[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[princess]

Anastasia & Ryn

---

Anastasia had wandered over to the dessert selection, trailing a finger down the cloth of the table. The gentle swish of fabric under her touch was interrupted by the unmistakable blare of a trumpet, which instantly piqued her attention. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder to watch Callum enter with the baker. She openly giggled, both at the absurdity of it all and just because it was nice to see Callum seeming in better spirits today at least.

It was going to be daunting to tell him that she hadn’t been able to speak to Marek. He’d almost assuredly assume she didn’t try hard enough. Even so, she had no plans to avoid him. He was her little brother and she planned to make sure he knew how much she wanted to look out for him no matter what he thought of her. Her gaze had slid to her father as he entered. Though it was pointless, the princess waved her hand with a smile in greeting with some hopes he might greet her. Her hand fell as his eyes seemed to purposely rush over the sight of her and she dropped her arm back to her side.

Ryn sauntered over to the dessert selection and positioned himself beside the princess. Feigning interest in the sweets, he leaned forward for a better view of the treat directly in front of the princess. “This one looks delightful,” he remarked, reaching for it. As his hand drew near, an errant cloth tucked in his sleeve slipped out, unfurling and draping itself over the petit confection. “Oh dear!” He whisked the fabric away, only to reveal an empty space beneath. He stared at the vacant area in faux puzzlement, then searched the cloth and found nothing. His gaze swept the surroundings, eventually locking onto Princess Anastasia. “Pardon me, did you see a runaway petit four by chance?”

“Oh hi!” Anastasia greeted with a smile as someone moved into her range of earshot, “It does look really good. Totally try it!” Her smile retained its glow, albeit with a subtle dimming, as her attention was drawn to a cloth that slipped from his grasp and fluttered to the ground. A quizzical tilt of her head accompanied her survey of the table. "Hmm, where could it have disappeared to?”

She directed her focus downward, bending her head to peer beneath the tablecloth as her blonde hair hung over her face. “Maybe… Maybe pick another?”

Ryn joined Anastasia in peering beneath the tablecloth, “I’ve heard these petit fours are the crafty sort. One moment there’s a platter full of them and then—poof!—in the blink of an eye, they’re all gone! They must be masters of stealth … or so delicious we don’t realize we’ve wolfed them down.” He let the tablecloth fall back into place as he straightened up. “No matter, plenty more options to choose from. Which one catches your fancy?”

Anastasia rose with him with a giggle. She pressed her fingers together and commented with a smile, “Oh you’re a funny one!” Her amber gaze set back on the table of goodies. She tapped her chin for a moment. “I often have that issue… I can’t help myself around sweets… “ As she drew off, there was a glimmer in her eye and she suddenly pointed out some fruit tarts. “Oh you must try those. Sooo good!” In a plate lay a few fruit tarts, all with golden crust and custard centers. Various berries adorned the custard like little bouquets.

Ryn could not help but mirror the princess’s smile as he witnessed her regain her spark. “This one?” With delicate care, he moved a fruit tart onto a plate and raised it, inspecting it from every angle. He hummed his approval. “My mouth is watering just looking at it. Let’s hope this doesn’t…” His hand concealed the tart from her sight. When he lifted his hand, the dessert—and the very plate it was on—disappeared, leaving behind a familiar cloth. “Vanish into thin air like the last one.”

“Again?” He picked up the cloth, turning it over in his hands. “I’m beginning to suspect we have a dessert thief in our midst.” Ryn held the fabric to his ear and shook it. “Wait, I hear something… Would you hold out your hands, please?” The cloth hovered over Princess Anastasia’s outstretched palms. After a few theatrical shakes, he pulled the cloth away. A plate of tart now rested on her hands.

“So that’s where it went! Let’s see if it has the other one too.” He repeated the performance over his free hand. This time, the first missing petit four reappeared. “There it is.”

He glanced between his and Princess Anastasia’s desserts. “Would it be bad manners if I returned this to the table? … Or perhaps I could make a trade? I’m sure this cloth pilfered an extra tart or two.” He covered his plate with the cloth and raised it, unveiling another fruit tart in place of his petit four. “Voilà!”

Anastasia stared with parted lips for a moment before she started to applaud enthusiastically, “Oh my Gods! You’re a magician! That was so AMAZING!” She exclaimed. A few that had been nearby also started to applaud. “I have not seen such a party trick since my brother’s birthday party when he was still a child… Please tell me how you did it!”

With a flourish, Ryn executed an elegant bow for his gathered audience. “Sleight of hand and misdirection—the core of many parlor tricks. A keen observer likely spotted me rearranging the desserts on the table.” He stepped aside to show the original petit four behind him. “I find chatter makes for good distraction. Sleight of hand requires practice, of course. Should you be interested, I’d gladly share a few techniques.” He lifted his tart and smiled at Princess Anastasia. “If you care to join me for dessert, that is. I have it on good authority that these tarts are exquisite.”

She tilted her body, her hands moving behind her back to lock eyes on the petit four with fascination. “I’m always distracted so I am sure you can keep me surprised!” Anastasia was half joking with her exclamation. With a smile, she gestured to a nearby lawn table with two upholstered seats. There were pastel-colored pillows as well as a dainty umbrella that shrouded the area in shade. “I’d love to.”

Anastasia selected another fruit tart and plated it with the other. The truth was she wanted to be distracted right now and he was quite pleasant company. The other day had been difficult and it still bore down on her as she had a rather overactive mind at times. She gestured toward the the table. “That looks like a nice spot to sit and snack, don’t you think?” She took a step in the direction only to pause, “Oh- And what’s your name?”

“Fritz. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, setting his plate on the tabletop and drawing out a seat for her. “How may I address you?”

“Fritz!” Anastasia repeated with a smile, nodding her thanks as she sat down. “Such a unique name… My name’s Anastasia, but that’s a bit of a mouth full so… Many call me Ana, Annie, or you’re free to come up with whatever funny little thing that crosses your mind.” She picked up one of her tarts to take a bite as she considered her next question. However, more than one ended up tumbling out as per usual. “So where are you from? And what do you like to do for fun? Oh and! …Favorite color? ” Her eyes set on him with interest and excitement.

“No name is ever a mouthful, Miss Anastasia. However, if variety is what you wish for...” Ryn rubbed his chin in thought, “Aisatsana? Nana? Sia, Tasia, or perhaps Phia? We can use random appellations until we find one to your liking.”

“Annie works great but those are all pretty nice-… You ever make up fake names for fun and introduce yourself as different identities to strangers ? I like to put on different accents and all.”

“Not always for fun, but yes, I have.” Images of what little he observed of Princess Anastasia the past few days cycled through his head. “Although, more often than not, people don’t require alternate names or identities to pretend.”

Anastasia was not as quick to reply this time, her fork tracing aimless patterns on the plate of tarts before her. Amidst the symphony of voices and laughter that filled the silence, she eventually lifted her gaze, accompanied by a soft smile. “I agree…I ’d be willing to bet many of the people here are all playing pretend… Well I know they are. I like to watch them often as you can imagine I have some more free time than my brothers.”

With a delicate gesture, she lifted a forkful of tart, using it as punctuation, “That woman over there is Countess Melanie Monet. She and her husband Landon are from over east. “ The brunette's laughter danced in the air as she engaged in conversation with fellow nobles over cups of tea. Yet, upon closer thought, the noise had seemed tinged with a touch of strain. Beside her sat a blond gentleman, his grip on her hand noticeably tight. Anastasia's expression grew slightly distant, ”...Never seen her not wearing a smile.”

“Sometimes… it’s easier to pretend than to face reality.” Ryn murmured, observing the false gaiety around the count and countess. Their companions reveled in laughter and merriment. Whether by choice or ignorance, they were blind to the discord beneath the surface. “Especially if you believe you’re alone and trapped because you cannot imagine anything better beyond the thorns of unforgiving reality.”

Anastasia’s smile faded out of his view. She wondered if he was particularly perceptive of how others may feel or if he could relate to such a lonesome and harsh sentiment.

Without directly facing her, Ryn gently posed a question. “If given the chance, what would you do for” he eyed Princess Anastasia, “one so lost and forlorn? What words would you offer to… them?”

As he eyed her once more, a smile grew as she lost herself in thought. Her gaze fixated on his and she spoke softly yet earnestly, “I’d tell them that they’re not as alone as they think…That there’s always someone there to help if they look a little closer. ”

This time Ryn fully faced her. “Then allow me to say this to you, Anastasia. Though your smile lights up any room, it never quite hides your pain. Earlier at the dessert table, I saw a lonely young woman seeking recognition from someone she loves dearly.” He broke eye contact to watch King Edin in the distance. “I can only speculate why he is reluctant to reciprocate… but I think he cares for you in his own way.” Briefly, Ryn’s brows furrowed and, more to himself, he said, “He is… preoccupied by his own unhappiness.”

His warm gaze returned to Princess Anastasia. “You are loved by many. You’re not alone, even when it feels that way and no one seems to care. There has always been and always will be someone there for you. It may take courage, and aid from others, but things can improve.”

She stared at him, caught off guard that the conversation had taken a turn toward her.Her gaze remained fixed on him, hanging on his words as they unfolded. Anastasia's hand extended across the table with a faint smile. “You’re very sweet and you seem like you’re pretty smart… Thank you.”

“If my words sound sweet, it’s because they are yours. I merely relayed your wisdom back as a reminder.”

“...Truth is.” Her shoulders slumped and she set down her fork.

There was a certain comfort in confiding in a stranger, she realized, and it was a bit easier to speak to him than perhaps others about such. “I do wear a mask but it’s for myself more than anyone. I feel sometimes I can fool myself into enjoying everything more. Even when things aren’t ideal, I like to try to have as much fun as I can and enjoy life to the fullest. You never know when it’s going to end right? …Buuut easier said than done.” Her gaze slid to King Edin, “When it comes to my dad, I once got to know a side of him he doesn’t really show. He can be a nice person… And because I know he can, I don’t want to give up on him.”

Princess Anastasia’s sentiment toward her father resonated with that of Countess Monet. From what he heard, the countess had been trying to “fix” her husband for years with questionable success. Ryn focused on Count Monet’s iron grip. “Do what you can to help him… but keep in mind that it’s not your responsibility to ‘fix’ him.” With effort, he pulled his eyes from the other man’s hand.

“Taking a more proactive approach could help too,” Ryn went on. “As they say, change seldom comes to those who wait idly.”

“That’s true… And you know what… That even sounds cool. “Anastasia tapped her chin. “I’ll do something proactive then. I’m going to talk to him… Today!” She took a motivated final bite of her tart and then glanced at Fritz once more, “So Fritz! Tell me more about you. You seem like someone who has a really interesting story.”

“Me? … Well, let’s answer your first set of questions.” Ryn inhaled deeply and spoke without pause. “I-come-from-a-merchant-family-in-Erwynn-Varian-I-have-many-hobbies-and-interests-it’s-difficult-to-narrow-it-down-to-just-one-To-name-a-few-I-play-musical-instruments-whenever-my-muse-decides-to-pay-a-visit-and-I-can’t-say-no-to-a-good-book-or-promise-of-adventure-big-or-small-I-am-open-to-trying-anything-at-least-once-As-for-favorite-colors-I-don’t-have-one-because-every-color-is-my-favorite.” He finally paused to take a breath. “What about you, Miss Annie?”

Anastasia’s expression lit up and she giggled. “Oh wow! Okay. What a mouth full. I am noting in all… But hey! Instruments! I play the cello actually! What do you play!?”

“I've tried my hand at a few instruments, but never mastered any.” Ryn kept his eyes trained on Princess Anastasia, and his face smooth, as his ears perked up at the mention of Black Rose Trading Company hosting an auction for Prince Callum’s charity event. “Have you ever played with other musicians or performed for an audience?”

Anastasia's gaze shifted across the room and came to rest upon Alexander Deacon. Her brows arched with a hint of curiosity as her eyes locked onto him.Her brows raised with intrigue. He worked with Marek? She wondered why the two of them had never met? “...I’ve performed solo, but never with others.”She answered him, though with a slight delay. Her attention briefly drifted toward Callum, and a cascade of inquiries surged through her thoughts. “What is going on…” she murmured softly, her words a mere whisper that escaped beneath her breath.

“Would you consider performing a concert for this charity event?”

Anastasia gasped and looked back to him with wide eyes. “I totally would!! …”Her excitement slowly died down as a realization hit her.. “Hm but I don’t know if Callum wants anything to do with me. I have to make things right between us still… Him and I had a bad argument.”

“An argument?” Ryn prompted.

“Yeah long story short: he thinks I betrayed our friend, but I didn’t. I don’t have many ways to prove it. Stinky situation.”

“Then even more reason to do the concert! This event is the perfect opportunity to reconcile.”

“I can host the concert under my name.” Ryn paused to consider the other option. “Or perhaps Countess Monet would be a better choice? House Monet is respected in Caesonia, and her compassion and altruism are well-known. I am fairly certain she would be interested in contributing to the charity event. Her involvement might attract a wider audience.”

Enthusiastically, he added, “We can even invite our musically inclined friends to perform with us! You’d be supporting your brother in his endeavors, helping a good cause, spending time with friends, potentially making new ones, and your parents can watch you play!”

“You’re… You’re just full of GREAT ideas!” Anastasia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. The idea of being involved in something directly infused her with a revitalizing energy she hadn't experienced in quite some time. “How about the two of us work together to make this happen?” She suggested eagerly, ” It’s your idea and I’d love to help. I can ask around and I think asking Countess Monet to be a part of it would be great too…Maybe we should go ask Callum if he likes our idea!” Her gaze slid over to the table. “It looks like he’s over there actually.”

“Splendid.” Ryn searched the attendees, mentally making note of who might be willing to contribute. “If we’re going to host the concert under Countess Monet’s name, it might be better to ask her now before bringing up her name to your brother.” He tilted his body closer to Princess Anastasia. “And I am sure she would appreciate to hear you tell her that she’s not alone.”

Anastasia smiled. She rose and offered her hand to him, “Let’s make our merry way, my friend!”

Ryn stared at the offered hand with wide eyes before taking it into his and rising to his feet. “Let’s.”

[princess]

Time:Night
Date:Sola 23rd

Interaction: @Helo@Tae @ReusableSword @Rodiak @JJ Doe @Conscripts @Infinite Cosmos @Potter @13org @Heartfillia @Tpartywithzombi @samreaper @Silverpaw @Inertia @mantou @Terrance420 @Potter @FunnyGuy @SausagePat @Lava Alckon @CitrusArms @Blizz @PapaOso @Apex Sunburn @Ojo chan 42

The evening has set in! Anything you need to wrap up, please be clear that you are writing in the daytime still or mark as a flashback as we are officially moving into the night <3

NEWSPAPER FOR SOLA 23

[princess]

Count Damien's Masquerade

Time: Night
Location: Ballroom in Damien Estate

Written by @Tpartywithzombi

As the moonlight filters through the intricately designed windows, casting a silvery glow upon the polished wooden floor, the room transforms into a dreamscape of elegance and mystery. Tonight, an air of enchantment fills the room, as the ballroom plays host to a splendid masquerade.

The walls of the grey ballroom are adorned with rich velvet drapes in deep shades of midnight blue and regal burgundy, cascading from ceiling to floor in graceful waves. Gilded sconces, delicately crafted with intricate patterns, hold flickering candles that dance with a warm and inviting light, casting intricate shadows that seem to tell secrets of bygone eras.

The expansive dance floor is a masterpiece in itself, polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the enchanting chandeliers that hang above. The chandeliers are true works of art, their crystal prisms capturing the moonlight and scattering it across the room in a myriad of enchanting patterns. Each crystal radiates a soft, ethereal glow, casting an otherworldly ambiance over the masquerade attendees.

In every corner, exquisite floral arrangements that Lady Damien insisted on having. Bursting forth in a riot of colors and scents, lending a touch of nature's beauty to the splendor of the occasion. Roses in shades of deep crimson and velvety black mingle with orchids and lilies, their fragrances intermingling with the soft scent of beeswax candles. Greenery twists and twines around the pillars, enhancing the illusion of a hidden garden within the ballroom itself.

As attendees glide gracefully across the dance floor in their elaborate animal-inspired attire, the masked figures create an aura of intrigue and allure. The ornate masks range from delicate lace to opulent filigree, each one a testament to the wearer's imagination. Behind these disguises, whispered conversations and shared laughter mingled with the strains of a live orchestra, playing their beautiful tunes.

[princess]

The Ceremony for the Summer Solstice

Time: Night
Location: Edge of Lover's Lake.

Written by @ReusableSword

The summer air was cool outside the warehouse, marked with white, blue, and purple flags—the colors of the Ravenwood family. This was the designated location for the ritual attendees to gather, unless they chose to arrive on their own at odd hours of the night. With about an hour remaining before the sun set, the Ravenwood clan, and indeed many people from Varian, worked quickly to assemble baskets, boxes, kegs, and various other items into a few horse-drawn carts. The mood was cheerful, with many smiles and hearty laughs filling the air.

Soon, an entourage comprised of nobles, guards, merchants, workers, and people of all ages, gathered in and around the carts to make their way to the ceremony site. Musicians played music commonly heard in the Northern Varian territories as the procession slowly advanced toward the lush forest. The chosen location, the westernmost edge of Lover’s Lake, had been meticulously prepared for their ceremony. The past few days were dedicated to clearing brush, setting stones and designs into the ground, preparing fire pits, arranging food, and setting up seating for the night.

At the site, a few guards and the shaman had already arrived and greeted everyone with smiles, beckoning them to begin unloading the carts and sorting through the crates. Most everyone pitched in to unload everything from the carts until they were empty. During a brief pause in the activities, a man stepped up onto one of the empty carts and gestured for everyone to gather around for an announcement.

Roman stood tall on the empty cart, wearing his traditional Ritual attire, which made him look quite imposing. He wore a plaid kilt in his family’s colors and little else—no shoes, no shirt. However, strapped to him were large, thick bones—the upper half of a large snow bear skeleton. Its ribs encased his chest and torso, with long arm bones tied to his arms that ended in oversized boney paws with sharp, dagger-like claws. Its lower jaw hung from around his neck, and under one arm was the skull itself. The bones had been altered slightly to fit his size, yet anyone could still estimate the size of the beast from the skull he held under his arm. A skull that, like the rest of his bare skin, was adorned with ancient patterns and runes meant for protection and strength.

“Hello friends, family, new and old faces, one and all. Thank you for coming to our Celebration and Ceremony of the summer solstice. There are a few ground rules I must go over with you, especially if you have never been to one of our celebrations,” he spoke clearly, slowly, and with distinct enunciation, ensuring that all could hear his words. “First and foremost, there are no titles here—Royalty, Nobility, and the common man will all be treated the same, as we are all equal in the eyes of the gods.”

He paused briefly, his smile never fading. “Second, if you're going to act disrespectfully, whether sober or not, you will be escorted back to the city if you are disrespectful towards each other or our ceremony. This is for your safety as much as it is ours; some of us may enter a trance as we sing and dance, and some of us may not recognize you.”

He allowed those words to sink in before continuing, “Third, there are cups offered by the shaman herself.” Roman motioned his arm toward her, “These are the only cups that are colored red. They contain a drink mixed with our natural plants and mushrooms from the north. This drink is what we give to our people who wish to see. No one knows what you will see, but mostly it is to help you see your true self, so that you may find peace and heal from the wounds no one else can see. If you're lucky, you may even meet a god.”

A chorus of laughter erupted from him and some of the other northern men, as if they were all in on some inside joke, or perhaps they were all just a little insane. “Lastly, and this one is important,” Again, he paused to ensure everyone was listening, “Our ceremonies are ancient, from a time before our kingdoms were kingdoms. You may think or feel that the way we worship is magic in some way, but I can assure you it is not. We sing, dance, and offer to our gods, our ancestors, and the spirits that inhabit the land.”

His smile returned as he placed the hollowed-out skull onto his head, concealing his eyes in shadow. The red rubies set in the eye sockets of the bear's skull glistened with the dying light of the sun. “Now, for the ceremony itself, we will sing four songs in the old tongue. The many guards not participating in the ceremony have been instructed to translate for you if you ask. Our songs represent birth, life, death, and the last song for the gods. Before we start, you will find benches close to the fires; these are meant for offerings of food, wine, and prayers or words to a loved one who has passed—anything you wish to offer to the gods and the ancestors.”

Again, he paused to look over the crowd. “Mina Blackwood and I will be leading the songs for this ceremony. So, we have a little while longer before the fires are lit, so please enjoy the food, the drinks, the music. Take this time to prepare yourselves for the celebration. Remember, all we ask is that you be respectful of our customs. It's up to you whether you want to participate or just observe. No one here will judge you for getting in tune with nature.”

Glancing out across the forest for a moment, three smaller fires were set up in a triangle with ample space in the middle for the largest of the fires. Stones and paint formed an intricate pattern along the ground, one that could only be fully appreciated from a higher vantage point. Tables with food, drinks, instruments, and ritual wear were arranged around the outside of the very large circle. With that, he descended from the cart, and the crowd began to disperse. He still had a few things to prepare for the ritual himself.

[Tpartywithzombi]

Location: Damien Estate
Time: Sola 23 / Night
Shoulders
Mask
Dress

Masquerade.

A false show or pretense.

Party.

A social gathering of invited guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment.

The Damien Estate Masquerade Party. The grand event of the evening fit so perfectly for what was to come. What was meant to be a themed fun-filled gathering, was nothing more than a boost to a single man's ego and popularity. A game with a predetermined winner. His moves were already laid out, prepared with the thoroughness of a psychopath.

But did he consider the price? Did Violet's father think of the dangers of inviting falseness into his home. To gather, drink, eat, and be entertained amongst his that was so fragile underneath the surface of the visage they displayed. A visage that was purely just another pretty mask of his masquerade party.

Inside her moonlit chamber, an air of sadness enshrouded Violet, like a spectral veil woven from strands of her pain. A black lace string wound intricately around the back of her head, her hair pulled back tightly away from her face and shoulders in a beautiful braid that twisted into a bun. A mask hand crafted from the plumage of raven feathers adorned her face. Her crimson eyes shinning from behind the mask.

Her attire whispered of dark beauty, a testament to her father's ostentatious intentions. A gown of onyx silk clung to her form, its fabric cascading like liquid darkness, pooling at her feet. The grandeur of her collar was a profusion of feathers that sprang forth like wings, framing her features with an eerie elegance that bordered on the surreal. Although her father’s gift was wonderful, Violet couldn’t help but question the intention behind his actions.

Yet, behind this façade of extravagance and beauty lay a monster. Violet's heart thrummed with a dissonant truth. Her father's lavish indulgence may have cloaked her in finery, but it could not obscure the monster that festered beneath the surface. Unseen by the world, a hurricane of turmoil churned within her soul, a maelstrom of emotions that continued to build each hour that passed.

The frigid night air played upon her skin, a symphony of prickling sensations that whispered of the world beyond her cage. A subtle curve graced her lips, a peaceful feeling tugging at her heart as she yearned for the view from her balcony, where once she had been able to peer upon the beautiful night sky. Yet, this simple pleasure now eluded her, eclipsed by an insidious craving that gnawed at her core.

In the veiled night, Violet stood on her balcony bathing in the light of the moon. As the night enveloped her in its darkness, Violet reached into the pocket of her dress pulling out the letter she had received earlier in the day. Opening it up she held the letter against the balcony; the blurred scribbles of her friends’ writing was a much needed reminder that she wasn't alone. A quaint distraction that took her mind and senses elsewhere. Safety and caution could not reach her in this momentary bliss.

Who knew that Roman would be such the accomplice to her complacency this night? A sudden whistle of wind filled the air was like a signal of the perfect time to-

Violet felt a swift pressure wrap around her throat and head. Her body was being pulled back from the balcony's edge, away from the moonlight that lustered her alabaster complexion. Violet's trembling hands clutched at the arm coiled menacingly around her delicate neck. Her heart pounded like a wild drum, reminding her of the growing sense of dread within her.

In a desperate frenzy, Violet's nails, long and sharp as razors, tore into the arm that sought to claim her life. The tearing sound of fabric being savagely shredded echoed in her bedroom as her cries of help muffled from the pressure around her neck. But no matter how fiercely she clawed and scratched, the grip on her neck showed no signs of relenting. Deep cuts from her claws digging into the strangers arm as blood appear to drip onto her pale skin.

The air around her became suffocating, each empty breath a torturous reminder of the tightening grip that held her. She fought with every ounce of her waning strength, a primal instinct for survival warring against the person.

With each passing moment, the darkness seemed to grow around her. Violet's defiant struggle was now veering into a hopeless battle against whoever had her. Her consciousness wavered, her vision blurred even more, and the world around her began to twist and warp. And then there was darkness. Silence. Nothing more to feel. Bliss twisted.

As the darkness took her, Violet felt a sense of calm wash over her. Her body collapsed limp in the embrace of the stranger.

Finally…

Taken from her peace and in moments from her home, Violet faded into the abyss of night: her captor, a man wearing a black mask decorated with two golden horns of a ram.

The only sign left of the strange visitor was the crumpled up letter from Roman, laying in the middle of Violets bedroom floor with tiny droplets of blood decorating the once pristine paper.

[Helo]

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 1

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

Callum managed to sneak unnoticed from the tea party and back inside the palace without an unwanted entourage. Not that it helped him shake that constant surveillance feeling any. He reminded himself that today, right now, was the best time for a secretive and dangerous meeting. Today, he was a lucky duck, the tea party had all gone better than he expected, and he was going to ride his luck out. He frequently checked his surroundings, never quite sure he wasn’t being followed. He heard his heartbeat thumping away and wondered if anyone else could hear it too.

Cal knew the palace, knew all the twisting and meandering routes to get to places he didn’t belong. Knew all quiet corridors and tucked away rooms where it was desolate enough to know when one was not alone. As he walked, he practiced his excuse for being down in the servant’s infirmary, just in case he got caught. I felt lightheaded and confused and went to the wrong doctor. That was believable, right?

Once he finally got to the servant’s infirmary, Cal paused just outside the door. Double-checked over his shoulder once more to make sure he was alone. Then he knocked on the door. Doctors always seemed busy and he didn’t want to interrupt if Quack was busy, but a quick peak through the narrow window built into the door suggested the doctor had some downtime. Was Quack trying on shoes? It wasn’t quite the sight Cal had been expecting and he awkwardly waved through the small window to try and get the man’s attention and an invite into the room.

After pacing around in what had once been Lordling Smithwood’s shoes, Quack plopped down on the bed and yanked them off his feet. “I’ll be takin’ these.”

Riona arched an eyebrow at the polished dress shoes. “And wear them where, exactly?”

“Ya ken? One of ’em fancy soirees. Can’t rightly show up wearin’ those,” he gestured flippantly at the only pair of shoes he owned, crusted with the remnants of his work—bodily fluids and cemetery soil alike—“can I?”

Riona fished the last pair from the sack and held them up to Quack. “Do you even own any fancy clothes to match?”

“Eh,” and a shrug was his answer. As soon as he saw the embroidered slip-on shoes, he wrinkled his nose in distaste and waved them away. “Even if I don’t ever wear ’em, quality shoes fetch a pretty coin.”

“If you’re selling, why not take them all?” She shoved the slip-ons back in the sack and cinched it.
“And wind up dancin’ at the end of a rope fer peddlin’ piles of shoes? I prefer my neck unstretched, thank ya very much.”
“I told you, they aren’t stolen. That sanctimonious a**-hat Smithwood wanted me to throw them out because they got ruined.”

Quack looked genuinely confused, even disgusted, that anyone would discard well-made footwear over superficial, nonexistent flaws. Then a thought lit up his features. “But they ain’t.”

“They aren’t. So, instead of wasting perfectly good shoes, I’m handing them out.”
He eyed the stuffed sack. “Let me guess. Staff ain’t too keen on takin’ ‘em off yer hands cause they’re scared of bein’ accused of pinch’ ’em off some rag-splawger?”
Riona nodded with a sigh. “I’ll drop them off at a sanctuary.”

The mention of a sanctuary reminded her of a friend who could really use one. “Have you seen or heard from Darryn?” At his head shake, her heart sank. Darryn vanished without a trace after that day. She feared the worst, but without any clues about his whereabouts or fate, she could only hope he was okay.

“Look, lass—” Quack’s voice pulled her mind away from Darryn. Before he could complete the thought, a rapid rapping sounded at the door. He jerked to his feet, glowering past her.

She followed his gaze to the door and saw Cal peeking through the window, waiting. He came! Excitedly, Riona rushed over to let him in. “What are you doing out here? Come in, stranger.”

Callum entered the infirmary with one last glance behind him. There was only the empty hallway, the door closed behind him, and he made sure to step out of view from the door’s window. “Oh, I didn’t want to intrude, if this was a private conversation.” He looked from Riona to the man he assumed was Quack. He tried to relax some, at least he had a friend here, which made this space feel a little less lonely.

The doctor not only looked unfriendly but outright annoyed by Callum’s presence; a familiar look on an unfamiliar face. A new problem arose; how was he supposed to address Quack? Because Quack felt the sort of nickname that was for friends, not for everyone, certainly not for people the doctor disliked. Was Doc too casual? Maybe he should let Riona handle most of the talking.

No, he could do this, he’d done mostly the same thing this morning. Be polite, smile, introduce yourself, and don’t sound stupid. If he could spend the morning convincing new people that he had a plan worth backing he could keep it going through the afternoon and try and convince Quack he was no dead duck, he could be helpful, useful.

“Physician Cryer, good afternoon, nice to officially meet you. I’m Callum.” A mostly automated, way too formal, greeting came out. At least he didn’t bow but he wasn’t sure if he smiled. So he looked at the only person in the room who was happy to see him, smiled from the warmth of that, and kept it as he looked at Quack once again.

Riona could tell Cal was nervous, a fine thread of tension weaved through every gesture and word. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, his attempt to smile contorted his lips into a rigid curve, and the subtle twitch in his fingertips hinted at a silent battle waged against his harshest critic: himself.

Just as she wondered if she should step in, his eyes settled on her. All at once, the knots of tension that tangled themselves into his facial muscles unraveled; the strained smile softened into something more genuine. She returned his smile, silently reassuring him, and felt a spark of joy knowing her presence brought him comfort.

“The best of the afternoon to ya, Prince Callum,” Quack bowed, bending low as protocol demanded for a man of his station. But there was no mistaking the shards of icy resentment when he regarded the son of the man responsible for ruining his sister’s life. “What brings the divine son of the exalted crown to a place like this?”

A cold chill blew through the less-than-sterile room with the doctor’s words. It wasn’t so much what Quack said but the way he said it, the way hate seeped into words like prince and crown, that just blew the need to put on an act away. This was a trial; his title would earn him no leeway, it had to be just Callum and whether he could be deemed worthy of Quack’s flock. Be bold, no one respects a coward. If he could convince Riona that he could be useful, he had a shot at convincing the doctor. Cal just hoped it wouldn’t involve any attempted strangling.

“Divine son?” He almost laughed at that one, but instead just shook his head. “I’d say you’ve got me confused with one of my brothers, but I think everyone here knows there is nothing divine about any Danrose. But I’m not here to talk blasphemy.” Callum approached Quack as he spoke, and once close enough that the other man would be able to hear a hushed voice, he continued.

“I’m here to talk treason. I want to see an end to crowns, titles, and everything else that serves the nobility and never the people. Heard a rumor we might be birds of a feather on that.” He kept his answer short and straight to the point, doctors generally liked direct answers, and no one liked listening to long speeches given by people they already disliked.

What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat, but felt like an eternity. The icy glare meant for Cal froze Quack instead, sapping the color from him before the primal instinct for survival ignited in full force. Riona didn’t think. She lunged forward and grabbed Cal, wrenching him out of reach just as Quack’s hands came crashing down. When he tried to grab for Cal again, she slipped herself between the two. Quack’s ferocity redirected itself to the obstacle in his way. He seized Riona, bringing their faces inches apart.

“Ya told him!?” he thundered, betrayal and fear underpinning the anger in his voice. If the Prince knew of the anarchists’ plot to overthrow the aristocracy, everything was in jeopardy. “Have ya lost yer bloody mind!?” His grip on her arms tightened further.

Riona flinched but held her ground while her heart hammered in her chest. “Sexton. Get a grip. Pay attention. Think. He wouldn’t be the one here if the Crowns knew.”
“Unless it’s a trap.”
“Then harming him now won’t improve the situation.”

Bold, was a mistake. Was Callum’s first thought as Quack went from ice cold to exploding forth with the fury of a drake. What was it about him that made people suddenly want to strangle him? That thought floated through his head as Riona flung him backward just out of Quack’s grip. Cal stumbled into a mayo stand, knocking it, and the few instruments on it, onto the floor with an echoing clatter. Shit, this much noise was going to draw attention. His eyes flickered to the door, praying it didn’t swing open, as Riona tried to calm the doctor down.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least do it quietly, or you’ll have bigger problems.” None of his pre-thought-out excuses for being down here would explain away what was going on now. He looked back at Riona and Quack, once he felt sure no one was coming through the door.

“I wouldn’t lift a finger, or waste a breath, to protect Edin. I’d give you my word, but I don’t think that would foot the bill here. But I can give you a secret, seems fair, I got one of yours, you should have one of mine. One that can ensure my death.” He offered, keeping his eyes locked on Quack as he spoke to him.

“All in or nothing right?” He looked at Riona for confirmation that he could say it. “It’s a big ask for him, even to trust me a little, gotta offer something big in return.” An equivalent sacrifice, a fundamental law of magic, it just made sense.

A weighted silence filled the room. No one moved; all caught in a standoff, waiting for someone else to break the stillness. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath. Finally, Quack released Riona and marched to the door, bolting it shut. He then slid the privacy cover into place to prevent anyone from looking through the vision panel. “Backroom, now. The both of ya,” Quack commanded. Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into the backroom.

While rubbing the lingering ache in her arms, Riona gave Cal a quick once-over. “Are you okay?” He didn’t look hurt, but the question wasn’t limited to the physical.

“Are you?” Callum returned the question as Riona rubbed her arms.

She nodded, “Yeah.” She almost added that she’d had worse. Luckily, she was quick enough to stop herself. He didn't need to know that.

“Sorry. I messed that up. I think I’m bad at first impressions. Anyway, thank you. Again. Guess you’re stuck adding another tally to the Riona did a good deed board.” There wasn’t much else he could do besides try to make the situation a little lighter. But a darker thought slipped in. Maybe she doesn’t count this as a good deed. He didn’t like how much sense that thought made either. Was that why Riona seemed so convinced she was a bad person? Hanging around him, helping him, saving him; a Danrose, the enemy. Cal wouldn’t ask that, no, that thought was staying locked up in his head.

Instead, he answered her question, “I’m fine,” with a smile because it was true enough. He was just shaken up, and clammy, and his heart still raced. Petty complaints, there was nothing worth voicing there. The backroom Quack had disappeared into loomed up ahead and Callum couldn’t see into it. It just sounded ominous. “Am I fine?” And by that he meant is the backroom code for the place people get murdered? Or is the backroom more of an amicable meeting in a secret liar?

He glanced at the now locked door, then back toward the room Quack had disappeared through. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Guess I’m going either way.” He pulled out his flask and unscrewed the lid before taking a long drink. Just a sip. To wet his beak. He tipped it towards Riona, “for nerves?” He offered as he started to walk.

Riona accepted the flask and raised it as if to make a toast. “For luck,” she said, bringing the flask to her lips. The liquor burned as it slid down her throat, leaving a fiery trail that ended in her stomach. Lowering the flask, she let out a small breath, savoring the way it warmed her from the inside. With her nerves settled, she handed the flask back to its owner.

He glanced around the room, paused, and then struggled to hide a smirk. He glanced at her, “Are we about to get Quacked” He whispered as quietly as he could, and prayed to all the gods Quack lacked a hawk’s hearing. But he couldn’t, not say it.

Just as much as she couldn’t, not laugh. Riona did her best to stifle it and ended up snorting for her efforts. “Gods that’s so bad… Keep it up and he will,” she playfully jabbed his side. “Do you want your epitaph to say ‘Here lies Callum, he who told one too many duck puns and died quacking for it?’”

“That’s exactly what I want. How did you know?”

[JJ Doe]

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 2

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

When they passed the curtain divider, all laughter ceased and smiles faded. Two bodies lay motionless on the makeshift operating tables. The first was a middle-aged man, his body gaunt and frail. His skin was sallow and sunken, clinging to his bones. Dark circles rimmed his dull, vacant eyes. He had the look of someone worked to death, every ounce of life force squeezed from him until his heart finally gave out. The second was a woman, her face still retaining some of its youthful fullness. Her skin had a sickly pallor with a slightly yellowish hue and her parted lips were tinged blue. At first glance, she appeared to be resting peacefully, her eyes gently closed. But the dried tears that tracked down her cheeks told another story. Next to the body sat a small glass bottle. Riona gingerly picked it up, examining its contents. She recognized the dried pennyroyal, tansy, savine, and ergot—toxic herbs used by desperate women—and knew that the woman died slowly and painfully from the inside out.

Riona turned to face Quack, but his attention was fully on Cal. Quack had regained his composure and shed the persona of the undertaker-turned-quack. Now Sexton wore the face of an anarchist, acting as judge, jury and potential executioner. This was a tribunal. Suddenly she wished she could take another swing from Cal’s flask.

“Are they dead?” He whispered the question despite already knowing the answer. He could just feel himself turning paler from the sight. He had to remind himself that it probably wasn’t a weird thing for a doctor who was also an undertaker, or was it a former undertaker, to have bodies in a backroom.

The woman looked peacefully asleep, the way a body might at a funeral, but Callum hadn’t ever been to a funeral. He’d never seen a dead person before. He didn’t go out and watch executions like it was some big exciting spectacle, and whenever someone important enough for royalty to attend the funeral, it was never Callum they wanted representing them in public.

The man’s eyes remained open, cold portals into a void. The body didn’t blink, the eyes didn’t move and still they felt like they were staring right into him. The clammy feeling returned with a vengeance. All over, just cold and sweaty. Why was it so cold in here? And shouldn’t they be covered up, with a sheet or something… It just felt wrong to have bodies laid out like they were on display.

He shouldn’t stare at the bodies. He tore his eyes away from the empty, glassy, vacant ones. It’s disrespectful to gawk at the dead. Should I look at Quack? Was that too bold? Probably a bad idea. What if he took it as a challenge? An act of aggression. And why wasn’t Quack saying anything? His stomach twisted up, and the back of his throat burned with whiskey and bile. Was Quack just going to stand there?

“What, umm, what’s that?” He glanced at the small bottle Riona held, searching for anything else to focus on. Don’t look at the bodies. “I should say something, right?” He glanced back at Quack, an unflinching statue of a man, and he knew if he waited around for Quack to talk first, or to feel like he had all his ducks in a row before speaking, he’d be here all day.

“It could be useful, right, to have an insider. Places I can be, that um, other people would seem out of place. I could be useful. And I’m not going to say anything. Not a peep. Even if you don’t want me around, because if you're going after Edin, I wish you success. Gods I hope it's painful, I want Edin to watch his whole Danrose legacy unravel, for everything he loves to be stripped from him. I don’t care who does it, as long as it happens. And I know you don’t trust me, but I haven’t spent ten years earning the right to call Riona a friend to betray her first chance I get. I can keep secrets.” There, he’d said something. It was great, just a long unburdening of everything that sat constricting around his chest. But he wasn’t quite finished.

“And you know what else, I think you should apologize. To Riona, because she called you friend so you should know that she doesn’t stab friends in the back either.”

Riona was almost certain that Sexton was deriving some wicked satisfaction from watching Cal squirm. In Sexton’s eyes, Cal had always been nothing more than a sheltered coward, all empty talk and no action. Despite having ample opportunities, he never dared to ask the difficult questions, too scared that the harsh reality would shatter his, as Sexton put it, delicate sensibilities. The Prince’s so-called “hatred” for his father was little more than a prolonged teenage rebellion that ultimately amounted to nothing. The restraint it must’ve taken for Sexton not to erupt into a diatribe about what true hatred actually was. Riona suspected he especially wanted to tell Cal what his father had done to his sister and many other women like her—women like the woman lying dead on the table. But the more Cal talked, the malice in Sexton slowly dampened and his demeanor softened, albeit not enough to be friendly.

When Cal said all that he wanted to say, Sexton asked, “Are ya done yappin’ ya maw off?” He took the silence as a yes. “Good. My turn.” Sexton pushed off from the wall he had been leaning on and pointed a finger. “Let me get a few thin’s straight.” He used the finger to point at Riona. “We’re hardly muckers. We ain’t even comrades. I’ve been tryin’ to recruit her, but fer some damnable reason she won’t join. Aye, she helps with the sanctuaries we run, but she ain’t one of us.” The accusation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Ya right ’bout one thin’, though, lad.” Sexton turned to Riona. “Ya wouldn’t do anythin’ to harm the sanctuaries. Sorry fer doubtin’ ya.” Riona accepted the apology with a nod. “But,” the icy glare returned, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise, “if ya get in our way, I’ll do what needs doin’. Ya know that right?”

She nodded again, a little bit delayed this time. “And if it comes to that, I’ll do what I have to do.”

Sexton’s gaze lingered on her before giving a firm nod and turning his full attention back to Cal. He extended a second finger. “This revolution isn’t just ’bout yer dad. We ain’t yer pawns to resolve yer daddy issues that ya don’t have the bawbles to handle yerself. We’re goin’ to ruin yer entire rotten family—yer dad, mum, brothers, sister, whatever that blowen Morrigan is, and ya freaky great uncle—every nob who supported yer family and benefited from this crooked system. That includes ya, Prince Callum. Do ya understand? We want the lot of ya gone.”

Callum watched the conversation between Quack and Riona, wondering about the strange threat that lingered between them. He was certainly going to have to ask Riona why she’d brought him here if she wasn’t on team Quack. He’d ask that later. He wasn’t going to ask about sanctuaries either, he would just let Quack tell him what he was allowed to know. Then Quack’s attention shifted to Cal. He chewed on his tongue to keep from interjecting at the ‘daddy issues’ comment.

“You know, sir, I want me gone too. Going out doing something that matters, best option I got going for me. Caesonia’s had more than enough of kings, princes, and nobles. She deserves something better. And rotten trees need clearing out. My family’s made their choices, and I have made mine.” He said it like a shrug, water off a duck’s back; he knew where he was going to stand.

“I’m not looking for pawns. Don’t need people calling me a prince or thinking I’m anything to be admired or bowed to. I am here to see if I can serve you, or,” And he paused, possibly digging his own grave a little deeper, “Quack me if you must, Mal’lard.” He said it, in the same way, one would say m’lord, and either Quack was going to kill him or he wasn’t, but Callum wasn’t going to let the threat just hang in the air.

Both Riona and Sexton stared at Cal, asking in not so many words if he really wanted duck puns to be his only legacy. Cal, you brave idiot. She shook her head with a ghost of a smile.

“We’ll see ’bout that soon enough.” Sexton scoffed, but a smirk cracked through. He began pacing as he seemed to consider Cal’s offer. “There’s two thin’s I want from ya if yer serious ’bout joinin’.” He stood in front of Cal.

“First. There’s no sense denyin’ we ain’t equals. Not in this bloody country. While ya can get away with murder, stealin’ bread from a royal party is a capital offense fer common folk. If any of us from our group gets caught, it’s the gallows fer us, our families, muckers, anyone even suspected helpin’ us. To stop more rebelin’ from happenin’, the crown’ll tighten the noose around folk’s necks. More people’ll suffer in the name of peace. Now if ya get caught, ya’d get a good bum whackin’ and a scapegoat to pin everythin’ on to hide yer involvement. If yer parents prove me wrong, and actually have the guts, then they’ll execute ya and pretend ya went to live on a farm. Point is, the risk we’re shoulderin’ ain’t the same.”

Suddenly, Sexton’s fingers pressed into Cal’s neck, and he seemed to wait for the pulse to regain a steady beat, before continuing. “Ya say that ya won’t betray us, but like ya said, I don’t trust ya and neither will the others… not without insurance. And not the kind yer willin’ to give.” He must’ve been referring to whatever secret Cal was going to reveal to earn his trust. “So.” He leaned in closer. “What’s the most important thin’ that ya care ’bout more than anythin’ else in the world? And don’t think ya can name just anythin’. I wantcha to explain why it, or they, are so important to ya too.”

He’s asking for a hostage. Riona realized. Something, anything, to bind their fates together.

“If I gave you a name, I’m not sure it’d be much use to you. This isn’t a threat, but the few friends I’ve got, would all be just as dangerous to mess with. And giving you a name feels like the same sort of betrayal you’re worried I’d do to you. I don’t do that.” He glanced at Quack’s fingers and assumed he was trying to feel out a lie. Lying had crossed his mind, giving him the name of someone he knew wouldn’t just be a sitting duck crossed his mind too. But he’d come here to ask for trust and he wasn’t going to treat this like one of his games with his brother. He shifted his gaze to look Quack in the eye before speaking again.

“What if what I’m willing to give, is a surefire way to send me to a pyre? I could give you enough evidence against me, that even if they did try and cover it up, it would turn a lot of folks against the crown. You know what I mean, right? What guarantees a pyre?” Cal asked, there was only one card to play that made sense to him. Even things up, make it all just as dangerous for him as it was for Quack, or as close as he could reasonably get.

“My whole life I’ve always been told what a useless, unwanted, failure I am. I have one thing that really makes me feel like that’s not the absolute truth. A little spark of hope; magic. A deeper well of connection than blood could ever be, something I can feel a claim to that isn’t rotten all the through. I’ve got all sorts of damning evidence tucked away too. Whole books copied in my handwriting, notes on what’s worked and what’s failed. So I can get you that, I can give the means to secure my destruction.”

A sneer twisted Sexton’s face, a cynical smile coming from bitter vindication rather than disappointment. The discordant pieces had clicked into place, confirming that the world matched his lowest expectations. His eyes glazed over Cal as if he wasn’t even there, whirling on Riona instead. “There ya have it. He ain’t serious ’bout helpin’ us. I ask one thin’ from him, prove he’ll lay everythin’ on the line just like the rest of us, and he balks!” Sexton let out a harsh, derisive laugh, his malice reemerging in full force.

… and set her ablaze. His rage stoked the thing within her, his hatred emboldened it, and it, in turn, ravaged her. Riona clutched her stomach, her breath escaped slowly through gritted teeth.

“He’s willin’ to sacrifice ourlivesand endanger what’s precious to us, but askin’ His Royal Highness to do the same? That’s a bridge too far. Ach, He’s his dad and mum’s bairn, awright.”

He paced back and forth, getting more worked up by the minute. Sexton ranted as though he and Riona were the only ones (alive) in the room. “A ‘surefire way to send me to a pyre’ my shiny arse. I knew he were daft, but to be this bloody moronic. Does he seriously believe he’s the only one messin’ with magic in his damned family? Where does he think all that evidence’ll end up goin’? The Queen sees all the high-profile cases and Morrigan is the bloody executioner fer feck’s sake!” In a flash of rage, Sexton kicked the bucket by the table. The impact sent it clattering across the floor, the metal scraping and echoing in the room as it rolled away.

Sexton closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, trying to restrain his irritation. “The Prince is playin’ ya fer a fool, Riona.”
“He’s willing to sacrifice himself.”
“Pfft. Naaaah,” his dragged out the denial with a sigh, “it’s nothin’ that selfless. He just wants to prove to himself that he’s not a useless, unwanted, failure.” Sexton’s eyes snapped open, narrowing as he refocused on Riona. “Let’s say what ya say is true and let’s pretend his family won’t lift a damn finger when he’s tried for witchcraft. He’ll burn as a witch while we’ll be executed as traitors to the crown. The difference is, his death will end with him. Ours won’t.”
“But if we can expose the Danroses’ misdeeds—”

Sexton cut in. “We’re doin’ that with or without His Highness. What I need from him is commitment.” He stepped closer, holding Riona’s gaze intently. “We’re all riskin’ everythin’ here. I know he thinks he’s offerin’ a way to even thin’s. But it ain’t actually even ’til he risks losin’ all he has too. If he joins, he’ll find all our soft underbellies.” He scoffed, “And he expects me to trust him when he won’t show me his?” Another frustrated sigh escaped him. “Gets my dander up that he tried to bargain with a life he doesn’t give a toss ’bout.” The life being Callum’s own.

“You’re demanding a hostage. That’s a lot to ask.”
“Is it? Danroses are holdin’ the people hostage. Why can’t I get one from him? One that he actually gives a damn ’bout.” He hissed. “If we can’t back out when the goin' gets rough, then neither should he.”
Riona’s gaze shifted away from Sexton and searched Cal’s.

“…How far are you willing to go now that you aren’t scared anymore?”
“As far as I can.”
How far was that?

[Tae]

Morning of Sola 22, The Blackwoods Sitting Room

Roman & Mina

Time: Sola 22, Morning
Location: The Blackwoods Sitting Room

---

The sun's warm rays filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow across the sitting area of Mina's quarters. Soft cushions adorned the plush couch, inviting relaxation and comfort. Mina reclined on the cushions, her petite frame sinking into their embrace. Her eyes closed as she listened to the soothing melodies of birdsong outside, letting the tranquility of the morning wash over her.

The events of yesterday still lingered in her mind. Fainting during the execution had been unexpected, but Mina attributed it to a momentary lapse in her usually composed demeanor. Her uncle, ever the doting guardian, had insisted she rest in their quarters, demanding she regain her strength and vitality after running into him in the halls as she’d left with Munir. He was always overly concerned for her well-being, worrying about her more than she believed necessary. She’d tried to argue that she was fine, but he was having none of it and even gave the Alidasht prince a disapproving glance. Now she’d been confined to their quarters since yesterday.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and two servants entered the room, each carrying a tray adorned with delicate teacups and a plate of freshly baked scones. They placed the trays on a small coffee table in front of Mina before bowing and silently retreating.

Mina's eyes fluttered open, her attention drawn to the enticing aroma wafting from the cups of tea. She took a moment to savor the fragrant steam rising from the cups before delicately picking one up. The porcelain felt cool against her fingertips as she brought the cup to her lips, taking a small sip of the warm, comforting liquid.

Just as she set the cup down, her gaze turned to the plate of scones. They were golden-brown, still warm from the oven, and adorned with a dusting of powdered sugar. The sight of the delectable treats brought a flicker of a smile to her lips. She picked up a scone, breaking off a small piece and savoring its buttery sweetness.

A momentary pause filled the room as Mina's thoughts drifted to her uncle's concern. She couldn't help but find it unnecessary. Fainting was not uncommon, especially in the midst of an execution by fire. Her own strength had always surprised her, and she knew she could handle more than others anticipated.

As she indulged in another sip of tea, she pondered on how to persuade her uncle to let her stay in Caesonia instead of returning to Kolonivka. She knew she had to be convincing, to make him understand that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Roman had woken up late, the actions of the night before proved to have taken more energy out of him then he had liked. Sleeping almost through the entire morning was not exactly something he wanted to do. At least the others had good news as he went about getting his attire in order after quickly washing himself off. The shaman Maja, an older woman intrusted with the health and wellness of the others while also keeping up with the wishes and celebrations of the gods. Maja was akin to the mother of their group.

She had found a place to the western most portion of lovers lake that would make due for their summer solstice ritual. She was actually there right now with a few others making the necessary arrangements. The other guards did not report any unusual circumstances in the area and Erik had acquired the updated list of varian nobles that were still in the city for the summer.

These were all things that made him breathe a little easier but he still wanted to check in on the blackwoods before the afternoon blacksmith lesson. Mina had fainted the other day and her father was never one for bright sunny days. He could only hope that they would be interested in his offer as well to help him with the ritual, those two were the closest thing to blood related family that he had here.

It wasn't long before he found himself at their place of residence for the summer. He knew where all of them would be staying after all if some kind of emergency came up. Taking a moment to make sure that he looked presentable enough the large man knocked on the door to their portion of the guest spaces. He was well aware that they wouldn't mind him just walking in but he still found it respectable to knock first.

Mina's maid paused her task at the sound of the knock, but before she could make her way to the door, Mina interjected with a warm smile. "I'll get it, thank you," she said to the maid, who nodded and resumed her work.

Making her way to the door, Mina found herself wondering who it could be. Moments later, she pulled the door open to reveal Roman standing there, looking as handsome as ever. Her eyes lit up with joy at the sight of her friend and her heart skipped a beat upon seeing her secret childhood crush. "Roman! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement. "Come in, come in! You’re just in time for some tea if you’d like to join?"

She stepped aside, inviting him into the sitting area where they could relax and catch up. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to one of the chairs. "How have you been? Did I hear whispers that there is going to be a summer solstice ritual here this year?" She couldn't help but ask him excitedly.
He was quite surprised to look down and see his old childhood friend at the door, expecting a maid to answer instead she caught him off guard for a moment. “Err um yes I would love some tea.” he didn't hesitate to step inside and follow her over to the small table. For a moment he felt a little awkward as her sudden appearance derailed his train of thought. “Uhh yes i uh i am well and i did, that was one of the reasons i came by today.”

answering her question about the ritual, his smile quickly returning. “The main reason I came by was to see how you were doing? I heard you fainted at the execution the other day.” his smile dropped slightly as he mentioned the event did give him some worry for her health, it wasn't normal.

He smiled as the maid poured him some tea, “Thank you.” taking a sip of the pleasant warm liquid and setting the small cup down again, “the second reason was to tell you that I will be taking my fathers role for leading the ritual this year…” he trailed off for a moment and rubbed the back of his head.

Mina always made him flustered when she stared at him like that, “well I uh, I wanted to ask you to be my Echo this year. I know, I know, its a position normally held for the leaders wife or betrothed but i don't have either of those right now and i really do believe that you would be a great fit for the roll…” he couldn't keep eye contact with her and instead inspected the cup of tea again, he didn't know why but it felt to him like he was back in his younger days asking her for a dance. Mina always had the ability to steal his confidence but he wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure why he always showed her this side of him in private.

Mina couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nostalgia. Though the feelings from her childhood had somewhat evolved over the years, there was still a lingering fondness for him. She tried to maintain her composure, not wanting to show her slight fluster at his presence.

Her heart sank a little as he mentioned her fainting at the execution. She didn't want him to worry about her as well, but she appreciated his concern. "Oh, it was nothing serious," she said with a reassuring smile. "Just a momentary lapse, though Uncle Sebastian would like to believe otherwise. I'm perfectly fine now."

As he informed her about taking his father's role for leading the ritual, her eyes widened in surprise. She knew how important the role was, and it was an honor to be chosen for such a responsibility. "Oh, Roman, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, genuine excitement in her voice as she gently placed a hand on his arm. "Congratulations, I know you'll do an amazing job."

But as he stammered and stumbled over his words, asking her to be his Echo, Mina couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat. She had always admired Roman, and being asked to hold such an important position for him made her feel special. "I'd be more than honored to be your Echo," she said with a warm smile, her eyes locking with his for a moment before she looked down to hide her slight blush and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

She knew they had always had a special connection, and it seemed that even after all these years, that connection was still there. Roman had a way of making her feel both excited and shy at the same time. She certainly acted differently around him then she did most other men. Her confident, flirtatious manner almost seemed to fly out the window…almost.

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. She was happy for him and honored to be a part of such an important event in his life. It was a chance for them to spend more time together, and Mina looked forward to supporting him every step of the way.

He gave her a quiet sigh at her dismissal of her health concerns with a look that said he did not truly believe her. Yet he did not press the issue further, believing that she would tell him more information about it when she was ready. The mention of her uncle reminded him of another thing he wanted to bring up to her about the man as well. He held his tongue in anticipation of her reaction to his proposition.

The reaction was everything he hoped and gave her a toothy grin, the fireflies in his gut slowly subsiding with her answer. He sat the cup of tea down and reached for her hand cupping it gently in his calloused hand. “Thank you, you have a beautiful singing voice. I can't wait to hear it again. You shouldn't need to prepare as I chose four of some of our more common songs. I uh, i was also hoping that you could talk to Sebastion about joining as well.” he let her hand slip from his regaining his composure and leaning back into his chair in a more comfortable fashion.

“I know he has played music with my father in the past and it would bring me great pride if he would play with us.” he fondly remembered seeing the man play an instrument or two when his father led some of the rituals back home. “So the plan right now is Maja found a spot on the western edge of Lovers lake and some of us are out there now setting up the bonfires, setting the stone patterns, and cooking pits. We plan to begin tomorrow night and you should get your official invitation tomorrow. I plan on running the ritual with the four seasons in mind, similar to how my father has run them in the past. Speech first explaining the rules for those present, call to the gods and ancestors then begin to sing while the others give offerings and dance. Four smaller fires around one large one…” he paused for a moment as he realized he was rambling and dumping information to her again.

It was a nervous tick that he had around her and he felt like it had ruined some moments between them in the past. The fireflies began to make their way back out into his gut as he thought about those memories. When they would wander the forest as kids and he would tell her stories or talk to her about his craft for hours until they were called away. He really did like his friend but he could never really tell just how much she cared about him or if the voice in his head was right and she really didn't like him and was just being nice or polite.

Mina found herself swept up in Roman's excitement and passion as he talked about the upcoming ritual. She listened attentively, her eyes shining with genuine interest. His words painted a vivid picture in her mind, and she could almost feel the warmth of the bonfires, hear the songs, and sense the reverence of the moment. She was truly honored that he had chosen her to be a part of this significant event in his life.

When he mentioned her talking to Sebastian about joining the ritual, Mina's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sebastian playing music? Now that's an idea," she said with a chuckle. "But I'll do my best to convince him. I'm sure he'll be intrigued by the idea, especially if he remembers the times he played with your father." Besides, it would be a good way for her to start the conversation again to convince him to let her stay. In fact, all of this would be a good way to convince him.

As Roman rambled on, Mina couldn't help but smile fondly. His nervousness and enthusiasm were endearing, reminding her of the times they had spent together as children. "You know, Roman, you don't have to worry about overwhelming me with information," she said with a teasing smile. "Besides, I could kiss you for helping provide me with more ammunition to use against my uncle since he wants to send me back to Kolonivka even though I don’t want to go home." Mina's eyes widened in slight panic as her words spilled out without her usual filter. She bit her lip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I-I mean, not that I want to kiss you, I mean, you're my friend and I didn't mean to imply anything, I just...uh, forget I said anything," she stammered, her attempt to backtrack only making her embarrassment more apparent. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

She let out a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. "You see, I have this habit of saying things without thinking when I’m around you, and well, sometimes I just can't help myself," she rambled, waving her hand dismissively. "But, yes, I'll definitely talk to Sebastian about joining the ritual and see what he thinks. It's a great idea, really, and I'm sure he'll be thrilled... not about the kissing part, obviously, but about the music."

Mina mentally cringed at her own awkwardness. She had managed to make things even more uncomfortable, all while desperately trying to smooth over her slip of the tongue. "Anyway, yes, the ritual sounds fantastic and I'm really looking forward to it. And I promise, I won't mention kissing again unless you wanted a kiss, I mean, not that I'm suggesting anything, I just, oh gods," she groaned, covering her face with her hands for a moment before peeking out with a sheepish smile. "I should really just stop talking now."

Roman’s heart beat only quickened as Mina kept talking. She was stammering out sentences while his face kept blushing through shades of red one would find in a forge. He wasn't sure what he should do and his fight or flight response was growing in his chest with every word. The way she could put his body into the same feeling as going into battle amazed him. So he did the only thing he thought would be appropriate to soothe both of their minds for the moment.

Slowly he turned in his chair and held her hands gently. Now that he had got this far he wasn't sure how to proceed resulting in him hesitating as he looked at what was likely one of his oldest and dearest friends. The urge to kiss her and bed her was strong but he didn't want to ruin the friendship that he coveted. A friendship that he adored almost more than his hammer.

He found himself staring at her hands in his, staying stoic for a moment longer before speaking up. More of a whisper than anything, words just for them, as he looked her in the eye’s “the light of the moon failed in comparison to the light of her soul.” he leaned forward to tell her this and in doing so the crystal necklace dropped from under his shirt.

He took a moment longer to speak again, his face still red as he controlled his breathing and heart rate. “Please don't, I've always enjoyed your company, your jokes, your smile. I um i would like a k-kiss but not right now… how about after the ritual? After our songs.” his smile softened for a moment. His hesitation once again prevalent until he remembered what she had said, “wait, Sebastian wants you to go back already?”

His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he tried to think of how he could help with the situation, “i uh i could take responsibility for your safety… if it helps i did bring two extra ships worth of people and supplies just for the summer. I probably have more men and guards here than some of the royalty.”

As Roman reached out to hold her hands, a calming warmth seemed to envelop Mina. His touch was reassuring, and she looked into his eyes, finding a familiar sense of comfort there. His whispered words, like a soft breeze on a summer night, had a soothing effect on her. The comparison to the moon's light and the light of her soul was both poetic and endearing. She felt her heart skip a beat as she absorbed his words, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten. And then came his request, delivered with a mix of hesitation and vulnerability. Mina's cheeks flushed once again, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment; it was from a different kind of excitement.

Then her eyes landed on the necklace and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. There was a strange aura coming off of it, something she hadn’t experienced before, and the whispers of the spirits seemed to surge for a moment. Since she fainted they hadn’t disappeared completely, but they’d become bearable at least. Now, though, they were momentarily distracting, yet she continued to try to ignore them as she went back to focusing on Roman’s words.

"After the ritual... our songs... Yes, that sounds lovely," she replied, her voice soft, her heart fluttering in her chest. The thought of sharing a kiss with Roman, especially after such a meaningful and beautiful event, sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't deny that she felt a strong connection with him, something beyond their childhood friendship.

As he mentioned her uncle's desire for her to return to Kolonivka, Mina's expression turned a bit more somber and it seemed to bring her back to reality. She sighed softly and nodded, her fingers still entwined with Roman's. "Yes, unfortunately my uncle insists that I go back. He believes it's for my own good, but... I don't want to go back just yet," she admitted, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "Your offer of protection means a lot to me, Roman. I'll have to speak to him about it and see if he's willing to consider it. Maybe it will help change his mind, at least for now."

She glanced up at him with a small smile, the vulnerability she felt mirrored in her eyes. "Thank you for being so understanding and for always being there for me, Roman. You truly are a dear friend, and I'm grateful to have you in my life." The soft whispers in the background seemed to grow stronger for a moment again, but Mina pushed them to the back of her mind, focusing on the present moment with Roman.

He smiled at her softly memories of times long past sifted through his mind and he found himself stuck on one memory of the two of them stargazing. The warm summer night air and the smell of the forest drifted back to him for a moment. Mina was and continues to be a close friend who he always wished he could confess his secrets to. His thoughts shifted and he felt a pull from his necklace that reminded him of all the things he has done. All the reasons why he will never be worthy of her heart.

The pull grew stronger for a moment, the smell of fresh blood and something burning growing in his senses. Men and women screaming in his mind, children crying. For a moment he was back in that town, back in that battle. A moment to her seemed like hours to him reliving the killing and bloodshed that he brought down on those poor people. In a place that does not exist on any maps anymore, with people that were erased from the records.

He did snap out of the thought, pushing the influence from his necklace back down and quickly hiding the crystal back into his shirt. He stood quickly and gave her a smile, “I apologize I forgot I had another meeting that I have to take care of. Thank you for accepting my invitation, you and Sebastian should be receiving your official invitations sometime soon. I truly do hope you are able to stay for the summer.” he opened his arms offering her a hug before he left, his heart still racing.

Mina's attention was briefly drawn to the strange aura emanating from his necklace. It seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and the whispers of the spirits around her grew louder and more insistent. They were demanding her attention, their voices a cacophony of accusations.

"Murderer." "Killer." "Blood on his hands."

Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. At first she thought they were talking about herself, but then she realized they said his hands. She looked at the spirits and realized they were staring at Roman. The once-familiar presence of the spirits had taken on a sinister and accusatory tone, and it sent shivers down her spine. She had never experienced anything like this before.

She tried to focus on Roman's words, his offer of an invitation, but the voices in her head drowned out his words. Panic welled up within her, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She felt her head spin once more and she feared she was going to faint once more, but she shoved the feeling away as best she could as she tried to give Roman a smile. She was hesitant at first, but she moved and gave him a hug. She felt so small in his arms and for a moment, that panic she’d initially felt faded and she wondered what the spirits actually meant. How could Roman be any of those things? ”Thank you, Roman. I’ll see you at the Solstice then.” She finally managed to say to him before letting go. ”Now I think I should maybe go lay back down for a bit. I’m still a bit tired, it seems. Thank you for coming by.” She gave him a soft smile before turning and heading towards her room.

[Tae]

Location: Tea Party—->Edge of Lovers Lake
Time: Morning—-->Night
Interactions:@Infinite Cosmos Munir
Mentions: @ReusableSword Roman

---

Count Sebastian Blackwood, dressed in the finery befitting his station, had been enjoying the company of several lesser noble women at the tea party. His charismatic demeanor and penchant for witty banter made him a favorite among the ladies. He had been regaling them with tales of his travels and adventures, his eyes occasionally wandering around the garden, keeping an eye on his niece Mina as she mingled with the guests.

It was during one of his charming anecdotes that Hakim approached him, discreetly delivering a small folded note. Sebastian excused himself from the conversation with the ladies, his curiosity piqued. He unfolded the note and quickly scanned its contents.

A subtle furrow formed on his brow as he read Munir's message. It was not entirely unexpected, given their last encounter, but Sebastian knew that addressing this matter was necessary. Besides, it was best to handle this discreetly.

Sebastian penned a brief reply, carefully choosing his words. The message read:

Prince Munir,

I shall honor your request. Let us meet after the Summer Solstice celebration tonight. Come and join us for our celebration, I feel you’ll find it rather interesting. After it is complete I will find you and we can step aside to talk. Until then, enjoy the festivities.

Count Sebastian Blackwood

He sealed the note and handed it back to the servant, instructing them to deliver it to Munir. With that done, he returned to the group of noblewomen, his charm and wit undiminished, though his thoughts now turned toward the upcoming meeting and how best to handle it.

---

Later that evening…

Count Sebastian Blackwood stood amidst the tranquil, forested setting chosen for the Summer Solstice celebration. The scent of pine and earth hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning wood from the small fires scattered around the gathering site. Dressed in black leather pants that clung to his lithe form, he stood shirtless, revealing the intricate designs of black ink that adorned his skin, symbolizing wisdom and transformation. The rays of the setting sun played upon these markings, causing them to glisten with an otherworldly quality.

Adorning his left shoulder was a pauldron crafted from an array of raven feathers, each one shimmering with dark iridescence. These feathers rustled softly with his every movement, giving him an ethereal air, like the spirit of a raven given human form.

On his face, he wore a dark wooden mask intricately carved to resemble a hauntingly beautiful raven. The mask's ebony eyes seemed to gleam with an uncanny intelligence, and its beak held a mystic quality, suggesting a connection to the spirit of this enigmatic bird. The mask concealed his features, adding an aura of mystery and reverence to his appearance.

His bare feet pressed lightly into the forest floor, connecting him to the earth beneath. The leather pants he wore were practical for the occasion, allowing for ease of movement as he prepared to play the hauntingly beautiful melodies of the northern territories. He adjusted the raven mask on his face and the feathered pauldron on his shoulder, ensuring they were secure as he glanced around, taking in the preparations for the ceremony.

Amidst the murmurs of the gathered crowd, Sebastian's keen eyes flickered across the attendees. As Roman spoke, explaining the rules and the events that would unfold that night, Sebastian's gaze shifted purposefully, his curiosity piqued by the absence of one particular individual. He scanned the faces, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for any sign of Munir, the enigmatic man who had been intertwined with his beloved niece…in more ways than he wished to acknowledge.

He wondered if Munir would muster the courage to attend such a deeply traditional and spiritual event. The Summer Solstice celebration was a far cry from the grand balls and political meetings of the court, a raw and ancient communion with nature that might not align with Munir's usual circles. Yet, there was an inkling of hope within Sebastian that perhaps Munir would show up, that he might find solace in the embrace of nature, away from the constraints of noble life. Perhaps he could prove he was more than the impression he’d left on Sebastian.

As the sunlight waned, casting long shadows across the forest floor, his eyes continued their search, lingering on the faces of the crowd. Whether Munir appeared or not, tonight's ceremony was a chance for everyone present to step away from their titles and roles, to embrace the primal connection between man and the earth. He also searched for his niece whom he’d left to finish getting ready for the night, an ever present worry gripping at him when she wasn’t near as of the last few days.

[Helo]

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 3

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

Quack’s face had said it all, but that didn’t stop the tirade from coming anyway. Callum understood the point, if they failed, it looked like Cal only lost something he didn’t care about, his life. Either way, success or failure, he was already losing his family. Success, almost certainly, would end in the deaths of every Danrose; he and his siblings included. Callum wasn’t so delusional that he thought they’d all just be sent off to live normal lives. Did Quack not consider that a sacrifice either? No, Quack probably saw that as the reason he needed insurance. But the insurance he asked for, felt like giving up a piece of his humanity.

Each time Quack paused, Callum thought about saying something, then worried it would make things worse. And Quack kept on talking, except now he was only talking to Riona like Cal wasn’t even worth words. He glanced at Riona, and she almost looked like she was in pain. His fault, he was letting her down. She’d trusted him enough to bring him here and he was wasn’t going far enough. Now Quack was mad at both of them. Again. When she spoke he just nodded and addressed Quack.

“Because it’s not just insurance. You’re asking me to use someone’s life as a buy-in. To pick out a person I’m willing to use as a pawn, and I know that feels wrong. I cross that line, do I still get to say, I’m not Edin? Because it’s for a just cause? Or is that me taking one step closer to all the things I don’t want to be? You’re wrong about something, sir. Edin, Alibeth, most of my family; they’d all be quick to stab their closest friends in the back to get what they want.” He had to make it clear, that it wasn’t hard because he didn’t want to share the risk, or because he thought he could back out when things got dangerous. This was a line he could look at and say he wasn’t like the rest of them.

Whatever he did now, he was a bad friend either way. He was either going to refuse to give a name, of someone he carried about, to be used against him, and in turn let down Riona who had been there for him more than anyone else. Or he was going to offer up a friend, to a man who hated Callum, and seemed like he had a bad temper, like a piece of leverage. There was no good choice and no way around it. All duck or no dinner. Gods, let the day I become like Edin be the last day I draw breath.

He looked back at Riona again. “If I do this, tell me it won’t make me like Edin, and I will.”

Riona couldn’t quite explain the feeling she got when Cal said that. The trust was bittersweet, it both empowered her and weighed heavily on her. The pragmatic voice in her head argued it would be easier to just say that doing this wouldn’t make him like the King. Everything would move along faster and she’d be one step closer to reaching the end. His friend, however, didn’t want to give him a half-baked answer.

She turned to Sexton, whose steady gaze never left her. He kept watching… evaluating? Evaluating what? Her? Cal? A thought crossed her mind.

“This… interview has nothing to do with Sacrista, does it?” She braced herself for Sexton’s fury to resurface at the mention of her name. Instead there was sorrow, almost serene in its calmness. He gave a slow, somber nod.

Relief in her sigh, she folded her arms across her chest. “You keep talking about when you guys fail or when Callum betrays you. I think it’s only fair to tell us what your plans are for the nobles when you guys succeed.”

“They become commoners. That’s the whole point of gettin’ rid of the old system, innit?” He answered simply and without hesitation. “Some’ll stand trial fer crimes they got away with usin’ titles. Worse the crime, heavier the punishment, same as fer regular folk and how it shoulda always been fer nobs too.” His eyes focused on something that wasn’t Riona. “Bein’ noble-born ain’t a crime. Long as they’ve done nothin’ wrong and won’t be threatin’ the new ways, they’ll live like free citizens.” It was an ideal—one that might not be possible, but it was a dream that, at the very least, Sexton was working towards. And that made Riona decide to take a leap of faith.

Cal gave Quack a skeptical glance. It wasn’t worth the argument, especially since arguing with Quack would be like trying to milk a duck, but if Quack thought that was how this would all end, he was either lying or delusional. There wasn’t a house in Caesonia that was going to just give up power willingly, there were crimes that would be exposed that could only be answered with blood. Callum understood that; he wasn’t shortsighted enough to think this was going to end peacefully. Certainly not for Danroses, but they’d all more or less earned it with crimes that stretched back through generations.

Facing Cal, Riona said, “Paranoia and distrust define Edin and Alibeth. They don’t show anyone their vulnerabilities, because they wouldn’t think twice about exploiting others with theirs.” She looked back at Sexon as she continued to speak to Cal. “If you do this, you’ll be doing something that Edin and Alibeth are too afraid to do.” Her razor-sharp glare pierced Sexton with a silent warning. “And if these people betray your trust, then that’s on them, not you.”

If Riona was trying to assure Cal that he wasn’t like Edin or Alibeth, bringing up their paranoia and mistrust didn’t help. It just made him remember how quickly he believed Ana was a snitch and turned that into a whole public scene at a tavern. How close was he? Another later problem to sort out. Riona’s response meant he had to go for it and he could, at least, assure himself that no one in his family came down to the backroom in the servant's infirmary to discuss treason.

“Roman Ravenwood is a close friend, though he’d make for a difficult hostage. A Varian noble, different from what we have here in that he’s actually a noble person. Didn’t know they made nobles that nice until he saved my ass from a beating at the tavern. So when he’s around and we go out drinking, he’s always got stories of his big happy family to share and he just brings the warmth of the forge wherever he goes.” He didn’t forget the ‘why’ either.

And if there was any name he could give, and still be sure they weren’t going to be a pawn, it was Roman’s. The beloved bear of Varian could never be described as an easy target. If Quack only wanted the name of someone Callum cared about he got it, and if Quack had anything else in mind, may the gods have mercy on anyone who goes after Roman.

“So friendship is whatcha cherish more than yerself, eh?” Seeming satisfied with Cal’s answer (maybe because of how much he resisted), Sexton was about to go on to the second condition before Riona spoke up.

“Wait. You got your answer, tell us why you really asked that question.”

Sexton’s eyebrow arched. “Didn’t ya two decide it was fer a hostage? Cause ya ain’t wrong. I ain’t above gettin’ my hands dirty, not when dealin’ with the Danroses and their posse. l’ll gladly roll in a damn pigsty it means bringin’ ’em down. This is war. I know this won’t end without blood. In war, there’s nae such thin’ as honor and fairness. We do what we gotta do with all that we can get our hands on.”

Based on what limited interaction she had with the other anarchists, Riona knew how many of them would gladly spill noble blood and believed that the revolution wouldn’t be complete until they exterminated every last noble from Caesonia. No matter who they were; even children and commoner-turned-noble “traitors.”

“There might not be enough nobs left to be tried when we win. Probably only the ones that surrendered early, allies, and wee yins.” His eyes drifted to the woman on the table. “The last two deserve a chance.”

It didn’t take much to piece together that the anarchists already had support from a few nobles already, but Riona refrained from pointing that out. “... You still haven’t told us why.”

Sexton clucked his tongue then positioned himself so that the three of them were properly facing each other. “Me, bein’ a pessimist, have a hobby in imaginin’ the worst. In one scenario, the lad joins us and then his parents catch wind of it. Whatta be one of the first thin’s they’ll try to do to ya, lad?”

“They’d question me, interrogate me, maybe torture me. But, as you’ve said I don’t care much for my life, and I hate them more than I care about me.” Cal was confident about that, so if Quack just needed someone to go after in the event that Callum squealed, it was never going to be an issue. But when he paused to add to that, something else Quack had said made him question it.

“That’s not the real problem, though. If someone else in my family is using magic, I might not have much of a choice.” He tilted his head, absentmindedly scratching at the long straight scab down his palm. Magically compelled to lead the enemy back to Quack’s nest…, the idea was unsettling but possible.

“And I am often followed.” He nodded slowly, he could see the concern there, he’d have to fix that. “I could work on that, a curse to keep me from saying anything, lest I never speak again. Would you be satisfied with that?”

“Ah, I see ya drink my brand of pessimism in the morn. Cheers.” Sexton lifted an imaginary cup in Cal’s direction. “If ya can pull that off, it would set some minds at rest… and stir up other troubles, but we’ll blether ’bout that after. There’s one more thin’ yer forgettin’ and they don’t need magic fer this.”

“May our glasses always be half empty.” Cal took the opportunity to mock a toast with Quack. The guy was about as hard-boiled as they come, Cal wasn’t going to let the chance to try and score a few points pass him by. His hands went right back to searching for something to pick over until they were stopped.

Frowning, Riona gently pulled Cal’s hand away from the scab. “They’ll use what you cherish as hostage,” she said as she assessed the damage. Callum nodded, he didn’t need to be warned about his family’s most played-out move.

“On the nail.” Sexton said, clapping as he strode closer. “Now, I might not fully trust ya and I have my reasons fer not likin’ ya very much. But as long as yer our ally, yer one of us, lad.” He scratched the back of his neck, averting his gaze from Cal awkwardly, as if he was about to break into hives for saying all this. “We protect our own and our insurances.”

As Sexton talked, Riona mentally went down the list of people King Edin and Queen Alibeth could and would use against Cal. Lord Roman, Shehzadi Farim, and Lady Ariella immediately came to mind. Their nobility—and for the former two, their foreigner status—offered some protection, but she also knew that that wouldn’t be enough. Not when the Crowns had people like Kalliope or Lady Morrigan to do the deeds they couldn’t publicly condone. Riona worried most for Lady Ariella. Sorian being her home made her the easiest target out of three. Then there was that guy who hosted the parties Cal and Princess Anastisia loved so much. What about him?

That wasn’t what Cal expect to hear. Not by a long shot. He replayed Quack’s words in his head, looking for the hidden meaning, a contingency, and only felt more confused.. “I dont,” don't want help? Need help? Expect help? Was he supposed to offer to help protect whatever Quack held dear? “I don’t know what you want me to say to that. I wouldn’t ask you for extra favors, and not one that seems to sit so uncomfortably with you. My friends have protection, what do you need from me to know I’m not going to harm yours?” He asked, he didn’t know what else he really had to offer up, might as well just ask what Quack wanted.

“Yer ain’t askin’ fer a favor. That's what bein’ on the same team supposed to mean. We have yer back, ya have our backs. If we protect what yer care ’bout, ya protect what we care ’bout. If ya betray us, we betray ya. Simple and honest.” Sexton shifted his weight as he crossed his arms. “Unless ya wanna do this posh? Let’s make it overly convoluted and shady. We can smile, shake hands, and pretend that everythin’s rainbows and butterflies. We’ll manipulate each other usin’ every trick in the book and when the time comes, we push each other under the carriage. How’s that sound? More to yer style?”

“That’s a-uh novel concept for me. People I’m most used to dealing with, don’t do their dealings that way. Your way’s better, it just might take some getting used to from me.” Cal admitted, it wasn’t easy to trust someone who felt more like a judge than a friend. He wasn’t used to uncomplicated honesty. He was more used to people looking like ducks, quacking like ducks, and turning out to be snakes. Maybe Quack was the real deal, the same duck he claimed to be, gods with his nickname, it did fit.

He paused, and since they were all very close together and he didn’t even want the dead to overhear this, Callum whispered the next part. “Who do you think Edin would send after rebellious thorns in his side and the people they care about? If he wants it done stealthily, kept out of the eyes of the public and all these foreign dignitaries around? That person might be a friend of mine as well. I could see if they’d give me a heads-up if they get any orders for anyone here in Sorian. To help watch your back.” He didn’t offer a name, but it wasn’t a tough inference either. Kalliope Arden, the hidden blade herself, was no loyalist to the crown.

[JJ Doe]

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 4

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

“Anyone.”
“Anyone.” Riona and Sexton answered in unison.

Sexton went on, “Perks of bein’ royalty: ya can get all sorts of people to yer biddin’. Sometimes it’s easier to coerce ordinary folk into doin’ the dirty work than havin’ an actual professional do it. Then cover it up after. Ya ken?”

“Anyone?” Callum mouthed the word, inaudibly, with a furrowed look of confusion. They sounded just as sure, that anyone could be coerced into the crown’s misdeeds, as he was in his belief that it must take someone deeply nefarious even to be willing to do the crown’s dirty work. Yet another concerning idea he was going to have to try and wrap his head around.

“Sometimes… they don’t need to be threatened.”

Gardner knelt on the hardwood floor, barely able to hold himself upright in his drunken stupor. His clothes were disheveled and his hair matted. Bloodshot, glazed eyes peered up at the child standing before him. The gardener’s slurred words were barely coherent and the pungent scent of liquor clung heavily to his breath. “Ríoghnach…” he choked out, reaching a trembling hand to clutch at her dress. She stared down at him, her expression stony and unmoved even as tears cut trails down his ruddy, bearded cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Riona said nothing, her lips pressed tightly together. “No one was supposed to get hurt.” Gardner slid his hands down her legs, grasping her ankles in supplication. “No one was supposed to die.” The girl stepped back, wrenching herself from his grasp. “Everything was supposed to end peacefully!” He crumbled forward, his forehead pressing against the cold floorboards. “It was only ever meant to set your clan free!” Sobs wracked his body as he cried out for his lost love, “Desmond,” over and over. With a sharp inhale, Riona turned and walked away, leaving Gardner alone, broken, and weeping for what could’ve been.

“Sometimes they genuinely believe they’re doing what’s best for you. They don’t realize they’ve signed your death warrant until it’s too late.” Riona said in a small voice, then trailed off into silence.

When she didn’t elaborate, Sexton picked up the conversation again, “... Not that I won’t say no to that offer, lad.” He paused. “Only if ya agree to the last demand, mind.”

The second condition for Cal to join the anarchists. “Ya’ve had a cushy life. Probably a lotta thin’s ya never had to deal with yerself. So whenever ya got uncomfy, ya could skedaddle and make yerself cozy somewhere else. Well, no more of that. If yer gonna join us, from this point on,” he pointed at Cal’s forehead, “ya have to ask every hard question yer’ve been avoidin’ askin’ cause ya were too feart to know the answer. No more lockin’ it away in the back of yer head. Cause I promise ya, yer gonna find out thin’s and we got no time fer ya broodin’. Ya might as well ask and take the answer upfront than havin’ it sneak up on ya later.”

“Just to be clear, are you telling me to ask these questions, aloud to someone, like you, or is this a figurative, confront these issues head-on like I’m not squirrelly coward, sort of deal?” He was, mostly, sure he knew the answer there, he couldn’t imagine Quack wanted to be constantly pestered and followed about by a confused royal duckling sharing his every muddled thought, but every other thing Quack said was throwing him for a loop as it was.

Sexton smirked, “Who said it ain’t both? I’m sure ya can find a smart way of askin’ people, Yer Highness. Questions been cooked up in yer head fer far too long. It’s ’bout time to get actual answers fer ’em.”

“Guess if I’m going to work with you, for you, would be nice to know; do you hate me because you think I could be like Edin, or because you think I already am?”

The smirk vanished. “Because yer halfway there,” Sexton answered flatly. Then he waited, daring Cal to challenge him.

“Halfway there…” Callum just let the weight of that sink in. Quack’s answer was neither fully damning nor was it what Cal would’ve liked to hear. Just an honest observation from an outsider. He at least knew Quack wasn’t going to hold back to spare his feelings, and that alone made Quack’s opinion ring out like the truth. But not all the way there. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves like he wasn’t sure if they were too long or too short.

“Not exactly where I’d like to be, better than all the way there.” He wondered how long it had taken Edin to fully become the monster he was today. Which was just another way for Callum to wonder how long he had before he was something just as inhuman. “Not a lot of people willing to give me the truth straight, so I appreciate that. I’m not going to run a-fowl of you. All the avoiding and lamenting hasn’t exactly been working out for me anyway. I am here to try something new. And scary, I don’t know if you this, but you are a little scary, sir.”

“Whatcha talkin’ ’bout? I’m ferkin’ a saint compared to her.” Riona noticed his chin angling toward her as he leaned in to whisper not so secretly. “Between ya and me, she’s the scary one.” Her eyes turned into slits and he immediately retreated.

“Yeah, maybe, but Riona’s only scary if you're on her bad side.”

Sexton coughed. “Don’t think ya can sweet talk yer way out. Will ya promise or not?” He spread his arms wide as he gestured to everybody, including the dead, in the room, “If ya are, give it another shot. Ask the question that’ll gut ya out.”

Callum just stared back at Quack for a moment. Hadn’t he just asked the only question he really cared about? He tried to think of something he could ask Quack with an answer that would hurt. He looked at Riona, and it wasn’t that Callum didn’t have any questions for her, his mind was full of them, but there wasn’t one that would rattle him the way Quack wanted.

“How am I supposed to know what question’s going to gut me? I’m trying to think of something, I am, but there isn’t much here left to gut. I know I’m going to lose friends and I don’t see my siblings being on my side for this either. Things that matter to me, I’m losing most, if not all, of that. And I’m still here.” Cal looked at Quack, gave him a response that Cal knew wasn’t satisfactory but at least it wasn’t a lie. He then turned his attention to Riona.

“And I don’t think we’re still going to be friends after this is all over. I hate thinking that because I’m so grateful that you are my friend, but I hope it’s true. I hope you get what you need from Sorian and my family, and then move on, find something better, and leave me behind.” The thought of how lonely that would be cracked his voice. But he meant it, Callum knew there was no moving on for him, and no one deserved to wallow in the darkness with him. He took a breath and looked back at Quack.

“You know what I really hide up in this head of mine? I know I’m not better than Edin, just a different sort of monster. But just as rotten as everyone I hate, and the best I can do with that, is bring them all down with me. It’s a swan song for me. With you, without you, that’s what I’m doing. I’d rather not be out there accidentally ruffling your feathers, but I’m not going to wait around to become the same as Edin.” Callum admitted it, he knew he was far from the sort of person Quack wanted to work with and it wasn’t right for him to pretend otherwise.

Every secret she avoided telling Cal gnawed at her guilty conscience. It was hard for her to maintain eye contact, especially when his voice cracked, but Riona held it as best as she could. She even managed a little smile. It was a sad one, but it was still a smile. “I was thinking the exact same thing, Cal.” She let out a shuddering breath, “Except… you’re the one moving on and finding something better, because… I know you can do it Cal. You have other friends who would happily take you away from all this, but you won’t because…” Her hands made meaningless gestures in the air, “you’re the one stopping yourself,” before dropping them to her sides. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll keep saying it anyway. You don’t have to be alone. And that voice in your head that’s telling you that you don’t deserve someone by your side can shut the f*ck up.” Sexton snorted at that.

“‘Will ya still stick around, even if I am a monster?’” Sexton randomly asked as he tilted his head upward, turning it slightly in Cal’s direction. “Think that’s a better one since any answer would be a mix of good and bad, yeah? The question ’bout ya and yer dad… ya asked cause there’s hope.” He fixed his gaze overhead. “Besides, ya already know the answer don’tcha? The day ya stop askin’ that question is the day ya stop carin’ ’bout if ya were like yer dad.”

“Yeah, that’s a bleak one.” Callum could only agree with Quack; it wasn’t that he couldn’t make other friends, but friends that have glimpsed the darkest parts and can still focus on the good, were rare. He looked back at Riona and thought about all the times she tried to nudge him into leaving Sorian. She didn’t have to bring him here, help him become more embedded in all of this, and probably didn’t want to, but she had anyway. “I’ll think about leaving after this is all done, but not before.” He could offer that. Riona tipped her chin down, eyes fixed on the floor between them. She gave the barest hint of a nod.

Sexton sighed, closing his eyes to mull over what Cal said and voicing some thoughts aloud. “Callum Danrose. Prince. Witch. Values his muckers more than himself. Hates himself so the value of ’em is dodgy.”

Riona started to object, but he shushed her with a raised finger. “Wants to destroy the only life he knows, maybe kill his family, ruin lives, willing to… wants to lose everythin’. Start from scratch… A kind of rebirth, eh? Feck.” After awhile he extended his hand to Callum.

“If ya take this hand, ya’ll be agreein’ to findin’ the answers to questions with all ya got. Don’t matter what the question is. Information’s key in any war. Ya need to be able to ask ’em, even if ya don’t wanna.” Sexton cleared his throat and straightened up. “If ya shake this hand… there’s no turnin’ back. ’em people ya share yer blood won’t be family no more. We’ll be brothers in arms. Together, with yer new family, we’ll win.”

Callum, who figured Quack was about to tell him to duck off, waited a fraction of a second before grabbing Quack’s hand. Before the man had finished speaking, before Quack could have a chance to pull his hand away, Callum shook Quack’s hand.

Despite his efforts to fully commit to a proper handshake and not give Quack the ol’ dead fish, Cal realized his hand was as cold and slimy as a dead fish. He let go of Quack’s hand.

“Sorry.” He wiped his sweaty hand off against his shirt. “I’m in? Comrade, huh, does that mean I’m allowed to call you Quack?”

“HA!” Sexton dawned the Quack persona as he barked a laugh, then with a straightface said, “Nae. It’ll mean I’ll smack the sh*te right out of ya, Calliflower.” He clapped Cal on the back, like chums do, but a little too hard. A small demonstration of what Quack would do to him if Cal didn’t tread carefully.

Cal stumbled forward; the walking bruise that he was from the night before left him unable to hide the wince. Calliflower? I’m getting a nickname too? Success held a pleasant sting and inspired a wheezing chuckle. Calliflower, Prince of Onions. He liked the sound of that; it was too silly to belong to a real Danrose.

“Quack? Be nice.” Riona’s used that tone usually reserved for mothers with their rambunctious children.

“I got a nickname,” Cal smiled as he said it, like it was a sign this had all gone well.

Cal’s smile gave Riona pause, then she smiled herself. Sure, it was just a nickname, but it meant more to him than that. Acceptance; a sense of belonging. For all her reservations about the anarchists, Riona hoped this was just the beginning and that this would open up a world of possibility for him. A chance for Cal, and maybe even life here, to change.

Quack mumbled about having an actual name under his breath. “I’ll let the mates know ya be joinin’. It might take extra convincin’ fer some, but… we’ll keep in touch. Meantime, gather all that ya can and…” He hesitated, “look into any useful spells we can use, eh?”

“I’ll get quacking on it, sir.”

A groan. “Also, I’ll smack ya if I hear another duck pun out of yer bloody gob.”

[JJ Doe]

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom

Ryn adjusted the enchanted spectacles, their lenses reflecting the dual glow of the moon and candles as they honed in on the magicae of each attendee. Being one of the first to arrive at the masquerade ball, he had secured a vantage point that provided him with an unobstructed view of the entrance.

While he occasionally mingled, exchanging pleasantries and sharing a laugh or two, his gaze darted back to the entrance. He observed each new arrival with interest as the guests filtered in. Several auras Ryn’s glasses picked up were familiar—patterns he recognized from the royal tea party earlier that day.

Once the stream of guests thinned, Ryn decided it was time to make some rounds about the ballroom. He hoped to pair names and faces with their magical signatures. Moreover, he was keen on verifying whether the familiar magicae belonged to those he saw at the tea party.

TL;DR

Ryn spent time mentally cataloging the attendees’ magicae before deciding to properly socialize.

[SilverPaw]

	Attire: The costume Date and Time: Sola 23rd, Night Location: Calbert Damien's Ballroom Mention(s): Interaction(s):

The cadence of his steps upon the neatly paved road was smooth and decisively firm. Yet, as he moved, the footfalls were barely heard. Rather, the quietude of the night was punctuated by subtly sinister sounds as he proceeded onwards.

The soft susurration of feathers brushing against each other, rustling faintly with the tiniest shifts of his body. They were conversing with the winds, the gentle caress of the evening breeze reciprocated by their indecipherable murmurs.

A short yet ominous scrape, as if an unseen blade were being sharpened. Was it ready to slice, tear, pierce?

A near silent clack of a scabbard, and a strangely metallic tap-tapping as he made one final check of his weapons.

The muffled rattling of chains as they swayed through the air, half-hidden within the outer layer of his attire. Here and there, a chain would faintly clang against another, or a pair would briefly twist into a serpentine embrace. If he felt particularly dramatic, he could unspool a couple to let them drag against the floor. He didn’t, but even so, one could easily imagine those long loose steel bonds trailing behind him.

There was a swoosh as his cloak was lifted by a stronger gust. For a moment, he seemed a mere hop away from taking to the sky, on the verge of a liftoff.

Though he gave the appearance of an ethereal shadow gliding by – perhaps he was treading upon the air rather than the earth? – he remained down below.

His was an image too dark to fully blend into the penumbral gloom. As he strode into lighter areas, illuminated by the moon, the stars, and the city lights, it was as if a void manifested, sucking in any glow attempting to suffuse it.

Yet, no mystical power was at work there, so his outline did in fact gain clarity and focus.

The phantom visage, revealed.

A magnificent raven, the costume so finely crafted it evoked the imagery of something far grander than a mere animal.

A large steel mask covered his face, narrow and elegant, the beak angling into a sleek downwards curve towards a razor-sharp point. Its dull gray surface gleamed in the moonlight, finely engraved lines spreading across its surface. The eyes were mere slits, but his sight was by no means hindered. Only when viewed in profile, could glimpses of skin – the jawline, chin, neck – be seen.

Attached to the back of the mask was a cascade of black feathers, obscuring his hair, and falling down to visually merge with his cloak. A long mantle stretched from nape to heel, enveloping him. Long strips of cloth and silk were sewn together, giving his whole form a slightly shaggy outline. Numerous feathers were stitched into it, so both from afar and upon closer inspection, his veil was thoroughly reminiscent of a bird’s plumage.

Underneath the cloak was a robe of dark grays and blacks, accentuated by tasteful touches of silver. While thicker steel chains were attached to the shroud, a few thin, lighter silver chains adorned the robe. It was a high-collared garment, as long as the cloak, yet it was only partially visible through his outer layer.

If he rose his arm, there would be more feathers still, wrapping his appendages to the wrists. His hands bore black leather gloves, tipped with sharp steel claws.

He was covered from head to toe, a majestic being ready to enter into the realms of lessers.

Or, as the case was, into Calber Damien’s mansion, to attend a masquerade.

A sense of unease spread at his approach. His was admittedly an imposing figure; the striking likeness of a creature which was attributed a variety of superstitions by cultures across the world. But it wasn’t only that. There was something effortlessly powerful about his very presence. It drew in gazes, which seemed to be compelled to linger.

As menacing as he was enthralling.

“W-who?” one guard stammered, then coughed awkwardly to hide his nervousness. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all. This was a public event, the walkway was well-lit, and all guests were welcome. Yes, yes, of course.

“Welcome, esteemed guest,” another greeted, poised and scripted. “May I please request to record your attendance?” He was handed a pen and a roll of parchment, which was opened at the last entries, a column of blank lines underneath.

A beat later, a tap of pen against paper. “Your name, please?”

How kind of the servant to repeat. Unseen beneath the mask, a smile alighted upon the guest's lips.

“Guess.”

Eyes widened, mouth opening a tad too wide. “O-oh, of course.” Now this, the recognition of his identity, did frazzle the previously unruffled employee. He was the sensible sort who gave more credence to titles than he did to myths, after all. “Please, be welcome,” he repeated with a bow, and motioned the prince inside.

His whimsical desire for mystique and dramatics appeased, Wulfric headed indoors.

Time to mingle.

[Lava Alckon]

Drake

Attire: Mask, Jacket, and Pants/Shoes
Time: Morning -> Evening of the 23rd
Location: Tea Party -> Edwards Estate
Mentions: Ariella @tpartywithzombi, Sadie @Potter

---

The tea party, as engaging as it was, proved to be slowly peetering out in terms of momentum and likeable guests. Despite Callum's enthusiastic attempts at livening the party, it seemed to only add a little chaos to the event. However, as Drake's father departed from their conversation, Drake observed a few of the guests leaving. A few then turned into a bunch, and it seemed like the mornings tea was unofficially over. He rose from his seat and offered a hand to the fair princess across from him.

"It would seem this morning's tea is concluded. Would you perhaps like a walk back to your estate or will your carriage take you?" He would patiently await her answer, and make sure she arrived safely. Before they would separate for the day, Drake would request Princess Sadie to meet with him in front of the Damien Estate before entering, so they may enter together as a proper 'duo' should she so please.

Then, with a bow and a soft smile, he would depart to his own lougings and plan for the upcoming evening. He donned the attire (listed above) and looked at himself in the mirror. Not many would know but Drake was quite fond of the classical pieces of music, and had decided to reflect this taste of his in the mask he wore. He would be lying to himself if he said he liked the idea of wearing a mask, which is also why his only covered half his face. So that he may still participate in the good fun yet still show off himself for who he is. This was simply his way, and he liked it. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, his thoughts wandered to that of his sister. I wonder what Ari is up to tonight...Hopefully not catching mother's ever-watchful eye. He contemplated. He hadn't seen her since the events of last night, and he hoped that his father could hopefully stem the wrathful tide of Victoria's overbearing standards. Knowing them, his parents would likely be forcing Ariella to the very party he was about to attend. He decided he would keep an eye out for if he would spot and made his way to the carriage parked outside.

After a short journey, Drake arrived at the Damien estate, and already there was a flow of excited party-goers in tow towards the front gates. He breathed in slowly and stepped out into the crisp evening air, taking a spot just outside the front gate outlining the property and began patiently waiting for his date to arrive.

[Infinite Cosmos]

Location: Munir's room, then the edge of Lover's Lake
Interactions: Hakim, NPCs at the Solstice event

"Hm. After the solstice event... Very well. Hakim, how should I dress for this?"

About half an hour after, Munir emerged from his bath naked, the droplets of water falling to the ground as he pattered from the tub and stood in front of a bronze mirror. Ever since he was a child, he has preferred to dry and dress himself, whether he got to pick out the outfit or not. It was just a simple, weird, peeve of his, to allow his servants to dry and dress him. As he was drying and combing out his hair, he chuckled at the outfit Hakim had chosen for him. Munir's direction to his retainer was simple. Keep it simple. Thats all that was said to the other young man. What Hakim had chosen had to have been the plainest clothing Munir has in his current closet. A pair of linen breeches, a short sleeved linen tunic, a leather sash. leather flat bottom shoes lined with washed linen. No gold, no jewelry. Given the religious and ceremonial aspect of the event, Munir thought it prudent to dress plainly. Even his hair was tied back into a loose bun with nothing but a leather band.

After he got dressed, he made sure he looked presentable with the ensemble Hakim had chosen for him, for the evening. Sure, he felt like he was riding into battle without his armor, but he also felt at ease, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He approached the door, and saw that Hakim was dressed with simplicity as well. Of course, Hakim had his dagger with him. He was trained to never be without it, even back home when Munir was having family dinner with his closest relatives. Munir glanced at his own dagger and decided against bringing it, assuming that no one in attendance of the event would dare wish harm upon him.

"Looks like you understood my instructions, as I assumed you would, my dear friend. Let us make way to the lake. Again, keep it simple. I do not wish to have the attention on me this evening, as weird as that is to say. The event has a much deeper meaning and if all goes well, you will have your shezhadi by the end of this evening too..." Munir said to Hakim, ending his words with a small clasp on the other young man's shoulder as the pair left his room.

Upon their arrival, Hakim had sent word to the ushers and organizers of the event that the attendees do not need to greet Munir with formalities. For the evening, let him be unseen and unheard. Sure, those who look upon him will recognize him. However, even in that scenario, he has allowed the commoners to forego the greetings and other formalities. For the evening, he was a guest, and he will pay his respects...

[Lava Alckon]

Farim

Location:The edge of Lover's Lake
Time: Evening
Mentions: Munir @Infinite Cosmos, Anastasia @princess, Roman @ReusableSword, and Mina @Tae
Appearance: Casual Attire

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Farim had chosen to travel to his next destination on foot. It seemed to rather fit the occasion, and the brisk walk around the city limits would do him some good. His clothes were unassuming, and the way he carried himself suggested he was none other than some strange foreigner with a nice necklace dangling from his chest. He would let his hair flow, a rare sight that was becoming less so with the past few days, and his jewelry was left at home save for the aforementioned necklace. That was one thing he would never part with, no matter how silly it sounded. In his hands was a peculiar object, a bit of pottery that he had made some weeks ago. It was by no means a craftsmans piece, but it was rather well put together for someone with little experience working with clay. There was a fine pattern of lines etched along the center that some would immediately assume are the cascading waves along the ocean shore. Those who had a more keen eye, however, would note that it was in fact the rolling dunes of his country that Farim had drawn. This was what Farim would offer as a gift for the ceremony. The jar itself was about the size of a soccer ball, and was filled most of the way with a preserves made from berries grown back home in Alidasht.

Farim made his way into the campgrounds and began to hear the familiar voice of Roman. He stood rather tall amongst the people as he instructed on how the ceremonies worked. Farim stood in the back of the small crowd, a soft smile planted on his face as he took in the sites around him. He noted the words and advice of Roman while appreciating the dedication it took to prepare such ceremonies. Farim quite liked being submersed in other cultures, he found a great joy in learning the ways of those outside his usual circles, which is the very reason this getaway seemed so much more natural to him than a stuffy party filled with literal and fake masks. But all the same, Farim did not judge those who preferred one over the other - for there were many walks of life and many shoes for which to travel them.

After the instructions and words were said, Farim made his way to the bench of offerings, and took a long look at the many items placed. Finding a decent enough spot, he placed his jelly jar onto the bench and took a moment to look around. "Forgive my insistence, but I wish to say a few words to someone." He spoke to those immediately next to him. He spotted the direction he surmised to be where the capital of Alidasht would likely be, and made sure to face that way as he knelt onto the ground. His hands reached out above his head before his upper body slowly climbed up back to a kneeling position. His hands would come together at the palms, his eyes closed, as just barely above a whisper he began to sing in his native tongue.

Hymn of a Fallen Friend

My friend, my dearest friend
May your journey to the dunes
Finally be at an end

It was you who guided me
Who showed me the truth
And how to set myself free

You are gone to another place
Though you may have no voice
Everyday I still see your face

My best wishes to you, I send
May the Gods watch over you
My friend, my dearest friend

A well of emotions built within Farim, his face growing somber. As he finished his brief tune he stood up, and with an even softer voice that brimmed with melancholy, he spoke. "Thank you. He walked off to let the others provide their own form of offerings to their own form of gods. Farim was here to witness such proceedings, but he felt it proper to provide some of his own. He approached Roman for a quick interaction before the man would finish his own preparations. "I hope I did not disrespect the way you do things here. I heard you mention offering words and....well my heart felt it necessary to pay a good friend some needed words." His hand instinctively clutched onto the necklade he wore around his neck, and the same vulnerable sounding tones in Farim's voice seemed to imply something tragic, but it soon faded as Farim did his best to perk up around present company. "You have a lovely setup here, I can appreciate all the work you had put in to such a gathering, and just wanted to pay a simple greeting without taking too much of your time."

His voice still carried a hint of depression to it, but the mostly charismatic and positive demeanor he so eagerly sported around most folks had begun to shine once more. He did not want to take up too much of Roman's time, and once the man would say his piece, Farim would leave Roman to his affairs. Scanning the crowd, Farim would finally begin to put names he knew to faces he recognized, starting with his cousin Munir. Ah, jahim (Ah, hell). I hope he did not catch too much of me singing. If I hear one more time about my flat voice I will- Farim stopped himself. He figured Munir was just as much of a guest as he was here, and would face whatever shenanigans awaited him once they met. For now he continued looking, he spotted the one he believed to be called Mina also assisting Roman with the rituals, and made sure to imprint her appearance to memory in the brief moments he could spy her. There was one person he was certain he would see here, yet her face had not been spotted as of yet.

I wonder where Annie might be? This seems like just the kind of place for her to enjoy herself.

[Helo]

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning to Early Afternoon
Location: Guesthouse to Count Calbert's house/ballroom
Interactions: Here goes Leo with the shoes again...
Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter.
Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion

---

A sharp intake of breath gave way to a long, exasperated sigh. Although Leo’s ruined shoes had, technically, been replaced with new shoes, none of them could be described as desirable. Much like a wine glass filled with nothing but a sip, Riona had done what was asked and yet, it would have been less irritating if she’d simply done nothing at all. Instead of exact replacements, or as close as possible, there was now a display of tacky footwear, nowhere near suitable for a future Duke. All manner of hideous colors and repulsive patterns assaulted his eyes. Some particular egregious sandals were adorned with jewels that even a drunk could pick out as being fake from across the street.

So handful by handful, Leo tossed the array of brightly colored high-heeled shoes and wooden clogs into the hallway. Each pair of shoes skipped and clattered across the hallway floor and it wasn’t long before the hallway right outside of his room looked like a tornado of ugly shoes had spun through and left an unsightly trail of debris in its wake. The mess that now sat outside his room was not Leo’s problem, but the shoe buyer’s, who lacked both sense and taste. Riona could deal with either the cleanup or the complaints of whoever might happen to trip over the mess. He could admit, if only to himself, that this was his mistake; to trust such a clearly incompetent servant, who was clearly a fan of malicious compliance, with even a simple task was an oversight.

The only thing that didn’t wind up tossed down the hallway was a pair of fuzzy lion slippers, which didn’t look expensive enough for Leo’s taste but they did fit his costume for the masquerade ball, sort of, and were by far the least unappealing option. A red and gold adorned suit paired with fuzzy lion slippers, a whimsical touch to show he did not take life too seriously. At least that’s what Leo told himself, and the slippers were far less concerning than the strange affliction that had affected his voice.

In addition to the suit and slippers was a large lion mask, complete with a golden mane that intermingled with his own red hair. At least from the ankles up, Leo’s outfit was a clear display of opulence. Once dressed and ready he headed out to Count Damien’s home for tonight’s masquerade ball, his tiny notebook with observations from the tea party tucked away in a pocket in case he ran into Charlotte there. As he walked through the hallway he occasionally kicked a few shoes further down the hallway, spreading the mess further with his delightfully comfortable fuzzy lion slippers.

[princess]

Time: Late Morning --> Evening
Location: Sorian Beach --> Calbert's Estate
Interaction: @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @PapaOso Cassius @Potter Olivia @SausagePat Ruby @ReusableSword Kazumin @Samreaper

---

Morning

Attire:Bathing Suit, Light-colored beach sandals, Hair loose

Location: Sorian Beach

"Oh, Lady Ariella... I see. I'll see you at home then, Lorenzo." A faint smile graced Charlotte's lips, but it quickly faded as Lorenzo turned his back and began to walk away. She stood alone, silently watching his retreating figure, her heart heavy with unspoken emotions. Please stay... Her fingers interlocked, forming a wordless plea.

As she was lost in her thoughts, a cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her reverie. "Snowcone, dear?" The sound of the voice brought her back to the present.

Charlotte turned her gaze towards a woman pushing a cart through the warm sand. The woman offered her a vibrant cone filled with colorful ice. However, Charlotte decided against indulging in more sweetness after the emotional rollercoaster of the smoothie incident.

"Oh, uh...no thank you," Charlotte replied politely.

Undeterred by the refusal, Molly continued her rounds, her voice carrying over the beach as she made an announcement with uncontainable enthusiasm. "Free snowcones for all! Courtesy of Shehzadi Layla Kadir!" Her words rang out, drawing the attention of beachgoers who eagerly lined up for the unexpected and generous treat.

Perhaps Layla had felt guilty. A snow cone was not going to be enough to put Layla on the top of her list, but she was certainly eager to be in better standing with the vile woman, so the apology was welcomed.

Charlotte had sat down on her own for a short while as the others had enjoyed their snowcones, then decided to finally approach them to go for a swim. She had promised Olivia that she would teach her how to swim today, and it was a commitment she intended to fulfill. Cassius, Olivia, and Ruby had all agreed to join her in the water.

Olivia, though initially nervous, seemed to be making progress with her swimming skills. Yet, amidst the swimming lessons and laughter, Charlotte couldn't help but seize the opportunity to question Cassius about his sudden appearance. According to Cassius, he had been directed to Calbert's location after the recent passing of his mother. While it was indeed a peculiar turn of events, Charlotte decided, for the time being, to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't appear to be aligned with Calbert's nefarious plans, but he also didn't strike her as someone she was eager to form a close bond with, especially after witnessing a return to his unbecoming behavior. She had noted mentally: Not certain if he's an enemy, but he sure is in every way a bastard.

---

Evening

Attire: Mask, Dress/Wings
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interactions: @Helo Leo

Charlotte had set aside time during the day to make sure her attire was exactly what she wanted it to be.

Though she had entered the ballroom with graceful silence, her entry had not gone unnoticed. Many attendees turned their attention to the newcomer in the enchanting pink gown. Her presence was commanding to the eye yet delicate, like the first bloom of a rare flower in spring.

Her gown was a soft shade of pink with a white corset. The fabric cascaded like a waterfall, embellished with intricate beadwork that glimmered under the gentle caress of the chandelier. The bodice hugged her form gracefully before giving way to a flowing skirt that trailed behind her. On her back, she wore a pair of ethereal butterfly wings. Her mask, adorned with jewels, matched the shade of her gown perfectly and continued the theme of the butterfly.

She was a juxtaposition, embodying the very essence of innocence while simultaneously drawing the eye with its meticulous attention to detail. Yet, deep down, the girl was rather nervous. She had never quite arrived to many events on her lonesome, as Lorenzo had opted not to attend and Olivia was arriving late, hopefully without Kazumin. Charlotte was quite worried over the idea of him attending but she knew that he would show up nonetheless.

Though Charlotte made no effort to conceal herself, she did gravitate toward the perimeter, hoping to see if she could recognize anyone despite the masks.

Amidst the sea of masks and gowns, Charlotte's keen eyes finally caught a glimpse of something familiar. It started with a pair of fuzzy lion slippers. They were followed by the unmistakable hue of red hair that peeked out from beneath a lion mask.

A laugh rose in her throat and a smile crossed her lips. She made her way through the crowd, stepping up behind her friend, With a playful glimmer in her eyes, Charlotte couldn't help but tease Leo, softly speaking in his ear. "You're not exactly hiding behind your lion motif, are you?" she quipped, her voice laced with amusement. "I must say, the slippers were a dead giveaway. But," she added with a smile, "I do appreciate the commitment to the theme. A lion in every sense tonight, aren't you?"

[PapaOso]

Time: Late Morning
Location: Sorian Beach
Attire:Cassius
Mentions/Interactions:@princess Charlotte / Calbert @Tae Kali

Cassius had remained at the beach even after the others dispersed to carry on with their days. It had been difficult to enjoy the beauty of the view around him with such a tumultuous and strange chain of events like the ones that played out before him that morning. From the moment he arrived with Kalliope, drama had ensued. One thing after another kept the atmosphere feeling a bit tense, and yet somehow the group found a way to enjoy themselves for a while despite that tension.

He was glad to get to know some of the others more, and was honestly relieved to get a bit of a redo in the form of his mostly pleasant interactions with Charlotte. Perhaps he got a little too comfortable near the end and spoke more lewdly than he should have… It wasn't anything intentional but he could tell that the behavior irked her a bit, otherwise things seemed better than the other night at the very least. He still didn’t understand why it mattered so much to him to rectify that situation, but it did, and he would take the small victory and let it go for now. Plus, he had other matters to attend to. He was expected to return to the Damien Estate for a meeting with father dearest. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from that little rendezvous, but as he sat near the edge of the water letting the waves wash over his feet he didn’t care. For now, he was simply content living in the beauty in front of him and feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

---

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Mentions/Interactions:@SilverPaw Wulfric

The doors of the ballroom opened for Cassius and he stepped through with all the flair in the world. Every ounce of natural hubris and presence that he possessed was only compounded by the luxurious nature of his masquerade attire. These were by far the nicest clothes he had ever had the pleasure of wearing, and despite the fact that he was usually more concerned with function over fashion…he also couldn’t deny being a man who appreciated any opportunity to show off. Black always looked damn good on him, and the gold trim was a nice touch that played off the lightly sun-kissed nature of his skin. He had to admit…Calbert did an excellent job with this ensemble. The attention to detail, down to every little accoutrement, was perfect. His father, or perhaps rather the tailors in the man’s employ, did not skimp on the fitted work of art that clung to his body in a way that highlighted every muscle and curve of his form. Yesterday it was no less true that he was the son of a Count, but tonight…tonight he absolutely looked the part.

His mask was elegantly designed and held the motif of a wolf. A bit on the nose…or snout in this case, but even Cassius appreciated his father’s attention to detail on the matter. It was an obvious callback to his time serving as a mercenary with the Iron Wolves. Calbert had clearly done his research. Cas assumed a man with his father’s resources and connections would look into his bastard son’s background, and though the mask was clearly connected to his previous line of work he could not help but wonder if there was more behind the choice. Something about the mask carried the same kind of natural intensity that he sensed lurking behind his father’s eyes. The man had been nothing but welcoming to him, yet he could not shake the feeling that there truly was a complexity to Calbert Damien. There was more to him than he presented to the world, but Cassius had zero doubt in his mind that he would find a way to peer beyond the façade and see the true nature of his father; he always found a way.

Cassius could feel eyes on him as he made his way through the very middle of the room, moving and weaving gracefully through the crowd with allure. He moved with intent, not acknowledging anyone specifically but rather letting his eyes meet those of every person he passed. He was basking in the feeling of knowing that many were drawn to him. He could feel their gazes linger even after his eyes left theirs. He had a way of captivating an audience, and would never deny the intoxicating nature of that fact. Instead, he reveled in it.

He continued to work his way through the crowd until he eventually reached the far side of the room. Planting his back against the wall he turned to face all the beautiful people in their extravagant masquerade suits and gowns and admired the atmosphere of it all. With a beckoning motion he called over a server and had a glass of red wine poured for him. He let the wonderful aroma flood his senses, savoring the sweet finish as he took a nice long drink. The superb wine, the fancy clothes, and all of the gorgeous people…Cassius wasn’t sure he’d ever truly feel at home in nobility, but the perks were definitely one thing he could grow accustomed to.

As Cassius allowed his eyes to explore the room further he began to scan the individuals in the crowd with the intention to take each of them in one by one, but quickly his attention was pulled to one figure in particular. There they were, clad in an absolutely ravishing raven influenced ensemble.The outfit was as elegant as it was fierce; truly majestic with a mystique to it that commanded attention. The mask alone was enough to haunt a child’s nightmares, but the imposing nature of it all paled in comparison to its elegance. Whoever was beneath that costume intrigued him, and he simply had to know them.

Downing the rest of his drink, Cas motioned for the server to pour him another before sauntering over to the raven clad individual. He approached with absolute confidence, charm dripping from his voice as sweet as the taste of wine that still lingered on his tongue.

“What a sight you are, love. I hope I’m not intruding, but how could I resist the chance to see all of this in all its glory up close?” Cassius took in the full view of the costume as he spoke, his eyes traveling up and down the person's figure in the process. “It’s beautiful…absolutely beautiful. And judging by the way you carry yourself I’d wager you’re rather beautiful underneath that magnificent mask, aren't you?” With a wink and smile, Cas gave his best formal bow to the mysterious stranger and introduced himself. “My name is Lord Cassius Damien, I would love to make your acquaintance.”

[Lava Alckon]

Location: Damien Estate
Time: Evening of the 23rd
Mentions: Duchess Victoria, Sadie @Potter, Drake, and Ariella @tpartywithzombi

---

The Duke had moved on the tea party, quickly moving to calm down his “loving” wife - and after some back and forths, managed to convince her to leave with him so they may enjoy the rest of their morning without any further stress. As they arrived home she ordered for the Duke to “mind his own business for once” and strut off to her dressing room in a huff. With a sigh Gideon went to his study and began to piece together a fun little ensemble he had been crafting. He picked out the suit and tie and the mask he wanted to wear.

The outside itself seemed extra showy and wasn’t something he’d normally wear, but tonight would be a night of excitement! He was to be daring! The life of the party, perhaps! Well, maybe not that ambitious, Gideon. He chuckled to himself. He placed on his garments and ushered his wife Victoria to finish her preparations, followed by yet another short tirade along the lines of “It takes time to get this beautiful!” and “You can't rush perfection!”. So the Duke patiently waited until Victoria was ready, and guided her to their carriage where they would ride together to the Damien Estate.

Once he had arrived in the carriage, he immediately saw a familiar figure standing at the front gates of the property. The Duke quickly sauntered over with a smirk displayed as clear as the moonlight sky would allow, and held out a hand for his son Drake to shake. With the deepest voice he could mimic, he pretended to be yet another stranger amidst the masquerades guests. ”Well there, what is a strapping lad like yourself doing here by his lonesome? Surely you have plans to attend such a magnificent ball with company?”

Drake looked at the approaching figure and quickly made out the distinguishing features of his father. With a slight smile he humored the little game his father was playing, shaking his hand and responding in kind in a slightly husky voice. ”Well, good sir, I am not one to rush such a fine lady as the one and only Princess Camilia. However I shall join the festivities soon enough, milady seemed rather - distracted. So she may have other matters to attend to.” There was a slight melancholic look in his eyes, but the mask did well to hide his expression. He rebounded this feeling, however, with a chuckle. Drake then spoke in his normal voice. ”I appreciate your candor, Father. But it shall be fine. Have you seen Ari tonight?”

Gideon thought for a moment and his mouth dropped to a slight frown. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her since the other night. ”No…but I am sure she is keeping well! Let us not worry ourselves too much.” There was a long pause as the man let his anxiety get the better of him. ”Oh but it can’t hurt to just check in on her right? Oh dear Sebastian!” The young servant who had delivered Drake’s love letter a few days ago came from the back of the coach wagon and gave a quick bow. “Yes sir?” He chimed. ”Please go look for Ariella. If you cannot find her by midnight, then find me and we shall do a more in-depth search. I do not wish for her to be…out and about.” His gaze looked around as he made sure no one heard him other than the present company. Sebastian gave a quick nod and went to the coach driver, leaning in to whisper the Duke’s instructions. Then the wagon began to take off with the Edwards now accounted for sans Ariella.

”I shall head inside with your mother. Do try to come in and have fun, my boy. You deserve it.” He said in a welcoming and gentle tone. The typical ‘politician’ voice that Drake had recognized. He knew that Gideon meant well, but there was something tacky about that tone. As if his own father was putting up a facade around him. Nonetheless, Drake nodded and gave a casual wave to the Duke and Duchess. ”Enjoy the night you two. Once we enter those doors, we do so as strangers, right?” He said with a wink barely visible through his mask, and then he returned to loitering by the gate entrance.

The Duke and Duchess approached the front doors and made their way amidst a fresh wave of guests. The music, atmosphere, smells, sounds, food, and the barrage of stimuli to their senses were truly magnificent. Gideon smiled at his wife, who also held a smile of her own. This was a slight shock to him, as she had been in a sour mood all day, but even she must keep up appearances in a place such as this. For now, it seemed things were going well. He turned to Victoria and provided her with a quandary. ”Well, my beloved, would you care to dance? Or perhaps we shall introduce our mysterious selves to the host of this masquerade?”