[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[FunnyGuy]

Time: Morning
Location: Edward's Estate
Interaction: @princess Cassius, Callum, Charlotte
Mention:

Surprisingly, just one of the drinks helped to take some of the edge off of Lorenzo. Though he was aware of how terrible it was to medicate himself with it, Lorenzo would be lying if he claimed it never helped sometimes. His eyes admired his glass as he attempted to keep himself from butting into Charlotte's fun with her two new and peculiar male friends. He winced.

A Danrose and a Damien… How did this happen? It's… it's not bad, I guess. Unexpected but she's having fun… she's having fun… she's having fun, Lorenzo. He beat those final thoughts into his head until he couldn't but hear Cassius baiting the others into a drinking contest of sorts. Lorenzo finally turned his head, first looking at Charlotte, then to Callum, and finally Cassius.

“Shall we see who can keep up?”

“Let’s! The Duke of Vermillion could use a warm up… Like a rival of mine famously says, ‘I’m here to play… and win.’” Lorenzo downed one of his two cocktails before flashing a mischievous grin at the young men.

[Lava Alckon]

Drake

Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Everyone present at the party]

---

Drake waved his hand at the offer to join the man with his guests. ”I would love to keep you all company at present. But I actually have something to tend to…I just wanted to make sure all is well. Do give Charlotte my best wishes, though. I think I caught wind of what she gave me and I -” He paused for a moment in appreciation. ”I am very thankful.” He bowed towards the man and walked off towards the stage setup near the end of the garden.

On his way there he managed to bump into three lady servants serving cocktails. While it would normally be ill-advised to partake in drink so soon before a performance, Drake could scarcely hold his nerves together. He gestured towards them and gave a bow as he reached for a cocktail. ”Oh you three are life-savers. I am rather shaken by the upcoming performance and might need a slight bit of liquid courage to stave the nerves.” The man swigged a good portion of the cocktail before letting out a sigh. Immediately he felt a strong kick to his throat as the alcohol slipped down his throat and he stifled a minor cough from the pure strength of the drink he just consumed. There was no odd taste, yet he felt like this was quite the potent mixture he just drank. Nonetheless, he smiled at the three ladies. ”Oh thank you three very much. Erica, Vanessa, and Yellenia right? You three deserve a break from my mother’s antics. I’m sure she’s had you running around all day - so please help yourself to some of the food being prepared. Tell them I said it was okay.”

He gave them a bow, albeit slightly shaken, and stood up to walk back towards the stage. Once there, he read over the sheet music once more. Gah. Why can’t I focus? Surely I am not so anxious that I cannot even see straight? He shook his head and gave his cheeks a light tap - his vision clearing in the moment. Once he gave it another once over, he placed it to the side and picked up the wrapped up sheet music that Charlotte had given him. It was a rather nice piece - something calm and serene, and thankfully short. He felt like if he was any longer he would forget half the notes before he made it back on stage. It was a rather large gamble to pull such a stunt - but for one reason or another he was feeling rather adventurous.

Drake made his way onto the stage amidst the bustling crowd. Once he placed the sheet music onto the piano stand he waved his hands to the crowd and gave a big bow towards the party-goers.

”Dearest friends, guests, gentlemen, ladies, and everything not classified. I welcome you to this fine celebration put on by my loving family in commemoration of my Name Day.”

He gestured towards the table where his Mother sat, and then towards his Father and Ariella.

”To you all I cannot thank you enough for making me feel like something of a somebody on this beautiful day.”

Once he had grabbed their attention he made his way to the piano and kept his voice projected, yet still moderately quiet as to not jar anyones eardrums before the performance. ”I hope you enjoy this performance of Clair de Luna - and may you all have a beautiful day.” Once the sound had quieted down enough, his fingers hit the keys with grace and precision.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGJPVl7iQUM

As the final notes filled the air - Drake could scarcely believe he had made it to the end of the performance with little hiccups. The man felt his head beginning to spin ever so slightly - but he pushed on. Turning to the crowd, he shouted out once more, more boisterously than before.

”And this next piece is a surprise one - gifted to me by a special someone. A spectacular person by the name of Charlotte Vikena. Thank you for blessing me with such a fine gift on such a fine day, milady.”

Perhaps in a wiser state of mind, he would have elaborated, but he chose to end it there, and began the next piece.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJGTrULrdUY

The notes hung in the air - a little shakier of a performance this time around but Drake felt like he more or less nailed it. Which was a miracle given how little time he had to prepare it. The lord stood up and faced the audience with a smile. He waved his hand and looked from left to right before taking an overenthusiastic bow. But that is when things would finally go wrong for the young lord. All the sensations that he had managed to ignore, whether through adrenaline or tolerance, had come washing to his head all at once. It proved to be too much - and so Drake in all his glory took a tumble off the stage, careening into the clearing in front of the tables that were closest to the stage.

[PapaOso]

TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Harassment, Objectification, and Degrading Behavior

TRIGGER WARNING

Sexual Harassment, Objectification, and Degrading Behavior

The content includes themes of manipulation, power abuse, and bizarre, degrading demands that might be distressing or uncomfortable for some readers.

Time: 10:30am
Location: King Edin’s Bedchamber

---

"Someone grab a turkey leg! I need it to wave around like a scepter." Edin’s voice echoed down the hall just as the doors to his chamber were pulled almost closed.

The royal bedchamber was a chaotic display of decadence, transformed into a twisted theater for King Edin’s delusions. The air was thick with the heady scent of spilled brandy, perfume, and sweat, clinging to everything like a suffocating cloud. In the corner, a rack of elaborate gowns and accessories stood ready.

Beside the bed, a makeup artist stood silently, eyes cast downward, clutching a palette of powders, brushes, and paints. She had learned not to speak unless spoken to and to fulfill the king’s every whim without question.

He sprawled in the center of the grand bed, his crown perched crookedly on his head, eyes glazed with drunken delusion. His royal tunic had slipped halfway off his shoulder, revealing his soft, pale, hairy flesh, but he didn’t care. He was too far gone—drunk beyond reason, completely absorbed in his own twisted world of fantasy.

Surrounded by women, Edin’s smile twisted into something smug and self-satisfied. His fantasies had taken hold completely, and he no longer saw the women before him as simple courtesans. They were vessels for something greater, for the noblewomen he believed secretly loved him—every single one of them. To the king, courting season in Sorian should be a his spectacle, with the finest young gems of the realm vying for the privilege of his touch.

A consort knelt beside him, feeding him grapes one by one, as he slurred his words, barking commands at the women who shuffled around him like puppets, doing whatever ridiculous task he demanded.

“No, no, no!” he growled, waving his hand lazily. “You!” His bloodshot eyes fixed on a woman. “Put on the black wig… Yes, a wig! …And that gothic black gown! Darker! Gloomy!” He swirled his half-empty glass of brandy, spilling some on his already stained silk sheets. “Like a raven… a dark bird.” He s_hnorted to himself and leaned in, grabbing her chin. His grip tightened. “You’re too quiet, aren’t you?” His eyes were wide as he then spoke lowly to her, his grip on her chin tightening with every word. “Always watching, your face buried in a book, always too good for the rest of us. But I know better… You’re not sad. No, no… you’re something else.”

The woman scrambled to obey once he had freed her from his hold, picking a dark, raven-black wig from the collection and placing it over her head. She pulled a long, gothic gown from the rack and dressed herself quickly, avoiding Edin’s gaze as she completed the transformation.

Edin grinned, satisfied. “That’s more like it… “

He chuckled darkly before his eyes roamed to another woman, a redhead with trembling hands. “You,” he growled, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “Take off your shoes. No… step into the paint! Now!” He barked the order, waving his hand toward the tray of paint the artist had placed by the bed.

The woman hesitated, but Edin’s glare darkened. She stood there, frozen for a moment, before Edin barked again, “Move! Now! Walk across the room. Leave your mark. “

The redhead’s bare feet smeared the red paint across the floor as she walked, leaving dark, wet prints behind her. She wore a completely confused expression, despite the forced smile. Edin leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ““Yes… Your father would hate this, wouldn’t he? But you don’t care. No, you’re here for me. Only me. You belong in this bed, at my feet, covered in paint like the whore you are.”

His eyes flicked to a blonde woman next, her hair cascading over her shoulders.“You,” he hissed, his voice dropping into something darker.“Your daddy just died, didn’t he? Poor little daddy’s girl—but now you’re the Varian whore, aren’t you? Left to be raised by those two lesbian cunts.” He laughed cruelly, the sound cutting through the room like a knife.“ “I can see it. You’ve got nothing left, but I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of… I always knew you wanted it.”

The blonde woman stiffened, her face pale as Edin’s words struck deep. She stepped forward, her hands trembling, but she did as he commanded, her eyes cast downward as she moved closer to him.

Without warning, Edin flopped back onto the bed and waved another woman over. “Rub oil on me! On my arms! My legs! Every inch of me must glisten!” he commanded with wild excitement. “I need to be shining, like the Gods intended!”

One of the courtesans scurried forward, oil in hand, nervously rubbing it into his arms and chest as he squirmed under her touch, basking in his own perceived glory. “Yes, yes… now rub it into my feet. I must have the best feet in the kingdom!” He burst into hysterical laughter, tossing his head back while smearing a dollop of whipped cream across his own chest. “I’m glorious! Lick that cream!”

After some time, his attention suddenly shifted again, this time to a brunette woman standing nearby.

He sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. “You, oh, you think you’re something special, don’t you? The diva,” he spat, suddenly accusing her, waving his hand dismissively. “A duchess. Act like it! No, be rude. Show me that attitude. You love being above everyone, don’t you? Announce it. Tell the world how much better you are than the rest of them.”

The brunette lifted her chin, her lips curling into a sneer as she adopted the haughty demeanor Edin demanded. “I am a duchess!” she declared, her voice cold and imperious. “And you are lucky to have me here. I don’t waste my time on anyone else.”

“Gooood,” Edin slurred, nodding with satisfaction.

But his mood shifted abruptly, his gaze swinging to a delicate blonde standing at the edge of the room. “You… the sweet one. The angelic countess. Oh, you’re always so sick, aren’t you? So fragile. Put on something soft… pale. You’re like an angel who could fall at any moment.” His voice grew more insidious. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you? Without me, you’d die. Cough for me, Liliane, cough!”

The blonde woman’s face paled, but she complied, slipping into a pale gown and coughing lightly, as if her breath were too weak to sustain her. Edin’s grin widened as he watched her, his ego swelling at the sight of her vulnerability.

And then, his eyes fell upon a dark-haired woman standing quietly in the corner, her hands nervously wringing her skirt. He licked his lips, his mind fully consumed by the delusion he had crafted for her, “You…” he slurred, pointing a shaky hand at a woman with dark hair. “Tie it back. With a ribbon. Make it neat, make it proper… Like her. “His voice lowered, thick with something darker, something twisted.

“You’re going to beg me now, aren’t you? Plead with me… tell me to spare your imbecile of stepfather. Cry…. I want to hear you cry!”His grin twisted as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper laced with sick delight, “You’ll have no one if I kill him. Only me.”

Her hands shook as she tied a dark ribbon in her hair, her fingers fumbling as she pulled her dark locks back. She approached him slowly, her voice trembling as she began to beg. “Please,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, “please, Your Majesty… spare him. He doesn’t understand...”

The words struck a nerve, triggering a flash of memory—the mother, in his bed, whispering similar words. He felt both disgust and a strange pull. As the woman’s sobs grew louder, her body trembling, Edin leaned in, watching her break apart before him. There was something almost satisfying about it—seeing her crumble like that. But it was also maddening. She was too much like her.

So Edin turned his attention. "Fetch me a bucket of milk!" he barked suddenly, eyes gleaming with a mad delight. "I want to bathe my hands in it. It makes them soft… like the hands of a king!"

As someone went to fetch him milk, he swiveled drunkenly to another woman with dark red hair.

“Kalliope!” he barked, though it wasn’t her name. He pointed vaguely at the woman. “Dress like Kalliope. Put on the tight dress. She always looks perfect—makes everyone look, but I know she’s doing it for me.” His words were slurred beyond recognition, his vision blurring, but he grinned widely. “Yes, you want to turn heads, don’t you? But in the end, you only care about me.”

The woman rushed to slip into a form-fitting dress, her face a mask of discomfort as she tried to embody the vision Edin so desperately clung to. “You think you’re so deadly but you’re just a fragile woman in my grasp.”

But then Edin’s eyes fell on a strawberry blonde woman at the edge of the room. His face twisted with drunken excitement as he recalled the girl in the wheelchair. “You! You need bruise makeup!” He nearly shouted, pointing wildly. “ Artist! Give her bruises now! And you must wear pants. I heard she likes pants. You’re tough… but bruised. You’ve been hurt. But I can fix it… I’m the one who can make it all better…”

The artist applied the bruise makeup to the girl, shading her face and neck as she slipped into a pair of pants, her expression hardening as she stepped forward with a defiant look. Edin’s grin widened, his satisfaction complete.

Suddenly, his glass clattered to the floor, and he leaned back, arms outstretched, his body sinking into the bed’s plush pillows. He let out a deep, slurred sigh, completely absorbed in his grand delusion. As another consort applied whip cream into his mouth, he began to mumble something unintelligible, his thoughts drifting to another, more unattainable fantasy.

After a moment, he started up again. “…And you… you!” he slurred, pointing at a tall, auburn-haired woman who had yet to speak. “Put on the crown… and the royal robe. You’re her… the Queen. Not my queen, no… no… the other one.” His eyes glazed over, unfocused as he tried to picture Queen Rosa Camilia of Varian. “Strong… tall… thinks she’s better than me. But she’ll fall for me too. They all do. All of them.” He cackled, his voice tinged with desperation.

The consort reluctantly dressed in a royal robe and placed a crown on her head. She approached him stiffly, unsure how to act, but Edin was too far gone to notice.

He was deep in his delusion, convinced that every woman—whether noble or queen, commoner or consort—wanted him, adored him, needed him. The reality of his kingdom, of the crumbling control he had, faded from his mind as he let himself sink deeper into the fantasy.

"Take the velvet drapes from the window and wrap me in them. I want to feel like a king in a cocoon!" he shouted like a madman with a self-satisfied grin. "Yes, tuck me in tight. Make sure there’s no draft!"

“They all love me…” he muttered, his voice slurring as his eyes fluttered closed. “They… all love me… I’m the King. The only King…” As he drifted further into drunken oblivion, the room grew quieter. The consorts exchanged glances, unsure whether to stay or leave, as the powerful King Edin laid swaddled in the bed, snoring obnoxiously.

[Conscripts]

Time: 10 AM
Location: Sorian Temple
Interactions: The Perfumer
Mentions:

---

Trigger Warning: Body Horror, Death

John was expecting an assassin to come out of the mist to attack him, not to be misted on by the perfumer nearby. In hindsight it was rather obvious her movement was not natural, but tunnel visioning is a darn thing. It got everybody, and now he saw the abyss he had crawled his way out of.

"YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER! YOU LET HIM DIE!"

A screech came from his right, where one of the audience member had morphed herself into. He remembered her face clearly. This was the wife of a man whom by the time John had reached him, his face was gone, but he was still conscious. John could only leave him to his unimaginable fate. His wife had to be restrained, her eyes were seeing blood as her image disappeared from his vision.

Then he heard a hair-raising scream to his left. A nurse was desperately clamping on a woman's body. Her skins were blistering, red all over her body. She beat her chest and clawed her face repeatedly as her lungs grew hoarse after hours. This was the one who John thought was recovering a few days prior. She lived in agony for another few days before succumbing.

"The worst part is, they will not even get the grace of having their brain or their hearts perishing first."

A howling, unfeeling wind made him shiver in place, even though the sun was out and no wind was blowing. His hands shook uncontrollably. And this was nowhere near the actual horror he had seen that day. No horror fiction story could even come close to scaring him.

But even as terror gripped on him, somewhere inside his mind was his consciousness resisting the temptation to give in, cerebral enough to understand that this was not Alestal. He was in Sorian. Whatever he's seeing is not it.

John gritted his teeth. His eyes opened to a terrifying red, as his right hand reached hard into his left sleeve, as if he was pushing against something inside it.

Then all of a sudden, his temperament cooled, as he took several deep breaths. He stood up straight, his left hand gripping into his sleeve, hiding it behind his back, his reddened eyes staring directly into the perfumer with unveiled contempt.

"An apology will not simply cut it today." He retained some of his usual politeness, but obviously his mannerism was no longer the passive kind man that he came off as. "You've sprayed a high-ranking official Varian doctor with poisonous chemicals today. This will not be taken lightly. I demand to speak to your owner."

[Helo]

Time: Morning, 10am
Location: Edward’s home, for Drake’s party
Interactions: Nahir @Rodiak, Wulfric @Silverpaw

---

Calbert Damien, constant grumpus, hates the flashy fella in pink, Lord Vikena. He noted, and in so few words Nahir had clued him in that such drama ran rampant in Caesonia. Before he could answer her question, a man whose appearance could only be described as angelic approached. A pristine white suit? At a garden party? Ballsy. Classy. He admired the choice and how it made Wulfric stand out so easily in a garden full of vibrantly dressed nobility.

Rohit rose from his seat the moment Prince Wulfric introduced himself. He bowed respectfully, “Good morning, Your Highness. I’m Rohit, son of Vali Amar of Kimoon.” He sat down once the prince had taken his seat and grabbed a well-crafted cocktail. A future King and the likely future Sultana…picked the right seat to steal!” He thought, remaining relaxed in the impressive company until whoever’s seat he’d borrowed eventually showed up to claim it.

“Much to explore.” Rohit repeated in agreement sipping from his drink. He’d seen only a fraction of the city and already looked forward to seeing more. “As for my journey here,” He paused to think of the many ports he’d stopped at -why go on a grand journey and not make the most of it- and decided to speak of another Caesonian city.

“Felipina.” Rohit said, addressing Nahir. “Best stop of my journey, excluding the destination, of course.” He continued, nodding to Wulfric. “Great food, even better wine, beaches filled with beautiful people, and music and romance fill the air. Casa de las Estrellas, what a way to wind down - stargazing on a private balcony. And I’m told I must return for the Grand Treasure Hunt, how exciting! Shehzadi, I can’t recommend it enough. Never dull never dreary.” Rohit gave his mostly honest review of the city, was it better than Breoven? Maybe not, but he doubted the future King of Caesonia wanted to hear how wonderful Breoven was to visit.

“But despite the high bar set by Felipina, Sorian has already impressed. I arrived just in time to catch the carnival last night, what a wonderful surprise. Anyplace you‘d recommend?” He asked Wulfric just as Drake took the stage.

Drake’s performance was marvelous, a pair of well-played songs that showed the man’s skill off nicely. Until he went to take his bow, “Ooooh, embarrassing, he muttered as Lord Drake fell from the stage.

[Helo]

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Charlotte @princess, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Cassius @PapaOso, Drake @Lava Alckon

---

Callum made a face of disgust as Cassius referred to him as, Your Highness. “Nonsense, I’m not high, right now.” He joked and noted the discomfort from Charlotte, and denial from Cassius, at his assumption that the two were a couple.

It wasn’t obvious, but Callum had a knack for finding darkness, and there was certainly some of it behind Charlotte’s eyes when he’d mentioned his dislike for both Calbert and Edin. But what was more telling was the long moment where it seemed like Charlotte was somewhere else; her expression changed as her eyes focused on empty spaces. Like she was seeing things that weren’t there too. ...And what spells have you been casting, Charlotte? He wondered, jumping on the explanation that made the most sense to him.

”Princess, huh?” Callum repeated the nickname Cassius had for Charlotte. ”Didn’t realize I had a secret sister out there.” He joked as he watched Charlotte down her drink.

Callum was not going to be outdone. He grabbed a cocktail and lifted it in Cassius' direction, as he was the one to officially make this a challenge, and drank the entire drink in one go. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a reason there’s a tavern with my name, and face, on it.” He added, slamming the empty glass back on the table as Drake took the stage.

”What a lovely piece, you composed it?” Callum whispered, eyes flickering to Charlotte. ”It’s magical.” He commented as the song ended.

And then Drake fell off the stage.

Callum stood up, stumbling as the cocktail, and that loaf of alcoholic bread, struck him. He held on to the table for a moment then fumbled his way to Drake.

”You alright?” He asked, offering a hand. ”From the guy who's usually falling over at parties, best to just laugh it off.” He added quietly.

[princess]

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

---

Charlotte turned her attention to Callum, her smile lighting up her face as she leaned in slightly, and teasingly said, “Well, maybe I am your sister. We do share strikingly similar features, don’t we? Dark hair, blue eyes... Perhaps there's a royal family secret worth investigating.”

With a quick glance at Cassius, her voice shifted to a breezier tone, “A legend, huh? Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.” When he leaned closer and claimed he’d be carrying her, she raised her brows with an exaggerated tilt of her head. “Oh, you really think so? I’ll have you know, Cassius, I can hold my own.” Her hand casually brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she lifted her glass, smirking confidently, “In fact, I think I already have the trophy.”

Cassius downed his second cocktail and her brows shot up in surprise. But as he issued his challenge, her eyes widened, and she repeated, ‘A drinking contest?" She glanced around the table as if appalled by the very suggestion. “At the son of the Duke of Soralia’s birthday party, no less! And need I remind you, it is only 10 AM!” It was clear from the giggles that followed the statement, that she wasn’t sober enough to deliver the logic convincingly. The warmth from the cocktail had settled in quickly, loosening her usually measured demeanor, though she had always been a lightweight.

“Let’s! The Duke of Vermillion could use a warm-up… Like a rival of mine famously says, ‘I’m here to play… and win.’” Charlotte whirled to face Lorenzo, half-raising her hand to object, but before she could even get a word out, he downed his cocktail just as swiftly as she had earlier. She blinked in surprise, only to hear Callum’s voice pipe up again. Callum, too, emptied his glass. She knew she should have been exasperated with them, yet she couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of it all.

"Well." she began, raising her finger as if she had just thought of something profound, "if you boys insist on carrying on like this, I suppose someone will have to teach you a lesson in how to properly handle your liquor like a lady." She grinned, then plucked one of the shots and gulped it down with a quick flick of her wrist. The alcohol burned briefly as it slid down her throat, a sharp reminder of what a terrible idea this was. But Lottie, for once, didn’t care. After all that had transpired—the constant swirl of drama, the weird aura around her, Calbert Damien, and those intrusive memories of her father that seemed to force themselves into her reality when least expected—she needed to let go, even just for a moment.

Besides, if she was going to be dragged into another one of those surreal flashbacks, better to be a little too tipsy to care.

"...We could play strip poker." Her gaze slid to the table next to them as they remained perfectly in earshot. As Anastasia had been speaking, she had dimly registered her words as background noise, but it hadn’t been until that last bit that she felt the need to look over and spot the scandalous amount of PDA between Farim and Anastasia. Compared to that spectacle, she figured a few shots would be the least scandalous thing happening at this party.

Her eyes met Olivia’s for a fleeting moment to check up on her, then her attention shifted entirely as Drake made an announcement then sat at a piano, the serene notes wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

Clasping her hands together in delight, she squealed with a rare burst of excitement. “Oh! This song is one of my favorites!” She idly sipped from yet another cocktail as the music filled the air, swaying slightly to the rhythm, a contented smile on her face.

Then, Drake’s words made her freeze mid-sip.

”...And this next piece is a surprise one - gifted to me by a special someone. A spectacular person by the name of Charlotte Vikena. Thank you for blessing me with such a fine gift on such a fine day, milady.”

Charlotte’s eyes darted around as heads turned toward her. Instead of shying away, as she might’ve done before, she eventually gave the crowd a cheeky little wave.

“What a lovely piece, you composed it? ...It’s magical.”

She slurped the remaining liquid from the bottom of the glass as she replied casually,"Certainly did," she said, "I suppose that makes me magical, doesn’t it?" It wasn’t long after that Drake tumbled off the stage, and Callum had rushed to his aid, along with several attendants. Charlotte assumed his parents would also be soon to follow as gasps filled the air.

She craned her neck to check on Drake as he tumbled off the stage. Gasps filled the air, and Callum, along with several attendants, rushed to his aid. She watched for a moment, her lips forming a faint pout before deciding he seemed alright. With a dramatic sigh, she turned her attention back to Lorenzo and Cassius, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming with a giddy energy.

"Well, that was quite the performance," she giggled, playfully swinging her now empty shot glass in the air before setting it down a little too forcefully. "But you know..." she began, her words starting to slur ever so slightly, "I think I could do better—without falling off a stage, mind you."

She hiccuped and blinked, her train of thought momentarily lost before a mischievous grin crossed her face. "Cassius, Lorenzo," Lottie continued, swaying slightly as she leaned closer to them, "I've been thinking... If we were all animals, you'd definitely be a... hmm..." She paused, her gaze locking onto Lorenzo as she squinted in mock concentration, leaning in as if unveiling a grand revelation." A ferret like Kier! All squiggly and sneaky. You clever little thing!"

She paused, giggling uncontrollably at her own words. Then, turning to Cassius, she poked him lightly in the chest, "And you, you'd be... oh! A peacock! Always strutting around, thinking you're oh so pretty." With that declaration, she snatched up another shot and poured it down her throat, perhaps enjoying the pleasant feeling a little too much.