Helo

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum

Time: Sola 21st Late Night
Location: The Slums - A house of ill repute

TLDR; Callum has a bunch of weird nightmares and then gets tossed out of an opium den/brothel establishment.

A non-necessary post/read.

Angry Chair - Alice in Chains

The backroom was dimly lit by lanterns and candles that softly flickering. Hazy, sweet-scented, smoke filled the air, mixing with a variety of rancid scents that tainted the stale air; fresh vomit, old piss, thick sweat. The bodies of those who indulged lay sprawled out on the floor of a tightly packed backroom. Pain and sorrow were exhaled in soft murmurs and loud moans as faces twisted into expressions of peace and bliss.

Cal, who was firmly not going to be Prince Callum Danrose anymore, made exceptions when it benefited him. His ideals hide behind the shadows of his desires. Callum, who had no money, looked like he’d crawled out of a gutter, covered in blood and fresh bruises, was not someone anyone wanted to spot a bit of opium. Most addicts knew better than to trust other addicts when they promised to pay you back tomorrow. But the prince was persistent; if his name earned him entrance, it would also be just enough to get him what he wanted. It had worked before, it would work again.

It was a long night spent begging, pleading, and groveling, for anyone to spot him for the night.

He had to not only wait for someone who sort of knew him, but someone he knew not well enough that he’d already pissed them off one way or another. His savior finally appeared in the form of Ralph, a local drunkard, an unclaimed bastard of a minor noble family, whose long years of addiction had begun to rot him from the inside out. Dirty fingers scratched at open sores and his yellowed eyes stared off into the distance, only a fading glimmer of awareness; Ralph was more like a ghost than a person these days.

“Ralphie.” Callum crooned and wrapped an unwanted arm around the grizzled man’s shoulders. “You know me right? It’s Callum, Prince Callum, you know, like the tavern.”

“Cal-lum?” Ralph repeated the name slowly.

“Yeah, yeah just like the tavern, got my name on the sign and everything. We’ve drank together, you know me.”

“Oh. I know you.” Ralph nodded along.

“Yeah, Callum. Your friend, Prince Callum, we should smoke together.” He offered, and Ralph nodded through his confusion.

“I’m friends with a prince?” Ralph asked, pointing at himself, struggling with his memories.

“Best friends,” Callum added, and at that moment he meant it. “But I’ve got nothing right now, so next time, I’ll get you back, alright?” Cal nodded nervously but Ralph did not. Ralph seemed to be thinking the offer over so Callum sweetened the deal. “And, and, I’ll cover your tab at the tavern, whole month. Good deal right? You know I’m good for it.”

Finally, Callum convinced someone to take him up on his offer.

It wasn’t long before he too lay upon the rarely cleaned floor across from a bleak premonition in the form of empty yellowed eyes and a face too tired to care, both men dimly lit by the light of a lantern. Floral smoke filled his lungs and took the sting away from his wounds. A beautiful warmth spread through him, everything lightened and relaxed. All things that hurt melted away as he sank deep into an impossibly soft floor wooden floor, a puddle of bliss.

Puffs of smoke sunk Cal into the abyss. Heavy eyelids closed and dreams came more vividly than ever before.

Cal soon felt lost, floating in an infinite void. No light. No hope. Nothing but the void. He felt the hollowness without and within.

“When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.”

As Cal fell into the abyss, it indeed looked back into him. It saw all things he didn’t want to see. It forced him to gaze.

His eyes opened and closed so slowly, and dreams came so suddenly, it became difficult to recognize the difference between reality and dreams. Any distinction between the two hardly mattered.

Cal heard a voice in the void, almost familiar but distorted, a haunting sound barely heard like a whisper carried on a breeze. It sent cold shivers through him.

Afraid to go home? To see monsters in the dark. You can barely face them in the light. Just give up, accept what you are. Selfish, like your father. Cruel, like your mother. Stupid, but that one’s all you.

Stupid little plans, that get people hurt. But it doesn’t matter, if you get what you want. You’d cause less trouble if you just went off to die in the gutter.

Lost in another alleyway. Somehow this one looked worse. Everything was coated in a dingy light and grimy fog, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night. He couldn’t even see the sky. But he could see the bottle in his hand, almost slipping through his fingers.

Even in a dream, he wanted to bring that bottle to his lips but he had no control here. A passenger. A voyeur. He could see his own yellowing skin and caught sight of the reddened tip of his drippy nose, as he walked, stumbled about, with no direction. His hand finally moved but not to bring that bottle to his lips. Finger scratched at open sores, the sound somehow so loud it was deafening. Then he was stumbling. Falling. He looked up at a sky that couldn’t be seen through a grimy fog.

Now his body saw fit to provide the satisfying sting of liquid courage. The bottle at his lips…

Choking. Couldn’t breathe. The booze taste like bile, fighting, clawing, its back way out. Violent coughing until out from his throat flew a fly. He could feel his insides rotting, he felt more flies knocking around in his stomach, crawling, buzzing, but unable to escape. The one that had escaped crawled across his face; there was no desire to swat it away. He thought he could hear the fly chewing as he felt the ground shoving at his back.

Shoving?

His eyes briefly opened, and he stared up at the ceiling. There was Ralph, patting his back and shoving him back onto his side. He saw a fly buzzing around the soft light of the lantern.

“Gonna choke if you sleep like that,” Ralph warned, and his broken smile held the same warm light that flickered from the lantern.

Callum, half asleep, nodded and used his sleeve to wipe bile from his mouth. “You’re a good friend, Ralphie.”

“Best friend.” Ralph briefly reminded him.

“Very best.” Callum agreed as heavy eyes closed again.

Friend? Who’d be friends with you? No one if you had nothing. Drunks if you buy them a drink. You’d be friends with anyone who’d buy you a drink and let you forget.

Even your own family doesn’t want you. “Ah look at my beautiful blonde-haired sons. Sons I’ve created.” It spoke in Edin’s voice for a moment. Not you though, not a son, only a blight. Why do you think you’re always so alone?

Callum wandered through a hallway in the palace. Here everything was too bright, overexposed, and nearly blinding. Even though it looked like every other hallway in the palace it was unfamiliar. The unwelcoming feeling of the hallway, however, felt exactly like his home. He opened a door and walked into Wulfrics office. He laid down across a couch and argued with his brother. Familiar words left his mouth. He stormed out. He tried another door and walked through the tavern. He argued with Anastasia. He looked into familiar hurt eyes. He left again and tried another door. Behind every door was a fight he’d started. It felt like an eternity.

He walked through a door and felt small. Edin was there too, like a great tall beast, shouting at him for ruining dinner. He was crying but he knew he didn’t do that in front of Edin anymore. Not like he did when he was a child.

“What’s wrong with you?” Edin’s face contorted, and his mouth opened into a maw that resembled a lamprey. Edin’s neck stretched and moved like a snake, slithering the maw of jagged, wicked, teeth closer and closer. The Edin-like creature hissed familiar insults as flies flew from the maw with each familiar word.

Raw primal fear kept Cal frozen in place. He was drenched in a cold sweat as his eyes looked from the bulging eyes of his father to the hundreds of flies that now landed on his skin. They burrowed into him, his skin giving no resistance. Callum felt the buzzing in his veins, in his gut, and inside his head. “What’s wrong with you?” The Edin creature shouted again as the maw snapped forward ready to devour.

“What’s wrong with him?” A different voice asked as cold water splashed across his face.

“You’re causing trouble.” A quiet, stern voice spoke.

He shot up in a cold panic. Drenched in sweat that mingled with cold water and the dried blood on his face from earlier. One eye wide with panic, the other too swollen to open fully. It took him a moment to realize he was screaming. He looked around for his friend but Ralph was now gone.

“You can’t stay here. Out.”

“Wh-” Too hard to stay awake. Sleep called again. Or maybe it Orbitus. The abyss cradled him once more.

Rotten fruit, rotten tree, rotting away. Drawing in flies, that's what you're good for.

Callum sat in front of a massive dark tree with twisting branches. Gnarled and twisted bits of bark wore the faces of regal ancestors. Their mouths all hung open, spewing forth a constant shrieking of their various crimes. He opened his mouth to scream for them to stop, his hands desperately pressed against his ears. No words came out, only a swarm of flies left his mouth. Thousands of flies poured from his mouth covering much of the tree but none of the faces. So many pairs of eyes bore down on him, judging him as the flies gnawed on the tree. He could hear rotten bark crunching inside thousands of tiny mouths. But their screaming stopped, voices barely heard over the buzzing of flies then spoke to him.

“This is one of ours?” A disappointed voice asked.

“Look at him, that’s a liar's face if I ever saw one. Certainly one of us.” A proud voice answered.

“He almost looks like George.”

“I don’t see it. Looks weak.”

“Got more of a coward’s face if you ask me.”

“Look closer, he’s got rage rotting away at him.” The eyes all looked to stare at him, fixated on something below his face.

Cal looked down following their gaze. He saw the rot. An opened cavity that was his abdomen, shattered ribs like fingers curled against the edges. The skin around the void in him was rotting and necrotic, a collage of muddied greens, grays, and black. But not nearly as dark as the void. No heart, no guts, no liver. Empty, barren, and continuing to pour out and spread to the rest of him. Consuming him.

He reached his hand inside and it brushed nothing but felt like ice water. He reached further, tried to touch where his spine should be and his arm kept reaching. His back curled forward until his forehead was nearly on the ground, still only feeling the emptiness. Until he fell forwards into the void and was pulled upright.

Until he stood on nothing and the floating stopped.

Everything hurt again.

A pair of cinnabar-colored stars shone in the void. They looked at him with such immense judgment that he fell to his knees. He felt his heart pounding against his chest. It was a struggle to breathe. The stars shone brighter and brighter until not only did his eyes sting but he could see that the stars were also eyes. Eyes that lit up a golden scowling face that looked like a mask with pair of horn-like appendages that almost formed a crown. Draped in shadows, He watched.

“Mighty Claro.” Cal addressed the vision and understood what was happening. He had asked for chaos on this night, and his night had not ended in an alleyway. Chaos had followed him, even invading his dreams.

The scowl became a smile that also might have been a snarl and disappeared in only a second as the golden mouth parted as if He were about to speak. Only flies poured out.

Flies swarmed into a humanoid shape and began walking toward him until the sound of it become deafening. Callum closed his eyes and tried to remember this wasn’t real. He covered his ears until the cacophony of buzzing stopped. He opened his eyes and stared back at himself. The flies were gone. It was just him, in the darkness, looking back at a mirrored image of himself.

“Like what you see?” The other Callum asked. With eyes locked all Cal could see in eyes that matched his own, were all those things within himself he hated. So Cal closed his eyes, shook his head, and hoped this disappeared too.

When his eyes opened again he found himself again lying on the street just outside the brothel. A single fly buzzed around his ear before eventually leaving him alone.

Time: Sola 21st Late Night
Location: The Slums - Another Alleyway
Interactions: Stratya @CitrusArms

Discarded like the rest of the refuse that littered the streets, Callum again stood on shaky legs and wandered. He didn’t know where else to go, only that he didn’t want to go home. Anywhere else was better. He checked through his pockets as if he might have a flask he’d forgotten about. Nothing. Only disappointment and his mouth was dry and his throat hurt like he’d been screaming all night. He realized he’d probably been kicked out for screaming in his sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Cal found himself sinking to the ground in another alleyway, or maybe it was the same one as before, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter either, the alleyway seemed a welcoming place to sleep until morning because at the very least it was far from home. He laid back down, rested his head on one arm, and covered his face with the other. The night’s air was cool enough that he shivered in clothes soaked with cold water and sweat, and it kept him from falling deep into sleep. Maybe enough so to keep the nightmares at bay.

"Here ya are, aye?" A new voice only added to his confusion.

Barry? He wondered if that guy just lurked around alleys all night. He then questioned whether that had all been a dream too.

"Alright, lad, let's up and away. Can ya walk, are ya awake?"

“Just resting. Fine here.” He moved his arm and looked up to see who was speaking to him. There was a hint of recognition but he couldn’t quite remember. “Do I kn-” Then he realized why he recognized her. “Oh fuck.” He mumbled once he recognized the face of the high-ranking knight.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Evening Sola 21, 1739: Bob & Barry Part 1

Callum Danrose & △△△

---

Under the veil of nocturnal murmurs, a beast emerged surreptitiously from the shroud of shadows. With predatory grace, it closed the distance between itself and the body sprawled out on the squalid pavement. The beast fixated its vacant gaze upon the man drenched in the mélange of blood, whiskey, detritus, and misery. Claws touched the man’s face with haunting tenderness. From its lips, a whisper caressed the name of the poor soul. “George.”

When the prince’s eyelids fluttered, △△△ tried again, “Your Highness? Are you awake? How are you feeling?”

Callum struggled to open his eyes; everything felt so heavy. Someone was talking, and Cal tried to lift his head but that turned out to be a bad idea. He laid his head back down but it just kept on pounding. “Just sleepin’ it off.” Callum muttered, not entirely sure what the man had asked but it seemed like a good answer. Some of the fog in Callum’s head lifted, and he remembered that this was not a good place to sleep.

With a raspy groan and some very ungraceful movements, he rolled himself over onto his arms and tried to climb up off the ground. Callum stumbled backward and his back hit the side of a building so he just sat there. He put one elbow on his knees and rested his palm atop his head because his head felt like it was going to fall off and roll away. He gave the stranger a shaky thumbs up before placing that hand on his head too. “Who are you?” He asked, resting his eyes for a bit.

△△△ opened his mouth, took that first breath needed for speech, then sighed. This curse turned out to be far more inconvenient than he initially thought it would be. He was considering creating cards that have his name and title printed out so that he could hand them out as part of the introduction. A weak smile formed as he asked, “Would you remember if I told you in your current state?” Without hesitation, △△△ began assessing the prince’s injuries, cleaning the blood off with a handkerchief and apologizing whenever he winced, but not giving Prince Callum the option to refuse the examination. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Callum repeated the question while attempting to swat the stranger's hands away. The man who refused to give out his name was more persistent than Cal, who relented to being poked and prodded at fairly quickly. “Hmm. Ow. Dunno. Guess I can’t remember.” He half spoke, half mumbled an obtuse answer to the stranger. Callum was pretty sure he knew what the stranger was looking for, but as he felt around his pockets he discovered they were all empty. “All outta coin, sorry. Best find someone else.” He added, hoping that admission was enough to get the intrusive stranger to move along.

△△△’s brows stitched together. “You were mugged? We need to alert the authorities then. If your attackers are bold enough to attack a prince, it’s possible that they won’t hesitate to harm others. But… before that we should see that you receive proper medical attention.” He leaned in closer to confirm his assessment. “It seems like they didn’t cause any life-threatening damage, but seeing that you have trouble remembering, you might have a concussion. We can’t be too careful.” He circled to the prince’s least damaged side. “Forgive me for touching you, it’ll only be until we find someone who can properly tend to you, I promise.” △△△ carefully lifted the prince’s arm to put it around his shoulder, and noticed a dark red mark on his palm. The coloring of the skin around the wound and state of coagulation suggested that the cut was made recently, but not as recently as his other injuries. “Did they do this to you too?”

Callum didn’t offer much protest to being pulled up off the ground, more wincing and whining; it was the quickest way he was going to get up and moving again. There had been only a tired, heavy sigh at the use of prince, and again at the mention of alerting the authorities. Once off the ground, with one of his arms wrapped around the mysterious stranger shoulders, Callum moved to palce his other hand on the man’s cheek as his gave his best attempt at a stern look. What he actually did was slap the man in the ear as he spoke, “No authorities. No doctors. Not a mugging. I wanted this.” Callum pulled his hand away, tried to look at the cut on his other palm before losing interest in the injury barely hurt. “Musta been the broken glass.” He lied before letting his arm drop back down and looked around, finding it difficult to remember which direction to go.

△△△’s ear rang from the slap and he pouted slightly, but the expression lasted until he heard the words. “I wanted this.” He gave the man with George’s face a once over, taking in all the bruises, the smell of alcohol on his breath, and that look of “weakness” he did not want to—could not—show others. “I want this.” “You’re very strict on yourself.” He smiled ruefully, “So much so that I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with this… but I wonder if you’ll realize that this form of punishment will never truly ease your guilt or solve the real problem, Your Royal Highness. … Unless this was only meant to satisfy your other needs...”

“If it doesn’t work out, try something else.” Callum said, but the thought was incredibly tiring. “Thanks. I got it from here. You should go.” He added but didn’t pull himself away from the stranger. Callum just waited, this was the part where the stranger was supposed to tell him what he wanted. Very few people hung around him without wanting something, he just hoped the man wasn’t looking for some kind of reward for returning him too the palace.

“Should I?” △△△ tilted his head as if he was considering doing as the prince suggested, then flashed a mischievous smile. “Uhh… No. While I appreciate your concern for my safety, unfortunately for you, you’ve been caught by a person who has a hard time leaving injured people in the middle of a sketchy alley, unattended, at night. Royalty or not.

So my suggestion, random person who I shall refer to as Bob, is that you give up getting rid of me and help me take you to your destination… or I'll have no choice but to take you to the hospital or authorities, whichever is closest.”

Mysterious stranger, that I met in an alley, who knows too much about me, won’t give out his name, and wants to do me a favor. Callum slowly listed everything that made the stranger suspicious. But he was also helping and nice enough about it that he wasn’t bothered by how strange it sounded. Ask for chaos, get chaos. Seemed best to just go with it. “You’re odd. I like that. This way then, Barry. To a brothel.” Callum picked a direction and pointed, mostly sure that was the right way.

“Will you be able to pay for their services without money?”

“They know me. Being a prince, has a few perks.” There was really only one service Callum had any interest in tonight; drifting off in a smoke-filled back room. This was neither the first nor would be the last time he’d turned up with empty pockets looking for opium. He always settled his debts, people who knew him, knew that. It didn’t hurt that Callum never argued about prices either. He knew they asked for more than the opium was worth, he just didn’t care.

“What are you out looking for?” Cal asked and started walking, shakily, but he was at least going somewhere.

△△△ matched his pace with the prince, occasionally pausing to steady him whenever he was about to lose balance. “Trouble, most likely. Rumor has it that you have a knack of getting yourself into them quite often.” He pointed his finger at the prince. “Which is really the extent of how much I know about you. The rest is just guess work and experience.” His finger tapped near one of the bruises. “People who ‘want to get beaten up’ tend to be masochists, people who feel guilty for something, and or people who have something to prove. Since I don’t know you beyond stories, I don’t know if any of those apply to you, Bob.”

“Needed to make a point. This is a way to do it.” Callum offered a vague explanation but none of what the stranger had guessed at was all that far off either.

After a pause, △△△ apologized for the tangent. “I have a friend who attended Mr. Delronzo’s party yesterday and came back in a terrible condition. Unlike you, she was beaten so badly she actually can’t walk. When I asked what happened… she… She says she has no memories of what happened at the party.”

Callum groaned, not out of pain this time, but exasperation at the mention of last night’s party. “Mister who?” Cal said as if he didn’t know the name. The stranger was certainly not a friend, probably working with Wulfric, or Alibeth, which was pretty much the same thing.

△△△ combed his fingers through his hair. “Either she’s hesitant to tell me what happened to her, she was drugged, or something so traumatic happened that she blocked the memory… None of these possibilities are the least bit comforting.”

This time it was △△△’s turn to repeat the gesture Prince Callum did to him though he was far gentler with the ear slapping. “Bob, I know you were at the party. Please, tell me what happened there. Any information, even if you think it is insignificant will be helpful.”

“You’re good. Give ya that. All helpful, easy to talk to, but I grew up with snakes. Know what they look like.” Callum’s words were a sad mumble, while he had figured the stranger had his own motives, he hadn’t suspected he was in line with the rest of his family. A part of Wulfric’s stupid vendetta against Marek for throwing better parties than anyone in court.

“I can’t even tell you the last time I left a party with my memories. I was there, don’t remember anything. Musta been a good time.” Cal’s words weren’t far from the truth. “Everybody’s all upset about it. Everybody there wanted to go. Well everyone ‘cept Darryn. Only thing we did wrong. Asked for a ride there. Zarai’s always been wild. Some people like drinking, and drugs, and forgetting. Some people like fighting. Sometimes they lose. Got advice for you now, if you’re working with my family,” Callum paused and shook his head. “Bad idea. Worst of the snakes. All of us. Bad news. You, worry about you,” Callum bent his free hand, like making a shadow puppet, to look like a snake. His hand moved around the stranger, imitating the movements of a snake as he offered a warning. “Before they bite.” He finished before the hand snake moved to “bite” at the man’s nose.

△△△’s own hand snake hooked its fangs onto the other snake and tugged, causing Prince Callum to stumble closer. He bit the empty space in front of the prince’s nose. “I never said I wasn’t one. How can you survive a den full of them without becoming one yourself or at least be convincing enough of a snake not to get bitten by a real one?”

Admittedly, it was too late. △△△△△△△△ had been bitten long ago, swallowed whole, waiting to be digested—their bodies giving strength to those who stole everything from them. They just stubbornly refused to go quietly into the night; they would fight, kicking and screaming until their last breath was spent. “Not everyone can have the same protection that you get, Bob. Regardless of your feelings.”

△△△ studied Prince Callum. “It seems like you’ve already decided where my allegiances are, but don’t worry, your parents prefer me and mine eradicated so the odds of me working for them to do their dirty work are extremely low.”

Callum let out a soft chuckle as the man returned the snake gesture, but it never became a real laugh, everything just hurt too much for that. “Be a mongoose,” Callum suggested. “They fight snakes real good.” He whispered it like it was a secret. But he understood; it was easier to be a snake and he was not a mongoose either.

With a gesture that almost seemed friendly, Cal used the increased closeness to lightly pat the man's side. He was checking for a flask, anyone walking around Sorian looking for trouble had to have something to take the edge off.

Amusement danced in △△△’s eyes as he allowed the body search. There was no immediate cause for alarm, no hidden object of value concealed upon his person. A spontaneous chuckle escaped him, “My, my, my! Bob Bobby Bobberson, were you pretending to be mugged so that you could pickpocket me or are you trying to seduce me?” △△△ playfully raised an eyebrow, “All you had to do was ask…”

“Seduce you? You can’t keep your hands off me, handsome stranger.” Callum replied with a disappointed look at having found nothing in his search. “Got anything to drink on you?” He paused, realizing something before adding, “You said, parents. What about Wulfy, you work for my brother?”

△△△’s expression shifted, a pensive gaze replaced his mirth. Of all the royal children, he harbored the most uncertainty towards the heir apparent. “That would depend entirely on how much he’ll follow his forebears’ footsteps, what kind of country he intends to create… and at what cost.”

“Well, dunno your allegiances. Don't even know your name. But everyone's got secrets. Either way, hope you get to see the end of Danroses.” Cal didn’t say anything more about Wulfric despite having a strong opinion on what sort of king his brother would make.

Studying Prince Callum’s face intently, △△△ tried to conjure the image of King George uttering the last sentence and found his mind straining against the boundaries of possibility, for it seemed unfathomable. In a hushed and guarded tone, barely audible to the air, he softly breathed △△△△△△△△s’ mantra. “Noblesse oblige.” It was the closest thing to a name he could give regardless of the curse. If the prince responded to the oath, then he knew. If he did not, then it proved how much of a close kept secret △△△△△△△△ were. Was it passed down with the crown or did it die with their progenitor? Did the queen even know?

Callum offered only a blank expression as the man whispered something into the air.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning
Location: Guesthouse to Edin’s Tea Party
Interactions:

The day started off normal enough; a cup of coffee, a simple breakfast, and the local newspaper was brought to his room. Nothing in his room seemed disturbed, no unnatural slickness to the floor or shoes, and no one summoning him to an early morning lecture. Today he could simply enjoy breakfast and coffee without interruption and all interactions could wait until the day had a proper start, as it should be.

The newspaper announced the day’s planned activities, it was abundantly clear where he wished to spend his time today. Any event that promised a dress code was sure to keep out the riff-raff after all. There was a childish drawing of Duke Lorenzo and he sincerely hoped Lottie had skipped reading the paper this morning. He checked the gossip collum, thankful not to see his own name mentioned there but groaned at seeing mention of Thea’s broken engagement.

Or at least he’d attempted to groan but the sound that actually left his mouth was an odd squeak.

“What the-” He stopped abruptly. That was not his voice, not even in the throws of puberty had his voice cracked at such a pitch. “What in Rothgar’s name?” His voice no longer cracked, it simply broke. Leo, much to his dismay, now sounded like he inhaled helium rather than normal air.

An impromptu visit with one of the palace’s doctors revealed nothing. No signs of infection or illness, all he got was an unconvincing, and frankly rude, assurance that it ‘would likely go away’ and that he ‘probably strained his voice from talking too much.’ Leo certainly didn’t appreciate the obvious look of amusement, and poorly masked chuckles, from the doctor as Leo’s squeaky voice explained the problem. Expecting anything helpful from a Caesonian physician was his mistake, this was after all a city where the science museum claimed Edin was some sort of divinely chosen demigod after all.

He changed into a linen summer suit nonetheless and tried to figure out how he’d get through a tea party without speaking. At least he had the small notebooks he’d bought yesterday to keep his notes in, Leo figured he could use those. As he looked over everything he’d written down about the secret party, he found himself erupting into unwanted, uncontrolled, shrill laughter.

“Gods-fucking-dammit.” He muttered as he stumbled into another unfortunate symptom. Nothing to be done about it now, he was just going to continue about his day and hope this really did fade with time. Today was going to be an absolute disaster but he would salvage what could from it. Once he got to the gardens, the normally soothing sounds of violins became an irritating reminder of his own now screechy voice.

Leo’s daily misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter. Who would do such a dastardly thing?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Nahir & Leo

collab with@Rodiak

---

Having spotted Nahir stepping outside from the guest house Leo headed towards her. He wondered as he walked whether he should be relaxed and friendly or more serious like a proper detective. He didn’t want to make the investigation seem like a joke, but after how unfortunately eventful tonight's dinner had been a more relaxed conversation might be better. So he smiled and offered a respectful nod as he approached the Nahir.

“Shehzadi Nahir, I was hoping to speak with you tonight, if you have a moment to spare.” He paused, and took a quick look around to ensure no one particularly nosey was around before adding, “I’m just trying to piece together what happened last night.”

Leo’s voice almost made her choke on the smoke still in her throat. She coughed lightly, covering her mouth, and turned to face him. She hadn’t expected him to approach her after tonight, and in truth, part of her wished he hadn’t.

”Just Nahir please.” She returned the smile with ease, ”Is Varian opening their own official investigation?” Nahir did not remember seeing any officials from Varian in the morning. Although, his quick look around made it seem like he was trying to keep it under wraps. Personal investigation perhaps?

“Apologies, if I startled you. It’s an unofficial investigation,” Leo answered. “Not that I don’t trust the official one, but there has to be a reason for someone to have had us all drugged. If that reason involves something like blackmail, I prefer to be ahead of the situation. If there’s anything you can remember, I’d appreciate the help.”

Nahir inhaled the sweet herbs, letting it rest in her lungs for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke out her nose. ”Lights, I remember flashing lights. Of all sorts of colors floating all around. All so bright and blinding.” She recoiled a tad when the drumming in her head grew stronger and a new image flashed behind her eyes. Hands, large pale hands. ”I think that is the extent of it.”

Leo watched the whisps of smoke exhaled by Nahir as he studied her expression. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How surreal the glimpses feel. Ana said she remembered cupcakes on the floor. I remember staring at what looked like a cloudy blue sky. Never had a hangover bring about headaches like these either.” Leo spoke as he pondered the equally strange piece Nahir had added to the already complex puzzle. Flashing lights and floating colors, what on earth could that mean?

“What’s the last clear thing you can remember? The carriage ride? Anything about the warehouse?” Leo asked, careful not to mention the stairs unless Nahir did so first.

Cupcakes, a blue sky, and flashing lights. Well, wasn’t that just a whole bunch of nothing?

Nahir rubbed her temples, shaking her head when Leo asked her for more. Her mind may not have had no memory of the night before, but her skin wore the marks. She had to play it right. ”I think… I think I remember hands.” Nahir finally answered his questions. She didn’t meet his eyes as she spoke; instead, she looked at one of the red curls at the nape of his neck. ”Two hands, strong fingers…” Nahir reached for his hand, pulling it between them. She looked at his hand as her thumb lightly brushed over his palm, tracing the lines there.

Though it seemed his question had been misunderstood, Leo didn’t say anything at first. Nahir appeared intensely focused on her own mystery, and such focus should not be interrupted. He held still as she investigated his hand. “I meant before everything started to get hazy, but,” There was something disquieting about the acute focus on his hand. “Nahir, if you have questions for me, by all means.”

Nahir halted, cursed herself, and shook her head. “Apologies, I’m afraid that is all I remember for now.” She dropped his hand, smiling bashfully up at him for taking it so abruptly and without asking. “There is something,” she paused to inhale the concoction of herbs again, the sweet’s aroma already doing wonders for her head. “Do you remember anything else besides a blue sky? None of our memories make any sense when put together.”

“Anastasia had mentioned descending a staircase in the warehouse. I remember that as well. Everything after that is just bits and pieces. It makes more sense that they’d have drugged the drinks, but maybe, if the memory loss starts so early, the drugs were somehow in the air.” Leo walked through his thoughts aloud, and rifled through his memories, past the carriage and warehouse until everything was a dense fog again. Stairs. “Strange music. Thumping. Like it was made by machinery.” He attempted to mimic the sound and the beat as another brief glimpse of last night resurfaced and faded away.

“None of it makes sense. The more I learn the less sense it makes. But Ana is meeting with the mysterious host tonight. Wulfric is sending guards to keep an eye out, hopefully, that will bring some more satisfying answers.” Leo added, he wasn’t leaving this mystery unsolved, the answers were somewhere. “If not, I’ll keep looking.”

Were they using Anastasia as bait? She wouldn’t put it past Queen Alibeth to do so. Still, the information Leo was providing was useful. ”What about magic?” Nahir crossed her arms over her chest, eyes focused on the tip of his nose. ”We have to be open to any possibility in this situation. That includes magic. It may explain our different memories as well. A blue sky in the middle of the night, inside a warehouse? The strange music you described. The flashing lights and even the headaches.”Her index finger tapped over her arm in a rhythmic pattern.

“Magic?” Leo repeated the word like it was from a strange language. “Like in children’s books?” He glanced down at whatever Nahir was smoking, now wondering what exactly it was. Surely she does not believe all that magic nonsense? Obscure laws against it served as reminders of old-world superstitions. Was she saying his investigation was a joke? All the clues were ridiculous.

“I guess I’ll have to keep an eye out for any bubbling cauldrons and flying brooms.” Leo responded with a smile and a quick scan of the skies.

Nahir had to cover her mouth with the back of her hand to cover the giggle she let escape. ”No, not like the children’s books.” She looked away momentarily, trying to subdue the giggles. Did Varian have no myths? No legends of powerful mages and witches? Alidash’s history and old legends were littered with them. Sultans and Grand Viziers with enough magic to solidify their rule for centuries. ”I am talking about the magic in the legends, Leo. The kind of magic that lets you seize control of nature itself, mold it into whatever limitations of your imagination can conjure. That kind.”

Her mother had told her so many tales of such magic and its users. The amount of power they held in their hands only to succumb to its greed. Such weak creatures, they had been. And while she understood Leo's skepticism about such a word and its implications, she would not dismiss it and chalk it up to children’s stories when laws against it were still upheld. ”A good investigator always keeps an open mind.” She smiled, already done with their conversation. ”If I encounter something else, I will inform you.”

Leo smiled politely, to a joke he didn’t quite get. The way Nahir described it sounded far more dangerous than old tales of cranky old crones luring children astray with candy houses. But myths and legends it was, and last night, was very real. Real and weird beyond any current explanation. The thought of it made him feel cold; something that shouldn't be real creeping into a world that mostly made sense.

“Well then I’d be a fool to ignore such sage advice. I’ll look into the magic angle as well. Thank you for your time.” Leo said, it was best to leave the conversation while she was amused rather than annoyed with his questions.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Forest; Near Gaurav Village
Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

“Can’t go, not yet,” Cyrus responded. Phia had already flown off, if Phia thought she could convince the Roc to leave, he had to trust that. If Phia left to allow the Roc to chase her, then he’d go as well. Because Viola was right, they should not allow themselves to be separated again. He kept his focus on the swirling mass of sticks and shattered treetops.

The two muscular elves did things that elves simply could not. A massive dust cloud had been summoned, it barely slowed the Roc down as wings kept beating to displace the cover. The Roc found its spot and landed; a swirl of dust, rock, and branches danced around them. Something hard slammed into his side. His footing faltered, but Cyrus kept focused on only Roc and magic. The bird’s eyes were dangerously fixed on Phia whose courageous flight had been thwarted. What was clear was this was not a matter of entering the wrong creature's territory, for the Roc this was all survival. It would have to be a choice for survival for the group as well.

“Is your plant still hungry?” He asked Viola, remembering how quickly and easily the Blood Rose had drained the boar earlier. Could it handle something much bigger? Even enough to weaken the Roc would be a start.

As the Roc’s massive beak snapped toward Phia and her closeness to the bird made it impossible to fling the collection of wooden shrapnel towards the pair. “Move Phia.” A soft whisper carried the wish away mixed and muddled with the sounds of wind, snapping branches, and the screeching bird.

A flash of white, as demihuman lept from the trees, saving Phia. The horrid sound of shattering bone cut through the noise as the demihuman was bitten and flung aside. A bloody arm remained trapped within the Roc’s beak. Opportunity opened. Every bit of wooden shrapnel, any bit of plant material his magic could keep hold of was sent hurting towards the Roc.

Avalia

Time: Breakfast time!
Location: River Port; Malachi’s mom’s house
Interactions: Malachi@princess, Jun@JJ Doe, Enstille@GingerBobOh, Kenia@Tae
Equipment: A halberd, (always with him) hunting knife, and half-plate armor (left in the room).

---

Zion shook his head as just about every other member of his new pride gave the kindly neighbor woman the cold shoulder. While he could appreciate Jun’s rush to get to the breakfast table, at least a few words with the elf he’d run into would’ve been nice. Malachi on the other hand was just outright rude. There was just a sad flickering of his tail as he took the coins from Malachi. He kept the warm smile up for Kenia, he couldn’t imagine how disheartening it must be to show up to extend the hand of friendship to one’s neighbors only to be treated poorly. Zion knew, without a doubt, his mother would be deeply disappointed if he did not try and correct the situation.

“Well, I think that sharing good food and neighborly intentions are the best first steps to harmony. I am sorry the others seem to have lost their manners, but I’d like to welcome you to our table. We have meat, and eggs that are surely growing cold, to share.” Zion offered up the amas Malachi had given him, on the chance that she’d rather take the coin and leave. At the same time, he gestured towards the kitchen with his head, a room he hoped they all headed to soon.

“Malachi is rough around the edges but carries the heart of a warrior.” He accentuated his point by slamming a fist against his chest. “The others are just a bit shy.”

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Southwest of Roshmi City
Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette@Tae, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

---

Bowyn wrapped his arm around Rue’s shoulders, his hand lightly squeezed the top of her arm. He followed Rue’s gaze to the elf who had led the owlbear to them. “Trouble, that’s what she is.” He said rolling his eyes. Mister Luum had ordered Bridgette to carve up the owlbear and normally Bowyn would’ve just gone ahead and helped, waste not want not and all that, but Rue was leaning on him so he stayed by Rue’s side.

“Stay away from the new elf, gods I hope she’s not taggin along, but last thing we need is her figuring out-” Bowyn began to offer his opinion to Bardulf who seemed utterly lost in his own head. And then the human was suddenly shouting at no one. Bowyn just stared at the human as lightning cracked and hit the ground in front of the human. He sighed, no point in advising Bardulf to keep his powers and identity secret now as sparks were shooting off the man’s body.

“Bridgette has the creature handled.” Bowyn gestured with his head before pointing a finger at Bardulf. “You will get a handle on those powers before we set foot in Roshmi, or we are all gonna be executed before the day’s over.” Bowyn hissed out his annoyance. A slip-up like this in front of the wrong people would mean an immediate failure of their mission and almost certain death at the hands of the dark elves. How hard could it possibly be to simply not shoot lightning around? A glance at the new elf made it clear the scene had not gone unnoticed.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 7 pm
Location: Outside the Guest House
Interactions:

Leo had offered parting words and left Ana to her plan to meet with the party’s host. If Wulfric knew Ana was doing this, then the prince likely already had more precautions in place than even Ana knew about, and he shouldn’t have to worry. But he did anyway because whoever this guy was, Leo had a bad feeling about him that only got worse when Ana mentioned that this wasn't the first party like this. That she and Callum both had gone to these parties, woken up with memory loss, and thought this to be a normal occurrence. Maybe he should have offered a warning about acting so recklessly but who was he to lecture about reckless behaviors just when he had the same impulses? His were only acted out far away from polite society where they couldn’t so easily be picked apart by his peers. Well, most of the time at least.

Thea hated being lectured, talked down to, and having her every action picked apart. Leo understood this, and Ana reminded him so much of Thea that he often saw her in much of the same light. Or maybe he just wanted to see if Ana could find out any more information. Leo, honestly, wasn’t sure why he ignored the bad feeling, but with so many other unanswered questions floating in his mind, he left this one packed away. So instead Leo went over mental notes for the questions he maybe could begin to find answers to.

These secret parties have been going on for a while. Ana and Callum have been to several. The memory loss afterward has been a constant.

The party’s host was a male. He was nice enough to the two youngest Danrose royals that they both think of him as a friend.

The party was in the basement of the warehouse. It seemed like memories got hazy once they had descended the staircase. At least that was true for him and Ana both.

Whatever drug they had been given was likely mixed in the drinks. That had to be what was causing the headaches and memory loss and he could only wonder what other effects the drug had caused.

Memories of the party came as obscured, dream-like, glimpses. Ana remembered cupcakes on the ground and holding a cocktail. Cupcakes. Shit, he immediately wondered if that obnoxious baker had been there as well. He probably should’ve asked Ana about that but the chance was gone. Maybe he should interview Ezra as well.

As he went over his thoughts, trying to keep everything important organized in his mind he decided he would need to get some pocket notebooks to keep track of everything. He couldn’t afford to be forgetting clues. Eventually, he caught sight of Nahir outside the guest house; time for another interview.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum has another temper tantrum, part 2/2

Time: 7 pm
Location: Sorian Temple/Graveyard
Interactions:

Callum walked, or more accurately, drunkenly swaggered, purposefully exaggerating the unsteadiness of his feet, through the slums of Sorian. Poorly maintained streets lined with dilapidated buildings and numerous back alleyways that weaved and snaked about, small shops were closing up, taverns and brothels were just starting to pick up, and Edin’s Enforcement officers were no nowhere to be seen. They didn’t bother patrolling out here; everything about this part of the city was fully neglected, from the streets to the people, deemed not worth the effort by the king.

He drank from the bottle in his hand, carried the scent of whiskey on his clothes and breath, and belted out an old drinking song as he walked. It felt good to have a plan. It felt good to be acting on a plan, even if all it amounted to was making Alibeth’s life just a little more difficult. It was only fair. Despite what many people thought the young prince did have a few talents, and making a nuisance of himself was certainly one of them.

He threw his shoulder into any unfriendly face that walked too close to him. Anticipation left him feeling wired as Cal waited for someone to take the bait. He understood exactly how things worked in Caesonia; an eye for an eye, and if he wanted to be understood he had to communicate in the ways they understood. His family understood blood, and the only blood that mattered to them was Danrose blood. So he would spill his own and that felt fair like there was a small bit of justice in it.

If he did nothing it would happen again. Alibeth, nor any other Danrose, could be left to think that harming others would be an effective form of punishment or control. Not for him, and at the very least he could ensure at least one Danrose paid for their own crimes.

And Alibeth had hurt him, he would hurt her back. That was fair.

His problem with Alibeth, the reason his mother’s actions today cut so deeply, was that before now he had really believed his mother loved him. But she knew when she threatened Darryn exactly how much that would hurt not only him but Ana as well. If his mother’s love came with such malicious forms of control, then Cal neither wanted it nor would he think of it as love.

Alibeth had one weakness that he was sure of, one button he could push that would at least hurt. If seeing one of her children hurt would distress her even a little, it seemed worth trying. But what he was really hoping for, was that it would sting a little bit more for her to have look at him and know he was mirroring back her cruelty, forcing her to look at it, maybe even think about it. That would make a worthy piece of art.

It wasn't long before Callum bumped into the wrong shoulder and got a shove that sent him stumbling backward.

“Yawatchwhuryagoin’ pal.” Callum exaggerated the slur to his speech as he pointed the almost empty bottle at the man's chest. It was just as quickly slapped away and watched as the bottle was knocked out of his hand and shattered against the ground. “Ruuude.” Callum exhaled a dramatic whine of a word as he glanced at the shattered bottle.

There was a gruff ‘fuck off’ muttered as the man tried to shove past Callum who repeatedly moved to continue to be in the other man’s way. Now Cal was grinning as he grabbed a handful of coins from his pocket. He threw them, one at a time at the irritated, red-faced, man while speaking slowly, “Go. Buy. Some. Manners. An-”

Callum didn’t get to finish, a solid right hook knocked him back and spilled the rest of the coins from his hand onto the ground with the glass and remnants of whiskey. It could’ve stopped there but Callum really did have a gift for antagonizing things. So he got back up, repeatedly, and continued to make himself a constant pest that needed swatting at by angry, heavy, hands. Until he found himself laying on the streets of some back alleyway with a foot constantly smashing into the same spot on his ribcage until it was hard to breathe. His final attempt to get back up ended with a hard kick to the face that left him laying on his back looking at the stars. He wasn’t entirely sure if they were imagined stars or the same ones that were always in the night sky but it didn’t matter.

He achieved exactly what he’d set out to do. He allowed his skin to be painted in the shades of violence and it was both worse and better than he’d expected.

It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to lie still. There was this deafening ringing in his ears that muffled out the sounds around him. Blood from somewhere on his face was stinging as it ran into his eyes, blood from his nose was running into his mouth, and the blood in his mouth was constantly being spat, or more accurately drooled, out onto the ground.

Callum’s face twitched into a grin because it was glorious. Alibeth would know he had done this because of what she had done to Darryn. She would know that the next time she repeated her actions, he would repeat his. She would know because Callum would look her in the eyes and say it. All this was certainly worth that.

“Praise be to Claero, answerer of prayers, most worthy of worship. Thank you.” He whispered through clenched bloodied teeth. He had found a god worthy of worship, the infernal god had not only listened, but he had blessed Callum with everything he’d asked for. Some bit of that infernal calamity had worked its way into his life, and it would spread. Hopefully to his mother. If not, he’d try again. And if it did work, he’d set his sights higher.

Eventually, he would get up, but he didn’t plan on going home yet. There was a brothel not too far from here, he planned for that to be his next stop. A brothel always had offered a warmer welcome than his home ever did. He could sleep there, better than being tossed into the medical wing of the palace by miles. He was just going to need a few minutes, probably a whole lot of minutes until he was ready to do anything besides lay in the alleyway. Or maybe lie here til morning. Drunken, beaten, and pretty damn close to lying in a gutter; what mother wouldn’t love to hear she’d caused such fate for her son?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Leo & Anastasia

---

“Outside it is.” Leo agreed with a nod and followed Anastasia out of the guest house into the cool evening air. He thought over what he’d ask as they walked, he had to keep his questions focused; things she might be willing to talk about and that wouldn’t trigger a need to protect the party's host. It had been a long day, and an even longer dinner, so he avoided trying to start any small talk. Leo would be willing to bet the day had been just as taxing on Anastasia as well.

“I’d like to talk about what happened last night if that’s alright with you. It’s the memory loss that’s been troubling me. So if there’s anything you can remember, anything about what happened last night, if I took anything there, it would really help ease my mind some.” Leo asked once they’d found a spot to speak without anyone listening in.

Anastasia exhaled softly, her breath mingling with the cool evening air, as a wave of guilt washed over her heart. Her entire demeanor shifted. "...I'm so sorry, Leo. I hope you are feeling okay and not hurt or anything from last night." She first said sincerely.

"You know I would never take you guys anywhere if I thought there was a risk of getting hurt, right?" She hugged herself tightly as she settled onto a nearby bench.

"...Honestly, it's all a bit hazy once we arrived at the party," she continued, her brows furrowed in concentration. "I have brief images, but I can't guarantee they weren't from a dream or something. I vaguely remember seeing cupcakes scattered on the ground, and there might have been a cocktail in my hand. I think… I think we went down some stairs to go there, right? Weird to go downstairs in a warehouse... I realize it sounds really stupid, doesn't it?" She briefly covered her face with her hands, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"I feel terrible about what happened to Darryn and what happened to everyone, especially Zarai. She doesn't deserve that," Anastasia admitted with a heavy sigh. However, determination glimmered in her eyes as she lifted her head and focused on Leo once more. "But I will find out what happened. Tonight, I'm going to confront the guy who threw the party and question him." She told him in a resolute tone, “I’ll fix this mess.”

Leo took a seat on the bench leaving a respectful amount of space between himself and the Caesonian princess. He listened, quietly, as Ana spoke, shaking his head to indicate he was not hurt, and nodding that he understood that Ana’s intentions were not to get anyone hurt. The guilt was evident in her tone and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d judged her too harshly after this morning. Leo could easily admit that it was often hard to stay reasonable in a situation as heightened as this morning's lecture had been. Until she mentioned her plan to meet with the host tonight, another reckless plan even if she was only placing herself in danger.

“I think I remember stairs, but not cupcakes. And staring at a cloudy blue sky. Which, you know, makes less sense than anything you said because it was night and we were inside.” Leo offered some of what he remembered. He hadn’t thought about how strange it was to be in the basement of a warehouse until Ana pointed that out. “When I try to recall more than small glimpses I get this terrible headache, does that happen to you?” He asked.

“Stairs, cupcakes, the sky… Ugh isn’t there anything else?” Anastasia rubbed her head and found it truly did give her a headache to try to think about the party, almost as if she had been blocked out by a wall in her own head. “Yes. I do have the headache.”

“And you weren’t wrong this morning, we are all adults who chose to go, that is not on you. Titles are stressful, they ask a lot from us, and anytime we shrug them off for a bit, it seems we end up paying for it one way or another. Those who look at our lives with envy, desperately want to see us fall. It is unfortunate, but that is the world. If you feel you need to protect the host, that is your call, I’m not looking for someone to punish. But for as much as I’d like to know what happened, how it happened, it is not worth putting yourself in danger. I’m certain Zarai would agree. It is your enthusiasm that brightens Caesonia, and that is worth more than answers.” Leo offered his thoughts in a quiet voice, without any of the usual forced confidence.

Anastasia had smiled faintly, grateful that he did not blame her. It was a nice change of pace. “Well…I just don’t know for sure if he did it…If I can’t remember what happened, it feels wrong to throw him to the wolves without at least trying to find out what went on. My parents will execute him with no questions asked…If he’s to blame for all this, I will stop protecting him.”

However, the more Anastasia thought about it, the more she realized that she did not recall any of the parties she had attended over the years and not just this one. “I usually can’t remember what happens to be honest at his parties …but I always drink too much and so does Callum. I didn’t realize it was abnormal until it happened to everyone. ” She shrugged to him, “I have been going to his parties often and he’s always nice to me. I don’t think I’ll be in danger, but if you’re concerned, Wulfric is making me bring guards with me.”

“Sounds like you’re doing the best you can with the information you have. I can respect that, but from someone who is often nice to people that I neither like nor care about, people can be nice for very selfish reasons. I’m not saying this is the case with your friend, but I am glad to hear Wulfric is looking out for you.” Leo spoke as he thought over what Ana had said; that these parties had been happening for a while and they always ended in memory loss. It had to be the drinks, it was basically a guarantee that everyone at a secret party would have at least a drink, so someone, if not the host himself, had to be drugging the drinks. With what or why were likely not things Ana knew, but Leo was sure it couldn’t be anything good.

“My concern is that this might be some sort of blackmail scheme. If you find anything out, a possible reason behind all this, I’d very much appreciate it if you let me know.” Leo added.

“Of course. I’ll tell you everything I find out. ”