Lava Alckon

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim & Anastasia

Time: Morning of the 26th
Location: Castle Danrose

FLASHBACK!!

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There was some interesting news that had come across Farim’s ears as he enjoyed his morning breakfast. Thara sat patiently on his desk as he read through some more updates on recent happenings, when one of his servants decided it was prudent to inform him of the events that transpired at the train station the other night. Once he heard the news, Farim looked up from his papers, right in the middle of sipping his morning coffee, and looked at the young lady sharing this news. He was seemingly stunned for about 10 seconds before setting his coffee down slowly, no doubt causing a pit of anxiety to grow in the woman’s stomach who decided to share the news.

”Are you certain?” Was all he said. Met with a meager nod from the woman, still somewhat worried how Farim might react. But there was no sudden outburst - only a brief nod followed by him rising from his seat. Farim went to his wardrobe and took a slightly more appropriate robe to drape over himself to hide his morning attire, and ushered his falcon towards him. Thara swooped onto his shoulder and coo’d lightly while Farim rubbed her head with the back of his finger. ”See to it that my day’s clothes are laid out for me please. I am going to speak with the Princess at once, and make sure she is of proper health.” Before much further could be said, the Shehzade made his way out of the guest house and hailed the quickest ride to the castle.

In a similar fashion to his last visit, he made his way through the large gates and announced to the guards that motioned towards him with questionable looks that he simply wished to speak with Princess Anastasia if she was available. The guards of course attempted to send the man away, saying she was far too busy for visitors. But Farim had merely smiled, pivoted on his foot in a swift, swirling motion, and continued his pace as he said ”I would prefer to hear that from the woman herself, thank you. I shall cause no trouble.” The guards decided it best not to openly oppose one of Alidasht’s royalty, especially knowing that this one was the son of the spiteful Hafiz, and simply sent an escort with him. Farim gracefully walked down the halls with his robe fluttering with each turn of his feet. Thara stayed patiently on his shoulder, her head turning sporadically to note the environment and surroundings to properly sate her curiosity. Once Farim approached the Anastasia’s door he gave it three firm knocks before announcing himself. ”Princess, it is Farim. Are you able to…talk?”

The door swung open almost immediately after the third knock. “YES!” Anastasia exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, her voice bright and cheerful. Her ashen blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and the glitter from last night still sparkled faintly on her eyelids. She was still wearing her dress from the evening before, the fabric slightly rumpled but no less vibrant.
Her amber eyes lit up even more as she took in the sight of Farim and Thara. “Oh, my darlings! Come in, come in!” She stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for them to enter with repetitive hand gestures, “You’ve brought Thara, too—how wonderful! You’ve just made my morning infinitely better.”
Farim stepped inside and motioned to close the door behind him, turning a thoughtful gaze at his little entourage and nodding - as if to silently promise there’d be no “funny business”. At least none started by him. Turning back towards Anastasia, Farim took Thara from his shoulder and held his hand out to let her flap her wings in a short graceful flight toward the end of her bed. The man reached out to grasp Anastasia’s hand, a warm smile on his face for a moment that broke into a more thoughtful gaze.

”I have heard some words I wanted to confirm with you before I say or think anything. Some people have begun whispering that you were on the train tracks last night, awaiting the fast embrace of the cold steel that rides those rails. Is this some form of prank or joke I am not aware of, Annie?” There was no royal and exotic flare to his voice - only the genuine concern that came from a man who was worried for the health of the person he very much cared about.
Anastasia's initial excitement at Farim's presence faltered as his words hit her. Her eyes widened slightly, and the warmth in her expression dimmed like a flame in the wind. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, and she withdrew slightly, clasping her fingers together instead.

“So, it’s already made the rounds, has it?” she murmured, her voice weary.. Her lips twitched upward in a faint, self-deprecating smile. “It wasn’t a prank, Farim, and it wasn’t a joke. But it also wasn’t…” she paused, struggling to find the right words, “what everyone seems to think it was.” Farim offered a solemn nod, a show of understanding of what she had to say, but he dared not interrupt.

She turned away, stepping toward the edge of the room where Thara perched, idly reaching out to run her fingers along the falcon’s feathers. The bird leaned into the touch, softly and happily cooing as her fingers grazed along the falcon’s feathers. “I didn’t go there to… you know.” Her voice caught for a moment before she steadied herself, glancing back at him. “I just needed to feel something—anything. Everything’s been so heavy lately, and the train… the noise, the rush, the adrenaline—it cleared my head.”

“...I guess I was… breaking down a little. It felt like the weight of everything was crushing me all at once I’ve been carrying so many feelings—Darryn, Riona, Callum, how people speak to me, what they think of me… What I think of myself… And instead of facing it like a normal person, I just… ran. I didn’t know where else to go, so I ended up on the tracks.” She paused, her hands moving expressively as she struggled to explain. Farim’s hands gripped onto the sides of his robes. So that gut feeling at the party… His mind trailed off as she continued.

“It’s not like I wanted to… you know.” Her voice dropped, softer now, almost a whisper. “It wasn’t that. I just… I needed to feel something that wasn’t the crushing heaviness. And standing there, with the train coming at me, it was—” She gestured helplessly, searching for the right words. “It was like all the noise in my head finally went quiet. For just a moment, it all made sense.”

Anastasia’s shoulders slumped slightly, her vulnerability laid bare. “I’m sorry, Farim. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just—” She stopped, her voice breaking for a moment before she forced a small, bittersweet smile. “I just didn’t know how else to handle it all. I know I scared you. I scared everyone. And I hate that I did. I hate that I might have made you think less of me.” Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath, blinking quickly to stop the tears. “I’m trying, I swear I am. I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better..” Her hands dropped to her sides with a defeated sigh, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she added softly, almost inaudibly, “Please don’t stop liking me.”

There was a silence that hung in the air. Farim took the time to think about what it was he wanted to say. “This Darryn…he sounds a lot like my friend Malik back home…” He stood where he was, now feeling his own well of emotions beginning to fill as he prepared for the waterworks to flow from his eyes. “I…watched him pass away before my very eyes. Unable to do anything to help him. It was my fault for putting him in such a situation - I should have listened to the warnings….I should have-” He cut himself off before he began to rant and make this entire interaction about him. He did not want that. The man wanted to connect with the clearly hurt and scared woman standing before him.

“There are many times we feel powerless to help the ones we care about. There is no weakness in this. With love and happiness, comes pain and loss. Yet it is still worth it all the same, no?” Farim took a step closer. “I did not come to reprimand you or chastise you. I ignored the warning signs for someone once, and I wish to never make the same mistake again. So if there is anything I can do, whenever or wherever, know that I am here for you, Anastasia.” He swallowed and kept his cool as best as he could, blinking back the tears that welled in his eyes.

Farim strode closer to her, now within arm’s reach, but keeping his hands to himself despite his base instincts to reach out. To grab onto her and never let go. But to do so would rob Anastasia of the choice to reach back to him, to have someone be there the moment she wanted. He could not bring himself to do that to her. “I am sure there are many things that people would love to say about you. Things to discredit your thoughts, your actions, and the very words you wish to share. I like to think differently.” He paused. “What I see is someone who has taken the world on her shoulders and still chooses to greet everyone with a smile so radiant it puts the gods to shame. A heart so boundless it brings everyone together. The optimism that springs forth from you could build entire empires.” Farim waved his hands in a grand gesture while he spoke, idolizing her in every way he knew her.

The man’s hands gripped into fists, moving back down to his side while his voice lowered into something soft. A gentle sweeping sultry tone escaped from his lips while he thought about what else he could say - what else he could do. His mind wracked for possibilities in that short moment. ”And I would not dream of not liking you just because you are going through some tough times. I would not be a proper man if I did. So please…” He faltered for a moment, reaching out a hand between them both. ”Do not stop liking me either.”

Anastasia’s gaze had remained fixed on him as he spoke, her eyes ever so subtly widening. She felt a warmth rise within her chest and slowly, as if his words had coaxed it to life, a gentle smile spread across her lips. When he finished, she stood there for a moment as she processed the weight of his sincerity. Then, with a dramatic step forward, she closed the distance between them, her hand slipping into his with deliberate tenderness. Her other hand rested atop them both, her fingers trembling slightly but firm in their touch. She then squeezed his hand gently, her tears spilling over as she let out a shaky laugh. “You’ve been a big reason for my smile lately… And I won’t stop liking you. Not now and not ever!”

The man’s hand reached out for her cheek, while the other caressed his thumb along the side of their pile of hands. Each of his thumbs gave a gentle and reassuring touch, wiping her spilling tears even as more draped down over her fair skin. Farim took yet another step closer between them. “You are the best thing to happen to me since I came to this city. Our adventures, our time together, and your beautiful smile. I wish to protect all of this and more.” The hand holding her face slid towards the back of her head, guiding her face upwards with a soft push of his thumb so they would look each other in the eyes. “Of all the shiny fortunes and gorgeous gemstones I have seen in my life - you are by the far the most radiant of them all.” It was there that he realized his face was intimately close to hers. He kept his eyes locked onto hers, and could feel their breaths pushing along each other's lips. Farim drifted forwards, being tugged along by the wants of his heart, and gave the princess all the emotion and longing he felt for her in that moment. All wrapped up in the form of a kiss that would leave him breathless.

Anastasia could hear her own heart accelerate in her ears as his hand graced her cheek. In fact, It was hammering in her chest by the end of his speech, and if it had not been for his guiding hand, she may have even averted her gaze. It was such a strange reaction coming from her—after all, touch was nothing new to her. She had kissed men, even women before yet something about the way he was looking at her… the way he was speaking to her… Before she could process the foreign feelings rushing through her body, their lips met. It wasn’t rushed or careless. It was deliberately filled with emotion that both overwhelmed and grounded her. It felt as though time had began to slow and the world outside the room had melted away. Her breath had hitched as her hands slowly found their way to his shoulders and she returned the kiss tenderly. When they finally did pull apart, she stared at him with a softened gaze and parted lips, her brows raised. “Farim…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “...You… wish to protect me?”

Words failed him for a moment, for the young man had still been reeling from the emotional sensation they had just experienced. He had kissed women before, but those were out of fanciful flights of debauchery and carnal sensations. This was a much deeper rooted feeling that came from his core. It was the few seconds of silence following her question that prompted him to say something, anything.
“Of course. I know my time with you is but a drop in the oasis that is your life. Not to mention I am sure you have had your fill of ‘protection’ from quite a number of men in your life. But this does not stop me from wanting to occupy any portion of your heart and mind. To savor and cherish that connection. Not because you need it - but because we want it.” He continued stroking his thumb along her cheek while his hand gripped hers.

Anastasia continued to search his face with eyes that revealed a balance of fear and the stirrings of something else entirely. After a moment, she finally decided to give him a wordless reply, throwing her arms around him abruptly. The princess embraced him tightly, burying her face briefly in his shoulder.

Farim returned the embrace earnestly. Arms thrown around her, cradling her back in a moment of tranquility that he had long since forgotten the sensation of. For just that moment he felt like his guard could lower, that his instincts could stay on the back burner, and that he could follow his heart like he always wanted.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Thea & Drake

FLASHBACK!

Date: Day of the 25th of Sola
Location: Drake’s Chambers

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As if the gods ordained it, here she was. Standing in front of a gobsmacked Drake whose glass began to tilt ever so slowly; threatening to spill his perfectly good wine all over their shoes. Alas, the man quickly regained his senses and straightened his posture as well as the glass. He seemed unsure of what to do or where to place his hands - but he finally settled on a bow towards Thea as he nervously spoke.

”L-lady Thea! It’s so nice to see you! Regrettably, the party has….concluded. But! It is still the 25th, so on all technicalities, I would say you are right on time.” He opened the door and welcomed her with his glass in one hand and his outstretched arm in the other. ”Shall I get us a table? Would you like any drink perhaps? I just so happened to have an extra glass… He began prattling for a moment, but turned to look at her with a warm smile. ”I apologize. I’m simply over the moon you were able to make it.”

Thea’s heart fluttered at his warm reception, and she let out a soft, nervous laugh. “I’m sorry I missed the party, I regrettably found myself detained for a while…” and by being “detained” she actually meant she’d had a hangover that morning and slept in much later than she had intended. Then she’d begun getting ready, but couldn’t seem to find the right outfit and her hair wouldn’t cooperate and her makeup felt clown-like and she just stalled longer than she should have. When she’d arrived at his house she found herself beyond nervous as she was already late and by the time she got the courage to ender, she heard Drake bidding everyone farewell. So she hid and was thinking of leaving when she spotted Drake leaving and some crazy part of her decided to silently follow. So here she was, stepping into his room, her heart racing.

"A drink sounds lovely, thank you...but honestly, I was hoping I could make up for missing the party. Maybe...spend some time with you? If you don’t mind." Her gaze flickered to his glass, then back up to his face, her lips curving into a playful smile. "Though, I’m not sure I can compete with your wine."

Drake grinned. ”On the contrary, my fair lady. This wine isn’t nearly as invigorating and refreshing as your company. Please, come in. If it suits you better, I can also move our meeting to my study, there is ... slightly better seating arrangements there.” He craned his neck and looked back towards his night stand, which was home to a simple yet sturdy chair. Then he looked to his balcony, which had a more lounge-worthy upholstered seat that Drake often used for stargazing. He gestured her inside if she would desire and moved to place the chairs next to his bedside table, shoddily rearranged so that it may function like a normal table. Offering Thea the more comfortable chair of the two, he pulled it out and motioned for her to sit.

Thea stepped further into the room, her eyes glancing toward the cozy setup Drake had rearranged. A shy smile spread across her lips as she met his gaze. "Oh, your bedroom is fine… I mean, it’s comfortable! I-I mean, I don’t mind being in your bedroom..." Her cheeks flushed instantly as she realized how her words could be taken.

She quickly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, stammering slightly. "I-I didn’t mean it like that! Just—just that it’s, um, nice here." She bit her lip nervously, her heart racing as she avoided looking directly at him, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Placing his glass down, Drake took her hand and gently ushered Thea to her seat. ”You don’t need to fret, Lady Thea. I am flattered you enjoy my chambers - make yourself at home.” His finger reached to lift her chin up towards him as they matched gazes ”As far as I’m concerned as long as you’re here we could be eating in the back of an alleyway and I’d be content.” He smiled, but stammered ws he spoke next.

”N-not that I’d make you brave such conditions. That would be … well … that wouldn’t…uhm… I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable on purpose is what I mean to say!” Drake nervously laughed and sat across from her. His hand placed the glass on the table as he idly traced his finger along the base of the glass. ”Forgive me. It has been quite the morning. I had retreated to my chambers for a little privacy to unwind after everything that happened.” Drake sighed, took a sip, and looked once more at the woman. ”But if you are here then it would make the day worth it if I’m being honest .”

Thea’s breath hitched as Drake gently lifted her chin, his touch sending a jolt through her. Her blush deepened, and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. “Y-you’re too kind,” she all but squeaked, her heart racing. Then, without thinking, she added softly, “And, uh… eating in the back of an alleyway wouldn’t be the worst thing. It can be quite cozy, I would know…”

Her eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth, and she quickly bit her lip, mortified. “Oh! I didn’t…that sounded worse than… I-I just…” She laughed nervously, looking down as her cheeks burned hotter than ever. “I meant, you know, not everything has to be fancy to be nice.”

Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, trying to recover from the embarrassing slip. “I guess we're both doing well at inserting our foot in our mouth,” she laughed softly, glancing up at him again with a shy smile. After a moment of just staring at him, she cleared her throat. “A-anyways, how was the party? Anything exciting happen? Get any interesting gifts?”

He smiled as she stammered over her words and phrases. It might seem clumsy to some, but to him he just saw it as her caring about the way she acted or sounded around him - a flattering gesture in his eyes. Not to mention it was downright adorable. But then she asked about the party, causing him to reach back and scratch at his head in a show of embarrassment. ”It was...interesting to say the least. Lots of good gifts yes, but things got rather out of hand quickly.” Drake sighed. ”I wanted this to be a rather fun yet sociable little get together for everyone. But it feels like there was just lots of rabble rousing and borderline debauchery. I think I saw several people getting feely with each other, I now have to take care of like 5 new pets - which is a rather pleasant surprise - but still! And don’t get me started on my oh-so-embarassing fall. I had finally played that piece I had been practicing for so long and then WOOSH! Off I go onto the green grass - what was even in that drink I had? Rum? Tequila? Spirits? Heavens forbid if it was moonshine. Then I got chastised by mother in front of everyone for acting like a drunkard oaf. Quite frankly, I could care less what she thinks but it was all just so…embarrassing, frankly. I’m rather glad you didn’t see it because I truthfully am unsure if I could quell my shame if you saw that debacle.”

Thea's laugh was soft, almost conspiratorial. "If your mother really wants to see a drunken oaf, I could show her a few tricks. I'm no stranger to a little debauchery myself." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, though her smile softened soon after as she took in the genuine embarrassment on his face. "But I’m sorry I missed your performance, embarrassing fall or not. I’m sure you were amazing before… you know, gravity happened."

She shifted in her seat, leaning in just slightly, placing a hand on top of his. "But really, Drake... you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. A fall like that doesn’t define you. From what I’ve seen, you’re thoughtful, talented, and incredibly kind. And I’m sure anyone who was there could see that, too." Her voice was gentle, and though her words were more heartfelt than she had meant to let slip, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth in her chest growing.

As soon as she realized how much she’d revealed, her eyes widened and she quickly tried to change the subject, her hands quickly leaving his and fumbling in the pocket of her dress. "Oh! I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, pulling out a small, wrapped gift. "I may have missed the party, but I did bring you something. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it."

She handed him the gift with a shy smile, hoping the gesture would distract from the lingering vulnerability she’d just shown.

Drake looked to the side as he felt his blush come on - the sweet way she talked to him certainly had its way with him. Then he felt her hand resting on his and he looked at her with a sincere look of trust and understanding. ”You certainly are quite the charmer, my lady. A little charm and a bit of wonder even - how you always seem to be able to adapt so well to whatever it is the day throws at you.” He sighed. ”While you are right, it was merely a tumble, and I played it off well. I just wanted to have a rather simple and elegant celebration. I guess it’s good that everyone seemed to have a good time though. I even got quite a few….interesting gifts.”

”For starters, I got a new horse, a new cat, even some ferrets - a whole menagerie of animals. Then there were some fun trinkets, a new revolver, some colognes, and a few other random personal items.” He left things vague intentionally - not daring to speak about the condoms he had been just given prior to their meeting.”But I have a feeling this one is going to be my favorite!” Drake said with glee as he slowly undid the wrapping, waiting to see just what was in store for him.

Thea watched with a mix of excitement and nerves as Drake carefully unwrapped the gift. She fidgeted slightly in her seat, her fingers twisting in her lap, her gaze flickering between him and the small box in his hands.

As the wrapping fell away, revealing a small jewelry box with a pair of cufflinks adorned with matching stones inside, Thea smiled softly. “They're cufflinks... with our birthstone,” she explained quietly, her cheeks warming again. “I thought it might be a nice touch, since we share the same birth month.”

She glanced at him, her heart fluttering as she added, “I wanted to give you something personal. Something that, well, reminded you that I’m… here, I guess? Even when I’m not.” She let out a small, nervous laugh, realizing how much that probably revealed.

Her fingers fidgeted again as she looked down at her hands, biting her lip slightly. “I hope you like them. They’re not as extravagant as a horse or a cat, but… I thought they’d suit you.”

Drake looked over the jewelry with optimism and gratitude. The fine filigree of the gold-setting as well as the beautiful gemstones within - no heat or inclusions to warp them. ”Thea it’s…beautiful…” The gobsmacked man looked over the cufflinks before gently clicking them into place on his current cuffs. He held his arm out and began inspecting the pieces with a joyous expression.

”Extravagance isn’t the end-all for gifts. Sweet gestures that come from the heart are what make gifts truly special. Thank you, Thea.” His hand rotated in view as he admired the craftsmanship once more. ”I’m excited to be present for your birthday if you would have me. Will you be doing anything special?” Drake asked as he idly placed his hand over hers, gently stroking the back of her palm with this thumb as his eyes met her gaze when she looked up from her lap.

Thea’s breath caught as she felt Drake’s hand settle gently over hers, his thumb tracing light, soothing circles across her skin. She found herself staring at the way their hands fit together, a warm flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She didn’t pull away, her heart fluttering wildly at the unexpected but welcome touch.

“I… I’d be thrilled if you came,” she said softly, finally looking up to meet his gaze, her cheeks still glowing. “I don’t know the details, but I know Annie’s planning something.” She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “She’s been terribly secretive about it, which makes me a bit nervous… but knowing her, it’ll be something memorable.” And possibly a bit wild… She finished in her head, but she didn't want to scare him away from coming. Perhaps she'd have a word with Annie about keeping it a bit more tame…

The man chuckled. ”Well a little mischief here and there isn’t the worst thing in the world. Lord knows I’ve come to accept that today.” Drake took another sip of his wine, keeping his hand draper over hers. It barely moved, yet still had a gentle feel to it, like he was purposefully watching how much weight he pushed onto her soft hand. ”I’m excited you wish for me to attend. I’m rather fond of the idea of making more memories with you, Lady Smithwood.”

“Maybe we could sneak off together during the party…” She voices, thoughts still on the potential of it being a wild party. It was only after a moment of silence on her part that she realized how that could be taken differently than she meant. ”T-to have another private…err, QUIET moment like this!” She quickly added. “I sure know how to make things awkward, don't I?” A small, somewhat nervous laugh escaped her.

His sip turned into a slight gulp at her statement, and he coughed up the wine that had slipped down his windpipe so he could properly drink it. For a flash, his cheeks reddened as he thought about just what to say. Does she….would she….would I….? Oh control yourself Drake - you are not a dog! Drake restored himself to his more refined stature and grinned at her. ”I suppose that is one way to make a memory.” He offered a coy wink alongside his banter to hopefully calm her nerves.

”Truthfully, I am here for you, my lady. Whether it’s in the presence of company, enjoying the serene view of a beautiful summer day, or something more private where we can be more …. Well, how do I…..” The man stammered as he searched for the right words to say without coming off as crass or perverted. ”Well for lack of a better term, we could be more casual or intimate with one another. I quite like seeing your adorable expressions and mannerisms as we converse, and I highly doubt I’ll get such luxuries if a dozen people are watching our every move, soon to be birthday girl.” He smiled at her and finally moved his hand to wrap around her fingers. His thumb softly rubbed the top of her knuckles and he seemed to simply stare into her eyes - like he would rather look nowhere else but those beautiful glistening irises that captured his attention at every turn.

Thea’s heart skipped a beat as Drake’s hand gently enveloped hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that sent a pleasant warmth spreading through her. His words made her blush deepen, her cheeks almost as warm as the butterflies stirring in her chest. She couldn’t help but smile softly, her gaze locked with his.

“You have a way with words, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I like this, too. Talking with you like this. It feels… special.” Her lips curved into a shy smile as she added, “And I promise I won't always be this awkward.”

Her eyes drifted around the room, catching sight of a clock on a nearby shelf. Her smile faltered slightly, and she leaned back in her seat, tilting her head as she checked the time. “Oh no, is that clock accurate?” she asked, sitting up straight. “I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. I need to go, I promised Anastasia I’d meet her.”

She looked back at him, reluctant to break the moment but knowing she couldn’t keep Annie waiting. “Thank you for letting me crash your quiet time, though,” she added with a soft smile. “This was… really nice.”

Drake kept his same smile as she confessed about the intimacy and special nature of their talks. It perhaps even grew wider as she blushed. ”You don’t have to be anything other than yourself. What you think is awkward I find charming and endearing.” Sadly, all things must eventually come to an end, and it was clear time had gotten the better of them both. What was supposed to be a brief stay in his room to forget about the not-so-ideal end to his birthday had become a proper stay-away with a woman he had been experiencing a strong sense of emotions for. Emotions he had truthfully not been ready to fully process. But he didn’t let that stop him. Anything was worth facing if he got to see those heterochromic eyes and enchanting smile.

Rising from his chair, he lifted both of their hands to offer Thea assistance in standing up. ”You are always welcome, my dear lady. Quite frankly it was your presence that made this little quiet time much more therapeutic. I’m…very thankful for you.” The man held her hand as they approached the door, still hesitant to let that connection between them break. Drake looked down and rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm. It was so delicate, soft, and yet in that moment he did not possess the strength to move his hand from hers. He looked at her and made sure she had everything she needed as if to stall for few precious moments. ”Do you need anything before you depart? A last drink? Some snacks? Shall I hail a carriage for you? Anything at all?”

Thea let him help her up, her hand still resting comfortably in his as they approached the door. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to think of something to say to prolong the moment, but his words made her smile softly. “You’re too kind, Drake. I don’t need much, really.” She hesitated for a brief second, her cheeks already starting to warm. “Well… maybe just one thing.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Thea stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The gesture was quick and fleeting, but the warmth lingered, both from the touch and the courage it took to do it. As she pulled back, her face was a deeper shade of red than before.

“Happy birthday, Drake,” she whispered, her voice a little breathless. Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and scurried down the hall, her heart racing as she tried to process what she’d just done.

Drake softly grazed his cheek with his fingertips, obviously stunned by the display of affection. His gaze lingered on her form as it dashed around the corner, and he simply looked at the corner that Thea had leapt behind until he felt the rising warmth in his chest settle. Then, he turned and shut his door before returning to his personal meditation time.

In the corner, a disgruntled figure grips the nearby wall with sharp nails that threatened to fracture under the strain. “How dare she lay her hands on my boy so casually…I shall have to see to this…” The anger-tainted footsteps of the duchess echoed through the halls - only audible to the nearby help who knew to steer far away from the mother who planned to ruin her child’s chances at love.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Morning of the 28th
Location: Edin Theater
Mentions: King Edin, Queen Alibeth, and Charlotte Vikena @princess

---

With the conclusion of the first act, and the foreign prince making his way offstage, Drake couldn’t help but smile at the man. Drake offered a silent bow towards Farim as he passed by, acknowledging his stellar performance. The curtains began to close, and the stage crew quickly got to work disassembling the complex arena that Farim had requested. Within moments the stage was once again clear, and out wheeled a grand piano with the golden letters of “Steinway” written across its front. Never one to shirk on the expenses, King Edin. Drake smirked as he approached the seat, and gave the piano keys a few telling strikes to test their tuning. The light sounds of musical notes may be heard from beyond the curtain, but people were far too abuzz with the previous act to notice or really care.

In the pit in front of the stage, a 5 man orchestra gathered and began to tune their instruments - an assortment of cello, bass, viola, and violin experts who would reach for their appropriate tools as the pieces progressed. Drake nodded at them, giving them a few moments to warm up, and finally waved at the stagehand to pull the curtain back. The still bustling crowd immediately found themselves captivated by the scene before them. The stage lights lowered to a more neutral dim, and a translucent blue filter was placed over them cast a pale blue light entirely on the stage. Out from the wings came Lord Edwards himself, dressed in a black and blue jacket. His coat was accented with golden filigree that drew the eye - a direct contrast to the jet black pants and shoes that he wore to complete his professional attire. Their eyes would be drawn to his upper half, and the painstaking hours he spent at maintaining his beautiful yet masculine features.

The clicking of his shoes on the polished stage floor echoed through the room until Drake had reached the piano. He gave a simple and silent bow towards the crowd and took his seat - forgoing an initial introduction. Drake would instead catch their ears with his first piece.

The slow start lead into the high-speed bridging of notes together while the strings plucked away - as if trying to catch the young man in his speedster piano playing. His arms began to animate far more than necessary with each stanza. Drake felt his body lean into the performance while the audience watched with held breath. A few even wondered if there would be a similar repeat to his blunder from several days ago. But as Drake finished and stood up, it was clear there was no suspicious alcoholism to fault his step.

The abrupt applause came and died rather quickly, with Drake’s hands politely ushering for their undivided attention. The man spoke clearly and loudly - with no futuristic sound system to bolster his voice he had to project as far back as he could. Yet his words carried a certain weight and deliberate level of calmness. “Friends, nobles, and your Royal Majesties!” Drake paused for another bow directed at both King and Queen. “It is my pleasure to be before you today with a few pieces that I think truly capture the essence of our city's culture. The work you just heard is titled ‘Blue Skies’. It has a rather uplifting tune, yet still carries this enchanting melody that has you wondering what else may be in store. That right there is our way of life. Our beautiful city and its boundless passions and beautiful arts!” He raised his hands, palms towards the ceiling, in a grand gesture towards the people.

“I promise not to take up much more of your time - as I’m sure you are all excited to see what else there is in store today. The next two pieces you will be hearing are called ‘A Tender Feeling’ and ‘Illumination’. The former being a more melancholic melody that carries a weight on every note - that we may do the same with each step as we admire the natural wonders of our homeland. A bustling city by day, and a quiet realm of opportunities by night!” He took a breath, placing a hand behind his back and his hand into a softly closed fist. Pointed his thumb up and out, Drake gestured to random members of the audience as he continued. “Opportunities that each and every one of you can take. Ways to make our nation greater. To be the best versions of ourselves! To Illuminate the way ahead of his with our prestige and extravagance - much like the way our royalty provides such opulent guidance in our most trying times! Something that I hope you feel when you hear the final piece of my act this morning.

Now! Without further ado!” Drake walked back to the piano, taking his seat, and proceeded to play the next piece. This one was the same piece his friend Charlotte had given him. Drake hoped he could redeem himself in not only the eyes of the people, but in hers as well. He would not let her gift be remembered in mockery, but instead in beauty and reverence. The man’s heart and soul went into every keystroke. A single purposeful tear rolled down his cheek, prompting some of the spectators to do the same. As the piece came to its conclusion, there was loud, joyful, and sorrowful claps all around the theater from a wide range of participants.

Drake gave them their moment, and wiped the residue of his fallen tear off his cheek before launching into his final piece. There was no gradual build - only the immediate speedy crescendo into a cascade of rhythms filled with hope, with joy, with determination. All of it poured from the stage, as the string instruments supplemented their own melodies to bring suspense and flavor to the already savory piece that filled the auditorium. Drake had practiced this particular piece since early on in his youth - he practically had it memorized. It was what he would play when things seemed bleak. When he felt like he couldn’t carry on anymore - and that his ambitions meant nothing against the grand scheme of what transpired around him. This was his fighting spirit - laid to bare for the people of his home to see. This, to him, was the essence of the arts. To channel your feelings - your emotions - your soul - into the very medium you chose so that others may share in your experiences. He channeled his thoughts and dreams into this performance, ending the last few notes with powerful slams of his fingers.

From there, he stood up, approached the edge of the stage and bowed as the audience gave their standing ovations. The roaring applause was like more music to his ears, and he gestured to the orchestra players to join him on stage to join for a group bow - which they all did happily. As the noise of the crowd settled, Drake had a final thing to say.

“We are a great nation, we are great people, and we are a great city. Hurrah to the city of Sorian!”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edin Theater
Time: Morning of the 28th
Mentions:

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The past few days had been something of a trial for the young trade prince. The stress of his father’s expectations and the deal they struck - the recent involvement with Count Ryn, and not to mention the way Anastasia had flung his emotions into a passionate yet purposeful maelstrom. Now he was here to perform in front of the very king and queen he was meant to impress - to convince that he should have their daughters hand in marriage. Not in the very moment, mind you. But an impression made here would last beyond the reaches of the courtroom.

A stagehand came to Farim’s side and cautiously placed a hand on his back. Up until the start of the show, he had placed his elbows on his knees, hunched over with his chin resting upon the mans’ locked fingers. Farim’s eyes stared forward with the intense focus that would catch the floor on fire if such acts were possible. The sudden touch of the random person made him jump slightly, and broke him out of his trance. “It is my time, then. I shall not disappoint!” Farim spoke aloud before the stagehand could even explain where his entrance was or where he was meant to go. Farim simply moved forward where his heart told him to go - something he needed to do more often.

The bustling voices of the crowd was the first to rush his ears, and a slowly rising chorus of exciting cries and claps as the Shehazde made his way onto the stage. Lights quickly flicked towards him, prompting him to raise his arm to block the oppressive rays from blinding him in the initial moments of his entry. He was tempted to vault into view - to be grandiose from the start - but he would work his way to such opulence and showmanship. He simply strode to the middle of the stage, faced the crowd, and raised his hand high into the air. Farim looked up towards the ceiling of the theater, collected air into his lungs until his chest ballooned up. A firm but loving shout came from the back of his throat.

“Soooooooooooooriaaaan!”

He paused as the crowd had mixed reactions of continued clapping and mild shushing. As the crowd settled down, Farim lowered his hand and moved his gaze to match it until his gloved hand covered half of his face. “I come from the far land of Alidasht! I am here to usher our culture, our ways, and our extravagance into your hearts so that you may relish in the splendors of my people!” The man threw his arms high above him, striding around the stage as he continued. “I can only hope that such splendors can match the luxury and sights that the graceful Danroses have blessed you all with!” A little ass-kissing never hurt, so Farim threw it in there to compliment the royalty present. The man twirled back around and began walking back towards the other side of the stage, the golden accents on his falconry gear beginning to glitter and flare against the moving stage lights.

“You see…back home there is often the tradition of ‘rafiq madaa alhayaa’” He spoke the phrase in his mother tongue slowly for those in the crowd to repeat at their own leisure. “In your tongue, it translates roughly to ‘lifelong companion’. For we find ourselves often intertwined with the fate of many beasts and creatures that live on this world. In one way or another - we end up saving or helping the lives of such beauties of nature, and in doing so earn ourselves a lifelong friend.” He paused and stood center stage, placing his hand towards his chest as his tone became somber yet still just as boisterous.

“I had encountered the star of our show when she was a babe. A tiny little eyas that found herself wounded and in the middle of a snake’s den.” Farim’s ferocious tone became venomous - as if to mimic that of a snake. “As they opportunistic predators went in for the kill - I, a young teenager at the time, leaped in and brought all the snakes to heel in one swift grab!” He mimicked the very motion of swooping and grabbing up nearby “snakes” and held his fist high in the air.

The crowd subsequently oo’d and aah’d at each little story beat while he shared this gripping tale of how he met his lifelong friend. “And from that day forth I had gained a companion. An ally. A friend. And since then we have trained, travelled, and even fought alongside one another. Our bond is truly magnificent!” Farim then pointed towards the back of the stage, which had been purposefully dimly lit in order to hide his setup. “Now enough of my talking - let my action show you just what I am talking about!” The light technicians moved the stage lights around, slowly revealing several structures with hoops, holes, and posts jutting out for optimal grabbing and roosting capabilities.

Farim placed his hand to his ear, a cocky grin on his face as the next instant there was a shrill cawing noise from high above the seats. Another click of the stage lights pointed a single beam at a roosting Thara, wings spread to either side. The bird took some testing swipes of her wings - as if to feel out the wind resistance of this enclosed space. She then swiftly took a dive towards the patrons while Farim raised his hand high above his own head.

The crowd gasped, and some of the meekly hearted began to voice their concerns and worries for the bird. But Farim held no fear in his heart, and he quickly swooped his hand down to signal Thara to pull up and stop her careening descent towards the masses. Thara swung around to the side as Farim pulled his hand to the right, their actions synchronized and mirrored from one another. The man flicked his arm out and Thara responded in kind by making another dive towards him. At the last possible moment she slowed her descent to land on Farim’s arm with absolute grace. The landing was as light as a feather, and the crowd met the show with an enthusiastic show of hands - and a few minorly disgruntled heart attack victims begrudgingly followed suit.

The remainder of the show was a masterpiece - Farim wordlessly guided his companion around the stage’s obstacles - littered with distracting glints of glitters, gold, and feathers to purposefully throw her off her game. But Thara was locked in on her dear friend’s commands. There was none other that she trusted more than Farim. The man had seen this tiny creature grow from a small bundle of stress-pricked feathers into a majestic bird of prey, and he could not be more proud of her than he was in this moment.

The pair continued their dance, with each motion of Farim prompting an equally exaggerated movement from Thara. She dashed through hoops, bobbed through the posts along the specifically designed structures laced around the stage, and routinely took flight above the crowd. The more enthusiastic among them would reach up to try and feel the breeze of her wing beats against their palms. During one such flight, it was clear that the performance would need to come to a close. Farim had made his way towards the back of the performing area, and pivoted on his foot to face Thara as she began to twirl and dive simultaneously towards him. With a grin, the prince burst into a full sprint towards his trusted bird. Just as their trajectory would put them on the path to collision, Farim kicked his feet up and bounced off the floor into a frontward flip. Farim tucked his legs in, continuing his spin while soaring above Thara. The feathered animal continued its twirling and tucked her wings while she dove under the man.

Once the landing stuck, Thara flared her wings out and sharply turned backwards. Thara made her way back to Farim and repeated her same graceful landing at the start of the show, letting loose a firm coo from her beak. Farim raised his left hand up, and Thara mirrored this motion with her left wing. They both lowered their torsos slowly in a form of bow towards the crowd - eliciting an eruption applause from the excited fans of the foreign prince. With his head held high, Farim waved towards the enthused patrons of the theater with that telltale smile going from ear to ear. As he made his way backstage, he wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Thara.

“Well fucking done, my sadiq (friend). I could not ask for a better bird.” Thara softly coo’d in response, rubbing her head against his outstretched finger.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location:Alidasht Guesthouse
Time: Evening of the 25th
Attire: Robes
Mentions: Anastasia@princess and Hafiz/King Edin

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After the meeting with Wulfric, Farim had half a mind to storm off to his father’s office in a flash of fury. But such notions would hardly be received well, and would only make Hafiz’s responses short, spiteful, and uninformative. So he tempered himself, and rested in his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had lunch prepared and sent to his room, and he took the time to spend some much needed quiet time with Thara. Farim gently preened and cleaned Thara over the course of a few hours, and let her fly around the yard next to his open window for some proper exercise before calling her back inside.

He thought on what he would say. What he wanted to know. How to retort his sickening father’s wicked tongue. The simple lunch of masala curry calmed his nerves and helped him concentrate, but as the time came, he could not help but feel worry welling inside him. Farim placed Thara on her perch and made his walk to the other end of the guest houses where Hafiz would likely be and gave the door one firm knock followed by a single word as a greeting. ”Hafiz.”

The door creaked open with an ominous hiss and there stood Hafiz, his golden robes trailing behind him like the shadow of a viper. His piercing gaze immediately locked onto Farim, cold and calculating. His lips curved into a smile, but it lacked warmth.

“Ah, Farim,” he drawled, his voice smooth yet sharp, “How generous of you to grace me with your presence.”

Farim sported a low-effort grin of his own, which ended up looking more like a smirk than anything else. ”I trust you found my letter just fine, seeing how you have not yet left your office.” He quipped. ”There are some…things I wish to discuss. Shall we?” His hand gestured lightly to the space behind Hafiz - almost like he was asking to be invited without the direct request.

Hafiz raised a single eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with thinly veiled contempt. He stepped aside, the golden embroidery of his coat shimmering under the chandeliers’ soft glow. His eyes never left Farim, assessing him with a predatory intensity. “Discuss, you say?” Hafiz echoed, the mockery in his tone palpable. He let out a chuckle, low and devoid of any mirth, as he gestured for Farim to enter. “Very well, my son. Let us indulge this moment of diplomacy you are so fond of.” His voice lingered on the word “diplomacy” as if it were a bitter taste on his tongue. He stepped back, allowing Farim to pass, though his calculating gaze didn’t soften in the slightest. “I do hope, however,” he continued smoothly, “that what you have to say will not disappoint me. I have little patience for pleasantries and even less for failure.”

Farim entered the dark recesses of Hafiz’s office. His own robes seem to billow ever so lightly to brush against the silken fabrics of the Grand Vizier, a foreshadow of the mental abrasions to come. ”While I find you are disappointed in most of the things I say or do - I shall do my best to impress.” A mocking grin stretched across his face. There was an attempt at stoicism being made by Farim, however it seemed to be a very poor one; doing little to hide his contempt for what he was about to say as he watched the door close.

”Let’s start things off easy. Where is my mother, Hafiz? When was the last time you heard from her?”

The door clicked shut, sealing Farim and Hafiz off from the world. Hafiz’s gaze lingered on his son, taking in his countenance with a look of disdainful amusement. He let out a heavy sigh, more theatrical than genuine, and clasped his hands behind his back, his golden robes rustling as he moved to his ornate desk.

“Disappointment, my son, is an understatement,” Hafiz began, his voice tinged with sorrow. He gestured to a cushioned chair across from him, though his expression made it clear that he was not offering comfort. “You seem to harbor the most distressing thoughts about me. Heartless, cruel… a bad man, even.” He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “And yet, here I am, prepared to indulge your inquiries, despite how little you think of me.”

He reached into a drawer of his desk, retrieving a delicate, yellowed letter sealed with an ornate wax stamp. The handwriting on it bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Farim’s mother. Hafiz let the letter sit between his fingers, turning it over as if inspecting a precious artifact. “Your mother… Ah, yes, I have heard from her.” He placed the letter on the desk with a soft tap, his eyes flicking up to meet Farim’s. “She wrote to me not long ago. Concerned, as always, about your well-being.”

His voice softened,“I can never understand why you insist on believing the worst about me, Farim. I’ve kept this letter safe for you, knowing you’d want to see it. Perhaps it will ease your troubled heart.”

He leaned back, hands steepled in front of him. “Go on, then,” he invited, his voice smooth and paternal. “Read her words. Reassure yourself that your dear mother is well, and that, despite what you believe, I do care for your peace of mind.”

Farim placed his fingers on the letter, a moment of concern, confusion, and skepticism written on his face in a myriad of facial tweaks. But then the man looked at his father blankly. ”You wound me, father” The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he talked. ”How can I think highly of someone whose every other sentence seeks to undermine or belittle everything I am working towards?” His eyebrow arched inquisitively. With that, he took the letter off the desk and began to open it with delicate strokes of his finger.

”Like this letter for instance - how do I know it is not forged? Or that you have kept it for weeks just to use against me at a pivotal moment? How would I even know that it is really her- Hmmm…” Farim’s focus shifted as the contents of the letter were revealed by unfolding the parchment. His eyes scanned the lettering with piqued interest that began to build as his eyes scrawled across the page.

Hafiz observed his son’s skepticism with an amused smirk, the corners of his lips curling just enough to convey his satisfaction. He waited patiently, watching as Farim unfolded the letter, knowing full well what his son would find. His voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mournful, like a father lamenting a son’s unfounded distrust.

“Farim, your distrust wounds me deeply,” he began, his tone measured. “You speak as though I am some sort of villain in your story, orchestrating every misfortune to befall you. I wonder, have I truly been so unkind?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning a pained expression. “Yet here I am, offering you proof of your mother’s care and concern. Is that the action of the cruel man you so often paint me to be?”

As Farim’s eyes scanned the letter, Hafiz leaned back in his chair. “Go on, my son,” he urged softly, “Read her words. See for yourself how she cares for you, how she longs for the day you might reunite.”
The letter, written in perfect mimicry of Farim’s mother’s handwriting, read:
My dearest Farim,
My heart aches with every passing day of our separation. Know that I think of you constantly and pray for your success in all that you do. Your father has assured me of your growth and progress, and I am so proud to hear of the man you are becoming.
I wish only for your happiness and safety. If fate allows, I hope we will see one another soon. Until that blessed day, carry my love with you and know that no matter the distance, you are always in my heart.
With all my love,
Your mother

Hafiz let the silence settle as Farim absorbed the letter, his expression unreadable. Then, he spoke again, his voice quieter, almost gentle. “You see, Farim? She misses you dearly, as any mother would. It is cruel of you to assume I would withhold something so precious. Do you truly believe I would stoop so low?”
“I only seek to guide you, Farim. To protect you from the many dangers that would see you fail. Do not let your misplaced suspicions cloud the love that surrounds you.” His voice softened.

Farim’s voice stayed neutral, yet low. As if half of his focus was on the letter and half on his father. ”You only lead in directions you see fit, to forward agendas that oh so happen to align with your own. This letter is convincing I will give you that…” Farim placed the letter on the desk and slid it partially towards Hafiz. ”But I think I can count on one hand the amount of times mother referred to me by my actual birth name. If you had been around more as she raised me you might have known that.” His mouth curled into a smirk.

”But you were too busy fabricating your next scheme to mold me into the perfect tool of your design. Or to just scare the living daylights out of me. Remind me again, who was it who accidentally let Nala roam the halls of the palace knowing I would cross paths with her?” Farim whirled his hand around in mock contemplation to the loaded question. ”Or whenever I misbehaved, and the way you would starve me until I apologized? Does any of this ring any bells?” The man flicked his wrist to wrap the back of his hand along the side of his mouth, as if to stop some unseen observer from reading his lips. ”And do not get me started on the fighting pits you secretly cherish and yet publicly loathe.”

Farim crossed his arms, maintaining a disapproving tone in his voice. He did not yet give in to his rage or malcontent for the man in front of him. That would be what he would want, and would reveal cracks in his argument. He needed this next part to be believable, and for Hafiz to stay on the defensive for as long as he could manage to manipulate him to be. ”Not to mention the report hitting my desk confirming my mother’s death. I like to keep tabs on her despite your somewhat veiled attempts at keeping us apart. I just figured I would give you another chance to come clean - for there was a part of me that hoped you would finally show me some of that good nature you always preach you have.” This part, the obvious lie to him, was what was hinging on this conversation becoming good or bad for the Shehzade. If he told Hafiz his “report” was actually a vision brought on by hallucinations and “magical potions”, all credibility would fly out the window. Farim’s gaze fell onto Hafiz with a cold disposition, his grin fading to a straightened line. ”But it would seem you have yet again fallen short of expectations. I guess that just seems to run in the family, hm?”

Hafiz leaned back slightly, his expression softening into something dangerously close to fatherly concern. “Farim,” he began, almost mournfully, “this… report of yours. I would very much like to see it. You know how deeply I care for your mother’s well-being. To suggest I would keep something like this from you-” he paused, his tone turning regretful, “I can’t help but feel you mistake my intentions entirely.”

He gestured to the letter on the desk with a slow, deliberate movement. “She is alive, Farim. She writes to you with love, with hope. If she didn’t refer to you by a childhood nickname, perhaps it’s because she knows the man you are becoming—strong, capable, wise. Why would she not address you as such?”
His gaze sharpened, though his tone remained gentle. “As for my actions, the punishments you speak of… Do you think I enjoyed them? Do you think I wanted to starve my son, or to set trials before him? No, Farim. It was necessity. The world is cruel, and I needed to prepare you for it. Every decision I’ve made has been to ensure your survival—your success.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You think I scheme for my own gain? No. I act because I see the greatness in you, Farim. A greatness I fear you will never see in yourself.”
Sitting back, Hafiz sighed, as if the weight of Farim’s accusations had burdened him deeply. “If I have been harsh, if I have failed to express my pride or my love as you deserve, then for that, I apologize.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “But do not let anger cloud the truth: I have always acted in your best interest, even when you could not see it.”
He held Farim’s gaze, his expression one of genuine sorrow. “So, my son, let us look at this report you speak of together. Let us find the truth, side by side. You may not trust me now, but perhaps, in time, you will see that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

Farim’s face did not falter, quickly coming up with an excuse to not discuss this imaginary report. ”I am afraid like all other reports I receive while I am away from my office, it has been sent back with my own response to ensure that things stay running while I am away.” He did not buy his father’s sympathy for a moment, but rather than bicker back and forth, he decided to indulge the old man. ”As for your…punishments…I do not think anyone would enjoy them. One could argue that even tough love requires some modicum of, well, love. An ingredient that seems to be lacking in my eyes.” Farim heaved a sigh. ”But let us try and reach a middle ground here. I am willing to open my mind to your logic.”

There was a solemn nod from the Shehzade before he looked at Hafiz with that same stoic and calculating stare. ”I still am unconvinced of the safety of my mother, but if you can prove to me she is alive by bringing her here physically, then I shall rescind my accusations and apologize with utmost sincerity.” There was a deliberate pause before he added another condition, as if purely to add suspense to the moment. ”Or…you can call off your plan to marry Edin’s daughter. Since you knew I had notion to court her, it seems a little odd to suddenly seek a political marriage when one was practically in your grasp through me. I feel like a loving father would agree in letting his son shoulder the responsibility of such a thing, no?” Farim grinned, despite the mental pain of trying to negotiate and “agree” with his father, he felt like he would be hard pressed to continue his “nice father” act now.

Hafiz’s smile was subtle, almost fatherly. “If it will ease your mind, I will arrange for your mother’s travel. She will come here, and you will see for yourself that she is well.” He paused, his voice softening but retaining its edge. “As for Anastasia, I sought the match for our family’s strength, not my gain. If you wish to take on that burden, then prove you are capable of succeeding in obtaining her engagement.“

Farim was skeptical. There was something going on here that he did not know about. Was his vision really false? It felt so….real. So purposeful. But if he were wrong, and his mother was alive….Well he would have to see it to believe it. ”I would quite like that. It has been ages since we have last conversed, and I think it only fair given the recent…misunderstanding. That we set the record straight, no?”

”As for the marriage, I believe I had that route covered in terms of the political gain from it all. Are you saying I now have to surpass my own father in winning the hand of the King’s daughter? Is that what I am understanding here?” His face seemed neutral, quizzical even, but there still remained some form of reaction waiting beneath the surface for what Hafiz would say.
Hafiz offered a slow nod, as though granting a gracious concession.
“You are correct, my son. It is only fair we set the record straight. I will see to your mother’s arrival immediately. Let that be the end of your doubts.”

Then, he let out a quiet, almost amused hum. “Surpass me? No, Farim. This is not a competition. If you believe you can secure the princess’s hand and strengthen our family’s position, then by all means… prove it.” He leaned back, his smile small but pointed, like the tip of a dagger. “But do not misunderstand me. This is not about father versus son—this is about ensuring our family’s future. If you think you can carry that weight, then show me. I would take great pride in your success.”

Externally, Farim wore a grateful expression, as if to be relieved of troubles and disagreements that were once had. Internally, Farim could only surmise what the man was up to. This was all far too agreeable. This personable man before him was not the Hafiz he knew - at least not the one that truly showed behind closed doors. The man before him was surely hatching some form of scheme or manipulation as they spoke - layering his webs of lies and deceit like toppings to a freshly made cake. A cake Farim would take no part in. He would observe these promises of his father and make note of the candor in which he spoke so plainly.

Physically, Farim nodded in agreement. ”Very well. It would seem it is time for me to take the mantle of nobility and shed this cautionary tale of mine. Come the end of this season, I shall have the princess’ hand in marriage. You may know me for many things - but being persuasive is surely one of them.” Farim’s smile turned into a muted neutral line across his face as his hand rested on the Grand Vizier’s desk. ”You can leave this future you speak of to me. I have quite the vision in mind for our nation I will have you know.” He snickered at his father, and rested his head onto his hand before shrugging slightly.

”But alas, conversations and discussions for another time. I shall extend my … sincerest apologies for the initial uproar to this conversation. Should you prove that my report is indeed mistaken, it would only be good news. So please…do not bring me bad news.” A slight scowl edged in the back of his throat as Farim rose to bow towards the Vizier. ”I do believe that was all I was needing to be speaking with you about. Is there anything you might have for me, father?”

Hafiz’s smile was faint, but his eyes gleamed with calculated interest. “Very well, Farim. The future rests in your hands now. I trust you will not let it slip through your fingers.” He leaned back, dismissing his son with a wave of his hand. “Go, then. Prove to me—and to yourself—that you are capable of the greatness you speak of. I will await your success.” With that, Hafiz turned his attention to a stack of papers on his desk, signaling that the conversation had ended and leaving Farim to contemplate the weight of his father’s parting words.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim & Wulfric

Time and Date: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, early afternoon, before Wulfric's meeting with Nicholas

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It was just past noon, and Wulfric had returned from an enjoyable time at the opera, which he had attended with Nahir. He was taking care of paperwork in his office while he waited for his invitee to arrive.

All things considered, the Shahzade was more or less on time. At a knock, Wulfric permitted entry, and the servant who had escorted the foreign prince opened the doors. Wulfric gave a single nod to the employee - a signal they were to be left alone. Despite hosting a guest, the eldest Danrose heir hadn’t had any refreshments prepared. Not even a single glass of water. “Take a seat, Shahzade.” A thin, polite smile flitted into sight, only to disappear without a trace. His gaze was pure frost, a fierce stare stabbing into the man with the chilling intensity of an ice-pick. “I believe we both know why I have requested your presence,” he said once the Alidasht prince had settled onto one of his couches. “So, I will cut to the chase.” He cocked his head to the side, studying the man as if he were a bug he would squash if it annoyed him too much.

“You expressed to me your intent to court my sister. If you were as sincere as I had thought you to be…Why. Are. You. Fooling around?”

Farim made his way inside - unaware of the predicament set before him. He unknowingly stepped into the belly of the beast, and as soon as it became apparent what the tone of this meeting was - his usual pleasant demeanor melted into one of concern and mild bewilderment.

“I suppose you are speaking of this morning. I admit - it was a bit bold of me to act so brazenly so soon. Old habits and all.” The man crossed his arms and moved one leg to rest on his knee. “But let us speak plainly. What about my actions suggest I am not sincere? What about my approach suggests I am simply fucking around?

“Everything.” He paused, taking a moment to observe Farim, and to restrain the silently seething fury deep within. “You were rubbing against my sister, no better than a dog in heat. You encouraged that lap dance for your own self-gratification. Your fingers were in places they have no business being, not until after an engagement. Certainly never in public. That so far exceeds ‘a bit’ of boldness I have to question if you are delusional,” he shook his head, disdain radiating off of him.

“And you speak to me of old habits? So, ‘fucking around’ is nothing new to you. What, then, indicates your commitment? Why would you seek to marry her, if you can fuck her for fun? Why bother courting her when you can have your fun and move on? Why would she tie herself to you when you are only one more man in a long line of playboys?” He laid his palms upon his desk, leaning forward as he narrowed his eyes, expecting answers.

The man raised his hands to eye level - as if he were facing an officer of the law. “It seems there are some key misunderstandings. About me. About my methods. And about my nature of pursuing someone as emotionally complex as Anastasia.” Farim brought his hands and interlaced his fingers over the cap of his knee. “So, allow me to straighten the record - and apologize for any misgivings.” He paused, finding the precise words he wanted to convey his message.

“A little about me to start. In my youth I was what one would call a ‘playboy’. A philanderer. Being son of the Grand Vizier, as regretful as it was, had some perks. But as I grew older, wiser, it became clear that such walks of life were not what I wanted. Not what I needed. So I set out to create the trading company you may know of called Farim’s Dream. Because I have a dream. One I can detail for you now if you so wish - but the focus right now is me and your sister.” His eyes seemed to lock onto Wulfric’s as he spoke. An equally warm yet calm demeanor to rival the icy stare that Wulfric had given him.

“Furthermore, in my homeland, such displays of affection are fairly common amongst our nobility.”

“Bullshit.” Wulfric had merely listened to the man thus far, unimpressed. The ‘cultural differences’ excuse had earned Farim a scathing response, however.

“I will admit even for our standards it was on the touchy side, but when I speak of old habits, that is what I am referring to. ‘Courting’ back home and ‘courting’ here contain two separate connotations. And it is a fine line I am walking. So I extend a sincere apology for overstepping.”

“It is not a ‘fine line’. I have been to Alidasht, and I have some familiarity with your courting procedures. The only place where your behaviour would be considered appropriate, even in your own country, is a brothel.” He looked down at the man. “But perhaps, the habits of your royalty are entirely different to the ones I’ve observed among your countrymen. I wonder, just which of your family members would lend credence to your words?” he scoffed as he questioned rhetorically.

Farim moved his legs to plant his feet on the ground - as if to take a stance both verbally and physically. “But here is where I must wholeheartedly disagree with you, dear Crown Prince.” His tone dropped, and Farim decided to match the slight disapproval in Wulfrics tone with his own.

“In what world do you think going about things ‘normally’ would be what it took to win your sister’s heart? A woman who is shielded by the very fun and thrills she seeks to escape a fear she is far too vulnerable to conquer on her own. What right do I have to bring sudden change in her life - nonetheless in the form of some stuffy, fake, dressed up image that only others find acceptable.” Farim then leaned onto the desk, still matching Wulfric’s eyes. “Forgive my assumptions, dear brother. But I am giving Annie what she wants AND what she needs. No one is going to get any closer to her heart without dancing her dance. I will make no progress trying to win her admiration through simple means. To venture out of her comfort zone - she will need someone in that very safe space in order to guide her towards something more….meaningful. And even then...” His voice boomed at the last word. “It may still not be enough - for the final choice is with her.” Farim leaned back in his chair.

“It may not be,” Wulfric agreed. “What she wants and what she needs aren’t one and the same,” he shook his head. “I will not decide in her stead what it is that she needs. But please, do not try to pretend as if your own desires had no play in your actions. Because I do not believe for a second that all these reasonings you’ve pulled out of a hat right now were what led you to make a public spectacle of yourself.” He exhaled forcefully but had calmed down during the conversation. “I never said nor meant to imply that you ought to court her exactly according to the prescribed manner. However, throwing caution to the wind, and going to the other extreme is not the answer. I admit, I had expected better of you than to act like a two-bit manslut who can’t keep his hands - or other parts - to himself.”

“Call me whatever you like. A dog in heat. A foreign fucktoy. The next pretty face on her to-do list. I have heard it all. But do not dare suggest that I am not giving her my best and only my best.” The harsh tone in his words finally settled as he crossed his arms once more “Just because the journey is wild and strange does not mean the destination is not pure.” He paused before adding one final note. “Considering how close you are getting with my cousin - you may just learn firsthand how wild things can be with my family.” His cool and collected expression broke with a sly smirk, only to return to his neutral disposition. “Sorry. Went a little raw and untapped for a second there. But I hope that quells your concerns.”

“I am afraid not, Shahzade,” he sighed. But it was worry which furrowed his brow now rather than anger. “There is a proper time, place, and occasion for all things. I would not have approached you so forcefully had you chosen to have your fun with Anastasia in private. Mind, I would certainly disapprove of such a thing as well. But having been raised as a royal man in Alidasht, it appears you are entirely blind to the social consequences which my sister could face. It is true that she doesn’t care, but I had hoped you might.” He regarded the other man for a long moment.

Farim sighed, his shoulders dropping as he fully extended his exhale, and just as smoothly straightened his posture. “Look, Prince Wulfric. I will take the blame for being such a … debaucherous foreigner. It would be remiss of me to shun one for not considering my own cultural normalities while not considering your own.” He paused in his words - swallowing the pride he clung to so that he could see things from Wulfric’s side. The man had the right idea, and proper intentions - an argument over semantics would do very little. “As little as my words may mean now, my intentions are more pure than my actions. I will make it a point to-”

“Your father approached mine with a marriage offer for Anastasia. Unfortunately, my father is a colossal idiot, and he believes handing her over to the Grand Vizier would keep her safe.” He paused, letting that sink in. “We both know it wouldn’t, don’t we?” he questioned softly.

“So, you can see now why I still have my concerns,” he concluded.

The man’s face instinctively scowled at the mention of Hafiz Kadir. “Oh, how that man vexes me…” He rubbed his temples in momentary frustrated contemplation. “You cannot let that man marry her. If she does then who knows where he may corral her like all his other wives…” Farim rested his face against his hand - dragging his thumb and forefinger across his cheek bones before looking up at Wulfric. “I plan to take care of this myself - but should I prove unsuccessful, I ask - no - I implore you to not let such a thing come to pass. I am genuinely unsure of what that man plans to do. But none of it will be good.”

“You needn’t ask, Shahzade. I will never let that man get anywhere close to my sister.”

Farim, visibly distressed, huffed a short breath and tapped his knuckle on Wulfric’s desk. “I will proceed in a manner more accustomed to your nation's ways of courting - but I also will not be a fake suitor to your sister. A balance will be struck, one that is more fitting of the public image you aspire to preserve.” The man calmed himself, pausing for the time to give the prince a moment of rebuttal.

Wulfric nodded. “That is agreeable. Despite everything, your intentions appear honest. Since we have, at the very least, Anastasia’s well-being in common interest, I propose an informal alliance. We both have our fathers to deal with, after all…” A neutral statement which could have several meanings. “My family will be hosting a banquet on the 28th. Make yourself available, and express to my father your interest in courting Anastasia. It would also behoove you to step forward as a formal witness to Anastasia’s assault at Lord Ravenwood’s ceremony. Be as factual as possible, and relay when you last saw her before she disappeared, and when you found her. I would not suggest keeping to yourself the suspicious appearance of those two coated men in her vicinity soon after you had happened upon her.”

Farim raised an eyebrow. “You suspect Dr. John had a part to play?”

Wulfric rolled a shoulder. “He may have, or he may not have. We cannot know without questioning him.”

He pondered the idea for a moment and exhaled slightly. “His presence was rather suspicious and Anastasia’s account further incriminates him.” The man rubbed his chin in contemplation, then looked once more into Wulfric’s eyes. “I find these terms rather amiable. I was looking forward to meeting the family properly anyway - I shall come to this banquet, and address the two problems therein. My only concern is if this arranged alliance is of any import - my father likely wants to use the political leverage of a national alliance as means to secure this marriage. Why wage a war when you can marry a princess?” His eyes rolled so far you would swear they were in the back of his head. “So, how do we trump this…” Farim paused before posing a question. “Forgive me for asking - would your father value opulence and wealth over the political safety of avoiding war?”

“To quote Edin, ‘Having a snake as your ally rather than your enemy is advantageous’,” Wulfric drawled mockingly. “Frankly, he is also the type of man who would gladly wage a war if he thought he could win it - and he is awfully overconfident. Though, if he were to set his sights on one of our neighbors, it would be Varian. I wonder if your father guessed at that…?” he shook his head. “Regardless, the short answer is no. Your wealth will be a benefit, but he will judge you by your political sway also. Flattery works best, and he is surprisingly easy to lure in with empty promises, especially if you back it up with some showy gifts. Like throwing breadcrumbs to the pigeons,” he snarked, shaking out his fingers to mimic hoodwinking.

Farim pondered the implications behind such things - what gifts would he bring? What political sway could he offer that would outweigh his father? Not much came to mind on the latter half - but the inklings of an idea formed, and so be smiled at the prince. “Having been raised by such a manipulative snake does unfortunately come with its benefits. I believe I can offer some persuasive ideas, promises, and certainly some fine gifts for such a man. Everything from silks derived from silkworms that were read the great Edinian Gospels and where the prayers of the many gods were sung over their pupafication, to works of pottery that reflect the bright radiance of his prominence and beneficial reign over Caesonia. Does this strike a chord with you, prince?” he smirked.

A matching humourous smile appeared in response. “A good start,” he nodded.

But this face returned to a more stoic one of contemplation. “But that part is easy. What might be tricky is convincing him I am more of a beneficiary than my father - who holds the grander title. However, perhaps my chance at claiming the Sun Throne may yet convince him - if not then I will make sure to remind him of the power of a good deal…” Farim waved his hand. The specifics would have to come later, and he would think about it. “So, in conclusion, be more civil, attend your family's banquet, and convince your father to allow me the privilege to have court with your sister over Hafiz. Easy enough.” Farim extended his hand for a handshake. “To keeping our families cared for and our countries at peace.”

“Agreed,” Wulfric shook the man’s hand. “Do not forget to give my sister a heads up on what you are planning to do, and why. Wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea that you are only doing this for the political benefit, now would you?” he questioned rhetorically.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Callum @helo, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Cassius @PapaOso, Charlotte @princess, and a very special guest.

---

Drake bowed his head solemnly. ”I’m sorry, I did not know…” He signals for a toast with the Prince before continuing ”We can’t always be perfect in life. We can only be our best. Terrible friendships in the past may yet be redeemed in the eyes of those who wish it to be so.” Drake clacked his drink against Callum’s, and swished it back before lightly clanking it on the bar. ”Don’t think on the phrasing too much - what I more or less mean is don’t damn yourself for an eternity over the finite time you’ve spent with them. What matters is you recognize the bad and wish to do good - that’s all we can ever really ask of ourselves.”

Then came the talk of his sister. There was some overlap in his words versus how he would describe her - he often found her to be a joy in his life. He cared about her, so naturally he wanted to make sure whoever she would potentially be with felt the same. “Not in the slightest. Just being a concerned older brother. Plus I know nothing I said or did would stop her from going after what she wants. All I can do is make sure she’s safe.” He waved for their drinks to be topped off. “I’m sure you’ll come to see that in the weeks to come. Given how vested her interest is in you.”

“For what it’s worth. I don’t buy into all that social slack people seem to love to give you. I’ll let you words and actions speak for yourself - rather than the words of others.” It was shortly after this that Lorenzo had made the grand spectacle of presenting his own gifts. Drake had half a mind to tell him he didn’t have to present them so boisterously - but then he smiled. What harm could there be in letting him have his fun? Famous last words.

The first gift was plenty fine - Drake actually unboxed the revolver right there, took a look at the firing pin under his thumb, and nodded approvingly. “Cassius, my fellow. You know how to pick them. This looks to be…a model 1873? Very trusty work. I commend the smiths who forged the metals.” He carefully placed the weapon back in its box and turned to Lorenzo for the next one.

And when he described its contents, the young lord’s face maintained its smile with mild skepticism. But once there was mention of a “love potion” and “rubbers”, Drake fought back the immediate urge to frown. “My what a….creative gift good sir. Did you have to include those last two though? Seems a bit, well, private to mention such a sacred act in front of a gathering.” Nonetheless he took the box and stacked it on the other.

Then came the final box. Drake’s immediate response was to swoon at the adorable beady eyes. ”Awww what precious critters they are! And twins, you say? Do they have names?” He carefully handled the furry noodles and let them get accustomed to his presence before carefully placing them back into their container. ”I suppose this year I am raising my own furry family of felines and weasels. Very exciting!”

He sat the boxes down and with a resounding clap, he looked to the guests around, some inebriated and some already making their leave. Drake saw Wulfric take his leave and was a bit disappointed he couldn’t have a moment with his friend - but after all the embarrassment he weathered today, it might be best to let that die down before Wulfric had the chance to line up a light-hearted taunt or jest at his expense.

“Esteemed guests! Lords and Ladies! Dukes and Duchesses! I thank you humbly for your patience and presence on this fine day!” Drake begins his speech as he begins walking to the stage once more. “At this hour, I will say it is officially time to wrap up the party and proceed to the final course. Should you need any other food or drink, I kindly ask you to request our help for fresh options and partake to your heart's content. You all have been wonderful patrons tonight - and I do hope that you all enjoy the day. It may be my day of birth, but it is still young and ripe with opportunity! Seize the day and make it your own!” He gave one last bow - without falling - and made his way off the stage.

From here he continued to converse with the nearby Callum, Cassius, Lorenzo, and Charlotte until they took their leave. He made sure each guest received a complimentary goodie bag* upon leaving, as well as a proper farewell from the birthday boy himself. Once the party was cleared out, and the help seemed on their way to cleaning up, he made arrangements for his study to be partially converted into a bestiary for his new family members.

“Sebastian, my good man. Fetch me a bottle of our finest red please. And two glasses.” Drake asked his trusty manservant. The young man ran off and fetched a 10-year vintage and two fancy glasses for the lord, who nodded appreciatively before sending him away. He picked up the glasses and placed them on his bedside table, sitting on the edge of his bed and sighing as he poured the two glasses full of red wine.

“If only you could have been here. That would’ve been the best birthday gift of all..” He reached for the glass and began to sip as he heard a knock at the door. He continued sipping while approaching the door. ”Comiiing.” He said in a slightly dreary tone before taking another quick sip.

As he opened the door however, he felt himself nearly choke on his drink. For right in front of him was a woman clad in a beautiful green gown, her long blonde hair tied up in just the perfect blend of careful attention and mild messiness. Her two distinctly colored eyes that reminded Drake of the earth and sky all in one beautiful woman. His mouth opened slightly, his jaw hanging as she began to blush. The woman fidgeted slightly, her hands and arms behind her back as she looked up at Drake through her lashes and shyly spoke. ”A-am I too late?”

*Goodie bags contain various generic goods. Some herbal oils, greeting cards, small chocolates, as well as any particular trinket or item your specific character may be interested in receiving. PM me for details.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edwards Estate
Time: Morning of the 25th
Attire: Robes
Mentions: Anastasia@princess, Stratya @CitrusArms, Rohit@Helo, and Wulfric @SilverPaw

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Depends on where you go and who you ask, Rohit.” Farim flashed a coy smile. ”Pleasure to meet you - I am familiar with your work, and it is a blessing to be seeing the progeny of Vali Amar here in Sorian this lovely season.” The Shehzade reached a hand out towards the man, while still supporting the woman on his lap. ”Farim Kadir.”

After a handshake, the man looked back to the inebriated Knight Captain with a smirk. ”Oh I am no stranger to strong drink. However I do not think getting wasted was the intent of a party with a family such as this - they seem more of the social drinking types.” Farim shot a sideways glance at Rohit. ”For one reason or another, they love to spike drinks here in Caessonia. Again, I am all for fun, but consent is a beautiful thing, is it not?” The wording was chosen carefully, and another slight squeeze on Anastasia’s hip would be his way of playing jokester with the woman as she maintained her bubbly giggling self.

It was then the audible announcement of Duke Vikena sounded throughout the courtyards - talking of firearms, perfumes, condoms, and last but not least, ferrets. Farim stifled a chuckle. ”I am glad I did not bring Thara - she would be stir crazy over seeing ferrets out in the open like that. I cannot help but mention how adorable that pair of animals are….But also is this Drake a collector of sorts? I could send for some rather fantastic beasts to fill his menagerie if this is the occasion.” The man mused aloud as the party came to a head. Any moment now and he felt the Edwards would simply kick everyone out. It was around then that the icy cold stare of disapproval was felt on the back of his neck.

“I will expect you in my office at half past noon.”

Farim was not often caught as off guard as he was. He nearly jumped in his chair when Wulfric placed a hand on his shoulder. Nothing the man said was outwardly threatening - but he knew that beneath the surface he would have to deal with an infuriated Wulfric later. This was a fate he would rather not have - but in brief retrospect, he had only himself to blame. Farim responded with a brief nod. ”I shall see you there.” The man knew when someone was going to pull him aside for “the talk”. He had seen it before in his father, in the sultan, and with his siblings once before - all people who wished to lecture him on how he was unbecoming and “not a good fit” for the role he was born to play. Nonetheless - it was a role he was going to fill one way or another, so he felt he should do it with as much panache, grace, and grandeur as one of his homeland would. He waited a good while for Wulfric to leave earshot before resuming any playful antics.

He gave Anastasia a soft pat. ”It would seem I shall have to skip out on this game of poker - but perhaps later this evening we can enjoy some more adventures of some kind, yes?” Farim glanced over to Rohit. “Speaking of hip happenings, I believe Annie over here is a sage in such things. There is never a party far from this woman. I believe she was already planning something on the horizon for this table - feel free to listen in on the details, Rohit.” He smiled. It was all he could do to ease the anxiety welling in his gut.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edwards Estate
Time: Morning of the 25th
Attire: Robes
Mentions: Anastasia@princess, Zarai @Rodiak, Olivia @Potter, Fritz @JJ Doe, Stratya @CitrusArms, Rohit@Helo, Wulfric @SilverPaw and Nahir @Rodiak

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The playful banter between the two continued as Zarai compared each of them to culinary delights. This woman was certainly a fun one to interact with. He could see why her and Annie got along so well. For the time he decided it best to let their back and forth end. She had won the battle, but Farim would surely win the war - at least that is what he convinced himself he would do. ”Sharing is caring indeed…” He trailed off.

The man turned to address Anastasia. ”Back home this is merely how we flirt and play nice amongst our romantic interests. But here I am beginning to feel it is not as socially appropriate.” He still could not help but trace a finger along the fair skin of her arm, with his eyes moving to trace the movements before returning to meet the woman’s gaze.

But then her tone shifted. Her body relaxed but not out of comfort. The Shehzade’s brow furrowed as he tried to read her expressions - almost like the birth of a thousand yard stare. Had he been too much? Was his method of allure and romanticism too strong? Allaenat jamiean (Dammit all), Farim. She does not need someone flighty or unsure. Stick to your mantra - and be the man above the rest. You have to be, for her.

The brief moment of reflection was cut short as she seemed to be snapped back to her senses. ”Everything good, Annie? He asked. But she was already moving onto the next moment. Already seeking the next excitement. A slight melancholic look graced Farim’s features for but a moment. That is when the birthday boy himself took a rather big fall off the stage.

”What is with this city and causing great falls? The following spectacle was nothing new to him either. Families fight all the time. His mind flickered to the times his father would berate and abuse him in public similar to this - prompting Farim to say a silent prayer for Lord Drake. The situation only continued to grow weirder. As nobles around began to act aloof, Farim narrowed his gaze and scanned the surrounding tables. Everyone seemed to be having a little too much fun…

”Do not tell me….” He snatched a drink from a nearby platter as a waiter passed by. He raised the glass to his nose and gave the drink a cursory sniff-test. Nothing. He raised the glass to his lips and took a small sip - and immediately felt the potency of the beverage. ”Princess, do not partake in the beverages….I cannot say who did this and for what reason. But this is not a normal drink. I am afraid they have been tampered with.”

The man turned to the table, noticing that Zarai and Fritz had taken their leave. So he addressed those he remained. ”I do not know if I am being dramatic but I suggest you two do the same. Call it a hunch, or maybe I am just paranoid after the last time I drank at a party here.” Farim had learned to not always trust every drink or food placed before him - and the mistake he made the other night was one he would rather not repeat.

But who would invite so many people to an event to celebrate their prestige just to get them drunk and delirious? Farim pondered for a moment before casting his gaze across the yard towards his cousin. She seemed rather coherent. And so did her present company. And if she or any of them would look his way, he made sure to make it apparent to her that the drinks may not be what they seem. He placed the drink down while looking at Nahir, and pushed the drink away.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Victoria, Callum @helo, and Ariella @tpartywithzombi

---

The commotion had more or less come to a stop - at least in the main area in front of the stage. Looking around there was a slight frown on Drake’s face. He had conflicted feelings about the revelry that had broken out. On one hand, the people were having fun and enjoying themselves. Occasions such as this are, in his mind, meant to spread joy and merriment. But he still felt as if this would end up crashing back on their public image - one that he knew his father had done so much to try and maintain. To a degree his mother had as well, but the one who always had to deal with their antics was the Duke himself.

His attention was brought back as Callum had accepted his offer of a drink, and Drake thought that for the moment it would be best to clear his head a little more before he said or did anything drastic. He already made a fool of himself and as best as he did to mediate it - he was sure people would boast and guffaw about it in the next morning’s paper. Seeing his father had yet again taken control of his rampant mother, and that his sister had gone off to socialize with other guests - likely to avoid having a meltdown over their argument - Drake guided the Prince to the open bar - where he would unknowingly partake in a comparatively softer drink than what he had prior.

With a polite wave he motioned for Callum to take a seat where he would please. ”Start us off with two whiskeys please - take it from the double-aged oak please.” He nodded to the bartender who prepared two glasses. A perfectly circular ball of ice was placed in each glass before the man reached up above him to grab a large bottle of what could only be the aforementioned whiskey. A pop of the cork on the bottle and the rich tones would fill the air as the bartender poured their drinks and slid them across the counter towards them. He gave the pair a bow and resumed serving the nearby crowd that was beginning to grow as the number of inebriated patrons rose.

Drake turned to the Prince with a smile, swirling the drink in his hand as he spoke aloud. ”Forgive me, Prince Callum. I know my mother can be a handful - so I’m thankful you took her criticism in stride. There was a time she wasn’t so….ornery. Or maybe it’s taken me this long to see it for myself. But ahh, let’s not dwell too much on it.” He takes a sip of the fine beverage - letting it fully slide down his throat before throwing his next statement at the man. ”I’d actually love to talk with you a little more about you and Ariella if it isn’t too out of place. What exactly might your intentions with her be?” He shot Callum a smile - friendly enough to imply he wasn’t going to make a scene if something bad were to be said. But he was Ariella’s bigger brother after all, it only felt natural for him to poke even just a little bit into her potential suitors. If the way she had been acting with Callum had hinted at anything - it would be that her favorite such suitor would be the man sharing a drink with him right now.