[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Potter]

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @princess Princess Anastasia ☁ @Helo Rohit ☁ @Rodiak Nahir ☁ @Lava Alckon Farim
Mentions: Cassius/Milo, Kalli, and Hala.
Aesthetic: Hair, Dress, Shoes

---

Kira’s attention was quickly diverted once Shehzadi Nahir entered. While Kira remained stoic, her heart began fluttering. She turned her head once Nahir joined and smiled fondly. She matched Nahir’s longer gaze and politely turned away when it was broken. ”Good evening, Shehzadi. It is nice to see you. You look beautiful as ever,” Her tone was sincere and her gaze soft. ”We are honored to have you Shehzadi and of course, Shezade. You look dashing, Rohit and you,” Her tone was sincere and sweet.

Princess Anastasia began talking to her so Kira faced her next. She laughed and waved her hand dismissively. Giggles rippled out from her. ”Oh dear! We cannot have that, Princess!” She leaned closer and whispered mischievously. ”Maybe you did. Maybe I am a figment of your imagination, and if so, I am honored.” She held her gaze and whispered flirtatiously, ”Say the word and you can receive whatever performance of your wish.”

Then she leaned away and raised her glass in toast. Rohit agreed, and she giggled even more. ”Agreed, to poor impulse control and chaos! I do agree, I believe this is the beautiful people side.” Kira winked at them all and allowed her gaze to momentarily linger on Nahir and smiled sweetly at her. Gods, this woman was beautiful. The sands of Alidasht had blessed her.

While the rest conversed, Kira turned to look at the rest of the banquet. It was lively with conversation and organized chaos. Then, her gaze found him. Kira watched Milo approach Cassius and raised her eyebrow. Their discussion soon became heated and it sparked her curiosity. Soon, Kalliope and Hala Sami intervened. Kira watched the scene play out. Her attention was soon captured by the radiant Danrose Princess.

Kira clapped her hands together with excitement. ”Yes, sadly I had to miss your performance, and I regret it. However, I would love to help you for the next one! That is a good idea,” Kira drummed her fingers on the table and she smiled sweetly. Rohit chimed in and Kira nodded eagerly. ”Excellent ideas. I would be happy to help. Maybe we can include Sorian and Alidasht foods. This would allow us to share our wonderful culture with the Sorian community. Maybe we can also provide them with our own recipes, and maybe teach them some of our language and include different crafts. How does that sound?”

While Kira waited for their replies, she snuck one more gaze at Nahir. Then, she piled food onto her plate and started eating. Meanwhile, her mind spun with the encounter she’d witnessed. Did the Scourge of Eisenholm have a new enemy? Kira kept her gaze focused on the group around her and ate politely.

[Oso]

---

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @Tae Kali, @princess Lottie, @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk

---

Cassius didn’t speak right away.

He just let her words hang in the space between them quietly like they were too honest to be spoken any louder. They sank into him, slowly...and for a moment, he felt seen in a way that made his chest tighten.

Not by judgment or by pity. Just seen. And, that should’ve made him feel better. Maybe even relieved. Instead, it made something in him pull back...and bury it. Not fully but just enough. It was out of instinct and due to the reality that it was the only way he was equipped to deal with these things. It was all he’d ever known.

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite as soothing as it should have been. His shoulders shifted, like maybe he could shake it off, even if just for now.

His eyes found hers again, the corners of his mouth twitching upward with the beginnings of a smile.

“I could say the same about you, ya know.”

He said it with that low, crooked grin of his fully appearing on his face, and then turned his head just enough to glance toward Sjan-dehk. It wasn’t subtle...It wasn’t meant to be.

The wink he threw the man’s way was exaggerated, almost theatrical, like he was trying to make her laugh. Or maybe trying to keep himself from falling into something he couldn’t climb out of.

“I see the way you look at him.”

He let that sit there for a second, then gave her an ornery look.

“Guess we’re both in trouble, eh?”

He said it a little too softly, like maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like saying it made it more real. His gaze drifted, not to Charlotte this time, no, he didn’t dare in this moment...but rather to somewhere lower, somewhere safer. Somewhere less like her eyes.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, letting his jaw flex before forcing a grin back into place. And then he bumped Kali's shoulder with his, a quiet nudge that said more than he’d probably let himself say out loud.

“We’ll both be fine, right? Probably. Maybe.”

He looked at Kali again with the gift of a wink of her own. There was something flickering behind his eyes. Something few had seen from him.

“But seriously...Candy...or...something harder, would be just about perfect right now.”

[princess]

Duke Gideon Edwards & Duchess Victoria Edwards

Time: 6pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Mention: @TpartywithZombi Ariella @Lava Alckon Drake @Tae Thea, Kalliope @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk

---

“Embarrassing?” Victoria echoed softly, slowly setting her wine glass down with a soft clink. Her smile was untouched by warmth. “Darling, I wear shoes in public and know how to enter a room without looking winded and lost. Between the two of us, I assure you—I’m the lady.” She reclined slightly in her seat, gaze icy. “And as for hatred, no, dear. It’s not hatred. It’s disappointment... dressed appropriately.”

She took a slow sip of her wine, and with a flick of her fan, she ended the exchange like the snap of a guillotine. Instead, Victoria's gaze shifted to the exchange between Thea and Drake, then she leaned slightly toward Gideon, whispering behind the rim of her wine glass. “Of all the women, he is interested in her?” Her eyes didn’t leave Thea, narrowed like a hawk spotting something unpleasant in its garden.

“That girl’s been clinging to a nasty sort since her father died. Every party, every event—there she is, lips on a hard drink or someone’s son.” She gave a soft scoff as she continued to whisper, swirling her wine. “She’s not a suitor. She’s a souvenir.”

With a sigh, she shook her head slightly, as if mourning the death of her son’s standards. “You really ought to speak with him after this, Gideon. ”

Gideon's expression grew angry visibly, but before he could speak, the doors creaked open.

“Oh,” Victoria suddenly murmured, squinting. “Look Gideon, he's carrying her. Like a sack of flour.”

Gideon followed her gaze, arching a brow at the striking red-haired woman and the man who seemed admirably committed to his role as steed and shield alike.

With a loud thud, the pair suddenly collapsed in the middle of the grand hall in a tangle of limbs and swirling fabric. A gasp rippled through the banquet like a breeze through lace curtains. Gideon instinctively sat a little straighter, while Victoria’s eyes lit up with scandalized delight.

“Oh my stars,” she whispered, loudly enough for nearby nobles to hear. “Do we clap?”

“Victoria,” Gideon warned softly. He watched the man twist protectively, absorbing the fall entirely to shield the woman in his arms. It was...unexpectedly noble. Gideon’s gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer than it should have, eyes narrowing not in disdain, but in curiosity.

“That wasn’t clumsy,” he murmured to his wife. “That was instinct. Trained.”

“Or desperate,” Victoria retorted, fanning herself rapidly. “Who is she anyway?” she hissed under her breath, eyes narrowing as Kalliope adjusted her dress. “Because I don’t recall ordering a cabaret dancer to perform in the foyer.”

“She was afraid and fell,” he said quietly. “You saw her face.”

Victoria waved her hand dismissively. “Oh please. Afraid of what? Being fully clothed for five minutes? She practically straddled the poor man in front of all of Caesonia. And he just laid there like it was a nightly ritual.” Her voice turned syrupy with mock pity.

But Victoria wasn’t done.

“She looked like she’d climb the nearest chandelier if it meant someone else’s husband would look up her skirt.”

[Tae]

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Interactions: @Helo Leo, @Lava Alckon Drake, @princess Charlotte, Duke Gideon, & Duchess Victoria, @TpartywithZombi Ariella
Mentions: @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk
Outfit: Dress, Hair, and Makeup

---

Thea gasped lightly at Leo’s response, her hand flying to her chest in playful offense. “Leo! That is absolutely a puppy,” she insisted with a soft pout. “A *very large* puppy. With better manners than half the people here.”

But her dramatic indignation melted into a pleased smile as she gently touched the side of her hair where Charlotte’s gift was pinned. “And I must say,” she began, glancing around the table, “Lottie’s gift might just be working magic. I feel like a walking constellation. Thank you all for the compliments.”

Her gaze drifted to Drake at his compliment, and she blinked once, her breath catching for a heartbeat. “Perfect?” she echoed quietly, the corner of her lips curling upward while a soft pink crept into her cheeks. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, laughing under her breath. “You’re far too kind, Lord Drake. You’ll turn my head with praise like that.”

As he leaned down to whisper, she tilted her head slightly to listen, and her cheeks warmed further at his words. “A menagerie?” she asked, her voice amused but quieter now, touched with genuine intrigue. “I accept your terms and will not request to pet the puppy, but only because it means I get to pet something else.” The words left her mouth before she could actually think about how they sounded and then she blushed deeply. “Animals! I mean animals! I…” She trailed off, a bit embarrassed as she tried to find something else to focus on.

Then there was the mention of her birthday party and she decided to focus on that. She turned her attention back to Drake with a glimmer of anticipation. “You must come to my party now. After all this teasing talk of animals and compliments, I’d be devastated if you missed it. What would I do without my brother-assigned protector?” she teased lightly, a smile playing on her lips—genuine, if a little shy. “And! It’s on a boat! It will surely be a ton of fun!” she said excitedly.

Thea caught Leo’s mouthed remark and gave the smallest nod in return, her lips twitching at the corners. Worse than Mother, indeed. A terrifying feat. But as Victoria’s biting words landed on Ariella, Thea’s amusement faded. Her gaze flicked to the young woman, and something tightened in her chest. That tone. That public humiliation. She knew it well. Her fingers curled slightly around her wine glass, irritation simmering just beneath her polished surface. She didn’t speak, not yet, but the look she gave Victoria was cool and unreadable, with a hint of fire behind her eyes.

As Drake took his seat beside her, Thea’s hand brushed lightly against his offered one. After a beat of hesitation, she slipped her fingers into his, giving a small, appreciative squeeze. “Scathing reviews, my favorite pastime,” she murmured, managing a faint smirk in return, though the edge of her mood still lingered.

Then she felt it, that unmistakable weight of someone watching her.

Her eyes shifted. Victoria. Whispering behind her wine glass to Gideon. His expression tightened ever so slightly, polite mask cracking just enough to confirm what Thea already knew.

The words were about her.

Thea’s jaw tensed, but she said nothing. Her grip on her wine glass remained light, but her thumb pressed harder against the stem as her simmering irritation flared.

A sudden movement caught her attention. Thea turned just in time to see a striking red-haired woman and a man tumble through the grand doors, landing in a tangled heap of limbs and fabric. A gasp rippled through the hall, but Thea winced.

Oof… that’s going to bruise.

Still… the way the man twisted to shield the woman, taking the brunt of the fall without hesitation? It wasn’t just clumsy. It was instinctive. Protective.

Romantic, she thought, before quickly taking another sip of wine to drown the traitorous softness in her chest.

She had only just resumed sipping her wine, the warmth of it curling like confidence in her chest, when she heard it—Duchess Victoria’s voice slicing through the ambient hum of the banquet, a viper's whisper dressed in silk.

"She looked like she’d climb the nearest chandelier if it meant someone else’s husband would look up her skirt."

The words struck with venom, intended for someone else, but soaked in the same familiar tone Thea had grown up enduring—and she couldn’t take it anymore. Slowly, she lowered her glass, her lips still parted with the ghost of a smirk. With a graceful turn of her head, Thea looked across the table and directly at the duchess.

“Duchess Victoria,” she began sweetly, her voice carrying just enough to turn a few noble heads, “I must say, it’s refreshing to hear your thoughts aloud. Most people wait until they’re alone to sound so terribly insecure.”

There was a pause, just long enough to let the words settle, before Thea continued, still smiling, still poised. “You speak of dancers and desperation, yet I imagine it takes a truly gifted performer to balance so many masks at once. Jealousy disguised as concern, bitterness as etiquette, and of course, judgment wrapped in lace.” She tilted her head just slightly.

“Though I do envy your confidence. It must take a certain kind of self-assurance to confuse a woman’s boldness with her worth, or a fall with a failure. But then, I suppose when one is so far removed from youth, passion begins to look like scandal.” That last sentence came with a sip of wine, her smile still fixed, her tone never once cracking.

She leaned toward Leo and murmured just loudly enough for nearby nobles to hear. “Perhaps the duchess should start with a mirror before auditioning for a spotlight.” And with that, Thea reclined slightly, lifting her glass once more.

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 28th Sola, Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Military Formal, in Caesonian colors
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting
Family Dirk + Crest, worn on the right
Swordbreaker, also worn on the right
Interactions: Victoria, Gideon @princess, Torvi @Tae, Zarai @Rodiak
Mentions: Sjan-dehk, Iyen @Apex Sunburn, Kalliope

As she had turned away, Prince Callum had retorted, and, well, she came from a chatty place. How did he expect her to go about all the decorum if she could only think about the delicious smells and how they weren’t in her stomach yet? But that wasn’t a proper response - which, apparently, he was into now - no, that would sound more like, “You su’prrise me, Prrince Callum.” as she rounded the table, stepping behind the Edwards’ seats, “I suppose I ‘ad yer prriorrities crrossed.” And then, not insincerely, but with all the conviction of a piece of paper, “my apologies.” She’d been too busy responding to Callum to compliment the young lady with the hair clip. Tsk.

~

As she continued to dig in, she heard.. was that Ariella’s voice, rebuking her mother? Oooh, ho ho! Interested, the brunette glanced down the table as she chewed another mouthful of delicious, tender ribs. Her head turned - just - enough - to get her eyes on the Duchess. She did not want to somehow get caught in a crossfire and ruin her meal with an argument she didn’t need to get involved in. She remembered the dismissive tone with which she’d been received at Drake’s party, despite her sharp, finely-made uniform. Depending on how combative she felt, the Duchess might want to start something with anyone she chose.

She’d been hearing the Duchess’s choice manner, but had been making an effort to ignore it. The song and dance, mercifully brief, were behind her now, it was easier to relax, and the meal in front of her meant her hunger would be sated. She could probably withstand Victoria, with her belly sated.

There was some manner of disturbance behind her and to the side, but at almost the same time, a pair of fresh arrivals fell in a heap. The first disturbance had drawn her attention to the side, just in time to see Gideon and Victoria, with Gideon becoming upset. Gideon was becoming upset. It made her think of the disgusted look Alibeth had given Edin, just minutes ago. From there, she’d taken a moment to examine the trio that had entered. The man was carrying the woman in a dress, which was a rather eye-catching stunt at an event like this. Ah, but they seemed to be struggling. Rather, she was struggling against him, and he was struggling to stay balanced. Looked like he wanted to put her down - aah, and down they went.

Victoria was keeping her voice down, which was fine. Stratya wasn’t terribly keen on getting into a squabble with her while she was trying to eat. What she did notice, as she continued to eat, was the man, the one that had been carrying the woman, had a hand on his sword. Her eyes watched even as she ate, though now, she was getting ready to stand, should something.. no. That hadn’t been his intention, he was laughing it off now. If she had to guess, it was just an old habit. From the way he fell earlier, his body was used to combat. She relaxed again, getting back into her meal.

She’d eaten her ribs, gone through some of the mashed potatoes, and now some corn was going to disappear into her stomach with a practiced typewriter back-and-forth motion. She'd also grabbed some duck, which was now waiting on her plate. Someone familiar could tell she’s been practicing more polite table manners, keeping noises down and generally not being a nuisance to sit next to; A year or two ago, she might have been.

Hey, hadn’t there been a chair there?

The curious observation was followed by the woman she had assumed to be the man’s guard, making off with the place setting where there had also been a chair. Well.. it had been unoccupied, after all.. She would only incline her head at the woman, if she noticed the gaze watching her. Stratya had no intention of causing a scene. Not for this woman, anyway.

Speaking of, something was happening down at the far end. She couldn't hear well, but from the expressions going around, she could guess.

Maybe it was the mead, but “is Victorria off on anothair tyrrade, Duke Gideon?” It was about the only thing Stratya ever heard out of the woman's mouth. With doubt in her tone, as though dubious of Victoria's technique, “I s’ppose tae ken ‘ow ye should nae be’ave is imporrtan’, too.” The knight began to get herself another serving of food, “a shame yerr good self ‘as tae sufferr thrrough ‘er strrange methods.”

Her stab at Victoria offered, Stratya turned her attention to the ladies sitting with her. The yet empty chairs that remained at their table did not escape her notice, either, “is this.. ‘fashionably late’?”

[SilverPaw]

	Attire: Banquet fit, a simple princely crown Date and Time: Sola 28th, 6pm Location: Castle dining hall Mention(s): Count Blackwood, Victoria, Alibeth, Kazumin, Nahir, Kalliope, Sjan-dhek, Morrigan, Cassius, Milo, Calbert, Roman Interaction(s): Alexander, Drake, Mina, Violet, Farim, Edin, Callum

His suggestion to Alexander was met with a smile. “You do that,” Wulfric retorted, smug grin in place. So, Deacon was not strictly against the idea. Perhaps he had ambition to take over? It was easy to believe. In fact…Even if that wasn’t true, he could use this. To make Delronzo doubt in his loyalty, to create discord within Black Rose – yes, there were many possibilities.

Drake seemed to have caught the tail end of his chiding. As Wulfric shook his head, his friend quietly joked by calling him ‘sir’. “I fear I must reprimand you when you forget that Your Majesties rather than Your Highnesses is the proper form of address for the King and Queen,” he drawled. Unlike his tone with Alexander, he merely arched an eyebrow. You know better was the implicit message. “You as well, Drake. May you find this evening agreeable,” he concluded with a courteous nod.

The count Blackwood and his niece took to their seats. “Good evening, Lady Blackwood. I am much obliged to you for the compliment.” A flicker of amusement coloured his expression. He was unsure why she and Deacon thought they were being clever by using his title, when it was, in fact, the proper form of address. “You seem…” he tilted his head, “A touch freer this evening.” The air around her and the count was so thick one could cut it with a knife. If the conflict brewing between affected the governance of their county, it would prove intriguing. Aside from its political implications, he could hardly care for their interpersonal drama.

There was minor flirting between Lady Violet and Lord Ravenwood. Yet, tension lingered due to Lady Mina’s and Deacon’s presence. Mundane trivialities. By proximity alone, he remained aware of the general thread of conversation. Lady Violet addressed him directly, confirming she was Deacon’s assistant. “Oh? I had not considered it news. The matter reached my ears as a rumour, originating from the Art Gallery,” he imparted. “Given the unsavory nature of some of the gossip surrounding that particular event, I remained skeptical as to whether you had indeed assumed the role of his assistant.” He paused, then added, “How curious – noblewomen entering into service appear to be becoming somewhat fashionable as of late.” He tested her mood with the verbal equivalent of a light prod. He did, of course, wish to uncover the nature of her dealings with Deacon. “Certainly, we may revisit this conversation in a more suitable setting.”

There were plenty of new arrivals, then.

Callum had spoken out against Duchess Victoria’s lacking etiquette, after which she finally offered a reluctant curtsy. Edin crowed at his action, praising him. Callum – that incorrigible pacifist – preened, and spoke of public shaming as a light punishment. Spoke of correcting disrespect as if he hadn’t suffered for the very same at their father’s hands for so many years. A curse, to be sure. Of course, father noticed nothing strange about his youngest son’s demeanour. But Alibeth did. Unfortunately, the king’s pet peasant jester and his majesty’s revolting behaviour distracted her, but he was certain she would not forget.

Kazumin Nagasa drew attention as he rolled a full cart to his seat, and proceeded to knock over plates and cups. Disgusting. It wasn’t even worth commenting upon that mess of an existence.

Shehzadi Nahir arrived, elegant as always. He caught her glance, and offered a nod. He thought it might be time to have proper conversation with her sometime soon.

Farim greeted him as well. Wulfric also overheard the mention of personal matter he had to discuss with the Caesonian rulers. Good. He intended to broch the topic of his sister’s courtship, then. “I thank you, Shahzade. You are eloquent as ever. May your conversations this evening proceed with as much elegance as you possess.” The Alidasht prince did seem perplexed by Callum’s differences. So, he noticed. That was a mark in his favour.

Whispers rippled across the hall as their Viserjantan guest entered, carrying Kalliope Arden in his arms. That alone drew attention, but the ensuing tumble ensured it. Arden landed on the man’s lap in a manner that left little to the imagination. To describe her as a blushing maid would lend her an innocence entirely unfitting of their pose. Wulfric’s eyes met Morrigan’s, a silent agreement passing between the two.

Compromised.

Because some persons at the table might have missed the scene’s implications, he leaned subtly towards Edin. Even as he whispered to the king, his eyes flicked towards the queen; she was close enough to overhear, should she care to. “It appears one of our agents has forgotten she was meant to be the one doing the seducing,” he imparted, tone low and pointed. “With her focus so divided, it may be time to consider whether her continued employment still serves our interests.”

A minor scuffle broke out between Cassius and Milo, though Arden intervened before it could come to blows. He was too far to discern the details, only that the bastard was upset. It was an event worth remembering, and he filed it away for later use.

With the scandalous display calming, Wulfric’s attention returned to the people nearby. Alexander raised to a minor bait from Lord Ravenwood. “Bored of the game you initiated, Mr. Deacon? Then you ought not attempt to play,” he scoffed dismissively. That such a self-aggrandizing, insipid man dared speak of boredom was the height of irony. “Weak and pitiful indeed,” he agreed with Callum, sparing his brother a glance. Did he favour Lord Ravenwood more than Alexander Deacon, then?

He turned a stare at Alexander. Cool, haughty, the kind of a look he would give to an errant piece of trash blown across the marble floor. “This is why Royal Advisors are subjected to rigorous examinations and training before they are permitted to serve.” If Deacon was so gleeful at someone else’s trial, he might as well create one for the royal advisor to undertake.

Before Alexander could intuit the sinister turn his thoughts had nearly taken, the prince continued, voice as smooth as ever. “To speculate on a man’s violent inclinations when he is soon to stand trial for assault might be considered a tactic, were one feeling especially generous toward your attempt. A pity, then, that your outburst precluded a precise application of strategy.” He dissected Alexander’s bluster with impassive precision.

“Had you not been baited so easily, you might have provided evidence of your claim at the trial. But of course,” he added mildly, “one can always count on a father’s ire to lend weight to such words.” Count Calbert’s paranoia and overprotectiveness made that much certain. “Even so, Lady Violet may yet confirm, deny, clarify, or respond however she sees fit.” His gaze shifted to the woman in question. “A test to gauge her loyalty, perhaps?” He paused for effect. “My lady, what say you?” Lord Ravenwood was sure to lose esteem in Count Calbert’s eyes, if had he not already. Yet Deacon had taken a risk, as even Callum had berated him in Ravenwood’s defense. The crown prince was curious to see whether Lady Violet would tip the balance.

[Rodiak]

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Torvi @Tae , Stratya @CitrusArms
M e n t i o n s :}

Zarai blinked at Torvthen twice, like the words were sinking through a sea of honey. Her grin spread slowly, like a lady and unbothered cat under the sun.

“Sweet’s not your specialty, huh?” She echoed, her voice syrupy with amusement. “That’s a shame. I was gonna offer you a peach. Or cake. Or a cookie. Damn, I want chocolate cake now.”

She took another bite of the ham, humming at its rich and delicious taste. Gods, why did everything taste so good? Had they used magic to make it taste like that?

“You do strike me more as…mmm… saffron!” She mused aloud, gaze drifting as though the thought itself had taste and smell and texture. “Expensive. Sharp. Maybe a little hard to find in the wild. And pretty, like the flower!”

She popped another bite into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, eyes locked on Torvi like she was trying to see through her, or maybe just getting distracted by how shiny her hair was under this lighting. “Saffron with a bite. That’s you.”

Just then, her expression shifted. Zarai’s entire body paused and her expression lit up as she blinked past Torvi. Olivia, a few ways down, was waving. Zarai immediately stopped chewing, raised both sticky hands in the air, and waved back with the enthusiasm of someone who had just remembered how arms worked.

“Hi!” she said, loudly, beaming like she hadn’t just frozen an entire conversation.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to Torvi. Her tone picked up exactly where she’d left off, like nothing had happened.

“I like you. You’re pretty. And you’ve got a little storm in your. Makes people interesting. You ever notice how people hold their glasses when they lie? It’s always the pinky.”

She didn’t explain further.

Instead, she held out a piece of the honeyed ham like some sort of peace offering. Or friendship offering. “You want some? It’s sweet. Might change your—”

A hearty chuckle interrupted her as a familiar-looking knight dropped into the seat beside them and began enthusiastically gathering food onto her plate. Her energy was a solid thud of reality against Zarai’s dreamy haze. She blinked, then grinned wider, delighted by the abrupt entrance.

Zarai leaned in, fascinated a she watched the knight pull at the ribs only for the bones to slide out clean. Once. Then twice.

“She’s fighting ghosts,” she whispered to Torvi with the utmost seriousness.

Zarai watched the knight’s determination win over the ribs as she finally managed to cut a portion with meat still attached. She took a bite, leaned back, and let out a satisfied noise that sounded almost divine.

Too distracted to really take note of anything else happening around her, Zarai clapped once. “That was a whole journey. Ten outta ten. Would eat vicariously again.”

Zarai turned back to her own plate in a swift move and began to eat again. Fingers digging into the meat, juices and honey coating her already sticky fingers once more. Nothing matter more than getting the last bits of ham in her mouth.

[princess]

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interaction/Mention: @Tpartywithzombi Ariella/Violet @ReusableSword Roman @Silverpaw Wulfric @FunnyGuy Alexander @Lava Alckon Farim @CitrusArms Stratya @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Tae Kalliope @Oso Cassius/Milo

---

Edin’s smile had dropped the moment Ariella entered. “Fumbled the curtsy,” he muttered. “What a surprise.” His hand gripped his goblet tighter. “I should have her clean the painting she ruined—with her tongue.”

When Roman’s voice carried across the table, the mention of “the king’s table,” made Edin’s chewing slow.“Tch.” The king scoffed around a mouthful of wine, lips curling. His gaze slid to the plates, eying the amount of food he had eaten, then his gaze slid down to Kazumin with his entire cart. Surely, neither of them could enjoy food more than he could?

His gaze shifted back to Roman, and he muttered under his breath inaudibly, “Let the dog eat. It may be the last feast he enjoys for a while.” He tossed a bite of meat onto his tongue with flair, chewing with open amusement as he locked eyes with Roman, just long enough to remind him who was hosting.

Beside him, Alibeth didn’t speak. Her gaze, cool and unreadable, lingered on Roman with the stillness of a predator in deep thought. As Roman offered Violet a compliment, she sipped her wine and tilted her head slightly.

“He’s remarkably at ease for a man on the cusp of a trial,” she said softly, and Edin answered with a grumble of sorts.

Then, the Alidasht prince approached, bowing and greeting them with a formal thank you.

“Having such charitable endeavors really speaks volumes on your generosity as rulers of this fine nation. I have come to really enjoy my time here... There is a matter I wish to discuss in a more private setting if your itinerary and good graces would allow - but if not I can always make time for the both of you.”

“Now that’s the kind of talk I like to hear! We can certainly talk privately. ” Edin boomed, slapping his palm against the armrest with a meaty thud and a thunderous laugh. “I am generous, and people really don’t talk about it enough. Just the other day, there was that cheese restaurant, what was it—The Royal Turd? I paid for an entire day's worth of meals for half the bloody kingdom! You think anyone wrote a song about it? No! But they’ll write songs when someone drops a fork!”

He spread his arms, goblet sloshing. “I give, and I give, and all I ask in return is a little recognition. Is that too much to ask?”

“One can rarely get the chance to see greatness in the flesh - so Your Majesties have given me quite the miracle today. I hope I can live up to any expectations you have of me or my nation.”

“You hear that, Alibeth? A miracle!” He gestured grandly toward himself with his goblet, wine nearly spilling over the rim. “I’ve been telling people that for years, but it’s so rare someone finally says it aloud with such class.”

Alibeth nodded, though her gaze was averted.

Stratya was next to offer a bow, “a splendid evenin’ tae t’ Royal Family. And what a wonderful nigh’ i’tis, tae ‘old such a splendid banque'...Apologies for my delay, Yerr Majesties, the arromas of the Rroyal Kitchen’s fine werrk and my own ‘unger simply woul’nae ‘ave allowed me tae prroceed well wit’ou’ a’ least a taste. Tha’ taste I ‘ad was deligh’ful, my complimen’s tae t’ baker.”

“Ah, Captain Durmand,” Alibeth greeted, her tone gentler than usual as her sharp eyes took in the knight’s well-composed form. “There’s no need for apologies. You’ve earned the right to enjoy the fruits of your service.” A faint, measured smile curved her lips, but not insincere.

Edin, meanwhile, looked up with a mouthful of meat, gaze briefly traveling the length of Stratya’s figure with thinly veiled interest. His brows rose. “Well, now,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned.

Meanwhile, Alibeth's focus shifted as the mention of Lady Violet Damien serving as Mr. Deacon’s assistant reached her ears—an announcement that made about as much sense as serving soup in a sieve. Her gaze drifted toward her son, only to find he was already watching with quiet scrutiny, clearly just as ready to unravel the seams of that story as she was.

“Oh? I had not considered it news. The matter reached my ears as a rumour, originating from the Art Gallery. Given the unsavory nature of some of the gossip surrounding that particular event, I remained skeptical as to whether you had indeed assumed the role of his assistant. How curious – noblewomen entering into service appear to be becoming somewhat fashionable as of late. Certainly, we may revisit this conversation in a more suitable setting.” She shifted her gaze to meet his eyes with, as if to say, I'd also like to know this information.

Subsequently, she let her eyes wander again and caught the sight of Kalliope and Sjandehk in time as the resounding thud echoed through the banquet hall. Her wine glass hovered in mid-air as she took in the sight of the red-haired woman tangled on the floor atop a man. Her brows lifted slightly at the sight of legs, limbs, and fabric in a very unflattering heap.

“How charming,” she whispered, voice low but pointed, “your assassin has made quite the entrance.”

Edin, chewing on a rib, didn’t react until she nudged his elbow.

“Huh?” He turned just in time to catch Kalliope straddling Sjan-dehk, both tangled in a mess of formal wear and awkward limbs.

“It appears one of our agents has forgotten she was meant to be the one doing the seducing... With her focus so divided, it may be time to consider whether her continued employment still serves our interests.”

He let out a hearty, unfiltered snort, nearly choking on his food. “Gods’ balls, this is why you don’t hire women for delicate work,” he muttered with a groan, shaking his head as he set down the bone.

“On the contrary,” Alibeth commented lowly to Edin and Wulfric, “It is precisely because she appears unsuited for the role that she’s effective. A woman dismissed as chaotic or emotional?” She raised her glass delicately. “She slips between the cracks unnoticed and performs her task without ever being suspected.”

Her gaze sharpened on a distant exchange that she had followed Wulfric's gaze to: Cassius, stiff with tension, now pinning that peacock of an artist Milo St.Claire to a pillar. Her fingers tightened subtly around the stem of her glass.

Alibeth nudged Edin, “You may wish to look toward the far column.”

Edin, mid-chomp on a honeyed fig, grunted acknowledgment before lazily following her line of sight. He blinked then grinned like a boy spotting fireworks.

“Oooh… now that’s more like it.” He leaned forward with a greedy gleam in his eye, waving off any thought of interference. “No, no, I love a dinner with a show. Let them work it out like men.”

Alibeth hummed coolly, lips pressed in a line. “Until one draws blood and we’re forced to clean it off the drapes.” Luckily enough, that was broken up by none other than Kalliope soon enough.

“...If you're going to make backhanded compliments, you should put some more power into it… Like when you slapped Violet in the face.” This statement immediately caught both the King and Queen's attention, and their gazes whirled to Alexander Deacon.

“He did what?” Edin barked, rib bone forgotten in hand, a delighted spark already brewing behind his eyes.

“Perhaps using your palm is your strong suit. Careful Mina. If he's bold enough to strike Count Damien’s daughter, I doubt he’d hesitate to do the same to a niece… and to answer your question, Roman. I don't think I’m too good for His Majesty's generosity and food but… I know I am better than someone of your ilk. Enjoy your freedom while you still have it, Lord Ravenwood.”

Edin gave a low whistle and leaned forward, grinning as he whispered softly, “Now this is the kind of dinner entertainment I’ve been craving. Keep going—let’s see who cracks first.”

“This is why Royal Advisors are subjected to rigorous examinations and training before they are permitted to serve... To speculate on a man’s violent inclinations when he is soon to stand trial for assault might be considered a tactic, were one feeling especially generous toward your attempt. A pity, then, that your outburst precluded a precise application of strategy.... Had you not been baited so easily, you might have provided evidence of your claim at the trial. But of course... one can always count on a father’s ire to lend weight to such words.”

Alibeth’s lips curled faintly, and she commented with amusement. “That was almost surgical.”

Edin, on the other hand, let out a low whistle and chuckled, leaning back in his chair with amusement brimming in his expression. “Hah! There’s my boy.” He thumped a hand on the table, not bothering to hide his pride. “Wulfric went for the jugular!”

He took a bite of pheasant, still grinning. “Gods, I love dinner with politics.” Edin lifted his goblet and gave a dismissive flick toward Deacon. “But let’s not forget—I brought Deacon in, so you know he's absolutely capable... Although it's only natural a man need to slap around his woman sometimes. They get all hysterical, and nothing else will put them back in bloody working order.”