---

Being the middle of the conversation with Sir Mathias didn’t snap John out of his usual watchful and observant gaze, and it soon detected the beholding of the northern blacksmith. A wordless message that doesn't need translation to a familiar acquaintance.

John flattened his palm against one another in front of his chest as he addressed Mathias. ”I’m sorry there’s someone I need to talk to. Hope to continue the catch up at a later time, Sir Mathias!”

He gave Mathias a last wave, a happier and more exciting one to Lukas before heading over to Roman, but circled around him a bit so that both of them were sideways to the crowd.

”You probably already knew what this was gonna be about.” John crossed his arms. ”The lady that just left, Violet. I have some reservations about her.” He said, looking at his compatriot, occasionally glancing back at the crowd, knowing some certain individual there being a little nosy with his business. ”Though I want to check with you first, how much do you know about her?”

Roman made sure they were just far enough away from the others as not to be rude but also not to be heard. Greeting his friend with his usual smile and happy demeanor. John was a trustworthy friend and a good logical advisor when he asked for his council on matters that were out of his ability.

His tone however, was flat and did not match the smile he kept on his face, “Lady Violet Damien, Mid twenties, eldest daughter of Count Damien who deals in secrets. Hobbies mostly include reading books and trying to avoid social situations that are forced upon her. Attacked by some manner of beast in her early childhood that gave her the scars on her chest.”

he sighed but still motioned towards some of the stalls below them that were selling and making food for the evening. “That was last night. Now she is cold, distant, monotone voice, pale skin, shaky on her feet and requiring a cane… the most worrying being her change in eye color from silver to red and the new scar across her face.” Roman knew what he was going to say next would have been seen as absolute insanity to anyone else, but not the Dr.

“In my professional opinion on the battlefield injuries I have seen… she was most likely killed sometime within the last 24 hours… you can't hide a scar like that and she wasn't wearing any makeup last night. Yet again more evidence of heavy uses of magic in and around this city." He was blunt to the point and there was an underlying tone of being pissed off in his voice but his face did not show it.

”Astute observation.” Returned a plain but frank compliment from John. He expected much from his old friend, but his competence continued to vault over it. A faint satisfied smile formed, but his countenance soon matched Roman’s, his tone of voice lowered. ”The first part is confirmed, albeit it is still a secret at the moment, at the behest of Count Damien.”

Taking a deep breathe, John prepared for a rather lengthy explanation. ”How did it all come to this? I stumbled onto Violet later at night after the ball near the library. At that point, she was already dead with an axe to the face.” He instinctively hesitated at the gruesome detail, especially considering Roman’s more affectionate attitude towards her, but knew he could not and should not lie at this moment and time, even how white it might have been. ”So I let the guards know. Then Count Damien knew. And then even the prince knew. Arrest warrants issued.” Things escalated a bit beyond his initial expectation, but it was the royals. They had boners to pick with everyone.

”That’s basically what happened last night. Now, given that her body was in their custody for the whole night, I suspect the Damiens themselves having something to do with it.”

The lord listened intently while still holding the smile and occasionally glancing out at the festivities. The information given was indeed interesting and he would need to go over it more clearly later that evening with Erik to get a better summary of events from the other reports. he did not flinch at the mention of Violet's demise as it was what he figured had happened and appreciated the dr.’s honesty. Yet having a suspicion and actually hearing the facts was a whole different story, this only made his blood boil more at the confirmation.

“More than likely to be the mother more than the father on the actual act of it. The count said that Violet and her mother left early in the morning to return to their home elsewhere. I advise that we both exercise caution, I will continue to pursue Violet. This way I can gauge whether her condition is dangerous to the rest of us.” he paused for a moment to think again before he spoke. “With how her father operates they will likely come out with some cover story and either pay off or kill the witnesses if they can't be influenced in other ways. Be careful John, my duties are to the protection of the royals and nobility but it also extends to you as well.”

John did not know the mother, but from his brief experience with the Count, it seemed typical. The doctor would be quite interested in seeing what Calbert would be acting out in response to this, given how predictable he could be, but he refrained the morbid curiosity given how hard Roman worked to ensure their safety.

The mother though. It’s an unknown variable that could grow dangerous just from the simple fact that they attempted necromancy to begin with. He better hope that once they got their precious daughter back, they’d stop. But the thing with magic is that it takes a lot of discipline to resist the temptation. Once you got something right, the rush of power and ego would be enormous. But it only takes one failure for even a whole kingdom to be brought down. That’s the dangerous part.

Again he paused and looked back at the others on the hill, he smiled at Sadie suddenly realizing he still had that flower to give her before returning his gaze to his friend. “Do you have any information about the prince? I was told he would have been leaving tonight with the queen and king.” Roman didn't mind changing the subject but that information did bother him. “I do not enjoy being miss informed about my charges.”

John let out a noticeable sigh upon the mention of the prince. ”I got a notice to take charge of the Corp of Physician because our royals departed and we have no one to take else, and now he suddenly decided not to go, so I’m overseeing more work for little reasons.”

Looking over to the silhouette of Prince Felix in the distance, he maintained a cordial smile in case they looked over. ”I have no idea what he is up to. He said in a letter that he wanted to spend time away from his fiancee here, but then he decided to remain the next day. I don’t know if he has any schemes, or if he is just being mopey.”

Given the prince Felix that he knew, it’s probably the latter.

Speaking of if anyone has any schemes, Fritz.

”How about Count Hendrix? He’s been rather cautious around me today.” John stroked his chin, his eyes occasionally glancing around to see if he was being listened to.

Roman nodded with his words, that did sound like the prince and his antics. "I’m sure we will see what comes of that tomorrow." He glanced at the count at the mention of their name, "I haven't really seen much of him so far this trip, I’m sure he’s working towards something. Do you have any other concerns?"

John looked up and around, noticing the Count in the distance, deciding to drop the subject instead of bringing up the encounter he had this morning.

”Not really, other than general unease I guess.” The doctor shrugged his shoulders, a sigh escaped his lips. ”But it’s fine, I’ve had much worse actual unease than this. Thank you for listening though.”

From the moment Lady Morrigan swept into the guesthouse, the Alidasht servant found themselves captivated by her presence. The allure of her movements commanded their unwavering attention. Their eyes traced the contours of her body, acutely aware of how her garments artfully accentuated her every asset, as she approached servants who had been present for the Alidasht dinner party. While most didn’t seem to mind talking to her, some eager to engage in gossip, a select few Danrose servants avoided eye contact.

Lady Morrigan bloomed with delight when she spotted a dinner guest. She trotted over to Lord Smithwood and brushed his arm with her fingertips, drawing his attention to her. He, though momentarily taken aback by the Lady’s sudden appearance, soon composed himself into a polite smile.

As members of the aristocracy in the Northern Kingdoms, they exchanged customary pleasantries. Foreign protocols guided the ensuing conversation. Distance between the two nobles and the Alidasht servant muffled their voices, but the occasional melodious laughter that spilled from the Lady traveled through the air easily enough.

However, as the conversation progressed, a subtle shift tugged at the corners of Lady Morrigan’s face, transforming her once-joyful expression into one of grave concern. Suddenly, her hands flew over her mouth, aghast at the Lord’s words. Based on how focused she was on the Lord’s feet, the source of her distress had to do with his shoes. How this, in turn, warranted her profuse apologies, remained an enigma in its own right. Footwear must be serious business in the North.

For the first time since they started talking, a hush fell between them. Lady Morrigan’s eyes fell, her cheeks tinged pink. The servant thought they detected a shimmer of moisture in her eyes. After a solemn reflection, she summoned the strength to lift her gaze and revealed her thoughts, which caught Lord Smithwood off guard once again.

Initially, Lord Smithwood appeared reluctant about what she said. In the end, when the Lady’s face clouded at his response, he relented, either accepting her request or promising to consider it. Whichever the case, her face brightened upon hearing his answer. She clasped his hands and shook them.

With a decision reached, the nobles bid each other farewell. Lady Morrigan, accompanied by her loyal knight, who clung to her like a shadow, drew close enough for the servant to eavesdrop on the latter half of their conversation.

“Are you sure that was wise?” he asked.

“Well, darling, we shall see how much the cub takes after his dear old daddy, won’t we?” she replied with a hint of amusement.

“Besides, as long as she’s breathing when all’s said and done, he can go on ahead and do as he pleases—chop her into pieces, sizzle her over a grill, earn extra coin as her procurer for the rest of the season. Gods knows, it’s none of my concern.”

She spoke her next words with chilling clarity, the cold steel of an executioner’s ax. “Dead men do not suffer… and she still has much to atone for.”

The park festivities had been exquisite, nothing like what they had in her village. The knight couldn't help but think of her hometown for a moment before bringing herself back to the present. She'd have to bake something, to fight this homesickness. Tomorrow. For the rest of tonight, patrols. This city has been getting quite loud, and not in a way she appreciated. She said fair well to the festive dancers and one musician (who'd had his guitar borrowed) she had gathered and got herself another skewer as she strode off to the city.

The streets, at this point, mostly bustled with people going back home from the park, but there were merchants trying to make one last sale for the day and other citizens who planned a whole night of partying and revelry. She might have joined then, but she was wearing just a little too much heraldry. Enough that she could be identified as a knight. She'd already given herself some rest time, recently. As well, she could smell something brewing, so maybe it was best she was rested already. The day's assassination attempt was a pretty big red flag, after all.

"Haaarrrr," Stratya haw'd to herself as she walked the streets, "if'n I were in a wizard's cabal, where might I be hidin'? Hhhrrmmmm." The warehouses, maybe, but she'd already been there. On a different investigation, but she had. Anywhere near the castle would be too guarded, you would think, and she'd have to have evidence, before she went poking around in any of the estates. If she were do stumble on something, it would have to be when they'd let their guard down, and that would be more likely farther from the castle. Farther from King Edin's many eyes. Between the enforcement centers and the castle, the furthest you could get from the guard was the graveyard (and there was scarcely anywhere to hide, there) and the slums.

The slums, huh? Plenty of holes in the wall, there. They might even be able to muscle out some tenants to claim their own building without raising a great fuss, gods know the king couldn't be bothered. Ah, but she was so certain the people of the slums would be happy to help. Yes, after so long of being ignored, they'd just love for a knight to walk through their streets. For this reason, the knight stopped by the barracks and dressed down a bit. A bit of leather here or there, some chainmail and common clothing later, she looked a bit more like someone from the Adventurer's Guild than a proper knight. That was the point.

Her preparations made, the knight strode back out into the night, making her way to the slums. She meandered her way through, stopping to talk to the occasional slummer. Ask them about anything weird. She got an answer sooner than she thought, though it wasn't what she was looking for. Some crazy bugger had made a real nuisance of himself and gotten himself beat without putting up a fight. The coins he spilled were a big occasion, too.

Apparently, that happened over here. The knight nearly kicked the poor fellow by accident, in the darkness. "Here ya are, aye?" She sighed as she looked at him, seeing his sorry state but not quite recognizing him in the dim moonlight in the alleys. "Alright, lad, let's up and away. Can ya walk, are ya awake?"

Violet & Charlotte

---

Violet's room was shrouded in darkness, the only source of light being the moonlight that crept in from her balcony. The air in the room felt heavy and suffocating as if a thick fog had seeped in, engulfing everything in its path.

Lying motionless on the floor, Violet appeared as though she had been swallowed by the very fabric of her room. Her body was contorted, twisted in a way that seemed unnatural, as if some unseen force had molded her into the carpet itself. The room's silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of Violet's shallow breaths, which had finally calmed after a period of broken and helpless crying.

Her tear-stained face revealed a haunting emptiness, devoid of any trace of emotion. Her eyes, once vibrant and full of life, still appeared hollow and vacant, as if something had sucked out her very essence. They were glazed over, as though a thin veil separated her from the realm of the living, trapping her in her own desolate purgatory.

With great effort, Violet slowly managed to lift herself off the ground. Her body felt leaden, burdened by an invisible weight that threatened to crush her. Every movement was a struggle, as if an invisible hand pulled her down, refusing to let her escape. As she rose, her hand instinctively went to her mouth, only to be greeted by the metallic taste of blood. The taste lingered on her tongue, a chilling reminder of the horrors she had not only just learned of but also participated in.

The surge of vitality that coursed through her veins sent shivers down her spine. It was a sickening paradox, for the taste of her own blood should have repulsed her, yet a twisted part of her found a strange allure in it. It was as if she had stumbled upon a forbidden pleasure, an intoxicating rush that mingled with her darkest thoughts. The repulsion and fascination battled within her, further entangling her mind in a web of confusion and despair.

At that moment, Violet's very existence seemed to hang in the balance, caught between the realms of light and darkness. She was trapped in a dance with her own demons, their whispers echoing through the room, amplifying her torment.

And at that moment, Violet realized that escaping the clutches of this nightmarish reality would require more than just physical strength—it would demand a battle against the darkness that had taken hold of her very soul.

The sound of a gentle knock against her door suddenly filled the air.

After a brief pause, Charlotte's voice followed. "Violet? Are you in there? It's me, Charlotte," she called out from the hallway.

Violet's red eyes turned over to her door. She heard a mousey voice squeaking as the sound of someone knocking echoed. Charlotte... It wasn’t a familiar name to her, but nothing felt familiar anymore.

She was surprised that someone had even stopped by, had it just been a coincidence or was someone actually concerned for her? She continued to stare at the door in silence, her red eyes piercing the wood as if waiting for it to catch fire or melt.

Violet walked over to the door, her hand reaching with hesitation to the handle but instead it moved. Her fingers pressed against the door as she held it shut under her weight. Her head dipped low in shame as she managed to speak a few words.

“Yes…What is it?” The words emerged like shards of glass, sharp and cold, devoid of any pretense or warmth. The question hung in the air, a fragile bridge between the monster that dwelled behind the door.

“… Thank goodness” She initially said to herself with a sigh then raised her voice to ask, “…Is it a bad time for us to talk?”

Violet's head sank lower, resting heavily against the door. A shuddering sigh escaped her lips, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the decision she was about to make. The room seemed to hold its breath, an unsettling silence permeating the space, casting an eerie pallor over the encounter between Violet and Charlotte.

With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, Violet's pale hand extended towards the door handle, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal as anticipation tightened her grip. Slowly, almost agonizingly, she turned the handle, each click echoing in the stillness, building an atmosphere of unease. The door opened, its rusty hinges protesting as Violet's room was gradually unveiled to Charlotte's searching gaze.

As the door widened, a gust of frigid air swept from the room, swirling ominously around Violet's figure. Her red eyes, swollen and puffy from her earlier breakdown, flickered with a raw intensity, darting across the shadowed figure that was charlotte, struggling to focus on the shadowy silhouette before her. Her vision was still impaired, leaving her lost in a haze of uncertainty.

Violet's pale complexion, like a spectral apparition, contrasted starkly against her raven-black hair, which cascaded in disheveled tendrils around her face. A prominent scar marred her eye, a testament to the curse she now carried, while her once-rosy lips were now stained a haunting shade of red, reminiscent of the blood that had once adorned them. She exuded an otherworldly aura, a haunting appearance intertwined with the darkness that cloaked her being.

As the door swung fully open, Charlotte's scent wafted through the air, invading Violet's senses. She inhaled sharply, trying to resist the allure of the aroma, her breath hitching as the tempting allure of blood tingled at the edges of her consciousness. The intoxicating allure beckoned to her, its seductive power captivating her weakened self, though for now, she managed to suppress the primal cravings that lurked within.

"Sure. Come inside..." Her voice emerged as a fragile whisper, barely audible above the stifled atmosphere. Stepping aside with a subtle gesture, Violet made way for Charlotte to enter her room.

Charlotte had been smiling when the door had opened. She immediately had moved forward eagerly to wrap her arms around her in an embrace. As she had walked forward, Violet’s appearance had not immediately registered in her mind—She had just been so happy to see the girl alive and without an axe in her face.

However, as she wrapped her arms gently around the girl’s back, the details of what she had seen began to set in. Her expression changed out of Violet’s field of vision as a wave of horror washed over her.

As Charlotte laid eyes upon Violet, a rush of recognition and disbelief coursed through her veins. She knew it was Violet before her, yet it felt as if she were standing with a stranger.
The warmth of Charlotte's embrace faded as she slowly unwrapped her arms, retreating backward to create a little distance, needing to see Violet's face clearly. Her expression molded into that of concern.

After a hesitation, she reached out with a trembling hand to touch Violet’s cheek comfortingly. She wanted to ask her if someone had hurt her or even simply what had happened, but she was left speechless.

Violet's red and swollen eyes widened, their red hue gleaming with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. The touch of arms enveloping her sent an electric current through her frozen body, as if time itself had come to a halt. She remained immobile, trapped in a haunted moment that stretched into eternity.

No reaction escaped her, no reciprocation of the embrace; she simply stood there.

Charlotte's presence grew more tangible, her physical form pressing against Violet's, the essence of her being permeating the air. The scent intensified, invading Violet's senses, tempting her with a hunger she fought to suppress. Each breath she sucked in was deeper, a desperate attempt to ignore the insatiable craving that clawed at her insides, yearning to consume and satiate a primal thirst.

A chill coursed through Violet as Charlotte withdrew. The expression etched upon Charlotte's face was one that was all too familiar now.Although Violet couldn’t see, she could feel a haunting combination of fear and disgust that Violet had felt countless times now. It was a look she knew she would need to grow accustomed to, a cruel reminder of the monstrous being she had become. She felt the weight of that look, a heavy burden that eroded her self-worth, leaving her feeling hideous, grotesque, and repulsive even to her.

When Charlotte's hand reached out towards her face, Violet instinctively turned away, her body shifting as she stepped into the room, her back now shielding her from prying eyes. Her voice trembled slightly, cracking under the weight of the pain she felt. "What was it that you needed to speak about?" she asked, her words laced with a fragile vulnerability.

Making her way to the vanity, Violet ignored the aftermath of her emotions. The room, once a haven of solace and tranquility, now lay in ruins. Items were strewn about, a chaotic testament to her inner turmoil. It was an unsettling sight, a stark contrast to the meticulous care Violet had always bestowed upon her belongings. This room, once her sanctuary, now resembled a war-torn battlefield, and Charlotte had ventured into the aftermath.

With trembling fingers, Violet reached into the drawer, her touch fumbling amidst the disarray. She was grateful for her impaired vision, shielded from the fear and disgust she knew etched itself upon Charlotte's face. Finally, her fingertips brushed against the veiled headband she sought. Slipping it on, the thin mesh fabric helped conceal her eyes and, in turn, the disfiguring scars that marred her once untouched face.

Turning back around, Violet took a seat on the worn couch in the small waiting area. Her delicate hands rested upon her knee, one leg crossing over the other in a picture of a poised lady.

"I'm sorry you had to see me in this state. I've just arrived home from a very long journey," she stated plainly, her voice heavy with the weight of an apology. "Someone had been pillaging my belongings, and I have yet to tidy the place up. I hope you don't mind." Her words hung in the air, laden with a sadness that echoed through the desolate room, an unspoken plea for understanding.

With a furrowed brow, Charlotte observed intently as Violet gracefully draped a veil over her head. She immediately grasped the possibility that Violet may have misinterpreted her expression erroneously. Truthfully, she was frightened about the implications of her changed appearance. If there was a scar like that right in the middle of her face, had she really been struck with an axe? If so, why was she alive? Why did she look so different? Her mind wandered back to the magic discussion that had occurred earlier in the day. and she felt herself grow uneasy at first. Then she just feel rising anger, no doubt with aid from the bastard Damien who had just made her blood boil.

Charlotte positioned herself beside Violet, deliberately allowing a respectful distance to foster a sense of comfort. She took a moment to compose her rising emotions and focused on keeping an even, reassuring tone, “I do not want you to apologize. …I came here to see you after all. I feel no burden from seeing the beautiful face of my dear friend so please do not feel you need to hide yourself from me…There’s nothing wrong with you.” Charlotte gave her a warm smile and it was then she did take notice that Violet’s gaze seemed rather unfocused. “...However, I am worried about you, Violet if I am honest…I got a little startled seeing your injury. “ Her voice grew lower as she dared to ask, “...Did someone hurt you?”

Violet sat there in eerie silence, the atmosphere heavy with unsettling tension. Her body squirmed with discomfort, unsure whether it was Charlotte's presence that unsettled her or the shock of her sudden appearance. The air between them seemed distorted as if carrying an ominous secret, which it certainly was... Despite claiming to be her friend, Violet couldn't shake the unease that lingered, for Charlotte was the first person, apart from Roman, to extend genuine concern for her but that didn’t mean she trusted her.

Caught in a perplexing dilemma, Violet pondered what she should disclose to Charlotte. Should she bare the raw truth, the weight of her mother's tales still fresh in her mind? The stranger that Charlotte was to Violet only intensified the internal tug of war, amplifying the concern that consumed her thoughts.

“You’re kind to call my face beautiful but I’d much rather a conversation didn’t start off with a lie. “ she retorted, her words laced with an icy bitterness. "I may be blind, but I'm not oblivious. Many have reacted as you have, and I suspect many more will follow suit."

“It’s not a lie.” She interjected.

With a deep breath, she mustered the courage to confront Charlotte's probing inquiry. "The truth is, I don't know what happened. I am unaware of anything," she confessed, leaning back slightly, her fragile form on the verge of collapse. "My memories have vanished, my sight has abandoned me, and my body is reduced to a sickly state. I can't even walk unassisted at this point. You seem to have known something though... Perhaps you can help piece together what happened. All I know is what Roman has told me."

In truth, Violet deliberately deceived Charlotte about her level of awareness, Violet was reluctant to reveal anything else. The only person she would even contemplate confiding in, at this point, was Roman. But how could she ever come to terms with the information imparted by her mother? The severity of it all overwhelmed her, and a suffocating sense of isolation gripped her once again, convincing herself that being alone was the best solution. The mere thought of innocent lives being put into jeopardy because of her actions sent shivers down her spine, but she forcibly pushed aside her grim thoughts, refusing to confront them.

Charlotte’s expression deeply saddened and her face paled if possible. She felt sick to her stomach after what she had heard. This poor girl…

She rubbed her knees anxiously, not wanting to lie nor upset the girl anymore than she had. If she told Violet too much and Calbert found out, that could also be dangerously. “ I’m so sorry… Anything I could do to help, I am here for you Violet.”

After a deep sigh, she admitted, “ I overheard that you may have been attacked last night, and I was concerned for your safety, so I came here to see if you were…” She drew off and met her gaze best she could.

Violet's shoulders dropped as she seemed to visually relax. “ I appreciate your concern and your company. Probably more than you know. Roman was the only other to show concern so it's refreshing. It was very confusing arriving home with all the issues I had. “ She paused as her voice dropped. “ It was scary. I didn’t know who was talking to me yet everyone knew me. “ She sucked in her breath letting out a long sigh, “ I guess if you hear anything else, I would appreciate any information you could find out.” she paused “ Please…don’t tell Crystal. I can’t tell you why I feel this way but I just want to protect her from this.”

“I’m always right next door if you ever need anything… Even if it’s late, I don’t mind.” Charlotte told her softly and then added, ”...I won’t tell her anything.” She then fell silent before she spoke once more, ”Roman, huh? She smiled to herself, recalling a little bit of what she had read in the paper. “From the Varian Kingdom. I haven’t spoken to him much, but he sounds like a good man for taking the time to care about you… I’ll put in a good word if we ever speak.” She giggled a little at the end of her statement.

Violet nodded lightly, “I would say people's actions often speak louder than their words. Roman spoke with action. “ she said softly.“ So I would have to agree. I appreciate the gesture of that however, I don't believe I am really a good match for anyone at this point. With this unknown illness, I seem to be battling, It certainly doesn’t make me ideal courting material.” Her voice trailed off as her tone dropped. “ Anyways, It is getting rather later. Would you like me to get a guard to walk with you home?” Violet asked.

“I will help you with this, Violet… If we can get the story straight and find out what ails you, we can take steps to help you feel better. There’s so much to you ill or not, and I am sure someone special will see that..” She rose up to her feet finally, then shook her head. “No that’s alright. It’s right there so I’ll just walk on my own…”

Charlotte moved toward the door and paused, “Oh but before I go…Is that man with the silver in his hair really your brother…?”

Violet paused for a moment raising a brow, ” I wouldn’t know…kind of blind.” She snapped “ But yes, the mutt downstairs is apparently my half brother.He is apparently great at killing people…” She shrugged.

Charlotte clenched her jaw, lingering in the doorway. She rested her hand on the side of it, lost in her thoughts briefly. “...Right. Sorry about that… Have a good night, Violet.” With that, she left the room and then soon left the house in quite a hurry.

---

Time: Evening
Location: The Damien Estate
Interaction: N/A
Mentions: @princess Calbert, Lily, & Charlotte @Heartfillia Crystal @Tpartywithzombi Violet

---

Cassius found himself in awe as the meal was brought to him. He could count on one hand how many times in his entire life that had the opportunity to dine like a nobleman…and this meal, as last minute as it was, was more impressive than most of those times combined. He remembered the evening before he and the rest of his Iron Wolves were meant to take back a stronghold from a group of rather organized bandits. The merchant footing the bill for the whole operation bought out an entire tavern for the night so that the men could feast and be merry before the battle ahead. That was the greatest meal he ever had…but this…this was fucking close.

Once the thank yous and other pleasantries were out of the way, Lily and the rest of the staff left Cassius to eat his meal in peace. Despite the grandiose nature of the delicacies before him, he found it difficult to think about anything other than the day that had so wildly unfolded before his very eyes. He looked back on his day and allowed the memories to play out in his mind’s eye.

It had all started when he approached the Damien estate for the very first time. Meeting his father had gone differently from what he expected. Pondering back on the moment, he cringed a bit at the realization that he had actually sang a bit of his mother’s song to the man to prove his identity. Cassius had not really sung for anyone other than the occasional lover on a drunken night, not counting drinking songs and songs of war, of course. To truly sing for another was a rather vulnerable thing for him despite his voice deserving to be heard. It was a piece of connective tissue forever linked to his mother, and each time a song formed on his lips he mourned her all over again. But sing he did, and it was enough to prove to the Count that he was who he claimed to be.

From there he found himself entered into an archery contest that he did not win…but he captured the hearts and loins of many in attendance; at least it sure felt that way from atop his mountain of arrogance. Then came the moment he was accosted by a behemoth of a man that turned out to be the protector of a young woman that was soon revealed to be one of his younger sisters. Crystal was a sweetheart, and despite her understandable apprehension towards him, he already felt like he would be willing to protect her with his very life. Family has an odd way of making you feel that way.

Next in the chain of events that was Cas’ day was the execution of Cameron Nesworth. He still hadn’t processed what he witnessed there. To be honest, he hadn’t processed a lot of this day…but this bit was a particularly strange piece of the day’s puzzle. He knew that something had happened between the man being executed and the woman with the ginger hair, but he wasn’t sure that he would ever truly comprehend what he had seen. He was used to accepting the unknown, but even so, this had piqued his curiosity .

The next few hours of his day were spent in revelry, up until the point that he left the tavern for some fresh air and an evening walk. He remembered the moments leading up to the fight. Finding the scrap of fabric, hearing the commotion, sneaking his way to gain a vantage point…his axe digging into the lesser man’s skull. It had been glorious, and Cas was glad that he could help the woman in need. Especially once she revealed herself to be his other younger sibling. Violet was much stranger than Crystal. Not as innocent nor as sweet, but she was a feisty woman that had seemingly changed before his very eyes from a damsel in distress to a capable and clever force to be reckoned with. He liked her already, though he had the sense that the feeling was not mutual. He didn’t mind being hated; it was just kind of neat having sisters at all.

Returning to the Damien estate honestly proved to be the strangest part of his day, and that’s saying a lot. First there was the argument between Violet and their parents, then as everyone went their separate ways Cassius was left to his solitude for a few moments. He recalled hearing the knock at the door. In some ways the sound still reverberated through him, as did the silence that encapsulated his mind once he opened it. There she stood, the neighbor girl with the sad eyes. Her name was Charlotte.

Why was it that in all the chaos of the day, it was Charlotte that stood first and foremost in his mind? Perhaps it was recency bias, but he knew deep down that there was more to it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, but something about her felt familiar to him. Not in the sense that he had seen her before, no it was something else and he hadn’t the slightest clue nor the ability to process such things after the day he had. However, as he enjoyed his meal and indulged the Damien’s wine…it was his meeting with Charlotte that repeated in his mind. That girl and her melancholy eyes.