FLASHBACK

Lucian & Marina

Time: Ignis 2 evening
Location: Guest house

---

Lucian had just finished his bath and had dressed in his pajamas. After the day he’d had, he was more than happy to settle in for the night. While he was happy he was doing something to better the world for his loved ones, he couldn’t get the image of that woman out of his head. She was a witch. Someone he should hate with every fiber of his being. She was one of those that had taken his wife from him. In the moment, he’d just seen red but after coming back to his room and saying goodnight to Marnie, he couldn’t help the small pangs of guilt.

She was just a girl.

”No.” He mumbled, shaking his head. ”She might look like just a normal, innocent girl, but Kilian wouldn’t have her in chains if she weren’t dangerous.” He told himself aloud, as if doing so would make it feel more true.

Marina didn’t knock, as per usual. The door swung open and she strode in like she owned the place, in her night dress and her curls a mess. She kicked the door shut behind her with a bare foot, then marched right up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest.

“I am not going to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.” Her violet-blue eyes narrowed like she was daring him to try dismissing her.

“You promised. So talk. Now.” Marina folded her arms, but it didn’t read like sulking… It was more like she was holding herself together. Her gaze was locked on him with that same determination she carried into every fight… and yet there was something raw swimming underneath it. Her foot started tapping against the floor in a fast, impatient rhythm, betraying the nervous energy she refused to admit to.

Lucian blinked, surprise on his features despite himself. He’d… completely forgotten that he’d promised her a chat. He took in a deep breath, letting her talk. She had every right to be mad, but all the same, he wasn’t planning on changing his course of action. He just needed to convince her…

Lucian grabbed Marina’s shoulder gently and guided her towards his bed, sitting her down. ”At least make yourself comfortable.” He sighed, reaching a hand up to pat at the top of her head. He couldn’t blame her for caring, he welcomed it, needed it.

”What do you want to know?” He asked, sitting next to her, the bed frame creaking under his weight. He didn’t want to reveal everything so, asking her where to start felt simpler.

Marina tucked her legs up beneath her in a pretzel, shifting until she could look him dead in the eye. She then held up one finger. “Who were they?”

Another finger. “Why did they have a woman on a chain?”

Then the final finger. “And what, exactly, were you meeting with them to discuss?”

Lucian let out another soft sigh. ”They are witch hunters.” His tone flat, almost cynical, ”That woman is a witch that Kilian caught and was transporting.”

He drew in a deep breath and turned his head to look at Marina. ”I was there to get debriefed on the current state of Caesonia.” Lucian continued. He lifted a hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

”And you...” He paused, reaching over to tap her nose lightly, ”...weren’t supposed to be there.”

Marina’s expression remained as it was, unchanging, unlike the storm in those violet eyes.

At the word witch, her gaze went distant, as if she were staring through Lucian instead of at him. A flash filled her vision, the brutal visage of Sophia’s body. She could still see the wrongness of it, could feel that certainty again that no ordinary hands could have done what had been done to her. Her throat tightened and her fingers curled into her own skirt hard enough to wrinkle the fabric.

Lucian’s tap to her nose snapped her back.

She blinked, her lashes fluttering. Her nostrils flared, and she wrinkled her nose like a disturbed cat. “I was exactly where I was supposed to be,” she snapped without hesitation, her voice low and stubborn.

Her chin lifted, but in that not bratty way of hers, but with the kind of hard resolve she wore in training when she refused to yield, when she decided even the world didn’t get to move her.

“With you.”Her eyes burned with an intensity Lucian seldom saw, but he’d recognize it. It was clear from the look in her eyes, that she’d bleed for him, any time and anywhere.

“If you’re hunting witches…then so am I.” She concluded with certainty.

”No, Marina. You aren’t.” Lucian replied, shaking his head. The idea of it was enough to make his anxiety bloom. He knew they were going to talk in circles again, her stubbornness knew no limits, but he had to try. He couldn’t relent on this.

”If you consider Ambrose’s feelings for me now, imagine how he might look at me if I allow you to come with me on this venture.” His tone mellowed now, a softness to it that was trying its best to plead with her. ”What he might consider doing to me…” Lucian shuddered.

Marina held his gaze for a long second with her jaw clenched. “No,” she said finally, “You don’t get to decide for me anymore.”

She then leaned in. “I’m twenty-three,” Marina continued, voice steady. “You can’t control me. Ambrose can’t control me.”

At his warning, her nostrils flared. She shook her head adamantly. “And he won’t find out,” she said, sharp with certainty. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Lucian let out a long sigh, turning to match her gaze. ”If you do it, it won’t be with my graces.” He added, trying to match her stubbornness.

”You are twenty-three and should be doing what other twenty-three year olds are doing. Finding love, exploring the world, refining your skills and interests.” He watched her eyes, knowing full well he might as well be talking to a wall right now.

”Marnie… I know I can’t protect everyone. I know I can’t stop every bad thing from happening, but.. I cannot in good conscience agree to you following me on this.” Lucian shifted in his spot on the bed, turning to face her more fully. ”Give me one good reason why I should let you join me.”

Marina’s lip trembled and her gaze fell to the floor, her brows knitting. “Because you’re not the only one that lost Sophia. The words left her mouth without much thought.

She went still after, like she’d said too much. There was a long pause before she said, softer, “The moment I saw her… I knew no human did that.”

He felt his heart drop as she spoke. She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone that day. Many viewed Sophia as family, as a loved one. Her death had sent the entire estate into mourning. Lucian knew that and still he was so caught up in his own grief, that he had scant room to even consider the walls outside his bedroom.

Lucian stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of her words settling on him. It was quite a while before he found his voice again. ”Okay.” He offered quietly, his voice thick with sorrow. ”But I can’t control what others say. I can’t make Kilian allow you to join us and I’m not… I can’t be the one to help convince him. But I won’t stand in your way.”

”Can we promise each other something though?”

“ … Of course.”

”We watch each other’s backs. When things look bad, we don’t take chances and protect each other.” His gaze was set on her, unwavering.

A sad smile stretched across her face; she couldn’t believe he thought he even needed to question the notion. “ …I’m always going to protect you, big brother.”

He watched her a moment before speaking again. ”You can protect me by also protecting yourself, understand? I’m not saying this because I want you to put yourself in harm's way for me. When things get bad, we both get out of it.” He replied, trying to make sure she knew exactly what he meant.

Marina digested the information for a moment then nodded firmly. “Deal.”

---

Starry Night ball

Location: Grand Ballroom

“"She knows that I am always in her corner. I can advise and have my opinions, but at the end of the day she is a woman, not a girl, and I will respect her autonomy."
"But full transparency, I will step in if it looks your man makes her uncomfortable. I still have some responsibility as her brother.”

”You are a much more carefree man then I. Should one of my sisters find herself in such a spot I would know the mans bloodline and hobbies going back four generations by the time they even met her. Fareed speaks plainly, watching the stiff woman talk further with Munir. She blushes like the maiden she is, making him wonder what exactly was being said.

”Though, I suppose there are worse people to experience a night with then my brother. If nothing else, she will enjoy herself until dawn. Then? Who can say what feelings may remain.”

Time: Evening
Location: Danrose Castle
Interaction: @HylianRose Lucian
Color code: 8FBC8B

---

Olivia’s mouth practically watered before she could stop it. The food tables were delightful. How much could she eat? As she stood there, she remembered the first ball, how she had stolen bread and was so hungry she wanted to faint. Then her friendship with Loitte started and now she couldn’t stop eating anything in sight. Her fingers twitched at her sides and she forced them still, because she was not going to stand here drooling. Her gaze drifted, and then it landed on King Edin.

Hollow Crown

The fury that rose in her chest was evident in her glare. Her mind betrayed her immediately, showing her the housefire again– the smoke, heat and screaming, and the horrible moment when she realized her life was never going back to what it used to be. All because of that rotten slug and sorry excuse of a king.

She thought about how her home life had been ripped apart–homeless, abused, scrounging for scraps and becoming a magic enthused thief. It was traced back to men like him while peasants paid the price in blood and hunger. Her jaw clenched so hard it ached, and her hands felt too empty, like they were meant to be doing something violent.

"Persephone..."

Olivia forced herself to breathe, because she could feel her restraint slipping and she was not about to throw her entire life away in a ballroom just because that bastard King deserved it. She turned away quickly before she did something stupid like walking over there and trying to kill him with her bare hands, never mind his dipshit guards.

A voice cut through her thoughts so suddenly that she startled outright, jumping like a stray cat caught stealing food.

"Good evening. Lucian Camilia, it's my pleasure to meet you. I'm afraid I missed your introduction."

Olivia jumped like she had been caught doing something wrong. Her eyes widened as she turned, staring at him with surprise.

The Crown Prince of the Varian Kingdom was standing there talking to her.

Her throat went dry and she gulped. She dipped into a curtsy that was clumsy and rushed, the kind of curtsy that screamed she was not raised for this shit no matter how nice the dress looked. She could play pretend all she wanted. “Your Highness.” Olivia managed kindly even though her pulse was pounding. She forced a smile onto her face, and she lifted her gaze to meet him properly.

“Olivia Hawthorne. I am a friend of the Vikenas', and I am in town for the courting season. How are you? You look… dashing!”

Dashing? Who says dashing! The damn books in the Lottie’s library did. Fuck, is that even a normal word here? Oh shit, he’s going to walk away now. You big dummy! Maybe it's okay... Maybe it isn't....

She smiled apologetically, and waited for his response with a held breath. Her her rate pounded like a drum and her blood ran like she had so many times escaping the clutches of the wicked who roamed the poverty-stricken streets of this shitty Sorian town.

color:ffce00
-Grand Ball Room-
-outfit-
-Interaction: @HylianRose Nora @Remram Askel @CitrusArms Stratya-

"And you have my word. I shall reserve a dance for you."

Nora's words brought a smile to his face, hidden precariously behind his opaque veil. In truth, other than trying to conceal his emotions, he does not know why he wore this veil. As customary, and perhaps from muscle memory, he reached out and took Nora's hand. Bringing her hand up to his face, he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand right above her knuckles. This action made it so his veil lifted and thus if Nora was looking, she would have noticed the distinct lack of a scar that ended at his neck.

"Lady Pawongsga. I will ask that you stop by the table filled with food from my home. The shrimp and couscous smelled heavenly. You should really give it a try. Until our dance, I bid you farewell." He offered a small bow before turning and departing her side.

There was a faint voice in his mind telling him to not leave. A faint voice telling him to stay and ask her more questions. What does she like? What does she do for fun? What is her family like? What does she aspire to do in life? A flurry of questions.

Alas, he had walked away. As he was deciding which of his family members he will go greet first, especially now that his sister Ranya and uncle have both arrived, he caught sight of something.

A dash of red in the air. Looking at his sister. As a fellow man, he knows that look. A look that stood out from the normal adoration and reverence that he knows his sister is used to receiving. This is different. This is a different sort of longing. This man was standing with Captain Durmand, by the Varian table. Perfect. He can approach, ask questions and sample some Varian fare. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Captain Durmand. It is very good to see you again. And you good sir. I do not think we have met. I am Munir Al Kadir. My sister and uncle have just arrived it seems... What is good to eat here at the Varian table? You two seem to have started sampling the offerings. Please educate me as I am unfamiliar." Munir said, offering the both of them a small bow on his arrival.

The red haired one's attention being drawn to Ranya has not gone unnoticed by Munir. That will be discussed later on...

Knight Devout
Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom - Starry Night Ball
Attire: Suit Dress
Interactions: Askel @Remram, Munir @Infinite Cosmos
Mentions:

“Ooh, nothin’ wrrong wit’ starr’in’ wherre yerr mos’ familiarr.” Stratya easily came away from the table of Caesonian cuisine to take in the sights and smells of Varian cooking. She greeted the food at the table with a deep inhale through her nose before letting out a pleased hum.

She watched Askel put the sample together for her, very interested in what and how much he used to achieve whatever balance of flavors she was about to experience. She accepted the morsel gratefully and took a measured bite, nodding as she tasted the way the flavors came together. She swallowed and offered Askel a pleased smiled, “aye, thah’s good stuff.”

She’d seen him glance at the spread. The table, itself. The bowls, the cutlery. He’d noticed, just as she had, and she expected no less from such a sharp prince. “I swearr we ‘ad morre marrble tables.” The flat expression she showed to Askel betrayed the otherwise carefully guarded intent behind the statement that had been so plain.

Footsteps approached, perfectly interrupting the moment, and the man that had approached them said something she found odd, "Captain Durmand. It is very good to see you again.”

“Again”?

She couldn’t remember the man at all, and very nearly blurted out a question to this revelation. Instead, she popped the rest of the little treat Askel had put together for her into her mouth. It was really quite good. “Mm,” she offered through her chewing to his request, starting about the assembly of another rye bread piece of goodness. The rye bread, the mustard-dill spread, and the piece of salmon carefully crusted with seasoning that the spread helped to hold in place. She hoped she got the portions right.

Stratya still couldn’t remember the man she turned to hand the gravlax to, her mouthful already swallowed as she offered it in one hand, her free hand covering her mouth politely, “grravlax. A fyne morrsel, Shezade Munirr.” If she hadn’t met him, however, how did he know her? At least he’d offered his name to Askel, giving her the good grace of not having to dance around not knowing who in blazes this man was. Had she been, like, at a bar, blackout drunk when she met him? Was it the Masquerade and she just didn’t recognize him? And he was recognizing her by her accent, naaaaaaeeeee! Ooh, she hoped it wasn’t that.

Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Attire: Starry Night Attire
Interactions: @Redking0380 Fareed

---

Magnus choked from the contents of his glass in response to Fareed. His fist pounded against his chest like a deep bassy drum.

"That's a bit of an escalation!" He cried out in protest. Heavens above, he was fine with her dancing along with some potential suitors and maybe grow more into herself, not shack up with the first man she spoke to. He trusted her not to be charmed by a rake that spoke with honeyed words... But she had a tendency to fall for characters from novels, princely, charming characters to be precise, and she was blushing.

Oh, oh no.

On one hand, she's a grown woman and he wanted to respect her agency. On the other hand, if this man was playing with her feelings, he would twist his head off from his neck. Life was too short for her heart to be played by some random playboy!

But he couldn't do that to her. He sighed and folded his arms with a sour expression on his face. "It's less that I am carefree and more that I wish not to interfere in her life. So, for now, I am standing by the sides."

Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Starry Night Attire
Interactions @CitrusArms Stratya @Infinite Cosmos Munir
Mentions: @AuthenticTomb Sylvia @Tae Ranya

---

A satisfied grin stretched along his face. While Askel appreciated and enjoyed the various cuisines that he was able to sample while he journeyed abroad, his pride as a Varian could not be suppressed when seeing someone appreciate his country's cuisine. At least someone had some taste to appreciate it, even when it was unceremoniously placed on a plain wooden table.

Askel read that flat expression and flashed her a forgiving smile. It was not her own fault, but it certainly must have done nothing to quell the embarrassment of her own king treating his guests so lowly. He would have responded, but his attention was pulled to the herald's announcement.

Introducing Suna’s Chosen, Holy Princess of Alidasht, Shehzadi Ranya al-Kadir, and the Grand Vizier Hafiz al-Kadir.

Holy Princess? Suna's Chosen?

Askel's gaze solely focused on her and only her, draped in a sari as blue as the sky and gold that shimmered like beams of sunlight. Even with that veil covering her face he would always be able to recognize her. He could hear the drumming of his heart pounding in his ears, longing to hold her as he did the night before, but he knew her uncle was here, waiting for a moment of weakness. All he could was just stand there and wait for their moment for there was certainly plenty to talk about.

His eyes trailed her as she made her way across the room to... his sister? Oh, oh no.

As much as he wanted to run over and make sure that her chatterbox of a sister didn't tell Ranya every embarrassing secret bound to his soul, a veiled man approached him and Stratya and judging by the knight-captain's confusion, she did not know him even when he knew her. And then he introduced himself as Munir Al Kadir.

Kadir. A member of Ranya's family? Was this man one of her brothers?

Askel reciprocated the Shehzade's bow with his own and in Gazalian said, "My humblest greetings Shehzade Munir. I am Askel Camila, prince of Varian and its loyal knight, but please, call me Askel." A polite smile graced his lips. "It would be my pleasure to guide you through my kingdom's cuisine. In fact, I was just guiding Captain Durmand. Oh, uh, speaking of which, may I suggest a palate cleanse before we continue?"

color:ffce00
-Grand Ball Room-
-outfit-
-Interaction:@Remram Askel @CitrusArms Stratya-

Munir took a look at what was offered to him by Stratya. Gravlax. Isn't a sort of cured fish?... Interest, but too adventurous for him this early in the morning. "Ah. Captain Durmand. I'm glad you're enjoying that particular offering. However, I don't know how I will fare with something so...exotic. So I must gratefully turn down your offering. Please do not take offense." He said, offering a small nod and a sheepish smile to Stratya.

The other member of their conversation spoke to him in Gazalian. Munir offered a small smirk while replying in Gazalian "I see you speak our language. Well met, sir. As we're both princes, please drop the honorifics and just call me Munir. Also. I am going to switch back to the common tongue, as to not exclude our mutual friend the captain Durmand here." and as he said he would, Munir switched to the common tongue and continued "The pleasure is all mine, Askel. Just as Captain Durmand has introduced me to gravlax, I am interested in learning about this palette cleanser you have mentioned. Please, enlighten me. Also. How is it that you know my native tongue? You speak it rather well."

Munir knew people. He has always been good at 'people'. He studied Askel's expression, noting the subtle drawing of a deeper breathe than usual as his sister was announced...

Time: Ignis 7 Morning
Location: Battlement → Square → Stratya’s guesthouse
Mention: @AuthenticTomb Sylvia @Oso Ambrose @HylianRose Lucian @FunnyGuy Donald

---

Captain Durmand had been seated on a platform raising her up over the battlement, where she could see the horizon. She breathed deeply, calmly, slowly, clearing her thoughts and feeling the world around her on the wind. She heard the waters lapping at the shore of the moat below her. The smell of flowers from the nearby flower shop wafted to her from the street ahead. The door of the bakery down the street opened and shut as the baker prepared to open. The trees chattered in the breeze to her north. Above her, the warmth of the sun approached.

The warmth touched the top of her head and spread down, sucked in like a sponge by her meditative state. The warmth permeated her. The heat of the sun soaked into her muscles and her bones. The light of the sun touched her soul. As it spread, her spirit itself warmed and brightened without agitating.

When, at last, the light of the sun bathed her entirely, she took a rousing, steady, deep breath and opened her eyes slowly. Her gaze respectfully turned away from the sun as she rose to her knees, bowed, and turned to leave. She hopped down from the platform and rolled to her feet, walking off casually. She had bread to bake and breakfast to make.

As soon as the bakery had opened, many that had been waiting outside had all rushed in. And soon, Princess Marina Camilia stepped out with a parcel held delicately in both hands; she had been one of the first inside. Inside the parcel sat her breakfast: a glossy jam tart with a braided edge, warm through the paper. She lifted it closer to her face as she walked, breathing in the fruity, buttery aroma.

Then, suddenly, a shoulder clipped her hard enough to jolt her sideways. Marina stumbled, and the parcel crumpled as the tart slid forward. It hit the ground, and the pastry collapsed in on itself. Marina froze mid-step, staring down at the mess as if her mind refused to accept it. Then her brows drew together and her mouth fell open with pure grief.

“My breakfast,” she lamented, voice wounded, like someone had just kicked a puppy in front of her. She blinked once, then called after the offender who was rushing away. “Do you see what you’ve done!” Marina demanded after him with a glare, but the man simply just scowled over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

Stratya stopped, hearing the cry from the town outside the castle wall. She whipped right around and approached the battlement again, peering down from between the merlons to see what the hubbub was about. It didn’t take her long to see the young lady that had spilled her pastry. Stratya was rather far away to do anything herself, but the ward was lush with guards these days. Then again, was she really going to shout orders over a pastry? She had her fife, but, well. As far as crimes went, spilling somebody’s pastry was a refreshing breeze.

She’d rather just fix the problem. Being robbed of your meal just before you could eat it was a special kind of heartbreak, one you also felt in your stomach. Stratya took a deep breath and hollered down, “Hullo down tharr! Can ya make i’ rroond?” She pointed to the front of the castle. “Y’ wan’ a carriage?”

She was dressed simply, though perhaps not plainly. She wore a leather vest over a thing with a lacy neckline. High-waisted slacks tucked into the vest underneath a belt that rested at her hips, bearing her daggers. Her mantle had been laid aside for her meditation, but rested now on her shoulders once more.

Meanwhile, Marina wore a white blouse with a high ruffled neck. Over it sat a black corset-vest, paired with high-waisted black trousers that tapered into tall, fitted boots.

The shout from above had made her freeze. Marina’s head snapped up, dark auburn curls shifting as she squinted upward. She could see the figure from her spot, the pretty brown hair and lovely-shaped face. For a second, Marina just stared, processing, then she straightened with sudden dignity. “I can make it around,” she shouted back.

“Grrea’, I'll mee’ ya.” And if luck was with her, she'd be able to catch that guy herself. The brunette disappeared from the battlement, taking quick strides to the gate, and the fountain square beyond.

When Marina would enter the fountain square on her way to the castle, Stratya would be seated on a bench there, with her hand gripping the shoulder of the man who’d bumped the young lady and dropped her pastry. Her head back, eyes closed, seated in the shade of the park trees, her breaths deep. Her legs stretched out and crossed idly at the heel. The hand on the man's shoulder gripped like a gentle vice.

The approaching footsteps caught the knight’s attention. Her head turned and an eye opened before she stood herself up and faced the approaching head of oddly familiar red hair. She then pushed the man up and rose after him, “up ye go.”

Stratya turned the man to face Marina and shoved him forward, “go on, then.”

The man was fairly embarrassed, but more intimidating than the embarrassment was that woman. She'd emerged from the foliage like she belonged there, wrestled him into a pin almost instantly, and promptly interrogated him. Two questions, and he'd admitted immediately to both bumping the girl and spilling her pastry. He'd tried to talk out of the second charge, but she was good. He knew. She knew. She knew he knew.

She told him what was going to happen was, “I'm sorry! I knocked your pastry to the ground. I..” He considered the distance between him and Stratya and took his chances, sprinting off.

“Oye!” Stratya took a step and reached after him, but stopped and sighed. The urgency and accent in her voice had caught the attention of the guards nearby, and she signaled them to grab the man, “ten thousand in jail ferr thah’ one!” Ten thousand what?

While they did that, Stratya turned back to the young lady, a kind smile warming her features. She waved dismissively about the man, speaking low at first, “Ill go le’ ‘im ou’ tomorrah. Sorry ‘bou’ all thah’. I'm abou’tae pu’ brreakfast on, carre tae join me?”

By the time Marina reached the fountain square, she arrived just in time to see the scene properly set. Even from a few paces away, Marina could see the way the man’s confidence had collapsed into embarrassment. Marina did not interrupt; she only folded her arms and stood there, wearing a smug little smile. When he ran away finally, Marina let out a satisfied breath through her nose, as if order had been restored to the universe.

And then she got close enough to really see Stratya’s face.

The brunette was very pretty, and Marina’s brain, traitor that it was, forgot how to work.

She suddenly blinked hard, as if rebooting herself. “Hello,” she said brightly, perhaps too loud, so she then softened with a sincere smile. “I’m Marina,” she added after another pause, as if remembering herself again. “And yes, I would like to join you for breakfast.”

If Stratya had been startled by Marina’s greeting, she didn’t show it much at all. Just as she was about to say something further to prompt the stunning young lady with a delightful fashion sense, she introduced herself! Marina.

“My name’s Strratya.” The knight stepped and motioned toward the castle, “rreyt this way, Marrina.” She hadn’t seen when she called down from the wall, but Stratya was, herself, realizing just how pretty this young woman whom she just invited into her home was. Perhaps she should see if Marina was available for something after breakfast, as well?

Marina’s smile stayed bright despite the lingering sting of losing her breakfast, as Stratya introduced herself. Her smile softened at the sound of her name as she stepped in beside her without hesitation. The woman had waited for Marina to step in with her to turn and walk at her side.

“Stratya is a lovely name for my fair rescuer.” Marina informed her. Then she hurried after her, leaning over toward her to speak to her as they walked, her curls falling over her shoulder.

Was it the way her hair gently spilled and bounced with life? Something about her presence, the way she carried herself, with confidence and courage? Marina was unlike most ladies around Sorian, or Caesonia as a whole. The knight caught herself drawing a breath only slightly sharper than the others.

“Thank you, Stratya. I was merely two seconds from starting a revolution in the streets. You have saved Sorian, and... probably the entire kingdom of Caesonia.”

Her voice drew Stratya back. The word revolution was more tempting than Stratya cared to admit, but also, was that a normal Lady joke? Who was this? The irony of the joke was not lost on Stratya, but that wasn’t conversation for polite company. Not on the first date. “S’ a shame abou’ yerr pastrry. S’pposed tae be yerr brreakfast, aye?”

When Stratya mentioned the pastry, Marina let out a sigh and pressed a hand to her chest as if she were still in mourning. “It was jam,” she said, voice again wounded. “Warm jam.”

“Oooh, nae,” Stratya sighed and shook her head, “ta think someone could be sae rrude tae such a prret’y lass.” Oop, she’d said it out loud. She blushed just a touch and cleared her throat, “we’ll ge’ yerr belly filled, we will.”

Then Stratya’s compliment landed, leading surprise to widen her gaze and flush her cheeks. Marina looked rather pleased once she finally digested the knight’s words, because of course she did. “Yes,” she agreed confidently, “I am a prret’y lass and us prret’y lasses need our bellies filled and happy.” She patted her belly with a giggle.

She gave a bashful giggle, herself, “ah, he he, thah’ we do.” The captain found herself grinning widely.

Once they were at the gate, Stratya pointed out their destination, “thah’ one, wit’ t’ barr.” The house in question had a refurbished greenhouse on the left side; part of the large glass structure remained for an herb garden along the window’s inner perimeter. The drawn curtain hung at regular intervals, letting light and vision into the space, revealing the far wall sporting a bar spanning most of the length of the room, with a wall of booze behind. There was enough space at the end for a little reading corner, with an armchair and an ottoman, a bookshelf, and an endtable. Behind the bar, a swinging kitchen door marked a hole in the booze wall and a lowering of the ceiling beyond, to make room for the floor above. The right side of the house was much more standard to the other guest houses and far less interesting to describe.

Stratya decided she’d take a look at her guest, even after such a bold compliment. Marina really was quite fetching, and there was something else Stratya had noticed that she wanted to put her finger on, but couldn’t quite.

By the time they reached the gate and Stratya pointed out the guest house, Marina’s eyes had already started roaming, taking it in with open curiosity. Her brows rose, delighted despite herself.

Stratya was only too happy to open the door for her enchanting guest with excellent taste. As the young lady stepped past her, she found her eyes attracted to that beautiful, familiar red-

Askel! It was hard to believe it was a coincidence, but having similar hair wasn’t really strong enough evidence. The knight could ask.. but the potentially-a-princess had not said, when she introduced herself. Stratya would not ask for the answer, nor.. nor would she think too hard about it. She followed Marina in, through the foyer, and led her to the bar door.

It was much easier to see into the room from the doorway. Soft-seated stools lined the bar, and there were even a few small tables between the bar and the glass wall. A long bench had been worked into the frame of the garden windowsill, all the way down to the corner where the window curved around, and the garden ended to leave just the bay window on the far wall. In the corner by the door, opposite the bar, sat a circular couch with a circular table in the center.

“Oh,” she breathed, then glanced back at Stratya with a grin that threatened to turn mischievous. She hopped up on a stool, her feet immediately swinging in little kicks that betrayed her excitement despite the attempt to sit there like the regal little lady she had been raised to be.

There was something so incredibly adorable about this young lady’s bearing and her attire and the contrast thereof with how expressive she was. Stratya circled around behind the bar and came to lean against it, in front of Marina.

Marina tapped a finger to her lip and admitted with a cheeky smile, “I feel a little spoiled.”

The brunette gave a chuckle, “a’rready? Y’ve nae even ea'en, ye’.” She straightened up from the bar, making her way to the swinging door and into the kitchen. “Y’ shall be pamperred by t’ time y’ leave.” As Stratya passed through the door to the kitchen, Marina could see a breakfast table, complete with chairs, within.

It wouldn’t take Stratya long at all to return, followed by a maid bearing the two plates of eggy bread with hashbrowns and bacon, as well as appropriate condiments. The captain had baked a loaf of fruit bread that morning, but purposefully let it bake too long so that it became dry. Dry bread soaks up custard much better, and was much more suited to the recipe.

The scent hit first: savory, sweet, and buttery...

Then the plates appeared and Marina’s stomach rumbled at the sight alone. Her tongue flicked over her lip on instinct. “This may be better than that tart.” She admitted, rubbing her hands together. Her tone suggested that she was almost offended by the idea it was better than her precious, fallen breakfast—however, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

Ser Durmand rounded the bar once more while Marina ogled her meal, marveling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this… But I’m so glad that big oaf knocked into me.”

Stratya let a grin surface, “a shame, thah’, though I am glad of i’, too.”

When Stratya took her place beside her, Marina only waited the bare minimum amount of time required for manners, her hands folded neatly the entire three seconds. Then, she reached for her fork urgently, only pausing when Stratya asked,

“An’ since I’m spoilin’ you: mead?”

Marina’s head turned toward her, her brows lifting. Her eyes lit up and she didn’t bother being coy as she replied enthusiastically, “Always.”

The captain’s triumphant laugh was met with two glass tankards, promptly filled with golden Durmand mead from a bottle pulled down off the wall. More than a few of those bottles on the wall were the mead, actually. Stratya held her tankard aloft in toast, “tae a coupl’a bonnie lasses!” She’d take herself a swig before digging into her breakfast. Of the three spreads available (butter, warm jam, and a chocolate sauce), Stratya made use of each, sometimes taking a few cuts of different slices for combination mouthfuls.

”To bonnie lassies!” Marina echoed enthusiastically as she lifted her tankard and clinked it with Stratya’s. She then took a long swig herself, her eyes softening with satisfaction, before she set her attention on the wondrous food before her. She went to work enjoying the delectable foods herself, especially enjoying the three spreads.

Stratya hummed happily and took a gulp of mead, to take a short rest between mouthfuls, “I doan believe I've seen ye rround t’ ci’y b’forre. Wha’ brings yeh? T’.. courr’in’ season?” She punctuated her hopeful question with another, smaller mouthful, only one piece from a slice she'd spread with butter, but also topped with the hashbrowns and bacon

Marina paused mid-bite, chewing as she considered the question. “The official answer is the courting season,” She replied lightly after a swallow. “but the real answer is I’m here to keep my siblings out of trouble.” She turned fully toward Stratya then, her eyes and smile both bright. Marina set her fork down politely then wiped her fingers neatly against her napkin, and only then did she extend her hand across the table. “Princess Marina Camilia at your service.”

So she was a princess. Stratya gave the young lady a performative-yet-still-genuine look of impression, swallowing her small mouthful before she would speak, “Prrincess Marrina, my my. I darre say I ‘ad an inkling.” Stratya, too, cleaned her hand, then took a small swig of mead and dabbed at her lips before turning to the Princess. Ser Durmand rose from her barstool to stand purposefully before Marina. The elevation of the stool Marina sat on made kneeling or some such impractical, so Stratya remained standing and laid one hand lightly on the bartop. With the other, she took the offered hand and lifted it carefully, “Knigh’ Cap’n Strratya Durrmand, Prrincess Marrina. I believe ‘at yerr serrvice’,” she gently kissed the back of her hand once, her grip light enough that Marina could reclaim her hand whenever she pleased. Marina blushed visibly, her gaze lowering shyly—a clear juxtaposition to her earlier confidence. The knight lowered her hand again, her eyes staring adoringly into Marina’s, her voice soft, “is my line.”

“Coverr storry i’ may be,” a coy smile played at her lips as she sat again, “if’n yerr in’errested, shall we take a trrip tae t’ tailor? My wa’drrobe is lackin’, and I love wha’ yerr wearrin’.” Feeling a bit daring, she let her eyes wander over her wardrobe, or perhaps just her, and added softly, thoughtlessly, “ye’ perr’aps thah’s jes’ you.” Another bite of food made another punctuation.

“A trip to the tailor?” she repeated excitedly, her voice pitching upward. “Yes. Absolutely.” Marina lifted her tankard a second time, tone turning playful again. “But only if you promise to let me be unbearable about it. I have opinions.”

Stratya’s cheeks tinged ever so slightly, that Marina would already have opinions about dressing her at all gave her a butterfly or two. “Unbearrable? You? Naaee. Y’c’n play drress up wit’ me all day, if y’ like.”

Marina lifted her tankard for another sip, then set it down, butter still glistening on her lips. “I love dressing up and shopping,” she admitted, “especially with my little sister.” Her brows rose suddenly as she added, “However... She makes a mess of every store we enter. " Her voice grew fond as she told Stratya, touching the back of her hand briefly without quite noticing she had done so, “Sylvia is my tornado child.”

The glisten of butter and mead on Marina’s lips caused Stratya to subtly, subconsciously wet her own lips, the thought of that buttery sweet honey flavor on a kiss lilting through her mind. The mention of a little sister caused her to catch the thought and file it away, and she gave a soft chuckle at hearing how Sylvia Camilia behaves herself in a store.

Marina’s gaze dropped briefly to her own outfit, and she smoothed her palms down her thighs with obvious satisfaction, patting the fabric. “And these,” she added lightly, “apparently cause a minor scandal in Caesonia.” She angled her chin toward the window as if she could already picture it, then rolled her eyes. “Every time I wear trousers, I get stared like I’ve committed a crime. I forget, and then I remember the moment some lady clutches her pearls. Women are so strict with fashion here.”

“sounds like t’ two o’ you ‘ave fun, together.” Cleaning up after a little sibling could be quite a chore. “my sisterr an’ I used to get in occasional trrouble, g- er.. goin’ rround flirrtin’, aye.” She seemed a little embarrassed to admit it, “I’d always ‘ave tae come an’ be ‘err muscle when she’d acciden’ally starr’ hittin’ on some bloke’s lass an’ ‘e’d get pissy.” The statement enticed a cackle out of Marina.
“As ferr pants? Aye.” The knight took a moment to shove the last bit of her breakfast in her mouth and take an appreciable gulp of what was left of her mead before she continued, “I was t’ only woman in my knigh’in’ ceremony. T’ fashion ‘rround ‘erre is all frrilly things ‘n stuff y’ cannae move in. ‘ow am I supposed tae be an effective knegh’ if’n I’m wearrin’ some poofy thing thah’s widerr’n me shoulderrs? I think t’ only rreason I doan ge’ sae many looks is t’ practicali’y o’ m’ clothes.”

Her eyes flicked back to Stratya. “ I think it’s absolutely magnificent that they actually have a female knight in Caesonia. I would have thought such a thing to be unheard of.” Marina replied with admiration tinging her tone. She shook her head and commented casually with a shrug, “And those poofy skirts do absolutely nothing for the bum anyway.”

Were t’ Queen’s doin’, surrely. A brief shadow fell over her expression, thinking of her doomed queen, before Marina’s comment about accentuating butts got a giggle from her.

“But yes,” she concluded, “take me to the tailor.” Then she paused again. “But... Our knight is probably already cross with me for going off by myself. Maybe we should fetch him so my brother Lucian doesn't kick him to death or something gruesome like that."

Stratya had gone for the rest of her mead as soon as this Princess agreed to their date, but paused when she sensed Marina about to say more. Retrieve her knight? The captain went ahead and downed the rest of her mead, her tankard returning to the counter a satisfying thunk. “Aye, I s’ppose we augh’ at least le’ ‘im know yerr safe, wha’ wit’ yerr unexpected detourr.” She turned the idea over in her mind more, her head tilting and her gaze drifting off, “aaand focusin’ on ourr da’e will be easierr wit’ someone else on guarrd du’y..” her gaze returned to Marina, a little bit of childish excitement in her, “e’ll be guarrdin’ us both, then, wouldn’ ‘e?” She couldn’t remember ever being guarded, before. Then again, that was probably her own fault.

“ Of course! And I got your back too. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” She assured her.

When she could see Marina was about ready, the knight rose and stepped out from the barstools, waiting for Marina to finish her meal. Once she was done, a gloved left hand was waiting for her to take and stand, “le’s nae be gettin’ yerr knegh’ in trrouble, then, aye?”

She would lead the way from the bar, only to stop at the front door with her hand already on the handle. Dammit. “Oh.” She sounded hesitant and disappointed, maybe a little nervous, as she turned around, “I, er..” she made an uncomfortable groan as she faced Marina, “I.. ‘ave a stawker.” Was that something she’d want to deal with? It was probably better to tell her now than have it be a surprise, later. It was for her own safety, “s’ppose we’ll ‘ave tae tell yerr knegh’, too.”

“Oh yuck.” Marina’s brows furrowed with concern for Stratya and she folded her arms, a grimace twisting her countenance and the knight’s confidence. She couldn’t say she was exactly surprised that someone so beautiful had a stalker. Of course she did.

After a moment, her expression shifted from worry to determination. She then tugged the cape of her top aside just enough to reveal the slim hilt strapped behind her leg, before letting the fabric fall again. “Up to you,” she added lightly, “But I’m not terribly worried. I can be very frightening when properly motivated as well as properly fed.” She patted her belly with a smirk.

Then she gave Stratya’s hand an intimate squeeze like they had known each other for years. “I’ll protect you,” she promised, and her smile turned a little stubborn. “Even if you protest.”

Stratya was stunned by the sword the princess carried. All the armed and dangerous women she’d met had not been nobility, much less royalty, and the princess she’d gotten used to the image of was definitely not the armed type. Her gaze lifted from the revealed handle to meet Marina’s, a smile slowly forming over her lips as her shocked expression softened with relief and affection. Her promise, the touch of her hand, her courage and confidence, Marina was like a brilliant beam of sunlight breaking through cloud cover. Stratya drew the young lady before her into a hug, still holding her hand, “thank you..”

Marina froze for a second, then embraced her back, wrapping her arms snug around Stratya’s waist

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. As Stratya hugged the princess.. muscle! Thinking back on it, Marina’s hands were calloused before and were calloused then. Not overly so, but they were. Stratya was realizing something her instincts had already picked up on. Her hand rose to Marina’s shoulder and drew her back so the knight could look her over once again, “y-.. you, trrain.”

At the word train, Marina’s brows lifted with smug delight. “Oh yes. I train,” she confirmed proudly. “Did you think I got these hands from applauding too hard?”

Stratya couldn't keep the adoration from her eyes, her voice a murmur, “I knew therre w’s a few somethin’s I liked abou’ you..” The conversation that brought them here flashed back into her mind, and Stratya balked as she snapped out of it, “aah, er, he- he’s an old mahn, y’ken, I’m nae scarred o’r ‘im, I jus’ though’ I should tell ye. ‘forre y’ fynd out some otherr way.”

She flexed her fingers once, then tucked her chin with a sweet little smile that was clearly a threat toward the ‘old mahn’ in question. “I am not above fighting the elderly.”

Marina squeezed Stratya’s hand again. “We’ll fetch my knight,” she decided, already turning them toward the guest house, “then buy you something that’ll earn you a whole horde of new stalkers.” Her grin turned mischievous … and perhaps a tad flirty albeit subconsciously. “Probably including me.” She giggled, quickening her step. It was early enough that Ambrose was likely still inside, maybe even asleep, and Marina fully intended to ruin that peacefully.

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Interactions: @AuthenticTomb Aslam and @Potter Kira

Amira had been so enamoured with watching her cousin introduce himself a beautiful lady in red that she had not even noticed Aslam approach her. The sudden smooth voice coming from behind her had the young princess jump in shock. Wine sloshing from the fine glass in her hand and nearly spilling onto her precious dress.

"Cousin Aslam!" She exclaimed after she had spun around to look at the mystery voice that had so startled her. Trying to compose herself, she brushed down her elegant blue dress, making sure none of the wine had stained it.

"I - I am not afraid." She protested, even though every action she had just displayed would say otherwise. "I am just .... waiting."

His words complimenting her had Amira even more startled and lost as a bright blush grew on her face. She had no idea what to say to such honeyed words. She was so unused to so many people, let alone the attention she had just received.

"I am thankful for the offer of assistance, but I admit I am not used to such functions or even what I would, or maybe should, be looking for." Her confession had her fiddling with the silver adornments on her skirt, "I thought it best to wait..."

"Surely it would be evident when the man who would win my heart would appear, would it not?" She asked with a playful smile, almost as if it was a joke, but there was still a sincere question hiding in there.

Her eyes searched his, as if looking for the answer, and she was just about to ask him if he had ever had that moment when she was reminded they were not so alone.

Quickly curtseying to the lady in a gorgeous, delicate dress, she was swiftly repeating the words she had been made repeat at least a couple of hundred times before she had been let to go on this trip.

"Good evening, I am Shehzadi Amira Kadir of Alidasht. It is a pleasure to meet you th-"

Her words stopped suddenly as the other lady's statement seemed to have finally hit her, "Jealous?!"

"No, no" She protested, "It is you they must be jealous of. That lace! The way your dress presents you so softly but boldly. It declares you as a moonlit beauty."

The colour in Amira's face blossomed into a beautiful red as she rambled on about Kira's outfit, "I - I mean...It truly is a gorgeous dress."

Amira chided herself, at this rate, she was never going to be invited to another social event such as this.

Knight Devout
Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom - Starry Night Ball
Attire: Military Dress
Interactions: Askel @Remram, Munir @Infinite Cosmos
Mentions:

Askel’s sharpened breath, though slight, had sent a small pulse of tension through Stratya’s body. That slight change had been interpreted as approaching danger but the captain caught herself immediately. There should not be danger here, and it certainly seemed to be that way, if she listened to her surroundings.

She was still in a foul mood.

That reaction of his, though. He mentioned saving a dance for someone, was it her? Had he talked her into a dance when she arrived with the latest delegation of Alidasht only yesterday? He worked fast.

Whatever the case, the lack of interest in the treat she had assembled found said treat placed into Stratya’s mouth. Askel changed languages. The captain understood the point of doing so but still found it a little annoying, like she was being brushed off. She blamed it on her bad mood.

Another glass of wine. This time, she sipped patiently as she looked around the room.

Her eyes found Wulfric, but only briefly before her name summoned her away anyway. She had more than choice words for the Crown Prince, but Askel had already scolded her once for breaking character from the banquette's script.

Munir’s "mistake" was just the relief she needed. A smile was held at bay, and while Stratya measured her response, she hid her expression behind a sip of wine. After steadying herself off that much-needed jolt of mirth, she explained, “jes’ a sip o’ wa’err a’ wyne a’ owt, Shezade Munirr. Tae clearr t’ taste oo’.”

Stratya eyed the table of warm smells and tastes, “in t’ spirri’ o’ t’ Shezade’s aeg’rrness, shall we continyeh arr tourr o’ Varrian cuisine?”