Rodiak

Things You Are Excited About

can't wait for the hozier concert this november, my sugar momma pyxis is buying my ticket.
hearts bby

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ F A S H I O N D I S T R I C T 3 : 0 0 P M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

After her little talk with her dear sister, the young Shehzadi felt utterly drained. So much so that she never made it across the hall to her room. Nahir had instead made a sharp turn down the hall that had startled Ece and Ali. Ece bid her farewell and raced after her, following her outside the guest house to the busy streets where the palanquin was still waiting for any of the Alidasht royals to use.

"Fashion District," Nahir said as she pushed the curtains of the palanquin with unsteady hands and entered. ”Tell Suhasini to run to the market for more silk thread." She said, knowing Ece was already standing outside the little window. Outside, she heard Ece call a random servant over and order them to delay the coded message to Nahir’s lady-in-waiting.

The palanquin rattled, shook, and jumped around Nahir as her entourage moved slowly down the streets to the Fashion District. It’d been a while since she had allowed herself to let go and spend to her heart’s desire. A while was the short trip across the sea from Alidasht to Caesonia.

Her fingers itched to touch the fabrics on display, for her fingers to feel the perfectly smooth silks, to have the vicuña tickle her fingertips, and the thick Qiviut fur to swallow her hand whole in its softness.

Nahir would enter the shop, and the owners would promptly empty it of anyone in sight to give the Shehzadi full access to view and examine the merchandise without disturbance or distraction. Fabrics after dress after ring after shoe– all of them packed into parcels and sent to the address provided.

Once did her guards have to stop some lowly nobles from throwing a fit outside the shops, demanding to be let in while she shopped. Claiming she was just another spoiled rich brat. She was spoiled, and she was rich. That was for sure, but she wasn't a brat.

Nahir had looked as Ece talked to them with darkened eyes. One of them reached for his cane, ready to discipline the woman who had just dared to threaten him and his group. It was only met by Ece's blurred figure pressing cold hard steel against the man's throat before he could even raise the cane.

"Do you know what the punishment is for slandering a Shehzadi? A princess?" Ece whispered into the man's wrinkly ear. Nahir watched with amusement as she'd twiddled with sapphire earrings in one hand. The look he gave her when he realized what her status was and who he had insulted. Called a brat. "Shehzadi Nahir is merciful. She will forgive your ignorance, but be not mistaken that your stupidity has been taken into account, my lord."

He'd practically run away as soon as Ece released the man, leaving behind his wife and friends.

If she could, Nahir would have spent the rest of the day walking down the Fashion District, basking in the envy of the nobles that tinted the streets green. Spending coin after coin until she was satisfied.

Whole.

Complete.

At least for the moment, and that was enough for her.

The last stop was “Extravagancias de Toledo” The woman inside, who had been helping a rich-looking couple, gasped loudly when the bell rang, and Nahir entered the establishment. She promptly ushered everyone out while the Shehzadi browsed the merchandise on display.

Click. The lock.

“Shehzadi Nahir!” The woman smiled once the front door of her shop was closed. “So long has it been since you graced me with your beauty.” The voice sported a teasing tone, her bright eyes tugging at something playful between them.

"Madame Petra," Nahir offered her hand for the woman to take, a smug smile playing at her lips."Not too long I hope." Madame Petra was tall, two heads taller than Nahir, with long straight black hair she wove into braids. So when Petra kissed the back of Nahir’s slender hand, she had to bend down.

Smooth skin graced smooth skin sending tiny shocks through the Shehzadi's body.

“Not at all, my shehzadi.” Madame Petra's eyes met gold as she looked up to see Nahir staring at her. No. Not her. Her lips. "Come, as soon as I heard that your family would be gracing us this summer, I got to work. I saved lotus silk from Catalonia–" Petra began to turn when Nahir caught her wrist.

"That can wait. I, on the other hand, cannot." Nahir said, pulling the woman toward the end of the shop, past the silks and furs, past the jewelry display, and finally past the curtains that read "employees only."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E
W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E}

_VS
VS

_{M A T H I A S L A R S E N
M A T H I A S L A R S E N}

_{collab between @SilverPaw and @Rodiak}

“Laaaadies and gentlemen, it is TIME! On one side, we have!! Our world-known and well-beloved -- Priiincee WUFLRIIIC!!!”

Wulfric stood up from the bench on the sidelines where he’d been waiting, and made his way onto the stage. He was outfitted in athletic apparel; simple, yet quality made tunic and breeches. However, he did have a few pieces of armour over it, mainly leather. It offered some protection, yet still permitted him great maneuverability. Of course, he had his own sabre. His steps were sure as he made his way onto the battling arena.

The crowd’s cheers drowned out the stadium; their fervour grew as the prince raised his hand in acknowledgment. It took a bit to calm them down. Wulfric hoped they’d get it over with soon, because all he wanted was to face his opponent.

“On the other side --- ON THE OTHER – People, PEOPLE! We can’t get to the good part if we don’t let the other man on!” the announcer joked with a hearty laugh. Thankfully, the Caesonian segment of the audience (who were the greatest culprits of the noise) calmed down.

“On the other side! We have a renowned knight from Varian, and the CAPTAIN of their Royal guard!! SIR MATHIAS LARSEN!” Finally, Sir Larsen was introduced, and cued onto the fighting arena. There was significant cheering for him as well, especially from the Varians.

The rules of engagement were reiterated. Then, two combatants were given leave to start.

“To a good match,” was all Wulfric stated before withdrawing his sabre.

”Your Highness.” Mathias nodded once, unsheathing his own falchion. Its heaviness felt familiar in the knight’s hand.

The prince took his stance, his eyes meeting the knight’s own; he was intensely focused on his opponent and their upcoming match. He kept the red line in mind, but it was obvious enough not to require his active attention. Though, it did mean that the space he had available to move was essentially limited to ‘his’ half of the stage.

Wulfric did what he usually did against an unknown opponent. He went for a measuring swing, one whose aim was not so much to hit but more so to observe Larsen’s response.

It was an easy dodge from the knight as he stepped to the side, eyebrow arched as he returned to his stance quickly. Wulfric didn’t attack blindly. Mathias smiled as he brought his sword up and swung down towards the prince with force.

Wulfric’s gaze tracked the knight as the taller men sidestepped. As expected, his form, reaction, and economy of movement were excellent. As the other man lifted his arm, raising his weapon, the prince was already responding. He brought his sabre closer, then up into a guard. The downwards swing met his weapon. Steel clashed against steel. The powerful hit sent reverberations into his very bones, but Wulfric held steady. The falchion began sliding off against the angled edge of his sabre. The heaviness of the knight’s attack was forcing his weapon off-course; down and away from the prince. Swift as a striking serpent, Wulfric brought his sabre from its guard into a quick slashing counter against his opponent.

As expected from the heir to the Sorian throne, Wulfric was quick and precise with his reaction. The strength to guard against the heavier blade and maintain said guard impressed the knight. Mathias pulled back quickly, falchion swiftly parried the slashing swing. The clash of their steel rang throughout the arena, muffled only by the excited roars of the crowd. Mathias could feel the audience’s excitement surge through him as he stepped forward, his foot over to the red line, and arced a swing down on the prince again. Once, twice, three times their swords clashed with each powerful strike from the knight. He was trying to push the prince back to the borders of his own half, seeing as Mathias had the advantage of height and reach.

Their blades met several times as each of them tried to hit the other, but was then parried, deflected or blocked. It was an intense exchange; they matched skills and wits in equal measure.

Sweat beaded upon Wulfric’s brow, and he was feeling the warmth of exertion with each breath. He was thoroughly beginning to enjoy this, now. Unknowingly, a small vicious smile emerged.

Oh, but he’s good. It was no surprise. This was a military man he was facing, after all. Like any sensible combatant, the knight was using his advantages to their utmost.

Larsen wanted to crowd him in, limit his options for spacing even more. However, Wulfric didn’t simply let himself be pushed around. He did briefly consider the strategy of baiting the knight over the red line. It was a valid method of attaining victory, one he might employ in different circumstances. But he was in the mood for something…simpler, more honest.

Instead of retreating to the back, Wulfric led them in a little half circle, until they were both lateral to the red line running through the middle of the stage. One move to the wrong side too many – it would be a quick way to be disqualified if either of them was too careless.

For a moment, they were both fighting right on the edge. A thrilling sensation - almost like no other.

His chest moved fast and heavy as Mathias swung again. His fingers felt numb with every clash of steel, but he only gripped the hilt tighter as he swung again. For the past few seconds the knight had gained a momentum, his movements quick and heavy as he swung, slashed, and jabbed. The line just a breath away.

Adrenaline rushed through him as his heart hammered so hard in his chest he could hear it. It had been years since Mathias felt something this intoxicating. The possibility of real danger– one wrong attack– brought the sensation of thrill to course through his bones, only amplified by his opponent.

The knight attacked again, he went for Wulfric’s left but the prince was quick to react with a parry and a slash. Mathias was slower to block as the sabre cut through the blue fabric of his blouse and into his flesh. The knight didn’t react to the cut on his arm as he pushed back the block and swung from above.

Wulfric almost didn’t register the minor injury he’d caused his opponent. There was the slightest glint of red on the edge of his blade as he retracted his sabre. But there had barely been any resistance when his weapon had come into contact with Larsen’s body. The prince knew full well just how effective his sword was; it could sever a limb with frightening ease. If it hadn’t been a glancing blow, if he weren’t going at this with the mindset of a friendly match, if the knight wasn’t so proficient–

Briefly, a bloodthirsty grin flashed across Wulfric’s features. Yes, even though this was a tournament, and neither was aiming to kill - nor to injure - there was danger aplenty. Naturally, the risk existed for the both of them.

The crowd roared its approval, growing even louder. It was but a background noise for Wulfric; a cacophony that reached him as a vague thrumming hum. Yet, his heart beat in rhythm with it, as if it sought to synchronize with the vibrations as they coursed through him. Small rivulets of sweat ran down his back; his hands were damp beneath his protective gloves. His muscles strained with each movement. It was the kind of burn that let you know you were being challenged; the knowledge that you could still push more, go further.

Larsen went for one of his favoured moves; a slash from above. Wulfric avoided the attack by a hair’s breadth. He stepped back, distancing just out of reach. A flash of steel; the very tip of the falchion managed to catch on his leather-clad shoulder. The material was damaged, but that was all. Though, if it’d gone a tad deeper, he’d have a slice to match the knight’s.

If he weren’t so intently controlling his breathing, Wulfric might have barked a laugh. Joy and fierceness surged through him in equal measure. This was expression in its purest form; the song their blades weaved as each sought victory by overcoming the other.

Not as base as the simple desire to survive, to be the one to come out alive in real combat; yet a crystalized manner of being that came very close to that.

One moment, the knight was beginning to raise his weapon again, the very next, Wulfric was lunging into a calculated strike.

The attack was quick, precise and unexpected. It came from the knight’s blindspot as the sabre made it past his guard and stopped just as the sharp blade met the flesh of his neck. Right on the jugular. His chest rose and fell as Mathias froze, falchion in mid air high above his head ready to deliver another blow down to the prince.

He’d been too slow, too greedy, too focused on securing the momentum he had gained only for the prince to slash it right under his nose.

Mathias could not help the smile spreading over his features as he lowered the sword to his side. It had felt exhilarating and borderline addicting. So long it had been since he had faced an opponent so evenly matched, to have each attack predicted. Blocked. Parried. To be challenged this close.

The crowd around them exploded in cheers, almost drowning the announcement of Wulfric’s victory over the Varian knight. But all Mathias could hear was the beating of his own heart hammering hard against his chest and all he could seem to focus on was the victorious opponent before him.

Wulfric panted, pupils dilated from sheer excitement. This was almost like–

It. Isn’t. And that…was fine. There’d been a flash of a very distant ghost of past, but he’d dismissed it easily.

He stared almost transfixed at the blood beading on Larsen’s neck. The ferocity which had painted his features gradually lost its intensity. Slowly, he retracted his sabre. The mark he’d inadvertently left on the knight was– distracting.

However, any strange notions he might have had were dismissed just as swiftly. With one quick yet elegant motion, Wulfric finally sheathed his weapon. So did the knight. He looked up at the known-unknown man, really taking him in as his breathing normalized. Perhaps prompted by the knight’s expression, a faint but genuine smile formed upon the prince’s lips.

“This was an excellent match,” he remarked. “I should like to spar with you again.” Saying so, Wulfric offered his palm for a hand shake.

Mathias felt a sudden rush of pride wash through him when he heard those words. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.” He shook the other man’s hand and shook it firmly, adding a slight bow when he remembered that it was in fact the prince standing in front of him and not just any man. There was a renewed round of clapping and cheers as the two shook hands.

Before the match Mathias had been unable to take a close look at the prince. Now, being so close, he could see the softness of the prince’s face, a stark contrast to the face he’d seen during their duel.

He pulled back and waited for Wulfric to step down the stage first before following suit. “I’ll be at your service all summer.” Mathias said when they were under the tarp that had been set up, providing some shade to the duelists.

“If I may, your skill and precision is amazing.” The knight did not want to sound too excited. “And the speed in which you guard– it truly was an excellent match. I am most gracious to have been your opponent.”

Wulfric inclined his head, courteously accepting the compliment. “I appreciated your rhythm; a lesser man would have been overwhelmed from the outset.” A tiny smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. “Your movements were very smooth and clearly well practiced,” he reciprocated the knight’s assessment with one of his own. “Not to mention the force behind your strikes,” he added. He still felt their echo, but it was a good feeling.

“Indeed, I shall be looking forward to our next match,” the prince concluded.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N ♖ o u t f i t ♖ S O R I A N P A R K , 1 2 : 0 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

Zarai found herself staring at her reflection. Too tall and far too thin. Her chin elongated; it looked sharp enough to cut wood in half and leaned slightly to the right. Her arms were long like tree branches, skinny as if they could snap at any second. Her eyes, she could barely see them in her reflection they looked wrong. Zarai frowned at the unfamiliar reflection, raising her left arm and then her right to see if her reflection would do the same. They bent in her elbows inwardly as if she had broken them.

”Who finds this entertaining?" Zarai eyed her reflection one more time before she continued walking, leaving the house of mirrors behind them.

After the prince’s court, Zarai had Sir Barrios take her back to the guest house, knowing her mother wouldn’t be there, and switch back to her old dress but left Fritz’s work on her hair untouched. Duchess Lesdeman had a meeting with some uber-fancy schmancy businessman to buy property in Sorian. An estate that Zarai only knew about because she had been snooping in her mother’s office. A summer house? Winter home? Zarai could buy her own apartment in Sorian. Leave Puerto Vira and to whoever her parents decide to pass it to and live here. Change her name. She could be Liege Ariel Alvarado, a mysterious noble from faraway lands of Catalonia who sings in the taverns during their free time and is a bit of a lady killer. Or she could be Lord Loid of Lordshire or Lady Cassandra Castleton! Zarai needed to come up with better names for her alter egos.

"My Lady, where are we exactly going?" Sir Barrios spoke up from behind her. Since leaving the palace walls, he’d been glued to her like a parasite. Seemed like he did not want a repeat of today’s encounter with Fritz and Udo.

The thought of them was quickly forgotten.

"I promised my little princesita that I would come to find her once the court was over." Zarai glanced back at the knight, glaring at the empty chair he was still pushing around. "Sir Barrios, I thought I had said to leave that."

"Your mother ordered that I take it everywhere you go, " Sir Barrios gave the same reply he had given her fifteen minutes ago.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes, giving a breath of irritation as she picked up her skirts and sat on the chair. She sucked in air through her teeth and quickly motioned the knight to continue their search. If he was persistent in bringing the dammed chair, she might as well use it, not because it was getting painful to walk.

The steel wheels made it difficult to traverse through the grass, making the chair rattle with every step Sir Barrios took, and while it was far better than walking, it would take them long to find Anastasia. She couldn’t see anything aside from other people’s crotch areas and little kids running past her, some pointing to her and laughing.

Little shits, do it again, and I’ll trip you.

They walked around for a few more minutes, the sea of crotches walking past her as she craned her neck, trying to search for her friend. After a while, she gave up when the aching on her side became too much and sat back in the chair, looking for the dress Anastasia had worn instead. Twenty minutes had passed before Sir Barrios cleared his throat and stopped the chair on the side of a pastel yellow stand.

"My Lady, are you sure she is still here? She may have left already." Sir Barrios walked to the front of the chair. "The Princess may have gone on ahead to the Summer Horse Race; I am sure she will be there."

"Princesita wouldn’t do that." Zarai looked at him with a frown, "Besides, I promised her that I would find her here, and I do not intend to break my promises." She stood up slowly and ignored the knight's protests as she began walking again in search of Anastasia.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ P A R K O F S O R I A N , 1 2 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Lava Alckon@princess@Potter M E N T I O N S :

Nahir watched the cup closely as the woman moved them around effortlessly, the sound of the coins inside rattling with every move. It was clear she had been doing this for many years. She tried to keep an eye on the one with the most coins trying to partake in the game on her own.

Left one? She answered in her head, eyes trained on the cup until the woman lifted the middle cup revealing the bigger pile of coins. She gasped softly, eyebrows raised in a mixture of amusement and surprise as she clapped.

"Nicely done, dear cousin." Nahir shot him an encouraging smile, "Looks like that Alidasht intuition is hard at work." The game of luck had piqued her interest, and was now willing to try. Albeit, Nahir did not have the best of luck, and she doubted today would be her day. The shooting range is enough of an example. Still, there was no pride to lose or no need to show any sportsmanship to some lowly woodsman.

Her attention was ripped from the game and her cousin when she heard it— the distinct sound of a gunshot. More shots followed seconds after as Nahir tried to concentrate on the sound far enough to be passed off as nothing. It came from the direction of the Baazar or further away.

The beach? Vikena’s Estate or Damien’s? Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t the beach; Nahir had instructed Lady Bhatt to attend the fashion show in her steed later in the day if she could not make it. It would be a great disappointment and inconvenience if it were canceled due to the city’s poor crime management.

Sad to see such a beautiful city go to waste in the hands of the Danroses. Nahir turned back to the group, waiting to see if anyone else had noticed the noise.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ P A R K O F S O R I A N , 1 2 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Lava Alckon@princess@Potter M E N T I O N S :

The disdain on Farim’s face did not go unnoticed by Nahir, prompting her to slightly incline her head in his direction as a small apology. She wouldn’t bring up his father in his presence for the rest of the day, but she had to apologize to Princess Anastasia for his bloodthirstiness and lack of civility. It had been embarrassing to see him act in such a way with so many other royals and nobles around them.

Bratty man child. Was the last thought of her uncle as Farim greeted them with a smile.

Nahir stayed quiet while the others talked, an idle smile in place. She briefly glanced at Layla, wondering if her health had been poor throughout the night and morning. It would explain her absence during yesterday’s wagon ride and this morning’s little get-together with the king and queen.

"This cup game sounds fun, let us make our way there and enjoy the day! Sorian Park, look out, the Shehzadi have arrived~!"

It seemed like Farim and Anastasia's enthusiasm was contagious. "I saw a stuffed white bunny when I passed that game." There was a hint of excitement in her voice as she gently pulled at her sister’s arm and began to guide them to the stall. She let a smile slip through. Nahir would win that white bunny and place it in her atop the mount of pillows.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ P A R K O F S O R I A N , 1 1 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Lava Alckon@princess@Potter M E N T I O N S :

Nahir had stopped to look at a tall man, dark and muscled, pick up a large sledgehammer and swinging it above his head before hitting with the force of a bull straight down to a metallic contraption under him. A loud DING! ran throughout the crowd and soon after they began to cheer for him.

"That game seems like fun." Ece hummed, watching as a giant stuffed bear was handed to him.

"I don’t doubt that," Nahir replied, unsure which was more interesting. The game itself or the hunk of a man. Her amber eyes traced over the curves of his back, tracking every muscle as he turned around and their eyes met. Surprised, the man smiled at her and waved with a toothy grin. Nahir lifted her chin, giving him one last look over before turning on her heels and continuing down the row of stands. Behind her, Nahir heard Ece snicker.

”Sister Nahir. What a delightful surprise.” Nahir turned to look at the voice's source, her shoulders tensing under the emerald shawl that covered them. ”This is quite different from home, isn’t it?” A smile found its way to her lips, slipping her arm through Layla’s and hooking them with ease. She had not expected to see Layla at the festival, but it was a pleasant surprise. Not to mention, Nahir required some sister bonding time to gossip and ask for advice.

"It’s a welcomed change; I quite like it actually. It’s just missing fire-spitting and sword-swallowing acrobats.” Nahir always loved those. The thrill and danger that hung around the performers always excited her, filling her with anticipation that something might go wrong.

"Let's. Should we try a few of the games around? Some look interesting." She said before she caught sight of two familiar faces approaching them.

Their cousin Farim and Princess Anastasia joined them. Nahir tried not to laugh at their cousin’s hasty greeting. He looked panicked, nervous, and a bit out of breath. It reminded her of all the times they played as children, chasing each other through the main palace halls, servants at their heels, trying to stop them from accidentally falling. "Asalamu alaykum, dear cousin." She greeted him before turning to greet the princess.

"Asalamu alaykum princess. It is nice to meet you face to face, finally. I hope you feel better after this morning’s little scene." Nahir looked at Anastasia, offering a small sympathetic smile. "I would like to apologize for my uncle’s words. The man can get… emotional and a tad irrational when his family is threatened. Still, there was no need for such a show from him." She waved her hand, quickly dismissing that subject away. No need to sour their mood with the subject of impulsive and senseless men whose only solution to everything was violence.

"Shall we enjoy today’s festivities?" Her free hand motioned to their surroundings. "Princess Anastasia has prizes to win for us."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N ♖ o u t f i t ♖ S O R I A N P A L A C E , 9 : 3 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Inertia M E N T I O N S :

Thought it through? I doubt he is capable of any thought at all. Zarai thought for a second, her mind ready to tear down King Edin and spew out any and all insults she knew to him. Him as his slimy greasy forehead. That was until she saw his face, Zarai recognized the hesitation, the defeated look, the hopelessness in his voice. Auguste, much like her, was stuck in this situation with little to no say.

She tried not to, but Zarai shook her head when he mentioned he’d be fine with whatever pick his parents presented him with. "Don’t say that, or you might regret it, Your Highness." She cracked a smile, "What if they pick some ugly girl who is cruel and talks in nonsensical riddles? And worse of all," she leaned in, looking right and left before whispering, "what if she has two left feet and can’t dance?"

Zarai couldn’t blame him for his lack of response to her question; his tired eyes didn’t go unnoticed either. However, he better think of something seeing as she wouldn’t be the only one asking that.

"Stifling is one way of putting it," She agreed, smiling to let him know he wasn’t the cause of such a feeling. It seemed like they were both in the same boat and were just trying their best to stay afloat.

"If Your Highness has heard of my fencing, I must not be keeping it as secretive as I should have." Zarai’s mother had not said anything of the subject yet, and she wished to keep it that way. Of perhaps she had already found out and was fine with the sport. There were other women in fencing competitions, many from high noble houses like her own.

"I must apologize," Zarai’s smile wavered as she took a deep breath. "but I must be curt with you. My family has decided that I am now too old to be an unwed lady and wish me to marry. That is every parent’s wish for their children of course, but unfortunately, mine are evil, as you would understand—" oops "—because you’ve met them. So evil, right?" Nice save, Zarai. "Anyway, if I do not find a husband of my own by the end of this season, I will be forced to marry old stinky Lord Monet. I am serious about the stinky part. How, in the seven hells, does a man stink of wet dog and expired sausages simultaneously? On top of that, that man is weird. Apologies for the tangent, but you’re right, to the point. If you ever, for some reason, find yourself needing a woman to marry and don’t have a clue who, I do hope I cross your mind. I’ll be in the guest house. You know that didn’t have to tell you. " She picked at her nails, trying to keep her hands busy. "Could be an easy marriage, open if you would like. I don’t stink; I hope I don’t. My family has the money, the status, and the pedigree, if you guys are into that. Really, we’d be a good match. You like swords, I like swords. We both like swords. It could work out! " She stopped to take another breath, giving her just enough time to process the soup of words she had spewed out of her mouth. "Ah fuck." This was a mistake.

"I am so sorry, Your Highness. Please forget everything I just said." Zarai stood up from her chair, gave the prince a curtsy, and quickly made her way to the door. There, Sir Barrios stopped her and pointed to the wheelchair left behind. Zarai didn’t turn to look at it, instead ordered the knight to fetch it and left the room to wait for him outside and out of the sight of Prince Auguste.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N ♖ o u t f i t ♖(#1) S H O O T I N G R A N G E , 1 1 : 0 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S : @Heartfillia

"I bet two gold that he’s a bastard from a mistress." Mary whispered, leaning in closer to Mathias. "He is handsome, that little show he put on during the competition? Ugh, amazing. It’s a shame, really." She clicked her tongue, and Mathias shot her a glare. Taken back by such a harsh look, Mary pulled back and bowed her head.

Mathias flinched at Mary’s first statement, his eyes darting to the man. "We shouldn’t assume. Or stare." He turned his back to the group, walking to Lukas. The boy sat in one of the chairs with Verrick’s bow in his lap and eyes looking up at his father. His gaze soften seeing his son, a smile spreading over his lips as he knelt in front of the boy.

"Where do you want to go next? I heard there’s a festival in the park, or we could head for a play in the theater. Or maybe a " Mathias brushed some of the golden curls from Lukas’s forehead, ignoring the rush of cold over his back. It felt like someone had dumped a bucketful of ice water on him.

Lukas grinned, and Mathias couldn’t help but return it."The pa…park!" he exclaimed excitedly, his feet kicking in the air a bit.

"Very well," Mathias stood up, taking the bow and handing it to Mary, not bothering to look at her for now. He offered his hand to Lukas, and the boy took it without protest and hopped off the chair.

"Your lordship, a woman is approaching. One of Lady Damien’s guards, it seems."

Mathias turned around, glancing behind the woman to see Crystal walking away from Cassius and her father. He couldn’t catch the expression on her face but judging from the pace of her walk and the stiffness of her shoulders; he could tell she was upset. Understandably so.

”Lady Crystal regretfully has an appointment to keep. However, she wished to give this to you in person, but could not given the unforeseen interruption.”

Mathias looked back at the woman and hthen down at the book offered to him. He took it carefully, examining the worn-out edges and barely readable title on the spine. He remembered he had asked for a recommendation and this was it, ‘Sir Ivan Whittlock’s collection of Fantastical true Stories.’

” Her personal copy…”

He smiled, his thumb tracing over the cover and following the part of the simple pattern. "Will you tell her I said thank you?" He finally looked at the woman, furrowing his brows at the look she gave him. She turned around without another word and left, unsure if she had heard him.

"Scary." Mary muttered, looking at Mathias with wide eyes when he turned to face her. She bowed her head again, unsure if she had said something out of line again, but when he said nothing and began to walk, she followed quickly after.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ P A R K O F S O R I A N , 1 1 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

After the brief farewell with Lord Smithwood, Nahir stayed behind in the shooting range for a while longer to partake in one of her favorite hobbies; people watching. Caesonians had a way about them that set them apart from the Alidasht people that ever since Nahir first set foot abroad, she couldn’t quite place what it was. It could be the cooler weather.

A woman in bright-colored slippers and golden buckles laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the Shehzadi. She wore a dress with last season’s aqua blue, bright purple floral patterns, and pink lace. An eyesore amongst the nobility. The pearls and gems she wore around her neck and ears were indications enough to tell her that the woman had enough money to buy something that would not offend those around her. Nahir continued to watch her for a while longer, seeing how she laughed loudly, her head tilted back without fear of judgment. Of course, who would even judge her attitude when they were too busy looking at the mess that was her outfit.

“Is something the matter, Shehzadi?” Ece leaned in closer to Nahir.

“Those slippers.” Nahir gave a pointed look to the woman.

“Ah, they are quite-”

“Offensive to look at.”

“Shall I remove them from her feet, my lady?” There was a hint of amusement in the woman’s voice.

“I’d be best to remove the source altogether.” Nahir retorted sarcastically, rising to her feet. “Should we get going? I have to cleanse my mind of those sinful slippers.”

“Fashion district, Shehzadi?”

“Are you reading my mind, Ece?” Nahir smiled playfully at her lady-in-waiting as they approached the palanquin. The carriers bowed deeply when they saw the two ladies approaching them. Two of them pulled back the silk curtains and allowed Nahir to climb in.

Inside, Nahir sat gracefully on the pillows and leaned back, letting her shoulders slouch now that she was out of the public’s eye. She still couldn’t shake the woman’s face from her mind and those damned ugly slippers. Had they really been so ugly and offensive for her to act in such a way? Nahir shook her head, took one of her locs, and fiddled with the golden ring wrapped around it.

"Ece?"

"Shehzadi?" Ece approached the palanquin when she saw the look on her face. After years of being her lady-in-waiting, Ece had been slowly mastering the art of reading Nahir. It wasn’t as hard as she had first thought when they first met; it could also be that Nahir had grown to trust Ece.

"I’ve reconsidered; take me to the park. There’s a festival there." She had gotten the sudden urge to do something fun. Games and food sounded like the perfect kind.

Surprised, Ece nodded and forwarded the information to the four men. They bowed before picking up the palanquin carefully and began their way.

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The air around the park seemed lighter, more carefree, and a tad too unfamiliar to Nahir. She had never attended a festival like this during her stay here, and most festivals back home were out of the question for her. Unless it were necessary for her to attend, she’d opt out for a trip to the high end dress shops or jewelers.

Nahir watched as women, men, and children gathered around the various stands of food or games, huddled together, trying to catch glips inside. To her right, there was a stand of food selling fried foods, the air carried the smell over to her nostrils, and Nahir almost let her feet carry her to the stand. On the other side, she heard a woman announcing the sale of cucumber and mint sorbet.

"Shehzadi, should we keep going and find something better to eat?" Ece stood behind Nahir, watching anyone that got too close to her.

"Yes," Nahir approached the stand where the sorbet was being served into paper cones topped with two mint leaves on top as a garnish. "Actually, I would like one of these." She’d only ever cucumber in salads back home, so she wondered how it would taste in a sorbet.

The answer was good. Nahir happily scooped up a tiny amount of the green sorbet, trying to make it last longer as she slowly passed a few games. There was one stand with a decent crowd around it, where one had to shoot pallets from a musket and knock down wooden cups. Another where people would have to shoot a ball into a high-standing ring that Nahir thought might be fun. Still, she continued walking down the festival, searching for new foods to try.