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Flickering shadows danced on the cluttered desk. The pungent smell of dried herbs and steeping infusions filled the cramped and stuffy cabin. An oil lantern squeaked as it swung from an steel hook punched into the wall by the door.

Hunched over the desk, Dai-sehk did his best to ignore the rolling floor as he picked up a dried leaf with a pair of forceps. With great caution, he dropped it into a small vial of water. Almost immediately, wispy trails of green wafted from the leaf. Dai-sehk paid it no further attention – he would run further tests of the newly brewed mixture once it had time to rest – and instead focused on the other leaves and herbs arranged in neat rows on the pages of an open book. Its pages were covered in illustrations and sketches of various plants found throughout the Commonwealth and its closest neighbours. Dai-sehk’s own handwritten notes decorated the margins and between paragraphs.

One-by-one, he compared the appearance of each herb and leaf to what was in his book. And with each, his lips pressed tighter and tighter together until his mouth was a mere crack cutting across his face. None of what he had bought matched either illustration or description. Not enough for him to be able to ascertain their use and purpose with confidence, at least. He had plenty of experiments to look forward to, it would seem. Normally, he wouldn’t mind – it might even bring him some modicum of joy – but he needed to find a reliable way to replace his supply of medicine. And the sooner he could do that, the better.

He slid his glasses up his nose. With a muted grumble, he picked up another leaf with his forceps.

The rap of knuckles against his door interrupted him. “Dai-sehk? You in there?” It was the Captain’s voice.

Dai-sehk huffed, carefully placed the leaf back onto the book, and shut it. He placed the heavy tome on a pile of yet more of his day’s bounty from Sorian’s markets. Only then did he call out a response. “Yes, I am here, Captain. The door is unlocked.”

The door creaked open and the Captain stepped into the cabin. Dai-sehk didn’t bother to stand, nor did he salute. He had served with Sjan-dehk long enough to know that Sada Kurau’s Captain didn’t like standing on ceremony. If anything, the man actively avoided it. Dai-sehk did, however, offer him a nod as a show of respect. It was the least he could do for the person who had once snatched him from death’s door. Behind the Captain came a young woman. A local Caesonian, Dai-sehk guessed from her curled tresses, tanned skin, and generally non-Viserjantan appearance. He glanced at her, then at the Captain. “Who is she?”

Riona couldn’t stop her eyes from darting about the doctor’s cabin. Everything was new, from the creak of wood to the sway of the floor beneath her feet. The unfamiliar motion sent a thrill through her stomach.

“She is…” Sjan-dehk began. He furrowed his brow as he thought about how to introduce her. “Rehn-ah is probably the closest we’ll get to her name. Anyway, she has wounds I want you to look at.” He ushered the woman into the cabin, which was quickly becoming even more cramped. “Been lashed recently, from what I understand, and she hasn’t seen an actual doctor yet. I would’ve gone to Rasehndah or Sazarin, but they looked like they were busy with many things.”

Dai-sehk nodded slowly. “Yes. I told them to study and practice.” He looked at Riona and Sjan-dehk in turn with scrying eyes. The Captain had clearly just stepped back aboard not long ago – he was still dressed in armour, and his weapons still hung from his belts. Wherever he had come from, it couldn’t be too friendly a place. The woman – Riona – however, was dressed simply in a dress. It was unlikely the Captain met her anywhere near a fight, as his attire would suggest.

With a mental shrug, Dai-sehk decided not to dwell on the matter any longer. There was no point. It wasn’t his place to decide who could come aboard Sada Kurau and who couldn’t. All he needed to know was that the Captain had personally asked for his help, and Dai-sehk wasn’t about to decline. Dai-sehk reached for a stool and dragged it over. Then, he twisted around and reached under his desk to pull out a leather bag, the very same one he had taken with him on his trip around Sorian that very same day. “Well, have her sit and lift up her shirt. There should be something around for her to cover her chest if she wants to.”

Sjan-dehk looked around a few times. Then, he grabbed a used tunic hanging from a hook punched into a nearby wall. Dai-sehk saw him do it, but didn’t voice any complaint. And so, the Captain turned to Riona, handing her the shirt and stepping aside to let her pass. He pressed himself almost flush against the hull of Sada Kurau. “There, you sit,” he said, pointing to the stool. “Face away from Dai-sehk. Then you show your back and if you need, use this–” he tilted his chin towards the tunic “–to cover your front.”

Sjan-dehk and the doctor’s conversation washed over her in alien syllables, but her nose twitched at familiar scents. The sharp bite of silvermist—good stuff for lowering fevers—mingled with moonbloom’s sweetness. Strange, moonbloom petals were normally used for soaps, not medicine. And was that—yep, bloodroot. Poison, but useful if you knew how.

“There.” Sjan-dehk’s voice drew her attention, and she turned to see the offered shirt. With a nod, she accepted it. “So, uh, I’m not sure what you told him, but a simple check-up is fine. It’s been…” she trailed off, fatigue suddenly leaden in her bones, “a rough couple of days.”

Sjan-dehk blinked once, as if not fully understanding what she was saying. “But you are still injured, that is correct? Better to be safe than sorry, like your people say, yes?”

True. Riona began to remove the layers of her clothing, carefully folding each piece and stacking them on the nearest table. “I used some home remedies on myself, so my injuries shouldn’t be too bad.” With a final tug, Riona pulled her cotton dress over her head, leaving in her undergarments. “I got into a scrap yesterday. Nasty one. Took a knock to the head, nearly got my windpipe crushed, and the guy dosed me… something. I want to make sure there’s no permanent damage.”

As she bent to deal with her shoes, the light caught the myriad of scars that criss crossed her exposed skin. Each mark told a story, some faded with time, others looked more recent. But one... one old silvery line demanded attention like a shout in a silent room.

When Riona turned around, a matching scar on her abdomen completed the horrifying picture: they were the entry and exit wounds from a blade that should’ve been fatal.

The wounds, distinct and almost crying for attention with their pale glows, immediately captured Dai-sehk’s attention. Whatever blade that had pierced her had to have been well-sharpened, and used by someone who knew what they were about, judging by how clean the scars were. Riona was either a very lucky, or a very unlucky woman to have suffered and survived such an injury. On the one hand, she had been inches away from death. But on the other, that she had kept her life by such a close margin meant that she had to be possessed of no small amount of fortune. That, or she had caught the fancy of a Deity, Spirit, or some other supernatural force of some kind.

Sjan-dehk cleared his throat. “You are lucky,” he commented, surprise tinting his words.

Suspecting he was referring to the oldest scar on her body, Riona shook her head. “Not lucky.” Her fingers traced the line. Flashes of that fateful day crossed her mind, “Just a mother’s love.”

“What did she say?” Dai-sehk asked.

“She got into a fight yesterday,” Sjan-dehk replied, translating only what he knew Dai-sehk was interested in hearing. “Took a hit to her throat and her head. Sounds like she got drugged as well.” He chewed on his lip and looked in Dai-sehk’s direction. “Just make sure there’re no lasting wounds. Treat what you can, do something for what you can’t.”

Dai-sehk nodded. “As you say, Captain.”

Riona’s feet, bearing the kind of marks you get from dancing in fire some time ago, padded softly across the floorboards to the waiting chair. In the low light of the cabin, those wounds went unnoticed by either man, although Dai-sehk did note that there was something odd about the sound her feet made. But, he didn’t think too much about it. There were more pressing wounds for him to see.

Words seemed pretty useless when you couldn’t understand each other, so Riona settled for a polite smile-nod combo that she hoped were universal gestures before settling into the seat, back turned to him.

Dai-sehk leaned forward and examined the scars criss-crossing Riona’s back. And right away, he knew for a fact that she had been lashed many, many times. Fresh scars – still red and angry – cut into old, faded ones, and those rested upon scars that had long since turned into fleshy ridges on her flesh. He grimaced; there was nothing he could do about the latter two, and even the new ones were already starting to scab, a sign that they too would soon become immutable scars. Spots and lines of dark crimson marked where the scabs were tearing, and it were those areas where Dai-sehk focused his attention.

He twisted in his seat and swept his eyes over the desk, quickly finding a murky, glass jar half-filled with a green paste. “This, it sting,” he said matter-of-factly, his voice dull and devoid of any warmth. “Stay still. Do not move. Otherwise, will be difficult.” He dipped his fingers into the jar, scooping up a generous amount of the paste and daubing it onto Riona’s weeping scars.

Riona flinched—not from the cool paste or the sting, but the unfamiliar contact against her skin. Breathe, she reminded herself. Just a doctor doing his job. No threat here. She fixed her gaze on the far wall, willing her muscles to unclench.

If Dai-sehk noticed her reaction, he either didn’t show it, or didn’t care. With him, it could easily be either of the two. Or both. “Do not worry about throat,” he said as he worked. “If there is injured, you would know by now. Also for drugs. You say you it happen last night? Then already one full day. Most drugs, they already affect you by now also. Just be careful. You feel normal? Is okay. You feel different? Then worry.”

Sjan-dehk let out a sigh. “Dai-sehk has own way of talking,” he said and glanced at the surgeon. The man merely responded with a shrug. Despite himself, Sjan-dehk chuckled as he shook his head. He supposed that a warship wasn’t the best place for Dai-sehk to develop his bedside manners, even if it did give him a place to polish his already exemplary skills. “But he is good surgeon.”

“Too kind, Captain,” Dai-sehk murmured.

A half-laugh escaped Riona. The doctor’s bluntness was refreshing. No sugar-coating, no bullsh*t. Just the facts, raw and unfiltered. This one, at least, wouldn’t dance around the truth or pat her hand while lying through his teeth. She met the man’s eyes, noting the sharp intelligence there, and nodded. Yeah, she could work with this.

For several moments, Dai-sehk continued his work in silence, punctuated only by the occasional grumble whenever he found a spot he had missed. Meanwhile, Sjan-dehk leaned against the door frame with arms folded across his chest. He looked over Riona, taking in the sheer number of scars on her person. It didn’t take long for him to give voice to the question that gnawed at his mind. “You have many scars,” he started a touch more awkwardly than he intended. “They are…No, what I mean is, the people, the ones you work for, they do this to you a lot? Flogging?”

Riona’s lips quirked in a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’d be giving them too much credit.” She shook her head, “No, not all of these were because of them.” Her hands absently rubbed the raised lines on her forearm. “Some are from accidents. Some happened during training. And some…” She flexed her work-worn hands, gaze catching on the ruins of her once-pristine manicure—remnants of a rare moment of vanity, “Some are… self-inflicted, in a sense. To remind myself. To…” The words “punish myself” hung unspoken in the air.

There wasn’t any need for Riona to complete her sentence. Neither Sjan-dehk nor Dai-sehk needed much thought to guess what she had meant to say. Self-flagellation and self-mutilation were common practices of certain sects which existed in the darker corners of the Commonwealth. They had flourished during the War, and had persisted for months after its conclusion. Dai-sehk never quite understood the theory behind their actions – and he had no desire to learn – but he knew enough to know that adherents of such beliefs got it into their heads that they had to punish themselves to appease some Deity or Spirit. And that once they were appeased enough, they would put an end to all pain and suffering.

It was all idiocy, as far as Dai-sehk was concerned. Of course, he was all too aware that there was nothing about Riona that indicated she was the same brand of idiot as those cultists, but it would be a lie if he said that he didn’t think of her as a silly person for doing what she had done. Words formed on his tongue, but a very sharp, very stern, and uncharacteristically severe look from the Captain made him swallow them.

Sjan-dehk breathed in deeply through his nose. “Well,” he said. “No matter where they come from, you still have wounds. They must be looked after.”

“It is done,” Dai-sehk said and slid the jar back onto his desk. He wiped his hands on his trousers, reached into the leather bag, and pulled out a white bandage, folded into a neat square. For the first time since he started treating Riona, his actions were gentle as he pressed the fabric against her wounds, making sure they were covered completely. “Scars will heal. But will leave mark. If you want to remove them, you go to Sudah. Find Sehja. She can do that better.”

“Sehja, she is healer,” Sjan-dehk explained. “Not doctor. She heals with arcane ways. Can do many, many things. Strange and interesting things.”

Riona’s eyes widened at the casual mention of arcane healing. “You shouldn’t talk about that so openly,” she cautioned. “Magic is... it’s not exactly welcomed in these parts. So, be careful.”

That was news to Sjan-dehk, and it was news he stored away with a note to pass it on to Sudah as quickly as possible. There were more than a few magic-users aboard the larger vessel. It would be troublesome if any of them were to run afoul of Caesonian authorities. And if things got to the point where Sjan-dehk had to invoke Jafi’s long-standing promise to offer all magic-users protection, it could get very, very messy.

“Thank you,” he said to Riona with a nod.

Her gaze drifted down to her scarred flesh. There was a time, not so long ago, when she’d considered erasing every mark, every reminder of her past. The thought had become particularly tempting after things with Dan had shifted, blossoming into something more than friendship. She’d wanted to be beautiful for him, unblemished.

But Dan... he’d seen past the scars, told her she was lovely just as she was. That there was no need to hide the story written on her skin. Riona’s lips quirked in a bittersweet smile at the memory.

It wasn’t just for Dan that she’d kept the scars, though. Deep down, in a place she rarely examined too closely, she didn’t believe she deserved to be free of them.

“Do you think I should erase them?” The question slipped out without thought. She looked up, meeting first the doctor’s eyes, then Sjan-dehk’s. “I... get myself hurt so that I don’t forget what was done to my home. So that I can keep…” She paused, weighing her words carefully. How much could she reveal without saying too much? “Keep the feeling I had then, alive.” The spell needed that energy to feed on, lest it withered and faded before having the chance to properly activate.

Riona’s gaze flicked between the two men, searching their faces. “What... would it mean if I let my scars fade into nothing?”

“Means they go away,” Dai-sehk replied flatly. What other answer was she expecting? With deft and skillful hands, he wrapped the bandage around Riona’s body, taking care to avoid touching or even brushing his fingers against anywhere sensitive. He finished it off with a secure knot on her back. “You want scars to go away? You can. But only ones on body. Ones in mind? Not easy to go away.”

He fell silent for a moment. Then, he shook his head slightly. He didn’t know what it was that Riona wanted to always remember, but he knew that it wasn’t his place to tell her to do anything. “What you do, it is your choice. But if you do not let yourself, you never forget.”

Riona nodded slowly, feeling a faint flush of shame creep up her neck. The question had tumbled out before she could stop it, and now she wished she could snatch the words back from the air. These people were strangers. What right did she have to burden them with something so personal, so weighty?

Objectively speaking, the doctor was right: a scar was just a scar. Lines on skin, nothing more. It was her mind that gave it power, her memories that imbued it with significance. There was no reason for these people, or anyone really, to care about what it meant to her.

Sjan-dehk noticed the flush on Riona’s cheeks. He sighed, looked at Dai-sehk, then at her. “So your home, it is no more?” He probed cautiously, and even as those words left his lips, he realised that it likely wasn’t the best question to ask. Not now, in any case. “No need to answer,” he added quickly. Clearing his throat, he continued, “What Dai-sehk mean is that your scars, the one on your body, they are not what you should worry about. They are there, they are not there, they do not affect what you remember. You want to forget, you will forget. You want to remember, you will remember. Scars only…Only form.”

“... I almost did once,” she muttered. She’d never make that mistake again. Quickly, Riona lifted her head and forced a smile, “Thank you for the offer. I’ll carry them with me… to the very end.” And beyond, she thought, if there was a beyond for someone like her.

“You can wear back your clothes now. All is done,” Dai-sehk said as he leaned over to snatch a satchel off the desk. “Do not let bandages become wet. Otherwise, infection. Take off when you wash. Replace if you need. Can use any clean cloth. If not sure, boil water. Soak cloth. Let dry.” He handed her the satchel. “For pain and itch. If need, crush, mix with water. Make paste. Apply to wound and cover again. If wound start to smell like fish, start to worry. Find doctor, or find the Captain again.”

Riona bowed her head slightly as she accepted the satchel. “Thank you, Doctor Dai-sehk,” she said. As she dressed, her mind wandered to the satchel’s contents, anticipation building at the thought of discovering unfamiliar remedies.

Back with the physician, Riona caught a glimpse of dried leaves peeking out from beneath a leather-bound book. Curiosity got the better of her, and she gently lifted the book, revealing an assortment of herbs scattered across the wooden surface.

“You–” Dai-sehk began. Despite the mess Riona had made, and what she had done with his work, he only sounded somewhat annoyed. The rest of his irate words, however, died on his tongue when he saw what Riona was doing.

Setting the book aside, she scrutinised the plants. Her hands moved swiftly, sorting them into distinct piles. Before long, three neat stacks lay before her.

Riona pointed to each in turn. “Poisonous,” she said, indicating the first pile. Her finger moved to the second. “Can make things smell and taste nice, but doesn’t do much aside from that.” Finally, she gestured to the last group. “Has medicinal benefits.”

Dai-sehk blinked. She had worked fast. Much, much faster than what he would expect from someone with no professional knowledge. He looked at the neatly organised piles. Riona had likely saved him countless hours and even days of work and trouble. And as much as he wanted to know more about her, particularly how she knew so much about herbs and poisons, his itch to get back to work was stronger.

“Thank you,” he said to her with a slight bow of his head. His eyes glanced at the pile Riona had said was composed of poisonous leaves. That was certainly very useful information. “Very helpful,” he added. Then, he promptly turned back to face his desk. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, picked up a pen, and returned to his work. “All is done, yes? Then you can go. Close the door.”

Pride glimmered in her eyes. Adjusting the satchel’s strap, Riona said, “Thank you again. Have a good night.”

Dai-sehk didn’t look up. He didn’t even say anything, and simply waved his hand.

Sjan-dehk sighed and gestured for Riona to leave. He followed behind her, quietly closing the door behind him. “Do not mind him,” he said as he led the way back up to Sada Kurau’s main deck. “Dai-sehk, he likes to work. But he is good man. Most of the time. Other times, even we feel like throwing him overboard.” He looked over his shoulder at Riona with a grin to make it clear that it was a joke.

The crisp, night air, light with ocean salt, greeted them as they emerged from Sada Kurau’s lower decks. A cooling breeze washed over the deck, rustling sails and ropes. Roosting seafowl cooed and cawed above, from where they sat on the mast tops and rigging.

“Wait,” Sjan-dehk told Riona, and quickly swept his eyes across the deck. His gaze soon rested on a pair of sailors standing by the gunwale, their rifles slung over their shoulders, hats atop their heads, and eyes fixed on the pier. “You two,” the Captain called out to them. They both let out a yelp of surprise and turned around, snapping to haphazard salutes. Sjan-dehk regarded them with a smirk. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see or hear that, but I expect better from both of you next time.”

“Y-Yes, Captain!” The shorter of the two replied.

Sjan-dehk pointed to Riona. “Our guest is going home. Go with her, make sure she’s safe, then come back as quickly–” He stopped himself, thought about it a little more, and shook his head. “Belay that. Escort her home, make sure you’re with her until she’s physically through the door, then the two of you can spend a little time in the city if you like. Just don’t do what Yehn-tai did and get into a fight, otherwise I’ll personally see to it that you’re both scrubbing latrines till your hands bleed. And make sure you’re both back before midnight, otherwise it’s Master Kai-dahn who’ll do that. Understood?”

The taller one nodded. “Understood, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk turned his attention back to Riona. “Ahn-seh and Izayan will send you home,” he said, walking her to the gangplank as he did so. “Lead, and they follow.”

“Thanks for your help and hospitality, Captain Sjan-dehk. I’m glad I was able to finally talk to you in person.” Riona smiled at him. “My sister talked about you with such enthusiasm. I’ve been curious.” She nodded a greeting to her escorts as her fingers traced the outline of the medicinal satchel at her hip. The unexpected kindness she’d received tonight settled warm in her chest.

One foot on the gangplank, Riona paused. The night air carried the scent of salt and possibility. She turned, “Hey, crazy thought, what if we—you, me, my sister—get together sometime? Nothing fancy, just... I don’t know, grab a drink, have a meal, or something?”

Sister? Sjan-dehk couldn’t think of a reason as to why Riona would invite him to meet with her. Maybe she was someone he had met before? But he couldn’t recall meeting anyone who looked similar to Riona. Or maybe he did, and it was his memory that was once again failing him. Regardless, he couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. He was going to have to get used to Caesonian society as soon as possible, and getting to know another Caesonian would surely help with that.

“Okay,” he replied. “But we eat somewhere…Not like today, yes? This afternoon. That was strange place.”

Riona barked a laugh, “Agreed.”

With that, he stepped back from the gangplank and waved Riona off. “Will be very late soon. Can talk next time. Goodnight, and be safe.”

Location: Edwards Estate Backyard
Time: Morning
Mentions: EVERYONE AT THE PARTY @Rodiak Nahir/Zarai @Tpartywithzombi Ariella @Silverpaw Wulfric @princess Charlotte, @PapaOso Bastard @Helo Callum/Rohit @CitrusArms Stratya @Funnyguy Lorenzo @Lava Alckon Drake/Farim @Potter Olivia @JJ Doe Ryn

The clatter of trays and the hum of idle conversation filled the air as the servants flitted back and forth across the lawn, weaving between the finely dressed guests. Amid the sea of flowing gowns and tailored suits, three young waitresses found brief moments to huddle near the refreshments table, their arms laden with empty glasses and half-eaten plates.

“I swear, if she makes one more comment about how uneven the napkins are folded, I’ll scream,” the first servant, a brunette with tired eyes, grumbled under her breath. She shifted a tray of champagne glasses, her back aching from all of the bending and carrying. “It’s like she thinks we’re her personal slaves, not just staff.”

“You’re telling me,” the second woman, a fiery redhead, muttered as she arranged another platter of hors d'oeuvres. “Duchess Victoria is always like this. ‘Do this, do that. Not fast enough. Not good enough.’” Her voice pitched higher, mimicking the Duchess's haughty tone. “She doesn’t even look at us half the time, like we’re beneath her precious gaze.”

“She’s a bitch, is what she is,” the third, a petite blonde, said with a smirk. “Remember that time she made me redo the entire dessert table because the color of the plates didn’t match her dress? She didn’t even notice when I changed it!”

The three women shared a quiet laugh, but their amusement quickly faded as the reality of the situation set back in. Their eyes darted back to the party, where Victoria was gliding among the guests, her chin held high, surveying the event with the same cold superiority she always did.

“I’m so sick of her,” the brunette muttered darkly. “We work our asses off for what? A few silver coins and her acting like we’re dirt beneath her heels.”

“Yeah, while she throws around her jewels and diamonds, pretending she’s some queen,” the redhead added, her voice dripping with disdain. “Meanwhile, we’re lucky if we get leftovers.”

The blonde bit her lip, glancing toward the table of drinks where trays of expensive wines and liquors were being passed around. An idea flickered in her eyes, and she leaned in closer to her companions, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know… we could do something about it.”

The other two looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” the brunette asked.

“I mean,” the blonde said, a sly grin creeping onto her face, “we could give her and all these rich assholes a little surprise. In their drinks.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on…”

“We just… mix things up a little. Make the drinks a little stronger. Or maybe… a lot stronger. ” The blonde’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she glanced toward the untouched bottles of liquor.

"Won't they be able to tell?" the redhead asked curiously.

“Not with the tricks I have up my sleeve, trust me...I have my ways. the blonde promised with a wink.

The brunette let out a low whistle, catching on. “Oh, I like the sound of that. Imagine Duchess Victoria stumbling around, making a fool of herself. It’d be poetic justice.”

“Not just her,” the redhead added with a wicked grin. “All of them. Let’s make them all regret treating us like dirt.”

As they straightened up, trays once again in hand, the blonde gave one final glance toward the liquor table, a secret smile playing on her lips.

“Let’s get to work.”

WARNING ALL PREMADE COCKTAILS HAVE HIGH INCREASED INTOXICATION EFFECTS! GO TO BAR FOR FRESH COCKTAIL OR DRINK WINE/BEER/ETC IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO PARTICIPATE

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention: @Helo
Interactions:@CitrusArms@Papaoso
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella reached for the cocktail a server had placed in front of her, its tall glass reflecting the vibrant colors of Drake's favorite shades. The drink was as elegant as it was extravagant, layered in hues of green and gold, with delicate sprigs of mint and a sugared rim. She raised it to her lips, sipping through the straw, and was immediately struck by the sweetness that danced on her tongue. The flavor was rich, almost indulgent, and she savored it for a moment, letting the taste linger before greedily sipping more.

As she drank, her attention remained on Captain Stratya. The woman’s stories were charming, full of nostalgia and warmth, yet Ariella couldn’t help but let her mind wander. Stratya’s fond memories contrasted with Ariella’s childhood, which had been shaped by discipline and rigid expectations. Etiquette lessons, needlework, and endless demands had left little room for joy. The only bright spot had been Ana, her beloved friend, and the secret alcove Ana had gifted her — a sanctuary where she could escape the pressures of her upbringing.

She nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments in the conversation, but her mind was elsewhere, fixated on the events of the previous night. Callum's words echoed in her head: the secret room, the dangerous magic, and the shadowy stranger he’d fought. Surely, he didn’t face it alone… Her eyes flickered to Stratya, assessing the captain’s strength. Could she have been the one to accompany Callum? Ariella doubted her friend would’ve taken on such a dangerous task by himself, and Stratya looked more than capable.

Ariella’s thoughts drifted again, this time to her growing connection with magic. Recently, her bond with the earth had become more intense, almost overwhelming. There was a heat to it now, an intoxicating pull that she couldn’t quite explain. She wondered if it had anything to do with the magic Callum had uncovered. Was something dark lurking nearby, stirring the elements? Perhaps it wasn’t her own power growing stronger, but the presence of some external force.

Her green eyes trailed to Callum across the party, watching him laugh and take shots at the other table. She felt a pang of sadness, remembering the weight of his tale. He had faced so much, and yet she felt powerless to help him. Her life had been full of lessons meant to shape her into a perfect lady, but none of those lessons had prepared her for this. I want to protect him, to protect my friends. I don’t want to be a wallflower anymore... I want to be a wolf.

The captain’s voice brought her back to the present, just as Ariella finished her drink without realizing it. The alcohol had begun to take effect, a soft buzz relaxing her shoulders as she turned back to Stratya with a bright smile. When the captain complimented her hair, Ariella felt her cheeks flush, whether from the drink or the memory of a similar comment from Callum, she couldn’t tell.

“Thank you!”she replied with genuine enthusiasm. “You know, you're not the first person who’s said that. I always hated it growing up, but I suppose I do look more like my father than my mother, and for that, I’m grateful.” She laughed, a bit louder than intended, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “I used to loathe it, but lately... I’ve grown to appreciate it.”

She made to take another sip from her empty glass before realizing it was gone, setting it down with a small pout. Standing up suddenly, she lifted the hem of her dress and kicked out her foot, showing Stratya her bare toes with a playful wiggle. “I love camping! I love the outdoors!” she declared, her voice brimming with excitement. “I hate shoes, always have. If I could, I’d live in a treehouse or a cabin, somewhere deep in the woods.” She wobbled slightly as she nearly fell back into her seat, giggling at her clumsiness.

Ariella leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Captain… you’re a woman,” she stated as if revealing a great secret. “You must know how to use a sword, right?” Her eyes drifted to the blade at Stratya’s hip, filled with a sudden, reckless curiosity. “Could I hold it?” she whispered with a mischievous grin. “I’ve never held a sword before…”

Before Stratya could respond, Ariella felt a large hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, her heart racing until she looked up to see her father standing beside her. “Oh! Father…” she exhaled, placing a hand over her chest with a wide smile. “You startled me.” She quickly glanced between him and Stratya, her cheeks flushed from the drink. “I was just talking to the captain here about chocolate and mead,” she added with a laugh, leaving out her more embarrassing request.

Time:10am
Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Callum

---

"Yes! I'd like to make a toast to all of you!" came Lottie's voice as she made her way over to the table. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious as she gazed at the vibrant drinks a servant had just left on the table. The assortment of bright, jewel-toned cocktails, with little garnishes of citrus and mint, sparkled like a rainbow across the table.

As she approached, Cassius rose from his seat with a sweet bow, pulling her chair out for her with such charm that it made her blush ever so slightly. "Thank you, Cassius," she said softly, settling into her chair as he placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close once again. She felt her heart flutter for a moment at the touch, but her attention was quickly stolen by Callum’s booming voice before her thoughts could even race.

When Callum rejoined the group, she met his lingering gaze with curiosity, but it didn’t make her uncomfortable. "Oh! Shots, yes—how thrilling!" she said with a little laugh, her hand instinctively reaching for one of the cocktails. But then, Callum’s remarks about Cassius and his father made her pause.

Her eyes shifted between Cassius and Callum. The directness of Callum’s statement caught her off guard. It was her turn for her gaze to linger on Callum. As she mulled over her thoughts, emotions of sadness and even moments of anger swam in her eyes.

Prince Callum had always been different from his siblings. His short, tousled black hair and deep blue eyes rarely mirrored the familiar features of the royal family. Naturally, rumors had swirled around the kingdom when he was born; whispers of an illegitimate child with no place in the line could be heard in every corner. But to Charlotte, he bore a striking resemblance to the late King George, and she reasoned that King Edin must have simply passed down the recessive trait of those piercing blue eyes.

Yet, it wasn't his appearance that set Callum apart the most—it was the ever-present undercurrent of anger and melancholy she had seen in his gaze from time to time. Beneath that handsome face, there was always a trace of something darker, something unspoken. That bitterness undoubtedly had festered from years of living with a monster like King Edin. The way the King had spoken of him, the way he had treated his children in general, had not ever gone unnoticed by Charlotte, and certainly not by Duke Walter Vikena years ago. She could remember nights of him wistfully speaking of how sorry he felt for the royal children, and particularly for Callum. Raised by a man as venomous as Edin, it was no wonder he could recognize a snake like Calbert from a mile away.

She could still remember the quiet nights when her father, with a far-off look in his eyes, would sigh and say, "That boy carries a burden far too heavy for most, one that I know all too well. He could use a friend like you someday, Lottie, someone to remind that his life has worth despite all that has been said. "

Lottie thought back to what she had seen in the church and her shoulders slumped. Walter, who had suffered under the harsh cruelty of his own father, had seen in himself in Callum. She wished she could go back in time and hug her father just a little tighter, just one more time... Alas, she could not.

But she could do today what she should have done a long time ago and show the Prince some much-needed kindness. Finally, she glanced at Lorenzo and smiled, the love she felt for him clear in her gaze. "He is rather splendid, isn’t he?" she agreed.

When Callum raised his shot glass in their direction, Charlotte’s cheeks flushed pink once more. "To us?" she repeated, glancing at Cassius. They certainly were not a couple but with his arm around her the way it was, she understood why Callum had mistaken them for one.

"Well, Cassius and I are just—" she began, her voice light with a hint of objection. But despite her words, she found herself instinctively raising her glass, the motion so natural it almost escaped her own awareness.

As her sentence hung in the air, she froze, mid-gesture, her eyes widening slightly as she realized that the dynamic of the room had subtly shifted.

She was surrounded by completely different company.

A Memory [+]

Everything looked almost the same—perhaps there were less green decorations everywhere, but still, it was as if the world had been gently muted by time. Her gaze swept across the gathering and then froze. Sitting across from her was a boy who looked no older than sixteen, his brown curls tousled in a way she knew all too well.

Father.

Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the young man immediately—Walter Vikena. And sitting beside him, with a face so eerily similar, was a girl she had only seen pictures of-Aunt Willow. She had curled brown hair, loosely gathered, giving her a soft appearance. The hazel-eyed twins stood as near perfect reflections of each other.

Walter was effortlessly entertaining the table, his laughter filling the air like music. Young Duke Gideon sat with him, looking as if he hadn’t changed much over the years, though his face was a touch softer, more boyish. And to her surprise, seated among them was a younger version of Calbert Damien, his usually sharp features softened by youth and an unfamiliar short haircut. Even Duke Laurent Petit was present, immersed in his religious reading, his demeanor serene amidst the lively gathering.

But it was Walter who drew her in completely. His vibrant energy was magnetic, and she couldn’t help but smile as he playfully teased Willow.

"If you were any more girly," Walter said, twirling a worm on a stick and waving it in her face, "you’d start vomiting flowers."

Willow squealed, laughter bubbling up as she swatted at him in mock indignation. “This is why our parents never let you out!” she shot back, her voice a blend of exasperation and amusement. Calbert moved a hand toward her, as though to shield her from the worm. “Honestly, Walter, some of us prefer not to be pelted with wildlife.”

Walter grinned mischievously and turned to Calbert, offering the worm with a cheeky flourish. "Care to meet Gerald, Bert? He’s very well-behaved, I promise."

Calbert’s expression soured, his lips curling in distaste as he swatted Walter’s hand away, though Charlotte noticed the faintest twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. Walter shifted his attention to Gideon.

"Here, Giddy! Meet Gerald the Worm," Walter teased, thrusting the worm toward him with a laugh.

Gideon, with a dramatic roll of his eyes, caught the worm and played along with a wide grin. “Oh, Gerald’s mine now. I think I’ll marry him.” He winked, holding the worm as if it were a priceless treasure.

Walter raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "No, don’t you dare marry that worm, Giddy! He’s too good for you!"

Gideon, never one to miss a beat, clutched the worm close to his chest with a mock gasp. "How could you say that, Walter? Gerald and I are in love! We’re eloping at dawn, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Calbert, shaking his head, muttered under his breath, “You two act like children.”

Walter, quick on his feet, stood up with a theatrical flair, wagging a finger at his best friend. "You’ll have to pry him out of my cold, dead hands, Giddy. Gerald deserves better! You’d just tie him down with all your gods. damn. bullshit." He was chaotically sneering at the end by the end of his statement.

Willow, stifling giggles behind her hand, couldn’t resist joining the fray. She dramatically clasped her hands together as if in prayer, her eyes wide with mock desperation. "Please, Giddy, I’m begging you. Make me your maid of honor!"

Walter, aghast, spun on his heel and turned his accusatory finger toward his twin, his jaw-dropping in exaggerated betrayal. "Traitor!" he cried, his voice loud enough to startle the birds in the trees. "My own twin! How could you do this to me, Willow? My flesh and blood! How will I ever recover from this vile betrayal?"

He placed his hand over his heart as if mortally wounded, staggering back with a melodramatic sigh, and then shot a glare at Gideon. "This is all your fault, Giddy. You’ve corrupted my sister!"

At that moment, Laurent Petit, finally lifting his gaze from his reading, furrowed his brow and hissed, "For Primitus's sake, will you shut up? You're attracting the attention of everyone! Even Prince Edin is staring."

Undeterred, Walter lunged forward, snatching the worm from Gideon’s hand. "Gimme that worm!"

Before anyone could say another word, Walter’s eyes landed on a group of girls giggling and whispering nearby, clearly watching the spectacle. Without missing a beat, Walter flashed them a charming grin and waved flirtatiously despite the worm in his hand. "Ladies, don’t worry—there’s enough of me to go around." He winked, causing the girls to erupt into even more giggles.He turned back to the table. Calbert and Laurent looked incredibly confused, meanwhile, Gideon and Willow remained amused. "What can I say? They love me."

Without missing a beat, Gideon shot up from his seat, flinging his arm out dramatically. "Back off, ladies!" he hollered in mock possessiveness. "He's mine!"

Then suddenly, everything changed again. Charlotte blinked, finding herself back in the present. Lorenzo sat nearby in his pink suit, and the warmth of Cassius's arm around her waist returned, grounding her. Her gaze found Callum's piercing blue eyes once more

I'm never going to get used to these sudden shifts in reality, she thought to herself. her brows knitting in thought. Even if it was rather amazing to see everyone so young... She glanced down at the drink in her hand, her fingers lightly brushing the glass. If I was shown that for a reason, it’s beyond me. Still… it did bring some comfort.

Charlotte cleared her throat as she awkwardly realized she must have spent a good amount of time spacing out. She quickly raised her glass, hoping to smooth over the strange moment. "Right! A toast!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a forced brightness. Her gaze flickered to those around her as she offered them a wide, warm smile.

"To wonderful company and a long life of prosperity for Lord Drake Edwards!" she declared, raising her glass high.

In her effort to quickly move past it all, she lifted the drink to her lips and began to sip. Caught up in her nerves and racing thoughts, she realized a moment too late that she had downed the entire glass in one go, gulping away. Eyes widening slightly, she lowered the empty glass and stared into it sheepishly.

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th, 10 am
Location: Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: Ariella @Tpartywithzombi, Duke Gideon @princess
Mentions:

Stratya had gotten for ‘erself one of the glasses o’ mead that were goin’ ‘round, as she was regaling Ariella a bit abou’ ‘er youth. Baking with her mother, bullish figh’s wit’ the local boys, hunting, playing in t’ woods, fishing wit’ her father. There was much to tell that might be novel to a young upper class lady like Ariella. Even if it seemed mundane, but no less cherished, to Stratya.

“Loathe it? Ooh, swee’ thing, full glad ye’ve got’en ovah tha’. T'is beau’y tae be’old.” Stratya watched Ariella go f’r more from an empty glass and the knight halfed the smile that tried to overtake her. An empty glass that was supposed to be full was not unfamiliar to her.

Goin’ tae ‘igh class par’ies without proper shoes or any shoes a’tall was certainly something she’d na’er done, “ooh~! if t’ese boo’s werenae such a pain in t’ arse, I migh’ join ya. I be’ yer grrass is soft, it’d feel good ‘tween me toes.” The rural woman smiled, get’in’ a feel for Ariella’s interests, ”you’d like t’ Vermillion coun’rryside. Nothin’ bu’ plains and fahrrests and farrms as farr as t’ eye c’n see. There’s an ‘ole big lake surrounded by forrest near wh’rre I grrew up, too.”

When Arriella leaned in, Strratya mimicked ‘er motion and brrough’ herself closer, smilin’, “aye am, and aye ken.” It felt a little like Ariella was building up to a weird joke until she asked about holding her weapon, eyeing ‘er dirk. Stratya ‘ad been about tae give ‘er rresponse, the grin on ‘er face shifting to something less cerrtain, and then Duke Gideon showed up.



The knight no’iced Arriella had got’en rrather drrunk off o’ - was that ‘er firrst drrink? Strratya’s own drink ‘ad been rather strrong, but she didn’t think it had been like tha’. (Stratya her gotten hers fresh from the barkeep, after all.) Perr’aps Arriella was not accustomed to alcohol? It didn’t seem like that happened in this layer of the social ladder. She was jus’ a ligh’weigh’?

Ariella had omitted her asking to hold her weapon from her description to her father, ”aye, aye, t’ choc’la’e’s reyt fine, i’tis. I was jus’ sayin’ I’ll ‘ave tae try an’ pu’ a choc’la’e swirrl in m’ nex’ batch o’ sweet brreads.” Stratya discovered she had finished the porrtion of mead tha’ was smaller than wha’ she knew and brrough’ ‘er cocktail back in, though she didnae drrink from it ye’. ”T’ mead is me brud’ers passion, aye. He made anot’er flavorr by using ‘oney from an area rrich in berries. Clever ba-” she looked over at the Cassius table for a second, ”er.. guy.”

The knigh’ saw an arrm around Lady Charlotte, and therre, t' Princess was in someone's lap. Huh. She didn't think these cirrcles were so flirtatious. She'd only read about stuffy decorum and how to cur'sey properly. Strra’ya took a sip of her cocktail, - there was Prince W’lfric, back from t’ stables - and then anot’er as she turned back tae t’ table at hand. Ooh, what a good drink. Those colorful ones the servants just brought looked good, too. She'd have to try one in a minute.