The morning had been nothing short of a whirlwind. Violet’s room was a flurry of activity as maids scurried about, their arms laden with gowns of every conceivable fabric, cut, and color. Yet, gown after gown failed to meet her exacting standards. Her frustration grew with every rejected dress, her scarlet-red eyes narrowing as she surveyed the garments draped across her room.
“No, no... none of these,” she said, her tone sharp with impatience. Her hands swept through the air dismissively as yet another maid entered, presenting another option that would inevitably fail to impress. Time ticked away, but her decision remained elusive. Violet felt the weight of the moment—tonight was not just any evening. It was a gallery opening, true, but more importantly, it was her chance to make an impression on her date.
Finally, when all seemed lost, the maids revealed the last option: a black gown, a departure from the vibrant or pastel pieces she had been offered earlier. Her gaze lingered, drawn to its striking design. The plunging neckline exuded daring elegance, while the shoulders were adorned with intricate metal pauldron-style jewelry. Silver ravens were engraved into the polished metal, their wings spreading as though poised to take flight. Delicate chains draped from the shoulders, catching the light and adding an air of mystery. “Who designed this one?” Violet asked, her voice low and commanding as she stepped closer to examine it. Her confidence seemed to ignite the moment her eyes fell on the gown, a demeanor far bolder than her usual. She traced a finger lightly over the silver details, admiring the craftsmanship.
“Lady Violet I think you’ve made the right decision” her lady maid commented as Violet offered her a smile “and you’ve done a fantastic job. Thank you” she smiled.
The maids had outdone themselves. The dress, now perfectly tailored to her figure, hugged Violet's form in all the right places, the plunging neckline unapologetically revealing the scars that marked her chest. They weren’t hidden this time, as they so often were. Instead, they became part of her ensemble. The silvery glint of the metal adorning her shoulders caught the sunlight streaming through the carriage window, casting fleeting reflections on the walls inside.
Her hair was styled with meticulous care, long curls cascading down her back while one side was pulled back into an intricate braid. A silver raven pin secured the braid, tying the entire look together with an air of understated elegance and a nod to the artistry of her gown.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door was opened by an attendant, who extended a gloved hand to help her step down. Violet accepted the assistance with a soft smile, her crimson eyes glinting with confidence as she stepped onto the cobblestone drive.
Approaching the grand doors of the event, her eyes caught sight of Roman.
He stood with an air of effortless charisma, his ensemble bold and daring, a reflection of his artistic nature. The colors and textures of his outfit seemed alive, the details subtle yet commanding attention.
Their eyes met, and Violet couldn’t help but let a playful grin tug at her lips. She bit back a wider smile as she drew closer, the faint sway of the chains on her shoulders mirroring her steps.
“Lord Ravenwood,” she greeted, her voice velvet smooth, the hint of mischief unmistakable. Her eyes swept over him briefly, a glimmer of amusement lighting them. “You’ve certainly dressed to impress tonight. You look good.”
Location: Deacon Home Mention: Fritz/Ryn @JJ Doe, Calbert and Liliane Damien, Charlotte @princess, Roman @ReusableSword The dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes made the crimson of her irises almost glow, the contrast sharper under the dim light filtering through the carriage windows. She hadn't slept in what felt like days, and it showed. Every breath came ragged, and her body ached with the kind of exhaustion that gnaws at the bones. As the carriage jolted forward, the wooden wheels creaking beneath her, her head lolled back against the cold wall with a dull thud, but she barely registered the pain.
How was she going to explain this? The truth seemed too raw, too dangerous. A lie would have to suffice. She swallowed hard, the taste of copper still heavy on her tongue, the scent of blood clinging to her like a shroud. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she felt as though she'd been on a week-long bender, her mind clouded in the haze of some vicious hangover. But this was different. This was darker. There was no alcohol to blame, no substance to numb the guilt that festered within her. Only blood. Blood on her lips, on her conscience, and the horror of what had transpired last night clawing at the edges of her sanity.
She felt hollow.
The carriage came to a halt. Violet peered out from beyond the curtain to be greeted with the sight of Alexander's home. Shit..
Violet stepped out of the carriage with the driver's help who refused to make eye contact—likely trained in discretion. Her cape whipping behind her in the wind, Violet made her way up to the large door of the manor. Sucking in her breath she lingered for a moment, attempting to mask the truth.
Inside the Deacon's home were the couple she’d be faced with yet again. Their dynamic vexing yet wholesome.
“I believe she's arrived, my love. Violet Damien.” Lianna spoke from the dining table upon hearing the horseshoes clacking slowly against the cobblestone before coming to a halt. In front of her was one of her books inscribed with braille.
“Good to hear!” Alexander commented from atop the stairs. He descended wearing slacks, a stained white apron over a plain white shirt, and black socks. The apron carried splotches of black and shades of gray. “By the way, you were right.” Alexander made it to the base of the stairs before carefully removing the apron.
“About?”
“About time management. My schedule is beginning to constrict me.” Alexander carried the apron to the ground floor bathroom and tossed it into the bathtub for the time being.
“Of course it is! Vice President of the Black Rose Trading Company and Royal Advisor to King Edin Danrose.” She scoffed, but it was with a smile. Lianna was concerned about Alexander extending himself but was still awfully proud of what he could accomplish alone. He rarely trusted pawns and even the knights of Black Rose, preferring his tasks to be completed by his careful and reliable hands.
“And don't forget my most important duty. I am also the Husband of Lianna Deacon.” Alexander chuckled as he returned from the hall that led to the bathroom. His shirt was flawless minus a speck of red paint that ended up on his collar.
“How could I forget? Even more reason that you should slow down. Others can do what you're doing. This for instance. Does the girl really need this much attention? I say, give her the instructions on her new life and let her be on her way.” Lianna shrugged with a sigh.
“There lies the problem. No one can do what I do, and that is why I am where I am in life. Love, this girl is not a distraction, I promise. I’ll show you here and now.”
“I trust that you will but you can't intend to do everything!” There was a sharpness in her tone now.
“I can. I can if I con-” He nearly snapped back before a loud knock echoed through the entry. He sighed from being unable to finish his thought but he was also sure Lianna knew what he intended to say. Her brows furrowed with concern but she quickly returned to her book to quell her thoughts.
Alexander briefly watched his wife before he walked briskly to the front door. He thought Lianna’s visage would be the saddest thing he saw today but opening the door to find Violet in such an awful state cleared the competition quite easily. He tried to settle on only raising an eyebrow but his concern bled through, causing him to furrow his brow with concern.
“Oh Scarlett… Come in and take a seat. Wherever you like.” Alexander led Violet inside by the hand and shut the door behind her. “Coffee or tea? Or…” Alexander clenched his jaw as he realized how plausible the third option was. He instinctively analyzed the distance between Violet and Lianna.
Violet noticed the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but she chose to ignore it, smoothing her features into a soft smile instead.
"Tea would be lovely," she said, her voice warm and inviting. For a brief moment, her hand tightened around his, a subtle gesture meant to reassure him and to silently convey that all was well. Her appearance however still told another story. Alexander gave a brief scrutinous glare before giving an affirmative nod to her selection of beverage before making his way to the kitchen. As their fingers parted, she clasped her hands gently in front of her, her gaze drifting over the entrance hall. The space was elegant yet understated, with dim lighting casting soft shadows against the polished floors and the ornate details of the room catching her attention in quiet appreciation.
"I hope you and your wife have been well," she added. Lianna’s face twitched ever so slightly.
“We have been. Though, it seems Alexander has less time these days.” Lianna paused to allow Violet a moment to digest her words.
“Yes, I can imagine his schedule causes him to be away from home quite often. You must be proud of him though. He is quite the businessman from what I hear. With all these events and meetings I imagine many of these things keep him busy. My father was away from home a lot. I can only imagine how my mother must have felt with her home empty.”
“True, true. What’s most important is, how you have been, Violet. Any developments with either of the two boys?” Lianna asked almost too easily.
Her eyes shot to Alexander with a glare pausing for a moment before letting out a soft laugh “Well…I am sure you know how men can be at these courting events. Something new catches their eye and they are off to their next. I suppose that is half the fun of the courting season.”
Lianna chuckled, finding Violet’s answer rather amusing.
“It sounds like fun indeed. Unfortunately, I rarely had the opportunity to experience the courting season. I bet being a count’s daughter makes it far more adventurous. Then again… you can't really take advantage of that these days, can you?”
“I could take advantage of it, much like the other ladies this season,” she mused, her lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “But the truth is, I’ve never been one for those grand events. I attend them to please my family, to keep up appearances. Yet, deep down, I suppose I’m a romantic at heart.” Her gaze softened, eyes drifting over to Alexander entering with an entire tea set. She let out a quiet sigh before looking back at Lianna.
“I’d rather fall in love with someone naturally than be forced to mingle with people who see me as nothing more than a piece in a social game—more interested in my family's name than me.”
She gave a small, dismissive shrug, her fingers trailing absently over the edge of her gown. “Maybe it’s just not in the cards for me…” Her voice faltered, the weight of her words sinking in. But just as quickly, she composed herself, straightening her posture as if to shake off the vulnerability. “At least I have time,” she added.
“Yes but… Time is never an ally, Violet.” Her words held a slight bitterness to them. Lianna knew what it meant to have time to be an ever-looming foe. For her, it was a silent, slow-advancing siege weapon waiting to tear down her walls.
“How is it that time seems to be the theme of the day.” Alexander cut in as he prepared Violet’s tea on the opposite end of the table from Lianna. “You both discussed men, and courting and love and then you end up on the topic I can hardly stand at the moment.” Alexander complained with a playful smile on his face. “Violet, your tea is just about steeped. It should perk you up some before our little meeting.” “ Thank you” she smiled walking over to the tray to remove her cup. She held the warm glass in her hand, the warmth offering some comfort against her cold skin. “Forgive me” she added “You are right, there rarely is enough time. No sense is wasting ours on the subject.”
“Sit” Alexander urged.
Her eyes glanced up to Alexander as she sat down in the chair with her tea in hand. She sipped on the cup before placing it on the table. “Have you been into anything interesting lately Lady Lianna? Any new hobbies?”
“Hobbies? Alexander never told me you were such a comedian. Perhaps I misheard him say ‘obedient.' They do so sound similar don’t they” She laughed with a faked innocence. “But no, no new hobbies, Violet. All I need are my books… and my husband of course.”
“Notice how I come second, Violet?” Alexander purposely took a seat between the two women, as he could feel their slight tension. Their smiles were simply masks they were wearing for his sake.
“Well, books are far more enjoyable and a lot less disappointing than a man can be,” she joked sipping on her tea as she eyed the two of them. She hoped that favoring Lianna’s words would cause less strife however she could feel the tension building.
“Well…” she said, attempting to break the ice “I don't wish to intrude on any more of your family time with your wife. As Lady Lianna stated, she already sees you less and less. Shall we move on with whatever is it I’ve been summoned here for?” Her eyes glanced over to Alexander, her deep color bright crimson eyes begged him for an out. Alexander cleared his throat.
“Of course. I’m sure we all have things to get to. But first…” Alexander faced Violet with the utmost seriousness. “Is there anything you need to share with me specifically?”
“I promise not to take offense.” Lianna chimed.
“Nothing comes to mind, why do you ask?” She finished off her tea before setting the cup back down on the table. Alexander initially raised an eyebrow. He was actually surprised by Violet’s discipline. It figured it was either that or her patience with Lianna was waning.
“For any discretion but… forget I asked. Let's begin. Since last we spoke, I have acquired the duty of Royal Advisor to the king. For the next several mornings, I will be occupied with that at the castle. However, Scarlett, if you require a place to lay low or relax, Lianna will host you with open arms. She keeps to herself, so it'll be like having your very own abode,” Alexander explained assuredly while Lianna maintained a slight smile.
Her eyes widened slightly as she relaxed in her seat. “That’s quite the generous offer.” she said, still taken aback by his words. Blinking a few times a smile spread on her face “And… congratulation is in order. That is quite the position to hold. The king is not inherently trusting with just anyone from what I hear. Quite the honor for your family. That is very exciting.” She clasped her hands into her lap. “I appreciate your offer and opening your home to me. I would be delighted, a change of scenery is always welcome.”
“You know what you’d love most?” Lianna smiled now. “Admiring Alexander's paintings. Ooh, how I miss seeing them with my own eyes. Violet, if you thought he was talented in anything, it does not come anywhere close to his paintings. But he is rather messy, so he must do it all upstairs. I would never see the mess but I worry about our guests.”
“Alexander paints?” she echoed, making Alexander let loose a light sigh. “I would love to see them. I always enjoyed art. I feel most artists are a little chaotic with their craft.” She returned Lianna’s smile before looking over at Alexander. Her eyes noted a red stain on his white shirt. The vibrant red hue reminded her of … Her mind pulled her back before she sunk too far. She was still in the thick of her charade. She couldn’t falter now. “I used to sing a lot myself, mostly to my sister. It helped her sleep on those long travels we had. She grew so quickly and didn't seem to ask for it so I never continued it much after. Never been all that artistic though. Takes talent.” Her eyes glanced back toward Lianna “Do you remember which was your favorite? Perhaps if I'm lucky enough I could see it.”
“Hmm… I have two that I love more than the others. The first is an empty dance hall. It's not pretty and doesn't invoke much thought or discussion. It's just the place where he and I first met in its rawest form. No people to take away from it. The second painting is a pair of eyes reflecting a lovely flame. It's beautiful. Hmmm.” “What is it?” “I think I’d like some time to myself.” Lianna admitted before unlocking the wheels of her wheelchair. She rolled back from the table and started toward the hallway before stopping in place. “I’ll take you the rest of the way.” Alexander stood up and pushed his wife to her room, leaving Violet at the table all by her lonesome.
Watching them leave her sight Violet sat in the dining room alone. Her eyes glanced over to where Lianna once sat, seeing her stack of books and half-finished tea cup that sat, getting cold. She looked back over towards where they left before standing up and walking around to the books. The pages were lined with raised dots on the pages. Her fingers reached out slowly to touch the page, her fingers gliding over them feeling them against her fingertips. She wondered what kind of secrets the pages held.
She pulled her hand back collecting the tea cup in her hand. She looked down at it, the liquid in the cup reflecting a red hue …
There was so much blood.
“I don’t believe you can read those” Alexander suddenly returned wearing a smile. “How’s the tea?” He asked as he returned to his seat.
Startled out of her thoughts Violet's crimson eyes focused on him as she let out a nervous laugh “No…Sorry, I was cleaning up the cups and seemed to get distracted.” She moved around returning both hers and Lianna’s cup to the tray. “It was good, thank you again.” She smiled at him before returning to her seat as well.
“Splendid!” Alexander placed an elbow on the table while resting his cheek against his fist. “I take it, you met with the count. How was it? I know he’s still breathing but were you able to quench your thirst?” The man spoke as if he was discussing something so trivial, his tone light and relaxed.
Sitting there she stared at him with disbelief. What could she expect from him, sympathy? Empathy? Concern? Violet let out a soft chuckle but there was no humor on her face. “It went as well as you likely expected it would.” She replied her tone was cold and brash. Different from how they had been talking with his wife present. “How was tucking the king into bed?” she asked mocking his demeanor “Did you make sure to get him a hot glass of milk too?”
Alexander let out an unamused sigh, yet his smile remained. Reminding him of that first meeting did not conjure up the best of memories, specifically the milk. It was a good thing he was wearing his ring right now.
“Well, unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to work with him during the late hours. However, breakfast in bed was nice. You can't beat food, comfort, and companionship.” He jested.
“And, just a friendly piece of advice… Be honest with me. I am not seeking perfection from you, Scarlett. Let go of the shame and doubt. It's just us two.” He reached out his free hand to her, flexing his fingers as an invitation to take it.
Her eyes glanced down to his outstretched hand. She lingered for a moment. Part of her didn't want to take it but the other did. His friendly pieces of advice weren't always so friendly.
Her hand slipped slowly into his as the other rested on the table “What would you like me to say?” She asked her eyes glancing up at him as she felt his soft fingertips under her own. “You knew what I was walking into. He's alive and has the information you requested. That's all that matters.” She said pointedly. Surprisingly, he flashed a toothy grin.
“You think too highly of me. If I knew, I wouldn't ask.” He admitted as his hand grasped hers firmly. “And that's not all that matters, Scarlett. Come here.” There was a slight pull from his hand as he sat up. “I can tell you're holding back. You know I won't bite.” His fangs popped and retracted for effect while her brows furrowed at the terrible joke.
Offering little resistance, Violet went into the pull standing from her chair she stood in front of him. Their hands were still interlocked. “I know…it's a shame,” she joked, flashing her own toothy smile down at him in response. She remembered just how vile her blood tasted to him.
She relaxed her shoulders as she dropped the act she held onto for so long. Her darkened eyes looked into his “I can't control myself,” she admitted softly. Her terrifying truth failed to shake Alexander.
“Sit with me,” he offered softly as he pulled gently toward him while adjusting himself in his seat. With little thought, she sat down on his lap with him comfortably holding her. The act appeared to be more nurturing than sensual, though it was not without a touch of intimacy. The space between them had been erased.
“You can conquer this… It just takes a heavier hand. But first I must ask, would you condemn others for it?” Violet's eyes moved to look at him, her expression reflecting one of confusion.
“Going into murderous blackout rages?” She glanced away from him. “I suppose not. It’s not supposed to be this hard though…not by what I’ve read. So someone gets a papercut and I’m just going to have them for a late-night snack?” She let out a frustrated sigh. “How am I expected to lead a normal life?”
“It’s a unique situation but there has to be some sort of remedy. Something to tip the scales back to being even. Perhaps we need to discover how much you need to consume in one sitting. Have you ever had enough? Like the man in the alley or the stable boy, Darryn?” Alexander pondered if it could be a psychological issue, like an addiction he’d seen in users of opium. Marek came to mind.
“I don't think I’ve gone long enough to know the answer to that.” Darryn? So he had a name… she thought to herself. “ I’ve never felt…satisfied I suppose. At first, it seemed to help my body just function. I've been too afraid to see what happens if I don't. I’d rather not use a cane again.” She shrugged her shoulders “The minute I smell it, see it…It's like these claws just appear from the shadows and pull me into a pit. I end up coming too after everything is done and I’m stuck cleaning up a frenzied mess.” “You blackout?” Staring at her seriously, he questioned what such a thing could mean. He had so many questions and knew of no source of information that could provide the answers for him. None except Violet.
“Did it occur the night we met? It couldn't have. You fought so hard against feeding.”
“No it didn’t.” she said slightly defeatidly. “After that night things got better but I started losing myself slowly each time I smelt blood. At first, I could handle it but It happened one night with the man in the street. Roman found me passed out in an alleyway. then once again with him when I accidentally bit him. I felt it coming so I fled. Then last night with Fritz.” She took in a breath “I’ve become a shut-in worried that something mi-.”
“Shhhh…” Alexander looked at the opened palm of his hand. “Show me.” He simply said before he removed his ring.. Violet's breath hitched in her throat as her eyes watched him place his ring on the table. “Any blood should work, I think.” Alexander presented the space between his thumb and forefinger up to Violet’s face. “Go ahead. I want to see it.” He couldn't hold back his slight smile.
“What? No.” She said firmly slapping his hand away. “Don’t be stupid, I barely made it out after what happened last night.” She looked at him with frustration “Why even suggest it?” Alexander only sighed and shook his head at her, obviously frustrated.
“Firstly, it wasn't a suggestion. Secondly, I’m not interested in you right now.” Alexander popped his fangs and bit into his hand. The moment he broke the skin, and displayed the bleeding wound in all its glory. “Hmm, Let’s see who comes out.”
Her eyes darted to his bloodstained hand, pupils dilating as the metallic scent hit her senses. It wasn’t as rich and intoxicating as Lord Fritz’s, lacking that almost sweet allure. Instead, this blood carried a sharper, more acidic tang, yet it still stirred something primal within her, a darkness that coiled and writhed with anticipation. Her chest rose sharply as she inhaled deeply, the rush of temptation overwhelming her. Without thinking, her hand shot up, fingers curling around his wrist in a desperate attempt to push him away. Her grip was unsteady, trembling with the strain of holding back, each tremor betraying the raging war inside her.
Her crimson eyes locked onto the drops of blood that slowly slid down his skin. The world around her blurred, the sounds and sights fading as if swallowed by the haze of her growing hunger. She couldn’t tear her gaze away; her body shuddered as the last remnants of resistance crumbled. His hand moved to her lips with sudden, ravenous speed, and her fangs emerged, sharp and ready, tearing through her restraint as easily as they pierced his flesh. She bit down hard causing him to wince, the warm blood rushing into her mouth, flooding her senses with a heat that made her pulse race. Each swallow brought a dizzying rush, her body trembling as the darkness within her reveled in the feast. All the while, Alexander grinned uneasily from both the pain and satisfaction of giving her what she craved.
It burned as it went down. The foul taste of his blood was almost nauseating yet she couldn’t stop. Her hand gripped tighter around his wrist while the other wrapped around his fingers as the blood dripped down the corner of her mouth. She’d take the free and easy meal.
...
…
… But hen came sudden pressure from Alexander's forefinger and thumb against her cheeks. The force of his grasp was enough to force her jaw open to release her bared fangs from his hand. Her jaw was unlatched with near ease as she felt a sudden confusion in the darkness. The sour taste of his blood still in her mouth as she struggled to swallow it down.
“Ah, how this brings a new meaning to ‘biting the hand that feeds you’,” Alexander commented before forcefully shoving Violet from off his lap. “Now, are you able to speak or are you some sort of mindless beast now, Scarlett?” He asked, standing up and rolling his shoulders to prepare for the confrontation.
Violet wiped the blood from her lips slowly with the back of her hand, savoring the lingering taste of his blood as she rose to her feet with deliberate grace. Her eerie grin widened, the red in her eyes glowing brighter as she locked her gaze on Alexander, her voice a low, mocking purr.
"Oh, darling Alexander," she cooed, her pout quickly shifting into a wicked smile. "If I'm a beast, it's because you’re the one who freed it." Alexander’s eyebrows raised in awe. He had his guesses but he wasn't completely sure he'd uncover this from Violet. It was but a gamble. She took a slow step toward him, eyes gleaming with menace, her voice dripping with contempt.
"I could speak, yes... but why waste my words on someone so deliciously insignificant?" Her eyes flickered toward his wound, blood still fresh, a dark hunger playing across her face. "You really should be more careful with your blood. It’s hard to stop once I've had a taste. Though I can’t say I quite enjoyed it. It was rather ‘vile’," she mocked with her smile growing sharper and more predatory. “But I’ll be sure to make the next bite more memorable.”
“Oh really?” Alexander chuckled and peered up toward the gods. He felt that they had both humored and blessed him today. Returning to her gaze he stifled a second chuckle. There was not an ounce of fear in him. He absolutely loved this. “Who are you? You are not the young woman I know.” Though he smiled, he was prepared for things to become violent. He had so many questions but had no clue how long this whole thing would last. She tilted her head back, laughing softly, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed in the dark. Her eyes flickered with malice as she stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring its cornered prey.
“Who am I?” She echoed mockingly, her voice dripping with venom. “Oh, Alexander... I’m exactly who I’ve always been.” Alexander took note of her words but hardly believed them to be true.
Violet straightened her posture, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she eyed his wound once more. “And don’t flatter yourself—your blood was hardly a delicacy. But next time...” She sucked the remaining of his blood from her fingertips, her eyes glowing with sinister intent. “... Well there won’t be a next time.” Her eyes looked up to his again.
“Cutting your hand…Tossing me off your lap like trash” she scoffed. “You’re lucky I don’t finish…And with your wife down the hall.” She interlocked her fingers in front of her, resting them against her dress, the wicked grin still present on her face “What would she think of this mess you’ve made?”
“She’ll think whatever I tell her, Scarlett.” Alexander shrugged before he started walking toward her. Violet’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, simmering fury as Alexander spoke. Her eyes narrowed at the name "Scarlett,” the tension in the room thickening as he closed the distance between them. “Forgive me for the push. I didn't know what I was going to get. I still don't know what I have now.” He stopped with only a foot between them. “But I think I admire this version of you but why make… Violet? We’ll call her that. Why make Violet suffer? This bloodlust is obviously just you trying to stretch your legs. I theorize that the more blood you drink, the longer you remain as this.” Alexander then offered his bloodied hand.
“I would rather lick the dirt off the bottom of your shoe than taste you again.” Her eyes looked up at him.
“You think you can shape the truth to your liking?” she spat, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. “You underestimate me, Alexander. Violet doesn’t suffer because of some petty bloodlust—she suffers because I allow her to. She is a cage, and when I decide to break free, it’s not just for a taste of blood.” Her eyes flicked to his hand, contempt flashing across her face as she took a deliberate step toward him, erasing the space between them. Alexander maintained his composure, unintimidated, despite her closeness. Instead, sinful thoughts polluted the corners of his mind.
“And you theorize?” she mocked, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “You don't know a damn thing about what I am.” Her gaze dropped to his bloodied hand, “This... version of me? She doesn’t just stretch her legs. She devours.” She leaned in closer, her breath chilling against his skin.
“Does she?” He leaned in and pulled her even closer, his forehead pressing against hers. “I’m not here to argue with you.” He whispered. “I only wish to know you. To understand you. My caged monster.”
She echoed his words, her voice a low, velvety purr dripping with mockery.“Your caged monster?" Her tone was both cruel and amused, as though she were humoring a child with a delusion far too grand for him to grasp.
Shifting from his face, she leaned in, close enough that her lips nearly brushed his ear, her fingers trailing down his jawline like the touch of a predator toying with its prey. Her nails grazed his skin, a whisper of danger, before she pulled back just as quickly, her gaze sharpening with malice.
"Is that what you think I am?" Her expression twisted into contempt as she stepped away from his grasp, unamused by his pathetic attempt to charm her. There was a brief grimace from Alexander as she denied him.
"Let me be clear," she continued, her voice sharp as a blade, each word cutting through the false intimacy he tried to create. "I am not yours. I am no one's."
"Your pathetic charade of interest—" she spat, "bores me. It's hollow. Empty. Play your party tricks on someone more gullible."
You do not cease to amaze me. Threatening, sure. Dangerous, likely. There's so much resentment. What soothes you, tender wound?
Violet stopped, her gaze locking onto him, eyes gleaming with a sinister promise. "With Lord Fritz now under my consignment you'll be seeing much more of me I am sure." Her lips curled into a cold smile. "Violet can’t keep denying me much longer. She’s already faltering. I spent much of her evening creating havoc in her mind; she didn’t take it too well."
“That explains the appearance… And your end goal? Drive her mad? Make her take her life? Seems rather short-sighted and small-scale. I’m curious.”
She grinned. “It's much simpler than that. Eventually, I will gain control, over time and slowly. It's for her good in the end. Taking her life is so …” She thought for a moment. “Cheap. No … I am simply here to protect her. You see my former self is gullible.” She paused, her eyes searing into him. “Though you have figured that out already with your gentle hand and soft words until what? You’re bored of her? You decide to attempt to dispose of her?” She smirked, wiggling her finger toward him before relaxing them at her side. “Not happening. My former self is a dreamer, a romantic … a shadow often unseen. Sitting in corners keeping to herself because heaven forbid she gets in someone's way. Little good that did for her. A silent assassin, mistaken identity….a replacement.” Her words ended with a bite as her eyes locked back onto Alexander. “She was so afraid of becoming a monster but that fear opened the door for me to exist.” She noticed that she had wiped the smile off of Alexander's face. His expression could only be described as unamused.
“You hardly make any sense.” Alexander returned to his seat and adjusted it so he could face her. “You want to protect her by taking her over? Come on, you can't care about her if you're tormenting her like you do. You just want her body, which is well and fine. It's quite a lovely one to have.” He grabbed a napkin from off the table and placed it against his bite wound. “I’m curious about what you'll do once you achieve such a thing. It can't just be for drinking blood the way you do.”
Turning, Violet pressed her back against the wall. She looked at him with softer eyes. “That is the point. You’re not supposed to understand. I don't torment her for sport or fun, it's a lesson.” She offered him a toothy grin before retracting her fangs. "I suppose that is something you will just need to find out. I can’t give away the ending to a story. It would spoil it.”
Pushing herself up from the wall, Violet walked around the table beside him, she reached for a napkin off the table, and dipped it deep into a water glass. Extending her hand out she offered to take his wounded hand. " Regardless of what I do, she fights me on it when it comes to you.”
“Who else does she really have?” He offered up his hand.
“Me,” she replied as the wet cloth soaked up the dried blood between his fingers. She moved the cloth over the wound.
“This. This moment we are having right now together only proves my worth to her livelihood. Unexpected, yes, but not regrettable,” he spoke solemnly.
"I think you cheapen it. She doesn’t choose this out of desperation, or out of pure survival. She is happy with her books. Loneliness isn’t something she fears. She grew up with its miserable company. Seclusion is her comfort.”
Wrapping the cloth around his hand she tied it off to hold the pressure, her hand moved to his face her fingers dragging along his jaw before gripping onto his chin. Moving his head with her hand forcing him to look up at her she stood comfortably between his legs. "You notice her body, You find excuses to meet with her and even take her under your employment.” Her fangs reappeared as she grinned, leaning down above his face, her deep red eyes scanning his as her fingers tightened slightly on his chin. Alexander remained ever stoic as she made him face her. "Just how she, while tired and exhausted, runs to your calls.”
Her eyes narrowed in. This time without invite, she sat back down into his lap releasing his chin from her grip "What is it exactly that you want with me darling Alexander…” Her voice dropped with a sultry whisper. "Your life leaves little time for much but yet you continue to make room for her. Why?”
“Just company and keeping her from undoing herself… Why can't it be that simple? I haven't asked her to compromise herself in any way in the short time I’ve known her. I could do it. I’m sure you know she'd listen to me.” He sighed. “My life is merely extra time afforded to me and I'm quite fine with using all of what I have left now. I do what I must and achieve what I desire.”
"Sounds more like survival than living” Violet leaned back against him in the chair ”You make it sound so bleak. You do what you must and achieve what you desire yet somehow manage to fit Violet within that for company and babysitting? Doesn’t sound simple at all.”
“I make it look good, I guess.” Alexander shrugged with a confident smirk.
The darkening of her mind was fading, the fingers of darkness that held her down were wavering, and Violet's demeanor was already calming back down. "Sounds untruthful, actually, whether it's to me or yourself. That has yet to be seen.” She started to get up from out of his lap standing once again between his legs as she leaned against the dining table. “And she would listen to you…that’s the problem.”
“It’s not a problem if she benefits from my guidance. You probably only see it as control. Another cage perhaps.” He stared up at her. “The real question I've been wanting to ask is… What is it that you want from me? Something to assure you that I am no threat to your well-being… or something else?”
Violet's grin spread slowly across her face, sharp and mischievous, revealing the faint glint of her teeth. "Where would be the fun in telling you?" She teased, her tone laced with challenge. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in slightly, savoring the tension. "I guess that's something you'll need to find out for yourself."
But as the last of her words slipped from her tongue, Violet's mind began to shift. The darkness, once a comforting shroud, started to recede, and a wave of discomfort washed over her. Her grin faltered, and her lips twisted into a cringe, her expression souring. She blinked rapidly, a sudden feeling of unease crawling up her spine. Alexander managed a wicked smirk.
"What... is that?" she murmured, her voice soft, laced with confusion. Her eyes darted around the room as if seeking something tangible to explain the sudden shift. Her gaze landed on the half-empty glass of water she'd abandoned earlier on the table. Desperate for clarity, she reached for it, her hand trembling slightly as she brought it to her lips.
She drank deeply, the cool water rushing down her throat, but it offered no relief from the taste of his blood in her mouth. Instead, a grimace twisted her features as the taste hit her. "Is this what I tasted like?" she muttered, disgusted, her brow furrowing. "It's awful..." She swallowed hard, her stomach churning as she downed another large mouthful, trying to rid herself of the lingering bitterness. Each gulp only made it worse, the unsettling sensation settling deeper into her gut. Her eyes glanced over to the silently observing Alexander who sat in the chair, looking around the room then back to him. Her face softened, unaware of what just happened. Pushing herself she moved away from the table to sit back down in the chair across from him.
“You seem to be having some sort of complication,” Alexander commented calmly as he rose from his seat and started walking from the table.“To think water can taste so foul to you. So interesting.” He disappeared into the kitchen while humming away.
Violet looked around confused, The taste in her mouth was so strong and she remembered Alexander cutting his hand then just…nothing. Had she imagined it? She touched her lip idly pulling away expecting to see blood but there was nothing. Her red eyes lingered on her fingers for a moment, trying to force some kind of thought or memory but still there was just nothing. She began to feel uneasy. Her red eyes moved toward the direction Alexander left until she relaxed back into the chair. Maybe it was nothing.
Except, Alexander returned with a grin and a small vial in his hand filled with dark red liquid. On it was an off-white label with the letter “V” scrawled on it.
“Huh, am I too late?” The puzzled look on Violet's face told him everything he needed to know. He returned to his seat. “I guess I’ll enjoy this myself.” He raised an eyebrow as he held the vial up from its bottom.
Violet’s breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening as she froze, eyes fixed on the vile before her. Blood. The word slithered through her mind, a sinister whisper laced with laughter. The darkness within her stirred, coiling with twisted delight, gnawing at her mind like a creature long deprived of satisfaction.
"Too late?" she echoed, her voice a faint rasp. Her gaze lingered on the vial, an object of both terror and temptation, its presence dizzying. She could feel the darkness pressing closer, closing in, swimming in eager anticipation as her mind swayed, balance slipping beneath her. The voices swelled, an uproar of desperate claws raking through her thoughts, dragging her down, drowning her.
“And she returns.”
"It would be rude of a host to not offer their guest refreshments," she purred, her tone low and dangerously playful.
“Of course but your host has a stipulation. I promise to be fair. Something small for something small. It’ll serve to benefit both of us as well.”
"Go on.." she motioned her hand as she leaned against the chair. “You and I are in agreement. You're obviously what's best for yourself.” He flashed her a toothy grin. “I just think you’d do better if you contained yourself a tad. You need Violet to feed but you make her fear doing so. In short, drink less in one sitting and she'll be more willing to accept letting you take control. She won’t fear killing her friends and associates. Meanwhile, I'll ensure she accepts the blackouts as she experiences them. Eventually, she won't even fight against you. She'll trust you even.”
Sitting in silence Violet allowed his words to sink in. Her red eyes narrowed in on his toothy grin as she matched his with her own. "Interesting stipulation." She tilted her head to the side "What do you get out of this exchange? Why are you so concerned about what’s best for me?" She pouted dramatically. “It’s been so fun. It better be a good one."
“Simple. I already agreed to walk beside you on this path, so it's only right that I make this war against yourself a short one.” Alexander held out the vial to her. “There are few vampires left. We should cooperate when we can.”
She let Alexander’s words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the faint taste of manipulation, the thrill of his calculated offer. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm she leaned against, each tap echoing her thoughts. She tilted her head even further, studying him. With a slow, almost lazy gesture, she reached for it,
"You’re full of plans, Alexander," she murmured her voice now a playful whisper. She moved the vial between her fingers as if it were a flat coin as the thick liquid moved in a mesmerizing dance. Her eyes moved from the vial to his. "If you make me regret my decision." She smirked sitting back up in her chair "Well… let's hope that doesn’t happen." She paused "You have yourself a deal. No more tormenting, I will save my fun. For now."
“Really? So you do have a soft spot for me.” Alexander wore a devilish grin. “Now, Scarlett, what do you plan to do with that added time in your grasp?” Alexander kept his eyes on hers, those red orbs that entranced him. In truth, he wanted to dissect her in so many different ways.
She tilted her head slightly, her red eyes glinting. "What I plan to do with this 'added time'… Well, let's just say I've never been one to waste a good opportunity."
She shrugged "Maybe I will spend it tormenting you instead. Who knows…" She leaned back, still twisting the vile between her fingers. ”Fritz was quite the interesting character…Something unseen there, perhaps he may be fun, plus he offers himself so freely. How could I say no?” She shrugged again as if sharing a personal intrusive thought. Alexander simply shrugged back, seemingly unbothered.
“I’m still surprised you trust him but do what you must. If you have no need for me, just say so and I will get back to painting.” His eyes remained on hers, anticipating her reply.
“Trust is not a word I would use associated with Lord Fritz.”
Alexander nearly smirked at Violet’s comment but strangely, he winced unexpectedly with a groan. What is it that you desire, my love? He managed to shoot Violet a charming smirk but her eyes scanned him after his odd behavior.
“You should get back to your painting…” She eyed him suspiciously before gripping the vile and sitting up. “I trust you will give Lianna my regards…”
“Of course. Of course, Scarlett. Before you go… May I speak to Violet before you go? I need her ear.”
It didn’t take long for her walls to fall as Violet looked around blinking. First down to the vile in her hand then back up to Alexander. She felt as if she had fallen asleep for a moment likely due to her lack of rest the night prior. “I’m sorry…I didn’t get much rest last night. Don’t feel myself today.” she admitted rubbing one of her eyes with her free hand. Alexander stifled a chuckle.
“You couldn't have said that better. Do you truly believe you fell asleep and conjured that vial in your grasp? A woman with a magic touch?” Alexander teased with a joyful smile. Violet blinked again, her fingers tightening around the vial in her hand as if to assure herself it was real. The teasing tone in Alexander’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, but she was too tired to muster much of a retort. The tone of her following words was light, but there was a hint of weariness that couldn’t quite be hidden. Still, Violet’s eyes narrowed slightly, her sharpness returning even through the fog of tiredness.
“Next time you think you’ve caught me unaware, do try a bit harder. I don’t need a magic touch to notice a cruel joke. I’ll do better to inform myself of the events during a blackout that I have full control over.” The sarcastic tone in her voice was not usual for Violet, a hint of Scarlett biting back at him to remind him she wasn’t gone. It even wiped the smile from his face, forcing him to put some more thought into his next move.
Patience. Patience is the answer. I am far from sated but all that I have learned today will have to do.
Her gaze lingered on Alexander for a moment longer than necessary, and though her expression softened just a touch, the sharpness never quite left her eyes.“Do you still require me or am I free to get some rest.”
“Rest.” He smiled. “And… Don't let your fears keep you from it. Don't let your fears keep you from that either. Do drink it soon or it’ll spoil.” Alexander nodded toward the vial in her hand before looking into her eyes. She gave him so much to think about and to think he was a man already pressed by time.
Standing, she straightened up and offered him a nod paired with a soft, fleeting smile. Her fingers tightened around the vial in her hand, its glass cool and smooth against her palm. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice low and restrained. Turning on her heel, she made her way toward the front door, her steps steady but carrying an air of detachment.
Her crimson eyes darted around briefly, taking in the familiar surroundings as her grip on the vial faltered slightly. The letter “V” etched into its surface caught the light, its significance heavy in her mind as she descended the steps outside.
The crunch of gravel underfoot was accompanied by the carriage’s movement to a spot closer to the home’s walk path, the clatter of hooves breaking the quiet. Yet her focus remained on the vial, her gaze fixed as if the small object held the answers to an unspoken question.
With deliberate care, she pulled the cork free, and the potent, metallic scent of blood hit her nostrils with a force that could have been overwhelming—but it wasn’t. The darkness she often battled didn’t stir. It neither mocked nor consumed her. Instead, she tipped the vial, letting the thick, crimson liquid spill out. It splashed into the dirt at her feet, pooling there like a forgotten offering.
Slipping from her grasp it fell to the ground with a muted thud. Without hesitation, her foot came down hard, crushing the fragile glass beneath her shoe. A sharp crack pierced the air as the shards crumbled to near dust, mixing into the earth below. Within moments, the remnants were swallowed by the dirt, rendered nearly invisible.
Violet peered over her shoulder one more time before stepping into the carriage.
Ariella paced barefoot through the woods, the cool earth clinging to her feet and leaving a faint trail of disturbed dirt behind her. Her usual carefree glow, the lighthearted energy that often radiated from her, had faded into something distant and strained. Worry etched itself deeply into her features, her furrowed brow and the way she bit her lip betraying the weight of her thoughts.
The early part of the afternoon had been a pleasant distraction. She had spent it with Lorenzo, learning the subtleties of gardening and the intricate language of plants. His knowledge was vast, and his patient explanations had given her a new appreciation for the natural world. Together, they had shared techniques, ideas, and quiet moments of camaraderie, and Ariella found herself savoring his company as much as the knowledge he imparted.
For a few days, the simplicity of working the soil and tending to plants had offered her a welcome reprieve from the heaviness she carried. But as the sun began its descent and the forest around her darkened with the golden hues of late afternoon, that weight returned with a vengeance. It was an invisible, unrelenting pressure pressing down on her chest a feeling she couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore.
Her pacing quickened as her thoughts swirled, tangled and unresolved. Despite the warmth of the memories she had made with Lorenzo, something deeper loomed in her mind, a shadow that refused to be shaken. Something had changed.
The day Callum spoke about, finding the shadowed figure and something else. She could feel it. Her toes dug deeper into the dirt as she crouched down, holding onto her legs as her arms wrapped around them holding onto herself tightly. Her eyes shut as she relaxed her body listening closely.
"Arielllllla..."
"Ariella..."
The voice was faint, but it sliced through the din of her thoughts with an eerie clarity. Her eyes flew open, her pulse quickening as she instinctively braced herself against the ground. One hand caught on the thick dirt, grounding her as she scanned the woods with a frantic gaze. But there was nothing no movement, no figure in the shadows. Only the whispering trees and the soft rustle of leaves carried by the wind.
The sound had felt so real, so close, as if her name had been plucked from her soul and spoken aloud. Yet, she was alone. Swallowing hard, Ariella shifted, lowering herself onto her knees. Her palms pressed firmly into the earth, as if anchoring herself to something solid might steady the sudden storm of unease inside her. The cool soil grounded her, its rough texture pressing into her skin a reminder of where she was—here, in the woods, surrounded by the hum of nature.
She drew in a slow, deliberate breath, her chest rising and holding the air until it almost burned. Shutting her eyes, she let her other senses sharpen. Her ears strained to pick up even the faintest sound, her body attuned to every vibration around her. The forest seemed to still in response, its usual symphony of life fading into a quiet that was almost unnatural. All she could do now was listen—listen for the voice that had spoken her name, listen for the wind to carry its secrets once more.
Ariella…..
Ariellaaaaaaaaa….
The voice continued to call to her, speaking her name in only whispers on the wind. The voice continued to call out to her, its voice dark and melodic. What was calling her? She had felt a shift, she knew something had changed. Her connection to the earth tilting on its balance. Something was coming and it wanted her.
Ari’s eyes opened slowly as she felt the chill in the air tickle her skin with anticipation. She pulled the Starcatcher book in front of her. She looked down at the book with bated breath as her fingers fiddles nervously on her lap. The protection spell on Callum had worked, the effigy she had made was burned and dusted in soot. She found it when she first came to her little hideaway. Thankfully it hadn’t caught fire or many of her books would have gone in flame. She picked it up in her hand as it laid idly beside her, parts of Twiggs falling and crumbling in her hand. What kind of magic had he unleashed that caused the spell to trigger? She looked down at the idle inquisitively before setting it back down.
Opening Star Catcher, she landed on a page she had been attempting to try for what felt like years. Nervous, something holding her back from knowing, Ari stared down at the page with apprehension.
Interpreting Your Magicae
“Be aware that magicae can change as your ambitions and life circumstances evolve. Regular self-reflection and personal growth can influence your magicae over time.” Ari read out loud as her finger trailed across the page of the book.
Ariella’s gaze remained fixed on the book as if the answers might leap from the pages into her mind. She took the tome in her hands, the weathered leather binding cool against her fingertips, and rose to her feet. Crossing the short distance to the creek that bisected her secluded camp, she knelt beside the water, her skirts brushing against the soft earth.
The creek was narrow but deep, its crystalline surface reflecting the flicker of sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above. At around four feet deep, it was just enough to immerse herself while keeping her head comfortably above the surface. She ran her fingers over the text again, mentally checking off the necessary details.
The book had advised bringing a second person to assist in the ritual, but Ariella dismissed the idea with a quiet sigh. Trust was a rare commodity in her life, and while Cal would have been her first choice, he had been unusually preoccupied. He’d spent time with her recently, reminiscing about the chaos of her brother’s party and laughing over her mother’s antics. Yet even those moments of levity had been tinged with the weight of his responsibilities. His mention of a looming meeting with the Queen and warnings about the growing fear of magic had left her unsettled.
The threat of hunts returning made this endeavor all the more risky, but the idea of joining a coven was too alluring to resist. If she were to find a place among them, she needed to be prepared. Ariella glanced at the shimmering water, her reflection rippling back at her, and set her jaw with quiet determination. This was a risk she would have to face alone.
Ariellaaaaa...
There it was again—that inexplicable sensation tugging at the edges of her consciousness, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. The air grew heavier, prickling her skin with a chill that ran deeper than the crisp breeze. Something was calling her, faint but insistent, stirring a mix of unease and intrigue.
Ariella inhaled deeply, steadying herself as she took a tentative step into the cold, moving stream. The water swirled around her ankles, biting at her skin like icy tendrils. Her gaze dropped to the uneven creek bed, her steps slow and deliberate to avoid slipping on the moss-slick stones. With each step deeper into the stream, the chill climbed higher, sending shivers coursing through her body. Finally, she knelt, flinching as the freezing water splashed against her thighs, seeping through the fabric of her clothes and sending another shudder up her spine. Carefully, she placed the book on the grassy edge of the creek, its leather cover glinting faintly in the sunlight. Her knees pressed into the creek’s rocky floor, and she slowly lowered herself, the cold water rising over her chest, stealing her breath for a moment.
Her crimson hair spilled out around her as the current caught it, twisting and twirling in fluid spirals. The fiery strands danced against the stream’s gentle push, a stark contrast to the crystalline water. Fully submerged now, Ariella felt the weight of the water press against her, a strange stillness settling over her as if the creek were holding its breath along with her.
Ariella drew in a deep, steadying breath, her eyes falling shut as she fought to silence the persistent voices echoing in her mind. Their call was relentless, but she focused on pushing them away, forcing her thoughts to still. “Magicis facultatem,” she murmured, the phrase rolling softly off her tongue. She repeated it, her voice a whisper carried away by the current as she grew more comfortable with the incantation.
With each repetition, her body began to relax, tension melting away as she sank into a tranquil state. The icy chill of the water dissipated, replaced by an unexpected warmth that radiated outward from her core. Slowly, she opened her eyes, startled but entranced by the sight that greeted her. A vibrant yellow light shimmered in the water, glowing softly as it swirled and pooled around her submerged form, moving with an almost sentient grace.
“Magicis facultatem,” she repeated, her voice steadier now. The golden light began to pulse, rhythmic and hypnotic, perfectly synchronized with the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Ariella watched in wonder as the color grew brighter, its energy palpable, filling the stream with a vibrant glow.
But as the golden light danced, a creeping darkness began to stir at the edges. Black tendrils of ink slithered into the yellow glow, curling and twisting like serpents. They encircled the light, creating a sharp contrast that was both mesmerizing and ominous. The blackness seemed to devour the edges of the yellow hue, inching closer with each heartbeat.
Ari’s brow furrowed, a flicker of unease breaking through her focus as she felt the energy shift. Her aura darkened, transforming into a shadowy blend of the two opposing forces. The pulsing energy around her shifted, releasing a strange, almost sentient glow a shadowed aura of yellow and black, pulsing in unison like a living heartbeat. The water itself seemed to hold its breath, the once-calm stream now alive with the chaotic interplay of light and shadow.
“…Dark magic,” she whispered, the words escaping her lips like a secret she wasn’t sure she should remember. The phrase felt foreign yet familiar as if echoing from a place buried deep within her memory—a place she hadn’t dared to explore.
Her heart quickened as the words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. She couldn’t recall ever casting dark magic. Could she? The thought stirred unease, her mind racing to piece together fragments of something distant and elusive. Shadows of memory tugged at the edges of her consciousness, tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach.
She stared into the water, her reflection distorted by the rippling current. The face staring back at her felt like a stranger’s, familiar yet shadowed by something unseen.
Ariella’s expression brightened at Stratya’s warm greeting and the mention of fighting lessons. Her natural curiosity and playfulness were piqued as she looked at the dagger in the Captain's hand, her fingers itching to take it. “Well, I must confess, Captain, my experience with blades is... minimal at best,” Ariella admitted with a sheepish grin. “Though, I can say with certainty that my embroidery scissors have seen their fair share of battles. Thread, mostly. Vicious stuff.” She let out a light laugh.
Her emerald eyes flicked back to Stratya’s, sparkling with excitement. “But, truly, I’d love to learn. It sounds much more thrilling than discussing trade routes or marriage prospects.” She grimaced at the thought of the latter, then quickly shifted back to her earlier enthusiasm. “If you’re offering lessons, Captain, consider me your most eager—albeit clumsy—student. I promise to be diligent. Mostly.” She grinned
Ariella’s gaze lingered on the dagger once more, her hand hovering near it as if seeking permission. Her eyes lifted from the dagger as she caught a glimpse of Mathias, Cal, Riona, Roman and The Doctor. “ It’s a full house now” she smiled her eyes lighting up.
She turned to listen to the instructions from the camp instructors who interrupted Stratya’s and Ari’s conversation. Her shoulders fell as she let out a sigh, the last thing she attempted to cook she burnt so bad it could have been considered a chunk of coal. Smiling she looked around unsure who her camping partner was but catching a glimpse of Cal’s and Riona’s faces they seemed to pale as if they saw a ghost. Looking concerned she turned back to Stratya “ If you’ll excuse me I’m just going to say hello to Cal” she smiled before skipping off.
“CAL!” she shouted attempting to distract them with a large smile. She reached Cal and Riona’s side “ Are you two alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” her voice dropped to a whisper.
Ariella stepped down from the carriage, her bare feet sinking into the cool, soft earth as she took in the breathtaking campsite with a gleam in her vibrant green eyes. Her long, fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders in wild curls, almost like flames dancing in the evening light. She adjusted her green corset, her calve-length dress flowing around her legs as she moved with a lightness that came only from the joy of being outdoors. A worn, brown satchel hung at her side, carrying little more than essentials. She hoped she could find more interesting things to bring back to her altar.
The warm glow of lanterns hanging in the trees and the scent of pine and woodsmoke made her feel alive, her pulse quickening with excitement. Every detail felt perfectly crafted, a beautiful blend of comfort and the raw beauty of the wild. Her gaze traveled across the scene to the central fire pit, where the golden light flickered and danced. She felt fully at home here, more so than she had in any ballroom or parlor—this was freedom. Something strange hung in the air though, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but as she felt the earth under her feet she felt a shift…something changed. She looked down quizzically at the ground. What is that?
The staff greeted everyone with enthusiasm pulling Ari from her thoughts, the redhead woman’s cheerfulness drawing an amused smile from Ariella, and she found herself exchanging an eager wave. There was something special about Pinebrook’s camping event; it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
When the camp staff began organizing tent assignments and hinting at partnered activities, Ariella’s excitement only grew. She felt a surge of anticipation—this night was already turning into the best event she’d attended, a night of wild beauty under the stars, and she was ready to embrace every moment.
She looked around attempting to see anyone she knew. She noted the woman who stood off to the side she didn’t seem too excited staring at her with such a gaze Ariella couldn’t help but nervously smile at her. Attempting to find some kind of excuse to move, she noticed the captain standing off to the side. Skipping excitedly Ariella approached her with a smile nearly ear to ear “ Beautiful night isn’t it!” she said clapping her hands together and resting them against her legs as she swung on her heels slightly “ This should be quite the evening I think. How are you feeling after my brother's party? “
I trust this letter finds you well. I wanted to extend my gratitude for your generous offer at the masquerade. The idea you proposed was startling at first but… perhaps with another conversation, we could discuss things further.
Given my... condition, it wouldn’t be as simple. I would appreciate it if we could discuss the matter further. Please let me know where and when would be the best to meet with you. If the offer is still available.
Ryn savored the warmth and aroma of his tea in the Polite Inn’s grand yet cozy lobby. Dark wood paneling, lamps of various shapes and sizes, and lush plants dotting the room framed an array of strategically placed portraits. Intricately patterned rugs softened the gleaming hardwood floors, while an elegant chandelier hung above. He’d chosen this meeting place with care—safe enough for Lady Damien to visit unescorted, but not so high-end as to attract attention to the rendezvous of two nobles, a guest room upstairs for privacy, and a convenient washroom to clean up should the need arise.
Movement at the entrance caught his eye. Lady Damien glided through the arched entryway, her presence immediately commanding the room. Ryn’s face lit up. He set his tea aside and rose to greet her, one hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. “Lady Violet, I’m so happy to see you. How have you been?” Pulling down the black hood of her cloak, Violet offered a faint smile to Lord Fritz, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She was dressed in her familiar black attire, but tonight there was something different—something unsettling. Her gown, usually high-necked and modest, had been replaced by one with a daringly low neckline, plunging enough to reveal a large scar that snaked from her chest, up her neck, like a jagged reminder of a past that refused to heal. The once-concealed mark now lay bare for him to see, each raised edge telling the story of her pain.
Her red eyes locked onto his, but they held none of the anger that once simmered within them. They were hollow, darkened with an eerie emptiness. Back in the garden, her rage had been palpable, like the sharp crackle of a flame barely contained. But now, standing before him, that fire had burned out, leaving behind only cold ashes. The vivid red of her irises felt more like an abyss, swallowing any remnants of life or warmth she once held. There was no spark in her gaze, no anger, no passion—just an unsettling void. Even the smile she gave him felt fragile like it could shatter into sorrow at any moment.
“Good evening, Lord Fritz” his enthusiasm for this meeting didn’t go unnoted considering its topic. “I’m glad to see you in good health aswell. I’ve been alright I suppose. Surviving as we all do. Yourself?” She asked as she set her cloak down over the chair.
The smile on Ryn’s face slowly faded as he took in Lady Damien’s hollow expression. It was markedly different from the vacant stare she wore when she had just been resurrected. Where once there had been fire, now only ashes remained. “I’m surviving as well,” he replied, “though I dare say my spirits are a tad higher than yours at present.” He searched her face for any hint of the reason behind this change. The question “What happened?” hovered on his lips, but instead, he gently cupped her cold hands in his own.
Violet’s eyes dropped down to his hands grabbing hers in his false attempt at comforting her. She offered him a smile. “ I assure you I am fine. Nothing to worry over. Just a long morning.
Ryn’s dark eyes met her gaze, his concern on full display. The silence stretched between them, before he donned his cheerful demeanor once more.
“Have you eaten?” he asked. “I brought you some… delicacies I’d like you to try, if you’re feeling up to the task.” Ryn reached for a trunk positioned beside his chair.
Adjusting herself to sit down into the chair she looked at the large trunk he seemed to be reaching towards scared of what lay under it. If it was what she thought, she was possibly in a dangerous position.
Looking around the Tavern nervously, it was nearly empty with only a few patrons who seemed to be minding their own. Turning back to his attention she leaned into the table to see what exactly it was that he brought.
With a click, the latches surrendered, revealing rows of glass bottles nestled in plush velvet. Each contained various shades of crimson liquid, from the bright scarlet of fresh-picked cherries to the deepest garnet, with every shade of ruby and burgundy between.
“As I was uncertain of your dietary restrictions, I procured an assortment of samples for you to taste,” Ryn explained, carefully avoiding any mention of blood in a public setting. “Consider it a kind of wine-tasting.”
His eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked at her like starlights on a moonless night.
Violet leaned back in the chair, her expression softening as she stared at the sealed vials before her. Though the blood inside was safely contained, preventing its scent from reaching her, she felt the thin barrier was the only thing standing between her and chaos. For now, her self-control held firm, but she couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if just one of those vials were opened.
“That is very kind of you…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew the meager amount of blood in those vials would hardly satisfy her growing hunger, but she wouldn’t burden him with that truth. It had been far too long since she’d fed, and even the smallest wound could push her over the edge. A mere cut from a finger might unravel her restraint, and yet here sat an entire case of blood, taunting her, teasing her with its unattainable promise of relief.
"Early for some wine, but I much prefer it from the source," she said with a sly, toothy grin. The gleam in her eyes darkened, hinting at the hunger that simmered beneath her teasing words. The playful smile she flashed was laced with something far more dangerous, a subtle but undeniable threat lurking in the shadows of her gaze.
“Naturally,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Most everything tastes better when it’s fresh off the vine or out of the oven, doesn’t it? However, circumstances may conspire to narrow one’s options.”
Leaning in slightly, Ryn’s voice took on a more serious note. “I think it’d be for your benefit to explore the boundaries of your dietary restrictions with an open mind.”
He leaned even closer, whispering, “Who knows? You might discover a predilection for a bred heifer, heavy with her first calf, and find out you’re violently allergic to human, male, age twenty, banker.”
“These are just appetizers.” Ryn said as he pulled away. His fingers adjusted his tie, the motion drawing subtle attention to his neck. “I have something more substantial in mind for the main course.”
“ But … we have business to discuss first. Amongst some other things.
Ryn tilted his head to the side. “This sounds serious. Would you like to move upstairs? I have a room reserved for us if you want privacy.”
“ Should by me a drink first Lord Fritz before inviting me to your room.” she teased in her attempt to lighten the mood. She looked over at the bar raising two fingers to signal some drinks over.
He chuckled, “You’re absolutely right. Where are my manners?”
Turning her attention back to Fritz she let out a soft sigh “ I want you to understand that this conversation is not an easy one for me. I struggled to even write the letter to you in the first place. she admitted as some drinks were brought over to their table. Two glasses of whiskey sat neatly between them before the bartender hurried off. “ What made you so interested in starting this wine business? She looked over at the trunk “ You seem rather versed in your own knowledge of it.
“Because I want to help you where I can, of course.” And it was truly as simple as that. “Whether I am versed at it, is a matter of debate,” Ryn added, lifting the whiskey to his lips. The whiskey burned a path down his throat, igniting a warmth that spread through his chest.
Violet reached for her glass as well, tossing back the glass before setting it down.
“My family and I are no stranger to…” he paused, searching for another word to replace the one he wanted to use, “the ‘unusual.’ So in that regard, I am more knowledgeable than the average person.” A smirk crossed Lady Damien’s lips.
He leaned against the back of his chair, hands clasped loosely, as his gaze settled on her. “Why do you ask?”
“ The idea of help is a foreign one for me. I suppose I am waiting for some kind of payment or expectation yet you seem to be offering it so freely. I am trying to understand why.” Her hand reached for the empty glass as her fingers idly fidgeted with it.
“If it would set your mind at ease, I could certainly attach some conditions to my generosity.” He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Perhaps you might be required to join me for tea in the gardens, or form a book club with me. We could gather a circle of literary minds to debate the merits of brooding heroes and swoon-worthy villains, with the losers owing the winner a dramatic reading of their choosing.”
She let out a soft chuckle, one that was truly genuine as she seemed to relax against the chair. Her eyes were still dark but there was a glimmer of light still in them. Her eyes dropped down to the glass as her mind wandered. “ I think I can make that work, book club may need to be in the evenings though” she joked “I will say that is the first time I've been referred to as unusual...”
“You,” Ryn interjected. Lady Damien’s crimson eyes looked up from the glass to meet his. “Are extraordinary.” Then winked at her, she smiled softly in return.
The silence between them simmered for a moment. " Have you ever heard of the tale of the beast?” She broke the silence with a simple question.
Oh, he knew of beasts aplenty—one in particular, he knew very well. “The Beast, you say? I’ve heard many tales of beasts. Which one were you thinking of? Do share.”
” This one is just a silly child's story, Was thinking about it today. Its no matter, kind of a silly question. She waved over the bartender with another drink as he placed it down in front of her.
” Truthfully, I am just very nervous about this agreement. She admitted. “A lot of unknowns for me. It's all feels very intimate and that is foreign territory.” She grabbed her drink, and before she finished speaking she had already finished her glass off.
Flinching slightly as it went down, she started to feel more relaxed. She held the glass lazily in her hand.
Ryn’s eyes tracked the arc of Lady Damien’s glass as it lifted, tipped, emptied. Amber liquid vanished in a heartbeat. He recognized the telltale signs of someone seeking the age-old remedy for nerves: liquid courage. “I understand,” he said in a low voice and gave her the time to gather her thoughts.
” I do have something to give you in return for helping me… It might not be something you’ll like but hopefully, something you appreciate. Maybe if you decide to be a returning customer we can discuss that book club.”
“A customer? … Ah, when you said business, you truly meant business.” Ryn sat up straighter in chair. “Very well, Lady Violet, please do continue. I’m all ears.”
“ I… Violet froze in her seat for a moment “What did you think this was?” she asked curiously her voice holding slight caution but held concern. “ I didn’t mean to offend you. The bookclub remark was intended to be a joke but I suppose my humor is rather dull. Which caused him to chuckle.
“I thought I was taking my nightlife friend out for dinner.” Ryn’s laughter faded into a gentle smile. He reached across the table, his hand coming to rest reassuringly atop hers. “Don’t worry, no offense taken.” He gave her hand a light pat before withdrawing.
Friend…
She didn't have many of those. She felt the darkness linger behind her eyes but as she continued to drink its presence seemed to linger less but continued to remind her it wasn't all that gone. Just waiting for its see moment.
“ Dinner. With a friend.” She nodded “ I like the sound of that.” Smiling, she waved down another drink. “I just need this whole arrangement. I've been informed of some things but…” Her red eyes look up at him, holding its stare as the darkness that lingered made itself known through her gaze “I am afraid I may end up doing something I regret.” She omitted “ a loss of restraint. I don't seem to possess that…the last time…” her mind flashed back to the kiss, tasting Roman's blood on her lips as the darkness consumed her like a rushing wave of need. Then the slap.
“I hurt someone I really care about, I'm not sure he … I don't know. “ She said with a troubled mind. “he slapped me in the face…I don't know maybe it was to pull me from …whatever was happening but the look on his face.” Violet's heart sank. “ I feel like that is what really hurts. I see this monster just looking back at me in the mirror but when I tasted him it was like I lost all control of my body and my mind. Something else took over and I'm scared it may happen here.” Her voice was soft like a whisper just enough for the two of them to hear. Her eyes wandered his face for any reaction. Maybe she said too much, but she still didn't understand it herself.
Ryn listened intently, his expression solemn as Lady Damien’s words hung in the air between them. “I am sorry it happened that way,” he said softly. “But I’m certain he only meant to snap you out of it. Not because he thought you a monster. I feel like he would’ve done more than just slap you if he did.”
Violet seemed to relax at his explanation confirming what she had thought herself but was uncertain if she was trying to find resolve.
A chuckle escaped him, “I’ve seen it before, you know. Friends who’d sooner tackle each other into a mud puddle than let one another spiral. It’s messy and imperfect, but it comes from a good place.” She smiled softly.
His lips curved into a gentle smile. “I’m sure your special someone acted out of love, not condemnation.”
“I’d rather see myself dead before I harm him.” her voice dropped. He slowly nodded in response.
Ryn leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I trust you, Violet. I see the compassion that held you back from that masquerade, the fear for my safety. These aren’t the hallmarks of a monster.”
Their gazes interlocked. Ryn’s voice carried the quiet strength of absolute certainty. “You will not kill me,” he stated.
“You can't be certain of that,” she replied taking a large sip of her whiskey it wouldn't be the first time she’s killed someone.
“True,” he said. “But I choose to trust you with my life because I have faith in you.”
“I hope you are right. “ she paused “I know that this person can handle himself with little concern but… If he out of all people saw me as I see myself. I think that it would be safe to say I did become that monster.” Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back, chugging back the rest of her drink. She tilted the glass in her hand “ He was the one person who always saw me…” she said softly as if remembering something.
“Anyways… The news I have. When would you like it? I’m afraid it's not good but perhaps there is a solution.” she smiled “Before or after our wine sampling…” Her red eyes seemed to darken at the mention of it.
After studying her for a moment, Ryn answered, “When would feel right to you?”
“After…if you do die, well you won't have to worry about it, and no sense in worrying you before that.” she smirked at her rather dark joke.
Her macabre jest elicited a burst of laughter from Ryn, warm and genuine despite the somber topic. “In that case, might I ask a favor of you?” he began. “Should I not survive this ordeal, would you see to it that my remains are returned to my family?”
He paused briefly. “If that proves difficult, ensure nothing remains of my body, but let my family know of my passing. You can spare them the details.” His eyes fluttered closed, “And if you're feeling particularly charitable, tell them I’m sorry I failed.”
“You can tell them yourself when you're 90 years old…” she said with a soft smile, offering a small, but genuine, attempt at reassurance. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of uncertainty beneath it. “So… dinner. Friends.” She repeated their agreement slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue. “I’ve never really had a friend.” Her confession hung in the air, bittersweet. "Roman… well, I suppose he counts. But I don’t usually go around kissing my friends...” She paused, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she intended. The words slipped out, followed by a half-hearted shrug.
A coquettish grin played at the corners of his mouth as he added, “Is Lord Ravenwood the special someone you mentioned earlier?” The name had been a calculated guess. “Roman” wasn’t uncommon in this continent, but the strapping lord was the only one Ryn could imagine Lady Damien crossing paths with in her circles. He watched her carefully, searching for minute changes that would confirm or deny his suspicion more surely than any words she might speak. Lady Damien’s eyes widened slightly as her cheeks pinkened. She reached for her glass avoiding eye contact as she finished off her whiskey.
Clearing her throat, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the fabric beneath her rustling as she fidgeted. Her crimson eyes flicked back to Fritz, locking onto his with an intensity that lingered in the air between them, as if he were searching her soul for answers.
“Roman?” she echoed, her voice trying to sound casual, accompanied by a sheepish smile. The act didn’t last long. She exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she gave in. “I suppose I made it rather obvious, didn’t I…” Her sigh was one of quiet defeat, her gaze dropping for a moment before she gathered the courage to continue.
“Yes, it was him… is him,” she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. “I wanted to scare him away, to make him leave before he saw the... monster I’ve become.” Her words trembled as they left her lips, the shame in her voice undeniable. “Seems it worked,” she murmured, her fingers gently folding in her lap as she crossed one leg over the other. “I haven’t seen him since, so I guess I got my wish.”
Her hands tightened slightly, her knuckles paling. “It’s for the best. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I hurt him. It was only a small taste this time but… what if it hadn’t been? What if I killed him?” Her voice cracked at the thought, eyes distant, haunted by a fear she couldn’t shake.
“Sorry, maybe this is too inappropriate. I guess I don’t know what friends talk about,” she admitted, her gaze drifting off as she tried to grasp the concept. Her thoughts wandered to the novels she’d devoured over the years—stories filled with dark romances, complicated relationships, and secrets. The women in those books always seemed to gossip about their love lives, their hearts entangled in someone else’s story. In those worlds, gossip was gold, a currency of connection.
“Friendship needn’t be confined by others’ definitions. It can be whatever you want it to be.” His eyes twinkled. “Be your charming self and the rest will fall into place naturally.”
She let out a quiet breath, her expression softening. “How about you?” she asked attempting to change the subject.” Did anyone catch your eye? Or maybe some new friends?” Her voice took on a wistful tone as if searching for something to hold onto. “I need a distraction.” she pleaded hoping he would go along.
After a long pause, Ryn finally said. “Aside from you?” He chuckled, “Well, it’s hard not to have my eye caught by everyone here. So many fabulous people are bedazzling me at every turn I’m practically in a constant state of whiplash.”
But even as the words left his mouth, faces flickered through his mind—fleeting images he might have dismissed as stray thoughts, had her question not prompted deeper reflection. “Even if there are a few individuals who linger in my thoughts more persistently than others, whether I can pursue them romantically is... a little complicated.”
“I think I understand complicated more than most.” She added with a reassuring smile.
Ryn’s fingers drummed an absent rhythm on his knee as he considered the question about friends. “I’d like to believe I am making some headway with new friends, but… I cannot help feeling as though there is a barrier between us, which prevents us from becoming good friends. I’m not entirely sure how to bridge that gap,” he confessed.
“Time… I would imagine,” she murmured, her voice trailing off as her thoughts drifted. She paused, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. “Sharing something with them—something you wouldn’t normally tell anyone else,” she added, her words slow, deliberate, as if she were unraveling a truth buried deep within.
Her mind wandered to Alexander, the secrets they had exchanged, the intimate confessions that felt too dangerous to share with anyone else. With him, she had revealed her darkest thoughts, her most raw vulnerabilities. He, too, had shared some in return, creating an interesting dynamic that she had yet to understand. Then there was Roman—Roman, who had also come to know her, but in a way that felt worlds apart from Alexander. Roman saw Violet in a way that made her feel human, made her feel seen. With him, she wasn’t a creature of darkness, but something almost normal, someone deserving of affection, of warmth.
But Alexander… Alexander forced her to confront the monster within. He stripped away the illusions and made her face the darker side of herself, showing her how to embrace it, how to understand it. In his presence, she could no longer hide from the truth of what she was.
Both men stirred something profound within her, but in entirely different ways. Roman brought a sense of humanity, grounding her in a reality she longed for, while Alexander illuminated the shadows, urging her to accept the very thing she feared. It left her standing in a fog of blurred lines, unable to distinguish who she truly was, or where she stood with either of them. She struggled to reconcile the two versions of herself they had uncovered, wondering which was more real—and which was more dangerous.
Smiling, she shook off the weight of her wandering thoughts, her gaze refocusing on Lord Fritz. “You’re a very lovely person, Lord Fritz,” she said warmly, her voice soft yet sincere. A playful glint sparked in her eyes as she continued, “I’m certain it’s only a matter of time before others see that too. And, if nothing else, you’re already off to a great start—because you’ve made a new friend in me.”
Ryn blinked a few times before he returned the smile with equal sincerity, “Thank you Lady Violet.”
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as she reached for her freshly filled whiskey glass. Her hands, unsteady from the drinks she had already consumed, trembled slightly as she raised the glass between them. “We should toast,” she declared, her grin widening, “to new friends and to the tangled web of complicated relationships.”
Ryn raised his cup. “To tangled webs and complicated relationships,” he echoed. “May they be less convoluted than a Caldwell Thornewicke novel.” Their glasses met with a crystalline chime, the delicate sound drifting above the lobby’s soft murmur like a stray note of music.
With a final appreciative sip, Ryn set his emptied glass on the table’s polished surface. “Now then,” he ventured, “shall we head upstairs? Or do you think you can maintain composure if you were to ‘wine-taste’ here?” His fingers brushed the trunk’s edge, a subtle reminder of its crimson contents. The unspoken option—to drink directly from him first, before the samples—hung in the air between them. Ryn’s raised eyebrow and slight tilt of his head made it clear: the choice was entirely hers.
Her eyes flickered towards the staircase, thoughts wandering as her pulse began to race. The creeping darkness that relentlessly plagued her mind seemed to giggle with sadistic delight, feeding off the anticipation. She glanced down at the half-filled glass in her hand, the deep red liquid sloshing faintly before she tipped it back, draining the contents in one swift motion, her throat burning as the warmth spread.
"Yes... upstairs would be best," she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with the weight of her decision.
Time: 10am Location: Drakes Birthday Party Mention: Interactions:@RodiakMathias Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown
Ariella smiled sweetly, though the corners of her lips twitched as she fought the urge to laugh. “Ah yes, those were the days,” she said airily. Her gaze slid toward Mathias, realizing now that it was him. She immediately caught the frantic look in his eyes. He was on the verge of cracking. But Ariella was nothing if not the perfect storm in moments like these.
Ariella's lips parted as she suppressed a laugh, her entire body trembling slightly from the effort. But instead of reacting with shock or laughter, she immediately swept forward, a dramatic gasp escaping her. “Oh, my dear Lord Wimsley!” she cried, stumbling purposefully, grabbing Mathias's arm to steady herself, and giving the impression of being utterly shocked by the entire ordeal. “What a brave soul you are! To continue enduring such, such... hair-raising moments!” She threw her head back, one hand clutching dramatically at her chest.
“Oh, you must forgive Lord Wimsley!” she insisted, voice laced with mock sympathy. “He’s been under such stress lately—why, his valet told me just last week that the poor man has been losing hair by the day! Why, it’s a wonder he has any left at all!”
Satisfied that the situation had been sufficiently derailed, Ariella gave Mathias's arm a gentle pat, turning back toward the old woman with a bright, if somewhat tipsy, smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my dear lady,” she said sweetly, “I must steal Lord Wimsley away. We’ve pressing matters to discuss. Hair... loss and all.”
Before the old woman could react, Ariella tugged Mathias away, moving them away from the heavily awkward encounter. Her back straightened as she side-eyed behind her casually seeing if the elder woman was following or staying.
Turning her attention back to Mathias, Ariella’s arm remained loosely interlocked with his, her body vibrating with barely contained amusement. She tried to suppress the bubbling laughter that threatened to spill over, but a soft giggle escaped her lips. Her eyes darted around the garden, checking to see if any guests had noticed their absurd little escape.
" Mathias?" she whispered her voice light with mischief. She leaned down slightly, tilting her head to peer up at him from beneath the brim of his oversized top hat, her fiery red hair brushing against his sleeve. Her gaze sparkled with playful curiosity as she raised a brow. “Do you often attend these events dressed as an old man?”
With each word, Ariella’s voice trembled with the effort of holding back another giggle. Her lips quirked up in a grin, and she could feel the tremor of laughter bubbling in her chest. The absurdity of the situation—the fake mustache, the frantic escape—was almost too much to bear. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching with the overwhelming urge to laugh.
Time:Past:Nighttime Present:10am Location: Damien Estate Mentions:@FunnyguyAlexander @reusableswordRoman @princessCalbert and Liliane
...Past
The long-awaited trip had finally arrived for the Damien household, though not under the circumstances anyone had hoped. Their mother, too ill to make the journey, had reluctantly stayed behind in Montauppe, where she could be under the constant care of the finest doctors. Violet was given the responsibility of traveling in her place, a duty she had grown accustomed to over the years. It wasn’t a choice, not anymore—just another task handed down, like an unspoken inheritance. Watching over Crystal, her younger sister, had become less of a request and more of an expectation as they both grew older.
For once, Crystal was able to travel. Having finally shaken off the last remnants of her recent illness, she was in good spirits, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of health. Their mother had insisted she go, determined to give her daughter a taste of the world beyond Montauppe. Crystal’s future carried the weight of the family’s hopes; she was the daughter meant for bright things, a promising marriage, and the revitalization of their household’s name.
Violet didn’t mind the arrangement—at least, that’s what she told herself. She had long since accepted her role, the quiet one who stood in the shadow of her sister’s potential. As Crystal’s future blossomed, Violet’s own had dimmed. Approaching the age when most young women were presented to society, she knew that life wasn’t meant for her. It had never been in the cards. She was practical, reliable, and the one entrusted with the quiet burdens of the family. And so, she traveled in place of their mother, not for her own sake but for Crystal’s—always for Crystal.
It was alot harder to wed off someone with the disfigurement she obtained as a child. Though not impossible, Violet held down her expectations to avoid disappointment. Knowing her family she’d likely be married off to a business arrangement or perhaps a wealthy elder man whos life would expire before hers began. Thankfully she had many books to read, stories of romance and lives unlived. Her favorite book was one she had since she was a child. The gold lettering on the front had been nearly chipped away, the spine was broken in and the book looked well-loved. Whenever she could she re-read it, over and over and each time the story was just as magical as the first.
Her favorite story had become that of a man, misunderstood and shunned by all because of his grotesque appearance. The villagers saw him as nothing more than a beast—a monster to be feared and avoided at all costs. She found herself deeply relating to this so-called monster, feeling a kinship with his isolation and the way others recoiled from him without ever trying to understand the person beneath. In the midst of his loneliness and despair, a woman entered his life. Unlike the others, she didn’t let his terrifying appearance drive her away. Her aversion to the men who pursued her—a parade of suitors who flaunted their charm with empty, superficial gestures—only made her see the true ugliness that lurked in their hearts. Their attempts to win her affection were shallow, filled with arrogance and entitlement. But the Beast was different.
Despite his fearsome exterior, he was kind, patient, and strong in ways that mattered. He treated her with gentle respect, taking the time to truly know her, to understand her in a way that none of the other men ever had. His tenderness and thoughtfulness transcended the surface, and in turn, she came to understand him as well. Their bond grew slowly, built not on appearances but on the quiet care they shared for one another, forged through patience, trust, and a deep sense of mutual understanding. She found beauty in the beast. It was a tale as old as time itself.
Their travel had been long, they had arrived just in time for their father's meetings and just in time for the seasons unexpected snowstorm.
Days of icy winds and thick frost had kept the Damien household confined indoors. It was the longest and coldest winter her father had said. They were meant to travel back to Montauppe after her father's work events but the weather had become harsh. It wasn’t that she disliked the cold—quite the opposite. She adored it, but her love for the warmth of a crackling fire and the comfort of a soft blanket always won out. Her windowsill had become her refuge here, the perfect place to curl up with a book. Close enough to feel the fire's gentle heat, yet far enough to watch the snow drift from the sky like fragile crystals.
Her fingers ran down the cover of her favorite book, tracing the detailed outlines of the filigree and aspects of gold that remained, the title nearly vanished from view but she didn’t need anyone else to know its secrets. The important thing was that she knew was laid beyond the cover.
Her silver eyes reflected the flurries outside, each snowflake twirling and spinning as it fell. The night was so dark and heavy with snow that she could barely make out the outlines of the trees beyond her window. The fire crackled beside her, filling the room with its comforting, steady hum.
Then came a sound—a soft knock at the door, delicate and hesitant.
A tiny whisper broke the stillness.
"Violet?" The voice, barely more than a murmur, was timid, like a mouse stirring in the quiet.
Violet lifted her gaze from the worn cover of her book, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
"Crystal," she replied softly, recognizing the fragile voice of her younger sister. Peeking around the doorframe, the small child stood there, her large blue eyes shimmering, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like pale silk.
“What are you doing up so late?” Violet asked, her voice warm and soothing. Crystal, frail and delicate, tiptoed into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her fingers twisted nervously as she shifted from one foot to the other, eyes lowered in guilt.
Violet's smile softened. She set the book aside and turned, her eyes scanning Crystal with understanding. "Another bad dream?" she asked, her voice tender. Crystal gave a small nod before rushing toward her. Tiny feet padded across the floor, and with a dramatic flair, the child flung herself into Violet’s lap, burying her face into the soft folds of Violet’s dark night dress.
Looking down at her sister, Violet’s expression melted into one of pure affection. Her hands moved instinctively, stroking Crystal’s back in slow, comforting circles. "Shh..." she whispered gently. "It was just a dream... Whatever it was, you're safe here."
Crystal’s small head lifted from Violet’s lap, her large blue eyes shimmering like sapphires, tears brimming in their depths.” I miss home..” she said between soft whimpers“ I miss mama…” her lip quivered as she attempted to speak.
Violet offered her a reassuring smile, her hands stroked her hair softly before pulling her up into her lap. Cradling Crystal between her legs she relaxed back against the window as she continued to play with her hair.
“Don't worry, we will be heading back to her any day now…” she whispered. Her fingers fed through her hair combing her fingers through her hair.
Sniffling Crystal relaxed in her lap, reaching over to pull the blanket over her and Violet's lap. It was one Violet had made for the trip, hand-woven with embroidered ravens and black roses enterlaced amongst the fabric. Crystal traced the pattern with her finger.
“ What about a song?” Violet asked softly, still combing her hair with her fingers.
Crystal didn’t respond, only her tiny whimpers and her small hands as she grabbed the blanket relaxing into Violet's arms.
Smiling softly, Violet's silver eyes looked down at the Raven on the blanket. Reminding her of a song she found in an old book she had finished recently.
Clearing her throat, Violet began to sing. Her voice was soft but her pitch and tone were near perfect. She always had the natural ability to sing but always shied away from doing it. She didn’t enjoy the attention it brought. She knew it was one of Crystal's favorite things, it always worked to calm her down.
Í gegnum þokuna og storminn flýg ég, Svartir vængir skera í gegnum himininn, Frá frosnum löndum, þar sem ísvindarnir væla, Ég ber hvíslið, hina fornu sögu.
Þöglir skuggar um nóttina, Leiddu hina föllnu til endalauss ljóss, Augnaráð Óðins á vængina mína, Ég syng lagið sem örlögin bera með sér.
While Violet sang crystal had fallen into her, her eyes falling heavy as she continued to stroke her hair.
Heyr kall mitt í gegnum myrkvaðan himininn, Hrafnsóp þar sem hinir föllnu liggja, Í sölum guðanna rísum við upp aftur, Á vængjum nætur ferðumst við um fræðina. Valhalla bíður, þar sem hugrökk hjörtu svífa, Söngur hrafnsins að eilífu....
Through the mist and raging storm I soar, Wings of midnight, shadows roar, Across the frozen fjords where the ice winds wail, I carry the echoes of an ancient tale.
I am the silent shadow of the night, Guiding souls in Odin’s sight, The fallen rise beneath my wings, To the sound of the song that destiny brings. Hear my call through the blackened skies,
A raven’s cry where the brave ones lie, In the halls of the gods, we rise once more, On wings of night, we reclaim the lore. Valhalla waits, where the warriors soar, The raven’s song forevermore.
Smiling softly, her voice trailed off into the quiet of the room, the last note of her lullaby fading into the stillness. The small girl in her arms slept peacefully, her tiny breaths steady and warm against Violet’s chest. Gently, she cradled the child closer, feeling the rise and fall of her fragile frame, safe and sheltered in her embrace. A soft sigh escaped Violet’s lips, barely more than a whisper. She would do anything for her family—anything. Yet, on nights like this, a small ache settled in her heart, a quiet yearning she could never quite silence.
There were days she selfishly longed for someone to hold her with the same tenderness, to take care of her as she cared for others. Her parents, always consumed by their own concerns and worries devoted their energy to looking after Crystal. And though Violet never resented them for it—she understood, truly she did—it still left an emptiness, a quiet space in her heart that begged for more.
Her gaze drifted to the worn book that lay beside her on the bedside table. With one hand, she reached for it, careful not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms. The pages were soft with age, familiar beneath her fingertips as she opened it to her favorite passage. The words, etched into her memory, offered her the comfort she sought.
At least for now. —----------------------- Present Day...
Her fingers glided across the worn cover of the book, tracing its edges as if the touch alone could conjure the memories held within. The familiar texture beneath her fingertips stirred something deep inside—a quiet, aching nostalgia. Each stroke brought her closer to what she had once dreamed, what she had once hoped for. But those dreams seemed far away now. With a sigh, she lifted the book and placed it back above her desk, where it had long rested, gathering dust like an artifact from a forgotten time. The layer of dust was thick, an unspoken testament to how long it had been since she'd last opened it.
Perhaps she had given up on it. The idea of her dream—of a life where hope still flickered—was something she had slowly buried. She had resigned herself to facing the brutal reality of her existence. No matter how much she longed to escape it, life had a way of reminding her of what she had become.
Her eyes drifted toward the mirror, and the reflection that stared back was unforgiving. Her gaze fixated on the scar that marred her face, a jagged line that had long become the focal point of her appearance. Her red eyes followed its path, tracing down to her neck. The scar was not just a mark on her skin—it was a symbol of what the world had made of her. The world had cast her as a victim, but she refused to play that role.
Her hand trembled as it reached up, her fingertips hovering over the scar. Slowly, she touched it, as if to remind herself that it was real—that she was real. The skin beneath her fingers felt both foreign and familiar, a constant reminder of the life she now lived. As her fingers traced the scar, she felt the weight of all she had lost, and the pain of what she had become.
“For us scars are beautiful, they show others the hardships one has gone through and make them stronger for it. My people don't crave strength, we honor survival above all else, and scars are survival.” making sure to look her in the eye for a moment, “your scars are beautiful, they are you. They aren't going anywhere and whoever says that you are tarnished doesn't know what the fu-... What they are talking about.”
Roman’s voice echoed through her mind, a haunting refrain that clung to her thoughts like an unwanted shadow. His words, though distant, seemed to pull at something inside her, as if trying to plant a reminder of something she’d forgotten—or perhaps had never fully understood. The memories felt so distant now like they belonged to another life entirely. Or maybe it was just her, unable to grasp the meaning behind it all. Maybe she was the only one who didn’t know what the hell she was talking about anymore.
A small, bitter smile curled at the corners of her lips as her gaze fell to the blank sheet of paper lying before her on the desk. She had been waiting, hoping, that Roman would have reached out to her by now. A letter, a message, something to bridge the silence that had stretched between them since that night. But nothing came. And with that silence grew a quiet, gnawing fear—a fear that perhaps he didn’t want to see her again. After all, he had seen her—the real her—and the night had ended in such darkness, leaving a bitter taste in the air. Her mind continued to spiral, debating back and forth as she wrestled with her thoughts. Survival, she reminded herself, trying to steady her pulse. It always came back to that. With a deep breath, she dipped the quill into the ink, the tip hovering above the paper before finally pressing down. She began to write, though the words came slowly. The letter was vague and short, lacking the conviction she wanted it to hold. Still, it was something—a branch extended in hope. She just prayed he would take it.
As the hours passed since they last saw each other, she could feel herself slipping deeper into a familiar darkness, one that taunted her from the corners of her mind. It was growing stronger, consuming her in ways that made it difficult to think clearly. The memory of that night in the forest loomed over her—how everything had unraveled in the shadows, the silent ride back to her manor afterward. The cold grip of revenge clung to her, intertwining with the dangerous apathy she felt toward death. Her mind drifted toward the endless cycle of violence, a need for vengeance that threatened to swallow her whole.
She was worried—worried that maybe she was already too far gone.
Time: 10am Location: Drakes Birthday Party Mention: Interactions:@RodiakMathias Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown
Ariella huffed away from her brother, her mother’s words stinging like nettles as she stormed off. Another servant, fully aware of her rising irritation, smirked and glided over with a tray, offering her a cocktail like it was a peace treaty in a glass.
Stopping mid-rant, Ariella eyed the drink, took in a deep, calming breath, and snatched it up with surprising enthusiasm. The servant wisely backed away, clearly not wanting to witness the aftermath of a woman on the verge of a meltdown. Cocktail in hand, Ariella resumed her dramatic exit, muttering to herself about how she *really* wasn’t cut out for these events.
She couldn’t fathom how she shared DNA with her mother—surely some mistake had been made at birth? And poor Drake—his birthday bash had gone from “respectable” to “downright awkward” thanks to their mother’s insufferable lack of decorum. At least her father was the eye of the hurricane, calm and collected amidst the family chaos.
Taking a sip of her cocktail Ariella scanned the crowd. A few guests were rolling around in the grass which she envied, others were clustered around tables sharing drinks, while a giggly mob gossiped louder than the string quartet playing in the corner.
Her gaze zeroed in on someone new—a young man looking distinctly uncomfortable as an elderly woman bore down on him like a hawk on a mouse. Ariella’s eyes widened at the sight of the man’s mustache. It wasn’t just bad it was terrible.
That poor man, she thought, amused. The fear on his face wasn’t exactly subtle. Smirking, Ariella decided to rescue him. Cocktail in hand, she practically skipped toward them, eager to intervene just as the elderly woman came dangerously close to spilling her drink on the unfortunate gentleman’s pristine suit.
“Good evening!” Ariella chirped even though it was still morning, throwing a curveball into the awkward situation, and adding another layer of possible discomfort. “I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Ari—uh—Lady Ariella Edwards.” She winced internally at the title but soldiered on. “Have you tried these drinks? They’re amazing!” She held up her glass before realizing it was, yet again, empty.
Mid-rant, she stumbled to the left, narrowly avoiding a full-body collision with Lord Wimsley. Grabbing onto his arm for dear life, she erupted in laughter. “Oh my, I think I tripped over my shoes!” she said, wobbling but somehow still standing. Peering down at her feet she laughed again “Oh wait, I'm not wearing any…” as she attempted to straighten herself back up. “Dreadful things they are… Don’t you agree?” she said looking at the two of them her eyes darting between them as her cheeks flushed pink from all the alcohol she had consumed.
Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as she leaned in, cupping her hand around her mouth like she was about to spill the kingdom's juiciest secret. "My mother wears them—some truly uncomfortable ones, too... I think that's why she's so mean." She gave a solemn nod as if this revelation explained everything.
Leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, Ariella beamed as if she'd just solved world hunger. She even gave a little nod, as though waiting for the crowd to break into applause for her sheer brilliance.
Time: 10 am Location: Drakes Birthday Mention: Interactions: Gideon@papaoso, Captain@citrusarms, Drake@Lava Alckon, Callum@helo, Victoria@princess Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown
Ariella blinked up at her father, a wide, slightly dazed grin spreading across her face as his familiar voice broke through the haze of the alcohol. The flush in her cheeks deepened, both from the warmth of the drink and the surprise of his presence.
"Father!" she exclaimed, almost stumbling as she turned toward him, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady herself against his arm. She let out a breathless laugh, her eyes sparkling with an impish glint. "I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that."
The playful air that surrounded her seemed contagious, her carefree nature at the moment reflecting the years of love and freedom she’d always had with him. His gentle teasing only brought out a more dramatic reaction. She straightened her back, puffing her chest slightly as if to prove that she was entirely capable of handling herself. "I’m perfectly fine," she declared, her voice lilting as she took a sip from her own drink. "Just enjoying a little...well-deserved fun after the dungeon, you know."
She flashed a mischievous grin at Captain Stratya, then back at her father, thoroughly enjoying the absurdity of their conversation about chocolate and mead. Ariella leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I think Stratya here has the right idea. Chocolate in sweetbread—what a revelation!"
As Gideon’s hand found her shoulder, she relaxed a bit, the steady weight grounding her, even if her head was spinning a little. His gentle warning about the drinks earned him a mock pout."Slow down? Me?" Ariella laughed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the suggestion. But her father’s wink made her laugh even more, the kind of unguarded, bubbling laughter that only came from too much drinking and too much happiness in the moment.
Her eyes followed his as he glanced down at her bare feet, and she let out a small, sheepish chuckle. "You know me too well," she said, wiggling her toes with a grin. "Shoes are a torture device."
For a brief moment, the whirlwind of the party faded away when she heard her mother shouting towards her "Ariella! Put your damn shoes on right now or so help me, I will come over there and smack you with one!"
The chatter around them grew silent as they all stopped to look at Ariella and back towards Victoria. The whispers erupted as the crowd continued to look towards Ariella as she felt a flush of embarrassment as her eyes darted nervously between her father and the captain. Her eyes landed back on her father, filled with disappointment and sadness she masked it with a soft smile and a squeeze of her father's arm.
“I’m sorry, I hope you both can excuse me,” she said softly, her voice nearly cracking as she decided to leave the table.
A server noticed Ariella leaving empty-handed and shuffled over offering her another drink. Without much thought she took it and threw it back, putting the empty glass back on their waiter’s tray before attempting to shuffle around the tables.
While her bother was giving his speech she hoped she could just sneak out and avoid this mess, already feeling like it was a mistake. However, suddenly she heard a gasp and the sounds of crashing. She looked over to see Drake falling into the tables.
Grabbing a fist full of her skirt she ran over to her bother but Callum had already intercepted it, she watched him offer a hand out to her bother. Knowing how Drake felt about Cal made this situation all the more interesting for Ari “Not such a bad guy after all, is he Drake…” she thought. As she reached his side she offered Cal a smile before her attention turned to her brother.
”You alright?” Callum had asked, whispering something to him she didn’t catch.
“ Drake!?” Ari added. “ Are you hurt?” she looked at him with a concerned expression as Cal attempted to help him up. She felt her mother's presence moving towards them as her body slightly stiffened.
"Drake!" she whisper-hissed, glaring down at him. "Do you have any idea how utterly embarrassing that was? Falling off the stage like a commoner who can’t hold his drink! My son, making a spectacle of himself at his own birthday party."
Ariella's eyes narrowed in on her mother as she bit back a remark but she continued.
"Oh, look. I believe a flea just jumped out of your hair, Prince Callum Danrose. You might want to find a comb—though I doubt it’ll help with whatever’s going on there."
Ariella’s smile faltered as her mother’s biting words filled the space. Her initial concern for Drake was quickly overshadowed by a simmering irritation, the familiar sting of her mother’s sharp tongue aimed first at her brother and now at Callum.
Her hand instinctively tightened around the fabric of her skirt, the warmth from the moment before disappearing as tension settled in. She glanced at Callum, who was helping Drake up, her heart aching at the cruelty of the insult tossed his way. Her eyes flicked to her mother, and for a moment, Ariella debated whether to let it slide, to simply keep the peace. But she couldn’t.
Taking a deep breath, Ariella stepped forward, her posture calm but her voice steely with liquid courage. "Mother," she began, her tone firm but measured, "I don’t think this is the time or the place for such... comments."
Her eyes darted back to Drake, offering him a quick, reassuring smile before her gaze settled on Callum, her expression softening. She couldn’t stand to see him treated so poorly, not when he’d done nothing but try to help.
Turning back to her mother, Ariella’s tone sharpened slightly, though she kept her words controlled. "Perhaps we could focus on making sure Drake is alright, instead of... embarrassing anyone further." Her eyes flashed with a hint of challenge as she stood her ground, unwilling to let her mother’s venom go unchecked.
“It's not very Lady like” she added as she took a step closer to her mother. Something she continuously reminded Ariella whenever she did something unapproving
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