princess

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Lava Alckon Farim @Rodiak Nahir @JJ Doe Hala @Potter Kira @Helo Rohit

---

Hafiz’s eyes slid to Kira with polite interest, the kind that veiled calculation in courtesy. Her boldness wasn’t unwelcome, but it was useful. She matched his gaze without flinching, returned his tone with warmth, even flirted with the Danrose girl as if it were a game.

Why was she here? Among the Danroses, the Samis, the Grand Vizier himself?

She wasn’t Alidasht nobility. Not Danrose. And yet, she slipped into their company as if she'd been born to it. No announcement nor clear ties.

He didn’t like unaccounted variables.

He smiled faintly behind his goblet, gaze resting on her just long enough to acknowledge her poise. A woman like that wasn’t idle. And Hafiz would be sure to keep her in view.

Hafiz’s expression did not change as Anastasia loudly announced Farim's arrival like a starstruck maiden from a tale.

He turned to sip from his goblet.He certainly knows how to catch attention. Whether he knows what to do with it once he has it… well, we’ll see. He did not so much as glance at Farim.

There was no need. Flattery meant nothing without victory and Hafiz didn’t crown fools.

Let the fool charm her. Let her believe in love and poetry. If he failed? Well… he was easy enough to replace.

The leash would still lead back to him.

Hafiz watched Farim's grand performance with the detached calm of a predator studying a bird puffing its feathers. He didn’t rise to Farim’s jabs—not outwardly, at least. He merely offered a slow blink, as though humoring a child who thought himself clever. His goblet tilted ever so slightly between his fingers, eyes following Farim’s movements with that ever-calculating calm.

“So many words to say nothing of worth,” he murmured under his breath as Farim kissed the Princess’s hand. The sight of it soured the wine on his tongue. Farim then played diplomat and darling of the court and Hafiz tracked every interaction. The King. The Queen. The Princes. The Princess. Each bow and compliment noted, each attempt at favor logged.

His son was putting on quite the show. And shows, like masks, were meant to be removed.

But when Farim made his final round and returned, Hafiz allowed himself one subtle quip:

“And here I thought the performance was this morning.”

His gaze slid across the room, past the fluttering gown, past the eager smiles, and landed on nothing.

Not nothing... Her absence. His jaw twitched.

He could still see the way she trembled. The way she looked at that man as if he were her savior. Disgusting.

But beneath the contempt, there was a pulse of something else.

Hafiz’s gaze darkened the moment Rohit said his name. Of course. Navi Amar’s son. The spawn of a scholar. Hafiz had little patience for the father and even less for the son.

Where Navi dealt in wisdom, Rohit played in glitter. And now he was pawing at Hala like some treasured pet, clueless to the fire he was stroking.

You're not your father. Even he wouldn't be foolish enough to touch what belongs to me., Hafiz thought coldly. Hafiz’s expression barely shifted as Hala responded.

Milo St. Claire. Of course, that peacock had caught Hala’s eye. Flashy, fawned over, and utterly useless to the mechanics of power. Hafiz didn’t need to glance at him to know the type—men like that existed only to be worshipped and discarded. His gaze slid back to Hala, smirking ever so slightly as they ate from Rohit’s plate like it belonged to them.

Hafiz’s gaze then followed Nahir’s entrance with cool observation. Regal, poised, and fashionably late. Of course.

He inclined his head when she greeted him, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Shehzadi. As punctual as your father’s diplomacy.”

His eyes cut briefly toward Kira, narrowing ever so slightly when he caught Nahir’s subtle pause.

Hafiz leaned in and whispered to her, “You seem intrigued by her, niece. Should I be?”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bar 🍄
🍃 Interactions: Menzai @Samreaper Arya @Potter 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 23 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

Phia watched Korrak’s back as he retreated, her staff still clutched tightly in her hand. She gave a final, defiant “hmph!” under her breath, puffing her cheeks out slightly like an indignant squirrel.

"Coward." Her chin rose, eyes narrowed with fire. "He must have caught a whiff of his future defeat." She nodded to herself as if affirming a great truth of the universe, then spun on her heel, clearly under the assumption that her very presence had sent the lizard boy packing.

She came face-to-face with Menzai, eyes wide with indignant purpose, her brows furrowed like a child who’d been told “no.” He reminded her gently again (this was not the first time he had to remind her this) that she was not here to start fights. Her lips puckered into a dramatic pout.

But as his hand squeezed her shoulder with that familiar grounding touch, her expression melted into a tender smile and adoring gaze. She reached up and patted his hand affectionately, "You are correct, precious Menzai, that my meat awaits..." Her eyes darted longingly back toward the plate she’d left behind before snapping back to him with sudden gravity. "...But if a goddess is insulted and we do not seek forgiveness—then what if the stars stop glowing? What if the moon crumbles to ash? What if the other Gods—or even this one—strike vengeance upon this ship!"

She gasped at her own suggestion, then immediately got distracted by a glint on the floor before catching herself and refocusing. "...No, no… we must apologize on his behalf. We must!" Phia insisted solemnly, placing a dramatic hand over her heart.

With that, Phia made her way over to Arya and gave a dramatically low bow and held the position a beat too long. Then she straightened and clasped her staff like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away. “Great Goddess of the night sky,” she began, very seriously, though her eyes kept trailing off toward the nearby plate of meat, “...on... behalf of the lizard-man who has rocks in his brain... and... a sour smell in his clothes, I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

She placed a shiny pebble at Arya’s feet as if it were the highest offering. “He does not understand divinity when he sees it. His tongue was clearly cursed. Please do not smite us all.”

Then Phia stood there perfectly still with her hands folded and eyes wide... For a good ten seconds before she started rocking on her feet. She peeked up at Arya with hopeful, shimmering eyes, anxiously awaiting divine judgment or, at the very least, to be formally dismissed. But then.... THEN her eyes flicked back to the plate. Her meat. It shimmered in the sunlight like a greasy beacon of salvation. Her lips parted. Her fingers twitched.

Finally, she broke. Phia suddenly spun around and practically crawled back onto her stool like a starved goblin. She grabbed the slab of meat with both hands and chomped into it like she had been starving. She held the meat aloft between bites.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte Flashback

FLASHBACK

1724

For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t help but think about how the grand dining hall hadn’t looked so different, even in back 1724.

It was alive with the clinking of crystal and the low hum of conversation. But to the young version of herself, it had felt like a magical world, a place where gold dripped from the chandeliers and the gowns sparkled like constellations.

Charlotte kicked her feet as she sat at the edge of the table, her small legs barely brushing the plush chair. She glanced around at the sea of unfamiliar faces, biting her lip with glee. The night felt special, like it belonged only to her.

Emina sat beside her. Her features were bathed in the soft glow of flickering candlelight, the warm hues contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. Despite the laughter and chatter of the nobles around them, there was a serene intimacy in the way she interacted with Charlotte, her gaze warm and affectionate. She looked every bit the picture of grace, her eyes holding a softness only visible in moments like these, moments when she was most at peace with the world.

But it was more than her beauty that caught Charlotte's eye. It was the way her mother’s gaze softened whenever she looked at her, the warmth in her touch as she ran a hand through Charlotte’s hair. For a fleeting moment, Charlotte felt cherished, as if she were the most important person in the world.

Her delicate smile seemed genuine as she had brushed hair from her daughter’s eyes tenderly, yet there was an underlying sadness in her eyes, an emotion that Charlotte, in her innocence, couldn’t quite understand at the time. “My little girl, “ She softly whispered, a sweet smile on the woman’s face.

But just as she allowed herself to indulge in that fleeting peace, the voice of King Edin cut through the air, resounding across the banquet hall, louder than all the others.

"Perhaps, Duchess Emina, you should have more children," the King said, his voice cold. “You’re not getting any younger, and certainly, you can’t possibly expect to rely on one girl alone to carry the family name, can you? It’s not the strength of daughters that ensures a legacy.”

Charlotte’s smile faltered. She felt a sudden, uncomfortable shift in the air, the warmth from her mother’s presence replaced by a prickling tension. Even at such a young age, she understood the weight of his words and the cruel edge behind them. Though this had all been so long ago, Charlotte could remember those words exactly, and nothing could erase them from her mind.
The memory was engraved in her like a scar.

Emina’s hand had stilled in Charlotte’s hair, faltering slowly as Walter left Gideon’s side, his footsteps growing heavy with anger. He had stormed toward Edin without hesitation, vocal in his defiance in front of everyone. His voice had been so loud, unwavering, and filled with a protective wrath for his family.

But as the memory seemed to press in from all sides, it suddenly shifted, dissolving like mist in the air. Another banquet. Just like this one. Only this time, Walter wasn’t there.

But Emina was.

Charlotte remembered how the view had changed—how, over time, she had grown tall enough to look people in the eye. No longer needing to peek over the top of the table to see the other guests. But the most jarring change had not been her own growth. It had been Emina.

The woman who had once looked at her with warmth, with tenderness, had now fixed her gaze forward, never once meeting Charlotte’s eyes. It was as though even the slightest glance in her direction would have brought some unbearable consequence.

Emina’s hand trembled ever so slightly as it rested on the table. It was the kind of tremor Charlotte had noticed but never truly understood. That subtle distance, that unspoken fear... It had been there, lurking in the quiet moments, in every conversation, every instruction.

It was the kind of thing that seemed insignificant at first, a fleeting thing to brush off, but over time it became undeniable. There was no grand moment, no single shift that she could pin down. But it was there, thick in the air between them—a wall that had slowly, imperceptibly risen.

Somewhere along the line, she had stopped being “momma’s little girl.” That was something Charlotte had not dared to think about since her mother’s death.

But now, in this room, as Cassius looked at her the way he did, there was no way to keep the memory from resurfacing. For her mother had stared at her the same way—as though Charlotte had already slipped through her fingers, as if the love they shared had been shadowed by the quiet grief of something that had been lost long before it ever truly had the chance to be.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Duke Gideon Edwards & Duchess Victoria Edwards

Time: 6pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Inteactions: @TpartywithZombi Ariella @Lava Alckon Drake @Tae Thea @Helo Callum

---

As the herald’s voice rang clear—"Presenting Lady Violet Damien and Lady Ariella Edwards"—Duke Gideon turned his head immediately, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“There she is.” His voice was touched with unmistakable fondness as he watched his daughter enter the room. While most might see a scandal, he saw only his spirited, radiant girl.

Victoria, beside him, audibly gasped at her failure of a curtsy. Her fan snapped shut like a bolt of lightning.

“Dutchess Edwards, do you think yourself our betters? I noticed you did not bow, or curtsy, before your king and his family. Are you too proud to submit before His Majesty?”

Victoria narrowed her gaze at Callum, then forced a smile without kindness. She rose, presented a curtsy as she said through gritted teeth, "My apologies, Your Majesties."

As she lowered herself back into her seat, she glared daggers into Ariella, “And here she comes, sitting next to me, of course.”

“Yes. I also saw her come in glowing like the sun through the trees.” Gideon turned to Ariella and smiled at her,
“You look beautiful, little star,” he told her softly. “And quite honestly, I’m proud you didn’t fall. You had us all on the edge of our seats.”

Victoria took a sip of wine and muttered beneath her breath: “We’ll be speaking after dessert. And you will wish you had fallen.”

Gideon sighed and added kindly, “Welcome, my dear. I missed you.”

As the herald’s voice carried across the glittering banquet hall—“Introducing, the Lord of House Edwards…Sir Drake!”—both Gideon and Victoria turned in their seats.

Victoria let out a soft gasp as her gaze landed on her son, dressed in sleek black with the flourish of that orange rose on his chest.

“Orange?” she breathed, eyes narrowing like a hawk spotting a fluttering quail. “What is he wearing an orange flower for? He knows that clashes with the Edwards palette!” Her voice dipped into a near-hiss. “And where in the Gods’ name did he get those cufflinks? ”

Beside her, Gideon barely stifled a laugh and smiled proudly as Drake then held out a chair for Thea. “Amazing job with that greeting, son. I'm glad you're here."

His gaze then slid to Lady Thea and Lord Leo Smithwood, his expression lighting up with practiced charm and sincere warmth.

“And what a joy it is to see the esteemed heirs of House Smithwood tonight.” He rose slightly from his seat in polite acknowledgment, offering a gentleman’s bow toward Thea, then Leo. “Lady Thea, your grace is matched only by your reputation—I daresay we could all learn a thing or two from your sense of style.”

Turning to Leo, his smile widened into something more playfully respectful. “And Lord Leo, I’ve heard great things about you. What an honor to sit with you tonight.”

Just as Gideon leaned back in his chair, a flicker of black hair caught the corner of his eye. His gaze turned—and immediately softened.

There she was. Lady Charlotte Vikena.

He felt his heart ache for a moment, then he smiled at her kindly in greeting whilst Victoria grimaced and moved her seat back as if she might catch illness from the presence of a Vikena.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interaction: @Samreaper Kazumin @Helo Callum @Silverpaw Wulfric @FunnyGuy Alexander

---

When Alexander spoke, Edin was mid-chew, a juicy hunk of roast duck dripping from his fingers as Alexander finished his flowery pitch. He sucked at the grease with an audible pop, licking his fingers like a man who forgot he was king—or rather, never cared.

“Mmmf—hah!” He swallowed thickly, then grinned, wine sloshing as he raised his goblet. “Now that’s what I like to hear.” He chuckled, then tore another piece from the bird with his hands.

He leaned back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Stick around, Deacon. Maybe I’ll toss a few things your way and see if you fetch like you claim.” He winked, then returned happily to devouring his plate and gossiping, meanwhile Alibeth's gaze had remained on Alexander, shifting occasionally to Wulfric as he corrected him. She averted her gaze downward to hide the grin of pride forming on her face. Now that's the King of Caesonia.

Edin then slowly set his goblet down with the grin of a wolf scenting blood as Callum's words reached his ear. “Well, well, well…” he chuckled, eyes glittering with sudden interest. “Is that my little lamb finally growing fangs?” He leaned forward, utterly entertained. “About damn time one of my sons showed some spine at the table. Public shaming? A touch dramatic—but gods, I like it.” He laughed, throwing a hand in Callum’s direction. “I always said he had it in him.”

Alibeth, on the other hand, tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing on Callum like a falcon sighting prey.

However, Callum also brought their attention to entrance of Kazumin. Edin, who had just finished gnawing the meat off a drumstick, lifted his head as if he’d heard the arrival of a long-lost son.

“Ah! There he is!” Edin bellowed, flinging a bone over his shoulder with zero regard for where it landed. “The man of the hour! My Kazumin! Get on in here, boy!”

He stood abruptly, cheeks ruddy with wine and joy, and clapped his meaty hands together as if summoning thunder. “Look at him! Dressed like a peacock at a masquerade and twice as entertaining!” Edin gestured with a goblet, sloshing wine over the rim. “This is the kind of energy Caesonia needs more of!”

He turned toward the room then, arms spread wide, beaming. “To all our honored guests, nobles, artists, and even those who stumbled in by accident—welcome! Your king is delighted by your presence! Eat! Drink! Be merry!”

“Mm,” Alibeth hummed behind her wine glass. “And here I thought Lorenzo Vikena had exhausted the court’s appetite for eccentricity.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Korrak

_{@Potter@Samreaper@FunnyGuy}

Korrak's fiery gaze narrowed dangerously, muscles tensing beneath his crimson scales. He clenched his jaw in restrained fury, silently weighing his response. A glance at the crowd watching attentively forced him to reconsider his impulse to violence, though the anger smoldered clearly behind his glare. He offered no words in reply—only a low, resentful growl under his breath.

At his side, his little daughter gazed at the marble now resting gently in her palm, her soft eyes wide with wonder. She looked uncertainly between her father and Menzai, then shyly raised her gaze to the wolf’s eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, clutching the marble protectively. "It's beautiful."
Then the girl scampered off to return the marble to the girl he had pointed out.

It was then Korrak spoke up. "You think your pathetic snarling frightens me?" he spat, voice dripping with venom. "Keep your self-righteous preaching. You’re nothing but a stray animal who forgot his place."

His sharp claws flexed dangerously, barely restrained from violence. Korrak leaned forward, scales bristling. "Mind your tongue—or someone will rip it out for you." Korrak's glare shifted sharply from Menzai, narrowing onto the bearded dwarf seated casually at the bar. His lips curled in disgust, teeth bared in a menacing snarl.

"Something amusing, dwarf?" he snapped, voice echoing with open hostility. "Mind your business!"

He stepped forward slightly, looming threateningly, anger sparking dangerously in his eyes. "Perhaps you’d like to share the Tiefling’s humiliation, tiny filth."

Then, a small elven woman approached him defiantly. Amusement flashed coldly behind his eyes. A goddess? This wild-haired fool actually believed the horned devil-spawn to be divine. His expression darkened further into disdainful mockery as he regarded her staff and the blooming flowers upon it, as if she were some child playing pretend.

"You must be joking," Korrak scoffed harshly, voice dripping with scorn. "A goddess? That Tiefling is nothing. If you're fool enough to confuse filth with divinity, then you're even more of a moron than you look."

He leaned forward, his large frame towering intimidatingly over her, and met her fierce amber eyes with contemptuous dismissal. "Take your pathetic threats and your flowery little stick elsewhere, girl. You embarrass yourself."

He stepped backward and threw his arms into the air, a growl of disgust escaping through gritted teeth as he glanced at the wary crowd now focused entirely on him. Anger and humiliation burned hot beneath his scales, but another glance at his daughter made him pause.

"Enough!" Korrak snarled bitterly, his voice dripping with venom. He pointed a sharp claw accusingly. "I won't waste any more breath on fools like you. But mark my words—I'll remember this insult. The day will come when you'll regret embarrassing me."

With a sharp growl of frustration, he turned sharply, his cape billowing behind him, and strode toward his daughter, roughly but protectively guiding her to a table in the back. He did not look back, though his tense, rigid posture made clear he would not soon forget this moment.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bar 🍄
🍃 Interactions: Gears @PapaOso Menzai @Samreaper Arya @Potter Bobi @Tracxyx 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 20 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

Phia caught sight of the large, shiny fellow from earlier waving at her, and her face immediately lit up. She waved back with unrestrained enthusiasm, her elbow just narrowly missing a drink as it tipped dangerously toward the edge of the table. But then, a sudden yelp echoed through the air, and her attention snapped to the source of the commotion.

A tiny creature was zipping around the bar deck, darting in and out of legs and under tables with startling speed. Phia’s eyes grew wide with delight, and she let out a high-pitched squeal, her hands clapping together with excitement as if she’d just spotted the cutest forest animal. The sight was so captivating that she couldn't help herself.

But then, as if to add to the spectacle, a small bearded man—just as erratic and full of energy as the creature—rushed after it. His enthusiasm carried him straight into the metallic chestplate of the warforged bartender, sending a light thud through the air.

She couldn't help but smile as the little man fumbled, clearly enamored by the warforged bartender, and her heart softened at the sight of such innocent adoration. She whispered under her breath, a gentle blessing to the little creatures and their strange antics. “Sweet little friends. May the spirits watch over you.”

” It’s… It’s nice to meet you all...I’m… Ayra.” Phia's attention turned to the voice and she froze, her eyes widening, unable to tear her gaze away from the celestial beauty standing before her.

The shimmering white hair caught her breath. The deep blue skin, as if the night sky itself had descended to the mortal realm, gleamed softly, dotted with constellations. Phia's heart raced, her senses overwhelmed by the sight of a living goddess. Her own body leaned instinctively toward the beauty before her.

She stared at Ayra with wide, almost childlike awe. "...You must be the night itself."

Then someone yelled at Ayra, using word Phia did not quite understand, however, she knew from the tone and implied idea that she was filth that it was immensely disrespectful. Her eyes narrowed as anger boiled within. She found herself nodding as Menzai informed her he would borrow her marble, but her eyes hadn't left the offending creature- which Phia thought might be a giant lizard.

Phia kept watch as Menzai approached him, eying the situation protectively. The lizard did not seem to be interfering as Menzai gifted its child a marble, so she allowed the laugh of the shiny lady to bring her attention forward.

“You are just too sweet, aren’t ya?”

Phia’s smile brightened with genuine delight as she reached across the bar, taking Gears' shiny, metallic hands in hers with surprising tenderness. Her amber eyes were intense as she informed her very seriously, "Yes. I have been told I am so sweet."

“I’m Gears, sugar. Just Gears. And I’m a Warforged, though if you wanna call me a rock girl, I’ll allow it. Ain’t the worst nickname I’ve earned...And you must be Phia.” She nodded slightly toward Menzai, then back at her, “He looks after you real careful. That says plenty good about you.”

Phia tilted her head, eyes widening with sudden clarity as if she'd unraveled a great mystery. "You are... for war? You are a warrior?" She asked, nodding slowly as if now everything made sense. "That's why you have covered yourself in armor, miss Gears!" she exclaimed excitedly, hitting the table with unnecessary enthusiasm.

Before Gears could correct her, Phia’s attention snapped to the warm, pleasant-smelling pastry placed in front of her. Without any hesitation or care for decorum, she immediately grabbed it, tearing pieces apart and placing them on her tongue with childlike joy. Her eyes widened, and she hummed delightedly, savoring the sweetness as if it were the most exquisite treat she'd ever tasted. "Mmmm!"

“Also, do you mind if I ask you something sweetheart? You doin' alright? Sky this high can be a lot, especially on your first flight. Just takes some gettin' used to, is all.”

Phia’s eyes lit up again, pastry crumbs dusting her fingertips as she eagerly responded, "Yes! It is my first flight on this wood bird! " She gestured excitedly around her, genuinely baffled but clearly impressed. "I don't know how you all managed to find such a giant bird and cover it with wood, but it's incredible!"

She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Menzai and I have come from deep within the jungle. Though I can't tell you where so don't ask. "

Phia grinned widely, retracting backward as she placed another sweet morsel on her tongue, savoring its deliciousness with another delighted hum. "I’m eager to see more of this world... especially knowing even its warriors can be so kind. You are a blessing upon us all, Miss Gears. Continue to be kind, and the spirits will favor you. "

Just then, her attention shifted downward, meeting the shy gaze of the little dragonborn child who approached, carefully clutching her beloved blue marble. Phia’s smile softened as she leaned down gently, eyes filled with tenderness.

"It's alright, little lizard baby. You can keep it," she said softly, warmly touching the child’s tiny hand. "Enjoy the blue."

Only a beat passed after the child retreated from her side when Phia suddenly rose to her feet abruptly, pastry crumbs still dotting her fingertips. Her amber eyes burned with determination as she addressed the group around her, her voice ringing clear with conviction. "Everyone!" she declared firmly, raising her chin with purpose. "I have decided something important. It is unacceptable that someone dares disrespect a goddess of the night sky in our presence! Such rudeness must be corrected swiftly, or surely, fate will grow cross with us all."

She tightened her grip on her druidic staff, and the blossoms adorning it bloomed vividly as if feeding off her emotion. Then, Phia marched boldly toward the dragonborn father, the air around her crackling with primal authority.

Stopping firmly before him, she raised her staff, pointing its sharpened end accusingly at his chest. Her voice lowered to a dangerous, intense tone:

"You," she growled fiercely, eyes blazing, "have insulted a goddess who walks among us. Do you understand what that means? Disrespect to her is disrespect to the very stars, the spirits, and every ancestor who came before you."

Phia's eyes flashed dangerously as she pressed the tip of her staff closer toward the dragonborn's chest. "Now listen well," she commanded. "If you do not kneel right here and beg forgiveness from the goddess you dared to insult, you'll leave me no choice but to challenge you to battle. And believe me," she added fiercely, "the spirits will not favor your arrogance."

The blossoms on her staff glowed vibrantly, reflecting her simmering anger. "Choose carefully," she warned, her eyes locked unflinchingly onto his, "for your next action decides your fate."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @JJ Doe Fritz @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Tae Thea @Helo Leo

---

“Actually, Lorenzo, I am beginning to suspect that Alexander Deacon may not be the most good-hearted of gentlemen—” Charlotte began in a whisper, leaning slightly toward her stepfather with lowered voice. But before she could finish, Lorenzo’s voice cut loudly across the table, calling out to the Grand Hafiz with cheerful abandon.

She nearly jumped in her seat, her gloved fingers tightening around her wine glass. “…Perhaps we might refrain from shouting across the banquet hall,” she said delicately, “We may yet survive the evening without incurring His Majesty’s wrath.”

Her eyes flitted nervously around the room, surveying the damage, as though she might smooth it over with sheer will. That’s when she caught sight of Count Fritz. Ever kind, he offered her a little wave. Her posture relaxed a touch, and she returned the gesture with a warm, grateful smile.

The herald's voice filled the air once more as it had incessantly ever since they arrived, and this time to announce the Damiens.

It felt as if her stomach dropped a little, and her breath caught in her throat. She soon found herself eye to eye with Cassius as he sat diagonally across from her. And he certainly wasted no time devoting his gaze to her. She straightened instinctively, her spine taut, but her cheeks betrayed her with a slow, unmistakable flush. Her lips parted in a soft breath.

"Good evening Cassius," she said softly, a whisper meant only for him, as if it could protect them both from the watching world.

But there was something different about the way his gaze bore into her than from the way it had that evening.

It wasn’t something she could easily explain in words. But at the very least, she knew it was heavier.
If she were forced to name it, to pin it down to a single truth—It felt as though he was trying to memorize her and forget her all at once.

Charlotte blinked, her breath catching again before she willed it steady. She tore her gaze from him, forcing herself to return her attention to her plate—though her appetite had all but vanished. Her blue eyes flicked toward the wine glass, and for a moment, she studied the way the deep red liquid swirled within, as though it might offer some answer.

Her heart betrayed her with a flutter, and she closed her eyes.

But even in the dark, she could not escape him. His voice clung to her bones, his voice echoing in her ears, his face—the way he had looked at her just the other night as if she were a secret he wanted to keep.

"Don’t stop dancing with me, Lottie."

That voice, a whisper etched into her ribs, returned now like a memory unwilling to fade.
Her eyes opened slowly, sorrow pooling in them like ink dropped in water, and her shoulders curled inward, as though the very air around her had grown too heavy to bear. And then, she briefly met Calbert Damien’s cold, unrelenting gaze with her own somber blue eyes.

“I promise, love… I’m right here.”

She let her gaze return to Cassius. There was still desire behind those eyes of his—oh yes, the pull between them remained, a flame refusing to die... But now, with their minds sober and the weight of reality pressing in, it was all painfully easier to dismantle the idea of the two of them. What once felt inevitable now unraveled quietly beneath the eyes of watching wolves.

She could no longer afford to be reckless. No longer dance like the world wouldn’t dare interrupt them.

And Charlotte felt deep in her marrow that he knew it too. Whatever they were... Whatever they had almost become, needed to be buried.

Because the way Cassius was looking at her… She could finally name it.

It was a goodbye, dressed in the eyes of a man who never wanted to say it.

And Gods, Charlotte, too, was so tired of saying goodbye.

She suddenly rose from her seat, a small box with a ribbon tied about it in hand. Charlotte quickly made her way around the room until she lingered before a certain birthday girl. With a tender smile, she set the gift down with care near Thea’s plate "Happy birthday, Thea," she said warmly. She reached out then—one hand resting briefly, affectionately, on Thea’s shoulder, the other offering a light touch to Leo’s arm. "I hope you are both faring well this evening."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Potter Kira @JJ Doe Hala @Lava Alckon Farim @Tae Thea
Attire:Dress, Hair

---

Anastasia blinked as the dignitary marched over, only for a vision in turquoise and gold to gracefully steal his seat, sip his drink, and dismiss him with regal flair.

Leaning toward Auguste, she whispered, “Did you see that? He got dethroned in three moves.” She tilted her head thoughtfully, then leaned slightly toward Hafiz, her eyes still fixed in awe.

“Grand Vizier,” she whispered, “who is that hurricane that just stole that poor man's dignity?”

Hafiz's lips twitched into a subtle smirk, amusement glittering faintly in his eyes. Without turning his head fully toward Anastasia, he responded in a low, velvety voice laced with dry humor.

"That radiant hurricane, Princess, is none other than Hala Sami—child of Vali Malik Sami. A word of caution: dignity isn't all they'll take if one isn't careful."

Before she could process that information, a familiar movement caught her peripheral vision. She turned—and immediately beamed.

“Thea! The Birthday Baby!” she exclaimed excitedly, sitting up straighter with a gleeful sparkle in her eyes. She returned the wave with both hands, like a child seeing their best friend at a festival, entirely unbothered by the stares it earned her from the more composed royals at the table.

“She looks so pretty,” she whispered to Auguste, grinning. “And she didn’t trip. I’m so proud.”

Anastasia’s eyes then lit up as Kira approached, her smile brightening with a touch of genuine excitement.

“Oh, hello there!” she beamed, straightening in her chair with a slight bounce. When Kira gave her name, Anastasia clapped her hands softly in delight. “Kira! Your name is so pretty by the way!" she chirped warmly, tilting her head with curious affection. “You look so elegant tonight. Look at that posture! We love a dignified lady in this house.” She cast a playful, exaggerated glance toward her brothers with mock suspicion, then giggled. “Please tell me you’re here to keep me entertained. Everyone's been so serious.”

And then, just to seal the deal, she leaned in with a whisper that wasn’t exactly quiet:
“Also, sit near me forever. You have bestie energy.”

Anastasia had already been glowing with the warmth of her bubbly welcome to Kira, her fingers still brushing the fabric of her gown as she fidgeted excitedly. But when she felt the distinct flutter of wings—and heard his voice—her entire body visibly perked.

She turned sharply, eyes locking on Farim with such giddy urgency that it was as though the entire banquet faded behind a pink, heart-filled filter.

“Faaaarim~!” she sang, breathless and wide-eyed as if he'd just floated in on a gust of wind and moonlight. Her voice sparkled with uncontainable delight. “You always know exactly how to make an entrance!”

Her hands clutched at her chest, dramatically overjoyed, before she stood quickly, her chair shifting just a little. “You’re too kind! Really, too kind! I didn’t think you’d mention my music again—I was so nervous I was going to ruin it—” she gasped, caught herself rambling, and waved it away with a bashful flutter of her fingers.

Then came Thara.

Anastasia’s gasp turned soft and dreamy as she looked down at the falcon, her lips parting in awe. “Oh, Thara! Darling girl!” she cooed and gently stroked Thara’s head, eyes shining with admiration—though it was very clear who she was really gazing at.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” She smiled at Farim.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Lava Alckon Farim @JJ Doe Hala @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Potter Kira

---

The Grand Vizier’s goblet hung loosely between his fingers, untouched for the last several minutes. His gaze, cool and calculating, had followed the shimmer of turquoise silk the moment it entered the banquet hall. While the rest of the room turned politely away or tried not to stare, Hafiz did not even blink. His eyes drank in every step Hala took—the casual dominance in their stride, the dismissive elegance, the haughty tilt of their chin that declared they were exactly where they belonged, whether anyone else agreed or not.

He watched Hala's dramatic entrance from the high table, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. The boldness, the sheer nerve—it was exactly what he had come to expect from Malik's child. A faint smirk curved his lips as he noted the dignitary's panic, savoring the ripple of tension that spread through the room.

He raised his goblet subtly in Hala’s direction—a silent acknowledgment, both a commendation and a challenge wrapped in one. Hafiz leaned back comfortably, clearly entertained.

It seemed tonight's banquet had just gotten far more interesting.

Without a single word spoken, Hafiz's eyes delivered the unmistakable message: Hala Sami is exactly where I intended them to be—challenge at your own peril.

Hafiz’s eyes flicked toward Farim only once the prince had already bowed to the company—too late to stop him, and far too early to pretend it hadn’t been noticed.

The smile that slowly crept across the Grand Vizier’s face was a thing made of iron and honey, all politeness on the surface, but cold underneath.

“Farim,” he said smoothly, each syllable enunciated like a lesson. "How thoughtful of you to interrupt.”

He raised his goblet slightly, the same one Farim had praised, and turned it between his fingers. “You always did have a fondness for sipping from cups you did not pour.”

The words came soft, almost teasing but anyone else listening would catch the undercurrent.

Still, Hafiz didn’t look at him directly. No, instead he cast a glance across the room—toward Hala, radiant and unruly in their stolen seat, and then toward the subtle chaos rippling through the banquet in their wake. His eyes narrowed with satisfaction.

Then finally, he turned back to Farim. The gaze now direct.

“But if you admire my taste so much, dear boy… do take care not to choke on it.”

And with that, he smiled again but it never reached his eyes.

A woman spoke his name and his gaze turned to her. Hafiz regarded Kira with a polite, composed smile, inclining his head just slightly to acknowledge her greeting.

"Ah, Lady Kira. The evening finds me quite well," he answered smoothly, his tone carrying a faint note of cool amusement. "And I trust you're finding Caesonia's hospitality...satisfactory?"

His gaze remained on her for just a moment longer than necessary,

Then Hafiz’s eyes narrowed sharply as Duke Vikena's grating voice suddenly reached his ears, jaw tightening with unmistakable irritation. He refused to raise his voice across the crowded hall, instead lifting his goblet in a mocking salute toward Lorenzo, his lips curling into a contemptuous smile.

Through gritted teeth and in a low voice meant only for those nearest him, Hafiz drawled sarcastically, “It seems the court jester has announced himself and dared to embarrass me yet again. How thoughtful...He feels he must announce himself lest anyone fail to notice his perpetual incompetence.”

He turned away dismissively, the subtle shake of his head enough to convey his displeasure, deliberately refusing to dignify Lorenzo's antics with a shouted response.

Hafiz, though initially irritated by Lorenzo’s obnoxious shouting, shifted his attention subtly toward the royal conversation. His expression turned from annoyance to veiled amusement as he listened, particularly enjoying Edin’s crass commentary when he could catch bits of it, especially as the man's voice rose with volume overtime. Hafiz’s lips curled slightly in a barely hidden smirk, savoring the biting disdain directed at those he himself found beneath contempt.

However, his eyes narrowed at Edin’s open contemplation of Cassius Damien and the Vikena match. His gaze briefly flicked toward Lorenzo—still obliviously causing embarrassment—before returning to the King with quiet scrutiny. Hafiz leaned back casually, swirling his goblet with faint disdain.

“Indeed,” he murmured quietly, just loud enough for nearby ears, “one must question the wisdom of entrusting any real power to a man foolish enough to choose to interact with Duke Lorenzo Vikena of his own free will on such a common basis.. Madness seems contagious these days.”

His words, though quiet, were sharp enough to carry his derision clearly. Hafiz took a long sip, his gaze coldly amused as he settled back, content to watch the evening unfold into chaos.