“Don’t flatter myself?” Peter slapped a hand against his chest, eyebrows shooting up in mock shock. “If I don’t, who’s gonna? World’s already done a bang-up job convincing us we’ll never be enough. But I know my worth and I’m gonna give credit where it’s due. So yeah, I am quite the looker alright.” His grin stretched into a full-on sh*t-eating display. “Enough to catch your eye and not let go even after the dance was done.” If Blue’s gaze could shoot daggers, he turned into a knife block in the time it took to browse the buffet spread. “No shame in owning up to it, you know?”

Satisfied with his assessment of Blue, he committed the location of her weapon to memory before signaling the passing server.

“Where'd y'learn a jig like tha', anyway?” she asked.

“Here and there.” He shrugged, trading his empty glass for a full one off the server’s tray without missing a beat. “But that ain’t what you’re really asking, is it?” As Peter took a sip, he eyed her over the rim of his glass.

He was ready for the usual crack about how “his kind” shouldn’t be rubbing elbows with the high and mighty. Except, her accent tipped him off that she didn’t exactly belong either. His guess? Blue got to hang here because she was cozy with someone who did.

Peter pretended not to notice the accusation behind Blue’s probing question about missing belongings. He just checked his pockets, turning it inside out for show, and patted himself down. “Yeah. Why?”

Cassius observed the scene unfold with the practiced eye of a gambler surveying the cards on the table. One of the men took Charlotte's hand in his own, a gesture that did not escape Cassius's notice and one that caused a wave of curiosity to surge through him. There was a certain finesse to the man's movements, a subtle manipulation that danced beneath the surface like a shadow cloaked in sunlight. Yet, despite the veneer of a sinister nature, Cassius couldn't help but sense a gentle heart beating beneath it all, a contradiction that honestly both intrigued and unnerved him. Eventually, that very contradiction of a man stood to introduce himself.

“And you’ll have to excuse me for drawing you away from the one who so captivates your interest…Lord Cassius Damien, I presume? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Fritz.” The intriguing man said, extending a hand to Cassius, which he shook without hesitation and purposefully maintained eye contact.

“Very perceptive of you, Mr. Fritz. Indeed I am the bastard son of Count Damien…and newest Lord to grace Caesonia. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” he mused, his voice dripping with honeyed charm.

“If the others don’t mind, I think it would be heartening to have your assistance, Lord Damien. More the merrier, I say.”

After nodding in agreement and releasing Fritz's hand, Cassius took a second to acknowledge the server among them with a smile and friendly wink, before letting his attention turn to the man clad in lion themed attire who was clearly annoyed by his presence.

He did not verbally respond to Leo’s words, but the man's judgment hung in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon. His disdain was palpable even beneath the mask he wore. Instead…Cassius arched a brow, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips as he glared at Leo arrogantly. Ah…the illustrious Lord Smithwood, he thought to himself, his inner voice laced with sarcasm. So quick to judge, yet so slow to understand the game played all around you. His mind turned to his father’s dossier, and the man’s thoughts on the people of importance in the kingdom…Cassius had to admit that Calbert’s musings seemed spot on thus far, at least when it came to the young Smithwood.

But what of Charlotte? Was Calbert right about her as well?

His father's words echoed in the recesses of his mind like a warning whispered on the wind. Calbert Damien had made his disdain for Charlotte and her stepfather clear, a testament to the drama between the two families. And yet, despite his father's wishes, Cassius couldn't deny the call of curiosity. His draw to Charlotte was undeniable even though he did not understand it in the slightest, a magnetic pull that tugged at the edges of his consciousness even when his mind should be focused on other matters. In reaction to Count Fritz’s acknowledgment of Cas’s captivation by Charlotte, he adjusted…masking his curiosity behind a veil of nonchalance, his gaze lingering on her for but a moment before shifting back to the task at hand as she turned her attention to Leo.

As the conversation transitioned to finding the missing watch and Charlotte laid out her suggestions, Cassius's gaze swept across the crowd, his eyes alight with a hunter’s gleam. As he looked over the partygoers, he pondered the men around Charlotte. They all seemed to notice his eyes on her, even the server that still stood amongst them seemed to have thoughts on the matter. Cas wondered about the nature of each fella’s relationship with her, curious if any of them were potential suitors or had romantic ties to the girl he had been so uncharacteristically drawn to. He could not care less about Lord Smithwood’s watch, and yet he scanned the crowd with a practiced eye…his senses sharpened by years of navigating the treacherous life of a mercenary. Quickly someone caught his eye. There, amidst the sea of masks and shadows, he spotted her…a woman in an orange and gold dress, donning the disguise of a cat mask, her presence was like a beacon in the darkness.

Not many gowns of orange and gold, I imagine…surely she’s the one. Cassius pondered internally as he took in the sight of her. He caught his glance just as the woman was beginning to move away from the dance floor, and sure enough…dangling from her waist piece was a pocket watch. From the way it hung, Cassius could tell that the woman most likely didn’t even know it was in her possession. His instinct to point it out to the others was silenced as he turned his own attention back to Leo once more. The smug look of superiority on the man’s face was enough to garner contempt, but the shrill pitch of his voice and oddly timed fit of laughter only added to the aura of unlikability. He considered his options just as Leo addressed him once more.

“Apologies, Cassius, the watch belongs to my father, his before his, for many years, irreplaceable…An excellent showing at the archery contest the other day, by the way.” The compliment from Leo was almost enough to sway the balance of the scales adequately for Cassius to offer up his knowledge of the watch, but the man’s half-assed nod made his decision for him.

“Thank you kindly, Lord Smithwood. I do great work, especially when there’s a captive audience.”

No, he would not reveal the whereabouts of the watch…at least not yet. The whole scenario amused him and he was far more interested to see how this little group would fair in finding it on their own. Plus, given the fact that all three gentleman seemed interested in, or at least protective of, Charlotte in their own ways…he saw an opportunity to test those waters that he simply could not resist. Careful not to repeat the mistakes of the other night, Cassius addressed Charlotte directly…his tone of voice even more alluring than normal.

“Lady Vikena, I would be remiss if I did not admit that it is quite lovely to see you. It seems you’re as clever as you are kind and as kind as you are beautiful.” He complimented, his best smile on display just for her. Even though a part of him was doing this simply to see the reactions of the others, he meant every word he spoke and could not deny that he appreciated her eyes on him as he continued to speak. The air of sarcasm that usually painted his words disappeared completely now that they were directed to her, replaced by unmistakable genuineness. “And we can certainly turn back to the watch in a moment, but I would regret it if I did not acknowledge how wonderful your entire ensemble looks. I would not have personally picked you for a butterfly, though beautiful…they are far too fragile a creature to do you justice, but nonetheless you look simply incredible, as I’m sure you would regardless of the theme.” With a polite bow towards Charlotte, Cassius allowed his eyes to meet those of each of the other three men at the table as a way to gauge their feelings for his gesture.

Riona’s aching feet had just about reached their limit of discomfort when Via’s voice chimed in the back of her head. “... enjoy the festivities…” Since she’s here, she should, shouldn’t she?

As if she read her mind, Shehzadi Nahir suddenly asked after letting out an uncharacteristically hearty laugh, “Shall we dance do this without the heels, then? Proper dancing, this time, no tripping or stepping.” A second later, the Alidasht’s royal heels were set aside and her feet were bare, ready for what would come next. Riona gaped at the Shehzadi, surprised by the unexpected bold move before a slow grin fought its way onto her face.

Kicking off the pinching shoes brought instant relief. She glanced over at Shehzadi Nahir, who was watching her with renewed enthusiasm. Without a word, Riona grasped her hand, and together they launched into a dance that resembled nothing like the one that came before it. Gone were the awkward shuffling and steps dictated by shoes. With her bare feet on the cool marble floor, Riona felt more connected to the music, more in tune with Nahir’s movements. They twirled and glided across the polished floor, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Their newfound comfort allowed them to switch leads effortlessly, each guiding the other with confidence and grace. They lost themselves in the music and the joy of the dance. And they danced until their heart’s content.

By the time the final chords faded, Riona beamed with satisfaction. An air of triumph followed her while she cruised off the dance floor with Nahir in one hand and her discarded shoes in the other. They made their way to the edge of the ballroom, finding a quiet corner where they could slip their shoes back on. Little did they know they had chosen the wrong time to be there.

From the crowd of partiers, a wasted guest staggered in their direction, flanked by less intoxicated friends struggling to guide his unsteady footsteps. The man was enormous, and it took more than a few people to keep him upright and escort him out of the ballroom.

But then gravity decided to yank him down, sending him crashing to the ground before the women. Moved by a mix of concern and reflex, Riona reached out to help him up, but he was much heavier than she imagined. And, coupled with his drunken momentum, when he leaned in on her, his massive bulk ended up pinning her against the wall. The force of the impact knocked the breath right out of her lungs, and she swore something cracked.

His companions rushed to her aid, pulling him off of her before he did any real damage. Once freed, Riona fixed herself, adjusting her skirt and not once noticing the warped pocket watch or how it vanished underneath the orange layers of her dress.

Shaking off the incident, Nahir and Riona continued to chat as they walked through the crowd toward a table. On their way there, a familiar pair of lion slippers caught her attention. Her steps halted before their owner, Sh*tlord.

A smirk hinted at mischief on her lips. “What lovely shoes,” she remarked in a subtly disguised voice. She then looked him over, pretending to have difficulty remembering which of the thousands of pompous nobles he was, before she announced, loud enough for bystanders and the Alidasht’s Royal Highness to catch, “Lord Leo Smithwood!” She curtsied. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

---

---

While the conversation continued, Ryn found his eyes drawn inexorably downwards, fixating on the hand that Lord Damien had shaken.

—Coated scarlet red.

When Lord Damien gripped his hand, Ryn sensed the warmth and stickiness of fresh blood. It seeped through the gloves and into his skin, the thick rivulets sluggishly winding down his wrist. He recognized the hand as belonging to someone who had claimed so many lives that it left a stain that not even time could wash away. There was a kinship in that.

Letting his hand fall, Ryn lifted his gaze in time to witness the son of Count Damien showering Lady Vikena with honeyed words. The way the man’s eyes caressed her and his dulcet tones made Ryn wonder if he was besotted with her and whether now was the appropriate time to express it.

Curious about her reception of such attention, Ryn stole a quick glance at Lady Vikena. When he shifted his focus back, Lord Damien’s eyes were on the three men, watching them closely. As if he wanted to ask what they made of his attempts to woo Lady Vikena. Was he assessing if they were competition, or was there another motive behind his gaze?

If Lord Damien wanted to gain insights subtly, it would be impolite of Ryn not to reciprocate. And if his intuition proved correct, the new lord was the type that appreciated a little banter. Though for Lord Smithwood’s sake, it would be brief, as they still must find his father’s watch.

He waited a few beats before gasping. “Lord Damien, I feel left out. Will you not tell us how beautiful and strong we are too?” He motioned toward Lord Smithwood. “Surely you’ve noticed how this distinguished gentleman would be the heart of any pride?” A breath more and he would have mentioned Mr. V as well, but prudence held him back. Try not to draw too much attention to him, Ryn reminded himself.

Observing Lord Damien’s reaction, Ryn smiled. Then returned to the case at hand. “About the watch, perhaps we should split—”

His words stilled as two women approached the group. One of them was Shehzadi Nahir, and the other wore a cat mask. “What lovely shoes,” the cat said to the lion.

However, Ryn’s gaze strayed past them to a worrisome sight. Behind the two, in the distance, stood Count Damien and Ms. Persephone, unaccompanied by Peter. “V. Charlotte.” Ryn’s voice dropped to a hush as he directed their attention to the potential storm brewing on the horizon. Tension clung to Ryn until Ms. Persephone extricated herself from the count’s vicinity, but the sense of unease lingered on.

“But that ain't what you're really asking, is it?”

“Ooh? I haven' the foggiest figure of what ye mean. I ‘adn't seen a dance quite like it before, on or off beat, an’ I was wondering where it came from, aye? ‘ave you evah been t’ d’ Bread Fest’val in Zivitas’ Creek? Now, they've a fine jig, rooted in ol’ traditions. You can' prop’ly perform it withou’ sof’ bread, y’know.”

His eyes had been searching her. Not ogling, that was easy enough to spot. No, he was definitely assessing her. As he turned out his pockets, she nodded softly to herself, “righ’. No’ much to go missin’ in the first place, ah? I can relate. Most I've go’ is me fife.” That didn't paint him well, though. “Oh, there's been a streak of’ mischief, tonigh’. If I didn't know any better, I'd think someone was playing a game” with other people's pockets. “Perhaps something in the air? Or the alcuhol. There, see? Just what I'm talking about.” A rotund patron had collided with a smaller girl and needed his friends to help him about. “‘ow much do ye think he's drank? Big guy like tha’ should be able to ‘old his drink.”

The champagne was interesting. It was stronger, but it was served in smaller volumes than ale. By design, like as not. If that guy could get sloshed, then the other nobles probably needed caution or they'd end up similarly.

… Hmm. How many nobles could she out-drink…? No, stop. Just because you're off-duty doesn't mean you can be irresponsible. Or… does it? Hmmm.

"Ye reck'n they're all ligh'weights? Naw, couldn't be."

Location: The ceremony

The night carried on. Munir blended into the crowd, swaying side to side with the music that seem to emanate from every corner of the dark forest. His eyes were closed, as he felt strangely at ease with his surroundings. Hakim stood nearby, having decided to decline the drinks offered at the ceremony in order to keep a lucid mind. Munir, however, partook in all parts of the ceremony, as it would have been respectful for him to do.

As his mind flirted with the line that defined consciousness, he felt a sudden chill that was not characteristic of the weather. He drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. In his physical form, his eyes remained closed. However, in his consciousness, he was seeing figures.

"Mot- Mother?... How are you here? You...." Munir exclaimed. The figure remained silent. However, in the depths of his consciousness, Munir could hear his mother loud and clear. "My love. It has been so difficult for you. I am sorry you have suffered so... Munir was silent. A tear started to form, both physically for him and in his consciousness. "I'm sorry I have not been around and you've had to clad yourself in your armor, keeping everyone at a distance from your true self. My child, you need not dim your light any longer. I see that someone has reignited the fire in you. The fire you've always had. Let it burn bright and fierce, my ray of sunshine. Let the fire propel you to who you are meant to be... "Mother...." Munir said, reaching his hand out physically, trying to grasp the ethereal. "I'm always with you, my love. If you are lost, know that I am never far away..." The ethereal figure reached out and caressed Munir's face, before fading from his consciousness.

With a sharp gasp and inhale, followed by a hitched exhale, Munir took several moments to catch his breath. He automatically gave Hakim a small gesture to signal that he was fine and Hakim need not worry. Looking up at the stage, focusing on Mina specifically, Munir placed a palm at the center of his chest, hoping to steady heart and breathing...

-

Time:Evening
Location: Calbert's Estate
Interaction: @JJ Doe Fritz @Samreaper Kazumin @Helo Leo @PapaOso Cassius @Potter Olivia

---

“Gold, with Varian Pines and a stag adorning its case. A sidewinder, well kept and unscratched. It was last in this pocket...Chain now, gone as well."

Charlotte carefully listened to Leo's description of the missing item, her mind diligently absorbing every detail. She repeated the information to herself, committing it to memory as best she could. However, her focus was completely broken by Leo's sudden fit of giggles. She glanced at him, a quizzical expression furrowing her brow.

This cannot merely be coincedence. The crazy shift in pitch, the sporadic bouts of laughter... Undoubtedly, someone is messing with him.

Despite her thoughts, she did not voice them and instead comfortingly patted the back of her laughing friend. As Leo revealed that the watch had belonged to his father, Charlotte's heart twinged with sympathy and guilt. She hadn't fully grasped the significance of the missing item until now.

Once he had got ahold of himself, he had suggested seeking out a woman who had been dancing with Nahir. "Alright. I can go seek her out." Charlotte had told him determinedly.

Before she could glance around the room for the Alidasht princess, Cassius decided to pipe up with a random declaration,“Lady Vikena, I would be remiss if I did not admit that it is quite lovely to see you. It seems you’re as clever as you are kind and as kind as you are beautiful.”

Charlotte froze in place, caught off guard by the unexpected compliments. Her initial reaction was one of confusion, her mind trying to comprehend the sincerity behind his words. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering uncertainly before finally settling on Cassius as he kept speaking.

“And we can certainly turn back to the watch in a moment, but I would regret it if I did not acknowledge how wonderful your entire ensemble looks. I would not have personally picked you for a butterfly, though beautiful…they are far too fragile a creature to do you justice, but nonetheless you look simply incredible, as I’m sure you would regardless of the theme.”

Considering how the other night had gone, Charlotte couldn't shake the thought that perhaps Cassius was attempting to mock her or this was some strange ploy orchestrated by Calbert. Yet, despite her instinctive suspicion, a smaller part of her also couldn't help but appreciate the words.

Tentatively, after some thought, she offered a shy smile. "Thank you very much, Lord Cassius."

She subsequently suppressed a laugh, biting her lip as Fritz expressed feeling left out. However, before she could dwell on it further, Nahir and the woman in orange approached. The woman greeted Leo, but Fritz quickly diverted her attention, interrupting any further thought on the matter.

Her eyes followed his line of sight to Olivia and Calbert, the former locking eyes with her briefly. She felt a shiver of fear ripple through her, her mind racing with concern. Charlotte desperately wanted to rush to Olivia's side, but she remained rooted to the spot until Calbert had seemingly stepped away from her.

Distractedly, she told the others after setting her drink on the table, "I-I shall go look around and see if I can find anything..." She slightly stammered and began to push her way through the crowd.

“righ’. No’ much to go missin’ in the first place, ah? I can relate. Most I've go’ is me fife.”

Truth be told, the nobles didn’t either. One thing Peter learned from these fancy parties was that the most valuable things on the guests were always out on full display. That’s the whole point, ain’t it? To show off? Most ladies’s dresses didn’t even have a pocket to pick. For the gents, if they carried anything, their pockets were usually reserved for watches, hankies, snuffboxes, and/or dance cards. (That’s what made Blue stick out with her fife.) It was the attendants who carried all their f**king crap like a damn pack mule.

Peter only showed Blue his empty pockets to prove he didn’t have any of the “stolen” stuff.

... Well, alright. He did lift his whole getup to blend in. But he didn’t steal anything from the guests here.

When Blue told him about the streak of mischief that was terrorizing a handful of the oh-so-poor-helpless-partygoers, it took a lot of willpower to smother a smirk. “Mischief?” Peter asked as he kept his face as innocent as a choirboy.

“Perhaps something in the air? Or the alcuhol.” Blue nodded in a direction. “There, see? Just what I'm talking about.”

He followed her gaze to see some drunkard stumbling around and flattening out his would-be helper against the wall. The party officially hit that hour when you could tell who could handle their liquor and who couldn’t just by the way they moved.

“‘ow much do ye think he's drank? Big guy like tha’ should be able to ‘old his drink.”

“Now that’s pigeonholing. Could be he’s got health issues. Or maybe he’s got demons haunting him, and he drinks to shut them up. Only it don’t work that way. Every sip just brings all the stuff he’s avoiding into sharper focus and that reminds him why he started drinking in the first place. He’s stuck in a loop. Wants the buzz but it makes him more miserable. He can only handle so much booze before it becomes too much and he has to stop...only to start it all over later.” After delivering that spiel, Peter paused for dramatic effect before grinning. “Or he’s just a two-sip chump.”

“Ye reck'n they're all ligh'weights? Naw, couldn't be.”

“Only one way to find out.” With a tilt of his head, Peter motioned toward the merry group the drunkard left. “Why don’t you try drinking them all under the table?”

Location: Damien Estate
Time: Sola 23 / Night

Time seemed to pass rather quickly as Violet was already finished getting ready. Lianna had lent her a rather beautiful red gown. It was different from her normal attire but the dress seemed to fit her like a glove. Her deep black hair was loose and curled as it sat against her pale bareback, the contrast making her normally pale skin appear almost luminescent. What was striking about all of it was her face.

Violet had also managed to use some of Lianna’s makeup, covering up the already healing scar that tainted her face. Her once large disfigurement was now nothing more than a faded line across her face. It certainly wasn’t gone, and if you were to look for it you would find it but at first glance Violet appeared to have her original appearance. Her large red eyes were also adorned with makeup, the black smokey color made the red of her eyes pop even more than they already did.

Violet even took some time to assist Lady Lianna with her dress, hair, and makeup, trying to repay some of the courtesy. Lianna's dress was much more modest than the one Violet had chosen. Hers was a flowing dress of gold and black. Once they were finished she helped wheel her out into the grand foyer awaiting Alexander's return.

“Do you have an excuse prepared for your absence? You've been missing for quite some time?” Lianna was sure Alexander had something in mind but she wished

to test the young girl's wit.

“If by some means they notice my absence which will be a surprise in itself, I will just tell them I had to make an emergency stop at the tailors as my gown had a tear in it. I tried to mend it myself, ended up cutting my finger with some sheers and decided to just seek out a professional. It explains the new attire and my absence.” She smiled lightly “I’ve never been known to attend a party on time.” She wasn’t sure why or how she remembered that, her mind had been such a fog but it was as if small bits and pieces were returned, an incomplete puzzle of sorts.

“I guess we all have that in common.” Alexander beamed as he walked to the foyer wearing a silver and black tailcoat and black slacks holding a mask in each of his hands. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of Violet and Lianna. “...Stunning. Absolutely stunning. How could I have kept two beauties waiting on me like this?” Looking between the two in awe, his eyes stopped on Violet.

“Red? It looks… It's perfect… but your mask is black. I hope that doesn't ruin things. Your other dress matched quite splendidly. Apologies.” He spoke with an expression of concern.

Violet took notice of the change in demeanor in Alexander. He went from crass, stern and rigged to bubbly and up beat. “I won't be wearing a mask tonight,” she said simply. The couple respectively turned their attention to her answer. She didn't feel like she needed to add more reason, but for once Violet would really be seen, she was done hiding behind masks. “No need to apologize. I think it was a welcomed improvement, all thanks to your lovely wife for lending me the beautiful gown.”

“One that I wore such a long time ago.”

“I remember it, my love. It's a fine night to see it once again.” Alexander gave Violet a courteous nod. “Shall we?” Alexander more so asked rhetorically as he walked past the two and swung open the front door. Out front seemed to be the same carriage as previous but the driver was a different man. He had the same odd practice of never looking their way and concerned with but a singular task.

Alexander placed himself behind Lianna so he could push her out.

Violet, however, stood back for a moment, watching Lianna and her pet walk from the home. Was this her future? The solution her mother mentioned finding…an empty shell to follow the demands and needs of others? That wasn’t a life, not for her.

Her mask was off, and she didn’t plan on wearing a new one.

Violet followed behind them, shutting the door of the manor and joining them into their carriage.

Though, late. The night was still young and filled with so many intricate secrets to uncover.

Time:Evening
Location: Calbert's Estate
Interaction: @Potter Olivia
Attire: Mask, Dress/Wings

---

Charlotte's progress through the crowd was slower than she anticipated. The sea of masked faces seemed to press in on her from all sides, making it difficult to navigate through. She sidestepped and skirted around clusters of animated conversation, her eyes never wavering from Olivia's increasingly distressed face.

She finally broke through the last barrier of bodies and took Olivia's shoulders. "Are you okay?" Charlotte's words spilled forth, tinged with a hint of frantic worry. Her eyes searched Olivia's face, seeking reassurance. "He didn't recognize you, did he?" she pressed, her voice soft yet urgent.