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[sub][url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4d/9e/c6/4d9ec64f5077e8f36587becc9724304e.jpg][i][sub][color=A3C5EC]♖ the fit ♖[/color][/sub][/i][/url]
[color=gray] and a shitty mustache :p[/color][/sub]

[sub][color=AABFB5]E D W A R D S   E S T A T E  |  M O R N I N G[/color][/sub]
[sub][color=gray]I n t e r a c t i o n s :
M e n t i o n s :
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[color=a65b63]“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart, Lord Wimsley!” [/color]

[color=94b0c4]“What if I get caught?” [/color]

[color=a65b63]“You won’t, I assure you. This disguise is flawless!”[/color]

[color=94b0c4]“Mary, I really don’t think this is a good idea,”[/color] Mathias muttered, fiddling with the fake mustache glued to his upper lip. [color=94b0c4]“If I'm found out, it’ll be in the papers, and somehow it’ll make its way back to Varian and—"[/color]

[color=a65b63]“—and if you keep fretting like a scared child, you’ll give yourself away!”[/color] Mary interrupted, rolling her eyes. [color=a65b63]“Now, chest out! Own that mustache like you grew it yourself! Farewell, Lord Wimsley.”[/color] She gave an exaggerated bow, her smirk teasing him.

[color=5ba69e]“Bye bye, Lord Wim—Lord Wim...ley!”[/color] Lukas added, laughing as he waved from the carriage window.

Mathias watched as both Mary and Lukas waved him goodbye from the comfort of the carriage. His gaze following them as they disappear around the corner, their laughter trailing behind. Left alone in front of the entrance to the garden, he felt utterly foolish. How did he end up here? Why?

He hadn’t been invited to Lord Drake’s Birthday Bash, of course. He wasn’t a lord, after all. And there was no connection between his father's family and the Edwards... but here he was, masquerading as a Lord Wimsley, complete with a ridiculous mustache fashioned from horsehair and a top hat that sat far too high on his head. The cane in his hand had been a last-minute addition, purchased when they realized the real Lord Wimsley always carried one.

[color=94b0c4]“One more week, Mathias. One more week, and she’ll be gone,”[/color] he muttered to himself as he approached the entrance of the garden.

With a forced smile under his fake mustache, he tipped the absurdly tall hat at the footman stationed by the gate. [color=94b0c4]“Lord Wimsley,”[/color] he said in a hoarse voice, too exaggerated to sound even remotely natural.

The footman eyed him suspiciously, his gaze lingering on the ill-fitting hat and awkward stance. Mathias stiffened, trying to mimic the arrogance he remembered from his father, standing with both hands resting on the cane, as if he owned the world. Arrogant. Conceited. And so far up his own ass, just like the real Wimsley.

To his surprise, the footman merely shrugged, bowed respectfully, and handed him the complimentary bracelet before ushering him in.

[color=94b0c4][i]Not paid enough to care, eh?’[/i][/color]

Now standing amid the lush gardens, surrounded by lords and ladies who looked effortlessly elegant, Mathias felt utterly ridiculous. Horsehair clung to his upper lip, the hat casting a silly shadow over his face.

[color=94b0c4]“What in the gods’s names am I doing here?”[/color] he muttered under his breath, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He spotted Lady Vikena and Lord Vikena with Crystal’s brother… Casss… Cassand… No. Cass… Cassius! That was it. 

His gaze drifted to another group—Lady Zarai, Lord Hendrix, Sir Barrios, Princess Anastasia, and two more he did not know. One was clearly from the Alidasht delegation, but he wasn’t sure who he was.

At another table, Prince Wulfric sat in conversation with two Alidashtians. Mathias spotted at least two people he wanted to greet, but showing up before the prince in this ridiculous disguise would only guarantee he'd become the evening's laughingstock. He doubted Zander’s brother would care much about his charade, but Prince Wulfric didn’t strike him as the kind of man who would appreciate someone sneaking into a nobleman’s birthday celebration with such a disguise.


No, he needed to shed this ridiculous disguise before he embarrassed himself further. Now all he had to do was find a quiet corner where no one would see him…

[color=silver]“Lord Wimsley!”[/color] Mathias’s head snapped toward the voice, and he saw an older woman approaching him. Her eyes were framed by soft wrinkles, and the laughter lines around her mouth deepened as she smiled warmly. [color=silver]“I thought you wouldn’t make it! Oh, come closer, dear boy—my eyesight isn’t what it used to be.”[/color]

[color=94b0c4][i]Oh no…[/i][/color] Panic gripped him as he scanned the area, desperate for a way to escape before his flimsy disguise crumbled as quickly as it had been thrown together.




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