? Here, he thought Calbert was the main danger to worry about, but now he had such a dangerous hunter to contend with?

This only made things far riskier; a mercy he had managed to help narrowly avoid a bigger disaster than he previously thought. He had no idea how to deal with such a figure, but perhaps he knew someone who could help.

Watching Kilian finish his cold, boastful speech about being the town’s savior from the evil magicae and sit down with the poor woman forced to stand like a meager slave would. Whether she had done as accused or not, this was not how one treated prisoners or ladies..it was humiliating and inhumane.

Shaking the disgust from his mouth, and leaned in close so only she could hear him.” I know you’re scared and want to leave, but for now, staying low till we can figure out a plan is our best go for now...” Another firm squeeze to her hand, a small forced smile trying to stave off his body tremors through the warmth of her palm, as sweaty as their palms were.

“ Come on, let's try to find Charlotte, grab some food along the way, and when the chance comes up, we can slip out.” He frowned, hating how Percy was denied any chance of enjoying one damn night as lady Olivia, her safety now was all that mattered.

Then there was Charlotte; distracted at the time with the goings-on to pay too much attention at the time, when she hugged him, but something had felt off about it, and before he could think on it, and now with this whole Kilian thing, left him wanting to check on her as well. At least he knew Fritz was with her, or hoped they were, just the guy to ask regarding this whole magic thing.

“ Besides, can’t keep standing around like frightened deer, yeah? And there should be a guy with Char that I think might be able to help give you an idea how to better control…you know?” Opting to be vague, mostly to be safe, and gave her hand a small tug, signaling to follow.” I can’t say he’s fully trustworthy yet, so don’t blame ya if ya want to keep eye out and probe first.” Nodding his head, giving her hand one more tug, anxious to get Olivia out of view of Kilian and to find Charlotte’s group.


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