Helo

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 7

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They followed the secret corridor back until they were back in Wystan’s room. The same heavy mechanical sounds followed as the wall lowered behind them sealing up the room and its dark artifacts once more. He returned the candle he’d borrowed to its spot in the bedroom before snuffing the flame with his fingertips. Then he grabbed the sword, keeping hold of it rather than returning it to the wall. “Time to go before Wystan gets back.” He whispered. Cal scanned the room, making sure nothing was left disturbed, and made a mental note to grab the burnt matchstick he’d dropped by painting in the hallway.

“Good idea. Why don’tcha leave the sword behind too while you’re at it? Then Wystan won’t find out you tried to steal from him.”

The unfamiliar voice startled Riona, and she whirled around to face its owner. A figure lurked at the open window, all features but their amber eyes obscured by a dark cowl and mask.

“Stealing? Haven’t you heard of finders keepers, losers weepers?” Callum looked toward the window, falling back into the ‘I’m just a drunk prince causing mischief’ routine. “Maybe I’ll give Wystan his sword back when I get my trumpet back.” He added, haphazardly pointing the blade toward the window, waving it around like a toy. “Or maybe I’ll keep it, since I found it in my house and all. Now, identify yourself, creepy window lurker.”

The cloaked figure—a man, Riona guessed—snickered and clapped in a mocking ovation. “Spoken like a spoiled prince.” He pushed off from the window and strode forward, one gloved finger jabbing at the blade. “Better leave that pretty sword behind. Or a little birdy might just tell dear old dad what’s inside there.” The stranger cocked his head toward the false wall.

Riona’s heart stumbled in her chest. How long had this man been skulking about, watching them?

“Yes, please tell dear old pops that you were lurking outside palace windows, spying in the middle of the night. The king would love that!” Callum answered as he attempted to swat the man’s hand with the blunt side of the blade. “Why do you care whether I hang this sword on the wall or not? Planning on stealing from a room full of old junk?” He asked, trying to figure out what the stranger was even doing here in the first place, and how much he knew. Cal’s mind wandered further; could he run a man through with a sword? That would make a noticeable mess in Wystan’s room. Maybe force him back out the window and hope the fall ended things? Could he do it? It was better that no one knew what they had found here.

He remembered the scroll he’d grabbed, Illisonary Flames, inflicting the sensation of burning on a pyre might get information out of the stranger or distract the man long enough to push him out the window. He could do that, a perfect opportunity to test the scroll out. And it all became evident to Callum that his snooping around Wystan’s room was one thing but the masked stranger had seen Riona as well, it was too big a risk not to do something.

“Servant, hold my sword please. I don’t need it for this.” Cal extended his sword arm towards Riona, the blade was far more useful in her hands than his. The corners of his mouth twisted upwards as his eyes stayed locked with amber eyes that peered through a mask and cowl.

The man heaved a sigh, eyes rolling in their sockets, “And they say you’re the least blood-hungry of the three.” He shrugged and, to someone who wasn’t there, said, “Don’t say I didn’t try to play nice.”

That was all the warning they got before his fist cracked into Cal’s face. Without pause, he yanked Cal down by his collar and drove his knee upward, smashing it into Cal’s head.

The sword hit the ground with a clang.

Riona was already lunging, halfway to the man before she even saw the dagger appear in his hand. Her shoulder collided with the intruder, shoving him away from Callum.

She wanted to check on Cal, but the stranger was quick, too damn quick. He regained his balance with infuriating ease and came right back at them, dagger ready to strike.

Riona hitched up her dress and her fingers closed around the blade she kept strapped to her thigh. She whipped it out just in time to deflect the incoming slash, steel ringing on steel.

Don’t bleed on Wystan’s floor. That was his clearest thought. Callum cupped his hands around his bleeding nose. His face felt numb, his ears rang, and metal clanged against metal. Too loud. Someone might hear. He rolled over, pushed himself up off the floor, and flung himself at the stranger's back His arm immediately tried to coil around the man’s neck and grabbed a handful of his cowl. Cal knew he needed to ensure the stranger couldn’t scream.

“Urere hostem meum” He half spat, half-whispered in the stranger's ear. Burn my enemy, and each word was meant. The stranger wasn’t a man, only an enemy, one who threatened their plans. Callum wanted the stranger to burn, and the prince braced himself to feel the same pain.

Suddenly, Cal and the intruder writhed—bodies jerked, faces twisted, and sweat slicked their skin. Riona couldn’t see the flames searing their flesh, but she didn’t need to. The shared agony was unmistakable. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, wrestling to stay quiet while they grappled in the dark.

Cal clung to the intruder with white-knuckled ferocity. Each new wave of pain visibly drained him. The stranger looked to be hurting just as bad, but as seconds passed, his movements became eerily controlled—like someone who’d survived worse than fire.

The difference between them was obvious, a chasm of hard lessons and harder living. The man had a survivor’s edge, hardened by life they could only imagine. Cal? Tavern brawls taught Cal how to take a beating, not how to give one.

Callum was screwed.

Sure enough, Cal’s hold slipped. A blade caught the half-light and plunged into Cal’s side before Riona could suck in a breath to shout a warning.

Riona saw the stranger’s hand tense, ready to rip the knife free, or worse, tear it sideways and spill Cal’s guts across the floor. She wasn’t going to let either happen. Riona charged at the stranger with her dagger.

Again, too slow. The intruder’s hand shot out, clamping around her wrist. He twisted. Hard. Tendons stretched. Joints groaned. With a sickening crack, sharp pain exploded outward from wrist to shoulder. A scream caught in her throat.

A blur of motion. Her head snapped back and stars burst in her vision. Before she could process the high kick, the stranger’s boot slammed into her stomach. Air rushed from her lungs. She hurtled backwards, hitting the dresser. The impact dropped her to the ground, dazed and gasping.

Callum didn’t just feel flames eating away at his skin, he smelled it. A rich and rank scent of burnt meat and hair filled his nose, leaving its taste burning in his throat. Reality melted away, the illusion felt more real than anything. He barely felt the knife over the searing of the flames.

He saw Riona’s shape move, but the details were lost, his vision a wet blur of panic and tears.

This was his future, if he got caught, if he failed, his pyre would not be an illusion. All it would take was for his focus to slip for a second and that would be the end.

The curse persisted; it held both caster and victim suspended in peak, unchanging, agony.

“Only I. Can make this. Stop.” Words drifted out from behind clenched teeth. A partial bluff, Cal wasn’t sure he could make it stop. But he could make this continue, for as long as he could keep uttering the curse. His legs shook, threatening to give out but his grip around his enemy’s neck stayed locked. He felt the other man’s throat rumble. He was… chuckling?

He spoke again once the magic that fueled the illusory flames burned out and the illusion dissipated. “Who do you work for?” He’d hoped his question would sound intimidating, wished for a voice that could compare to the inferno he’d just conjured. Instead, it sounded like a whimper, it sounded like ‘please, don’t make me do that again.’ And that made the other man laugh.

Something wet dripped from his side as a new, sharp, pain snapped into focus.

Before Cal could blink, he was on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The man straddled him, knees pinning Cal’s arms into the floorboards. Cal tried to free himself but any movement sparked more pain from his side.

A gloved fist forced its way between his teeth, preventing him from casting, while a free hand pawed at Cal’s clothes, rough and purposeful. Fingers found‌ something tucked away and freed it. The scroll.

With a flick, the parchment unfurled. The man’s eyes devoured the words, and he let out a low whistle. “Nasty,” he commented before shoving the paper into his boot.

“Now then.”

Callum had no other choice, he wasn’t losing that scroll, and he bit down on the man’s knuckles with no intention of letting go. That was his scroll, the closest thing to real power he had, he needed it. His head shook with a desperate attempt to rip something from the man.

The intruder cursed, but instead of pulling back, he shoved his fist deeper‌. Cal’s throat spasmed, and his gag reflex betrayed him. His jaw went slack, releasing the fist.

“Good boy,” the man crooned, flexing his freed fingers.

Then he rained down blows—face, ribs, gut. Each impact was precise, brutal, ensuring the prince wouldn’t be able to get up anytime soon.

Riona’s skull throbbed, world tilting this way and that way. Through the haze, steel flashed. The intruder wrenched his blade from Cal’s side and raised it high.

Without knowing how, she moved. One moment she was on the ground, dizzy. The next, she and the stranger crashed to the floor.

Scrabbling at his face, her nails hooked into fabric and when she yanked, the mask came away.

They both froze.
Their eyes met.

A young man’s face stared at her, skin peppered with freckles and faint scars. Fiery orange brows and lashes framed amber eyes, widening with sudden realization—the realization that she could pick him out from a crowd. And that was a problem. A bloody big problem that had only one solution.

His lips peeled back in a snarl as he came at her again, wiry muscles coiled tight with lethal intent. They grappled on the floor, a tangle of straining limbs and ragged breaths. She fought like a wildcat, tooth and nail, but his scarecrow body had a strength it had no right to.

Weapon. She needed a weapon, and fast. Riona wrenched herself away, scrambling towards the first pointy object that she saw. The sword. Just a few steps away.

Stupid. Stupid mistake.

The second she got to her feet, an arm snaked around her throat from behind. And tightened, cutting off her air. Riona clawed at his arm, legs kicking out wildly. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision as she struggled. The room swam, colors bleeding together. Her lungs burned and screamed—

—just like the townspeople.

Nana. Des. Papa. Mama… Is this how it ends?

Memories crashed over her: smoke-choked air, the clash of steel, screams cut short. Her people. Her family. All of them gone, while she—

You survived, the voices hissed. You lived when they died.

The ginger’s assault had left Riona aching from head to toe. But the pain was nothing compared to the guilt that had hollowed her out.

Was it all for nothing? The voices pressed, relentless.

… No.

Are you going to die here, chocked out by some random bastard, without accomplishing anything?

Useless girl! Another choir of voices hissed. All this time wasted. You should’ve died with the others!

No, Riona thought, clinging to consciousness. I can’t.

Why?

Because I promised I would make them pay.

Then, they whispered in one ear, it’s time.

Riona’s eyes clouded, gazing inward at the embers smoldering for years, glowing brighter. Hungry. Anticipating.

They whispered in the other ear. Use the power we all suffered for.

Flames ignited from the embers. The fire grew, and with them, the shadows darkened.

You’re going to die… this is your last chance.

Sparks flew as magic stirred.

Don’t let all of that anger, and hate, go to waste, Ríoghnach.

The girl stood alone on an endless expanse of black powder, torch in hand. The grains shifted restlessly, like an ocean of darkness. Fourteen years worth of people’s suffering. At her feet, a fuse snaked across the dunes, promising destruction.

Do it, the voices urged in unison.

Ríoghnach’s fingers tightened on the torch.

Set us free.

An unnatural silence smothered the night, as if the world had taken a collective breath and held it. Callum’s skin prickled hot and cold all at once—the same eerie sensation from the gardener’s cottage.

In the darkness, shadows deepened. Shapes writhed and twisted within the blackness. Unseen things seemed to lurk just out of sight. Watching. Listening. Waiting.

A faint sound tickled the edge of Callum’s hearing. It grew louder, swelling into agonized wails mixed with the roar and crackle of an inferno. The scent of burning wood filled his nostrils, followed by the stomach-churning stench of seared human flesh.

“Feed us,” something said.

TLDR:

A mysterious figure catches Riona and Callum and a fight breaks out. Callum attempts to curse the intruder and something very strange happens with Riona…

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: The Dungeon
Interactions: Ari@Tpartywithzombi

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Callum didn’t like the basement floor of the palace. It had that old and damp creepy smell, shadows danced everywhere you looked, and rats scurried around the floors. Something about the air down there made the hair on the back of his neck rise with warnings. But after last night he doubted anything could compare with the amalgamation of horrid feelings he’d experienced in Wystan’s room. He shuddered even thinking about it, but it made the descent down those basement stairs easier.

None of the guards stopped him, they watched, a couple of them followed and he guessed they were going to make sure he wasn’t trying to free Ari. He wasn’t, he just didn’t want her to suffer down her alone. And he didn’t want to be alone, or sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it, the thing from last night. Every time it was too quiet, he heard it, all that screaming…

He tried to stop thinking about it. Instead, he focused on keeping an eye out for rats, the dungeon rats were known biters and it would be nice to get through one night this week without an injury. He stopped by the wine cellar first, grabbing a dusty bottle from the room he’d once spent hours psyching himself up to sneak into as a kid. This time he grabbed two bottles, it was going to be a long night.

Once he found his way to Ari’s cell, and the redheaded curled up on a sad pile of straw was hard to miss, he tapped on the cell bars with the wine bottles. “You look miserable! And I hear misery loves company.” He said as he sat the wine bottles down and removed his shoes for the second time that night. He stuffed the end of one bottle into a shoe and smacked it against the stone wall.

“You didn’t think,” he hit the bottle against the wall a few times. “I’d let you suffer down here alone?” The bottle smacked against the wall a few more times. “Didya?” He pulled the cork the rest of the way out with his teeth and spat the cork on the ground. He then did the same with the second bottle before offering a bottle to Ari between the bars of the cell.

“I’ve got wine, a deck of cards, and secrets to share. Ya know, if you’re bored.” He whispered.

Callum spent a good portion of the night whispering the details of the previous night to Ari. He plans to search the castle for hidden rooms, how he found the hidden room in Wystan’s room, and what all was found there. How he’d almost put a strange crown on his head, how he’d felt that crown’s dark pull, but he’d left with a cursed scroll and magic compass.

He mentioned he had help, but didn’t give up Riona’s name, not because he didn’t trust Ariella. Riona’s involvement and use of magic just weren’t his secrets to tell. He mentioned the weird intruder, maybe exaggerating his own usefulness in the fight between them, and the curse scroll that had been stolen, but not before he’d used it once. Not before he’d felt what it was like to burn. The weird plot twist; that the intruder might not have been an assassin but a potential ally, who at least gave him and his unnamed accomplice a healing potion before disappearing into the night.

He left the dungeon in the morning, a few shared bottles of wine later, when guards fetched him to join in on a family meeting.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Amusement Park & Circus
Interactions: none

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“Test your aim! Test your luck! Ladies and Gentlemen step right up to Sorain Shootout! Six shots is all you need to leave here a winner!”

The line inched forward as someone stepped up for their turn to fire at the target. The colorfully dressed man who ran the game continued to address the crowd.

Rohit buzzed with excitement as he realized his turn was next. His weight shifted from foot to foot like an excited child. He turned back to the person behind him, his line buddy for the past several minutes. “...So there’s a loose fugitive, a crazed Duke, and a manbear that throws parties in the woods with drugged drinks!”

“And a disturbed Prince who eats onions while courting.” His line buddy added. “And a knife-wielding maniac who hates free pancakes!”

“That can’t be true! Who hates pancakes?” Rohit asked but his line buddy only shrugged while nodding his agreement.

“Sorian is the strangest city I have ever set foot upon.” The man was a traveling merchant from a small village in the south of Varian who made his living selling high-end clothing. He had a wife and three children and an ear for gossip, but for the life of him, Rohit could not remember the man’s name. They’d also been chatting for long enough that Rohit did not want to ask for it again. Three times felt like too many to ask someone for their name.

The man continued to catch Rohit up on all of Sorain’s most sordid affairs, and Rohit listened intently. He fidgeted with the gold and jade ring, the jade spun around the gold it rested on as it calmed his excessive energy.

The person whose turn it was fired their final shot, just barely grazing the white of the target and missing out on a prize.

“That’s some bad luck.” His line buddy paused his tale of the Harlot of Veirmont to comment on the game.

Nearby a small child began to cry. Both he and his line buddy turned to look at the child who stood next to a scoop of ice cream melting into the boardwalk while holding an empty cone.

“And that is tragic luck.” Rohit added. “Just watch, my luck never fails.” He patted his new friend on the back before stepping forward for his shot at the target.

Rohit couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a stroke of bad luck. He thought about it as he lifted the game’s rifle. Not a treat lost to gravity, never tripped over his own feet, and he always did well at games of chance.

His six shots rang out, a tight trio in the bullseye and a few that strayed into the yellow and blue. It was effortless and the large fluffy stuffed cat felt almost unearned. He gave to his line buddy to take home, a gift for his children. Rohit decided this game, like most games, was simply too easy to be much fun.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 5

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with @princess

Meanwhile, Callum had stuck a second match, held it near the sword in the portrait as Riona pulled the lever, and then took off running. He darted near the concubine’s room, held his breath so nothing would drown out the telling mechanical click, and leaned his ear near the crack of the door. However, the click did not come from the concubine’s room. It came from another room and such was clear.

As two maids strolled past, they stole curious glances at Callum. Neither dared to address him directly and opted instead to maintain their conversation.

"...Did you hear, Millicent? That watchdog's chamber has forever been reserved for the King and Queen's most loyal and stout defender... Yet, by Primitus himself, none forewarned us of its harboring the most handsome of them all. I merely yearn for his gaze to alight upon me."

Cal froze and stared at the pair, realizing it looked like he was wandering around at night trying to snoop in a woman’s bedroom. “I’m looking for my trumpet. I forgot it at the tea party.” He announced, answering a question no one had asked. “It’s shiny and …um… trumpet-shaped, if you happen to see it. Ya’know, maybe Wystan has it.” He pushed the door closed, tripped over his own feet in haste, and headed for Wystan’s room, pretending like he wasn’t up to anything.

When he entered the room, his gaze may have been drawn to the center of the room where a grand, canopied bed commanded attention. On the left, a heavy wooden writing desk sat against the wall, and next to it a sturdy dresser. There was a wooden door on the right that was shut currently. Moonlight streamed through the window, cutting through the dimness, and illuminating a sword diagonally across on an empty part of the wall. It was mounted majestically across the wallpaper that had seen better days.

Cal ducked into the watchdog’s room and studied the surroundings. He noted the sword displayed on the wall, where the sword of truth casts its light. This had to be the right room. Didn’t it?

So where was Riona? Was he in the wrong room? Should he be in Alden’s room? Or had Riona been caught by Alden? He decided he was already here, the sword on the wall had to match up with the clue from the portrait. He needed to keep going before Wystan returned, gods only knew when he’d have another chance to poke around here. His eyes fell to the door on the right, Cal decided he’d try there first, and gave the door a pull to see if it was locked.

The door was unfortunately locked and as Callum searched the dresser, he found nothing unusual. He headed back to where the sword hung on the wall and removed it. He inspected the sword, turned it, and looked for any clues inscribed on the weapon itself. Then he used it to reflect the moonlight from the window around the room to see if that illuminated any clues.

“Alden?” Riona surveyed the mess with a cautious eye. Had this been a simple theft gone wrong or a calculated attack on the Royal Advisor? The lack of life signs raised alarms. Her skin prickled with unease.

She called out again in a level voice. “Alden?” Her gaze landed on an overturned journal. Curiosity getting the better of her, she flipped through it.

The kingdom seems to be in distress, as the Alidasht doesn’t seem too fond of the current events that have been unfolding. That idiot Lorenzo is somewhat of a chaotic force in everything. Whether he intends to do his actions or not, he seems to be inciting a war all on his own. It is best to leave him on his own, I would not interfere as his antics seem to fall in line with my own desires. Then inside the own kingdom, things are definitely interesting. My dear Calbert is dealing with his own struggles now, with Violet now in her own state of rest. He will be dying to know what happened exactly, and is desperately looking for answers. He will be easy to influence.

Your majesty is still as dimwitted and unclever as ever, believing that he is a God in some way. His behavior alone will definitely incite some tensions amongst our guests. It's all about leading him in the right direction, and the rest shall unfold upon itself. His sons, on the other hand, will be a bit more difficult to play around. They do not seem too impressed of me, as I had been away for far too long. Perhaps I should play closer attention to them individually, and observe more of their intrusive thoughts. THEY will be necessary for the kingdoms downfall. But it needs to be in a way where they aren’t directly affected. I do have a soft spot for them after all. Them and Anastasia. They unfortunately will have to experience what is to come about, but they do not need to suffer. That will be reserved for “your majesty” solely.

Riona’s brain did backflips as she devoured the words in the journal. The King’s trusted advisor actually planned to dethrone him! But the cryptic references to the others left more questions than answers. What happened to Lady Violet? And why were Cal and his siblings so important to the kingdom’s downfall? Nothing about the Queen though, which didn’t sit right with Riona.

Glancing at the ransacked room, Riona knew she couldn’t leave the journal behind. Its contents were too valuable, and if Alden meant to overthrow the Crown, this could be used as evidence of treason. Journal tucked safely away, Riona made one last look around, eyes sharp for any other damning evidence.

At the window, she hesitated, half-dreading the sight of Alden’s broken form crumpled on the ground below.

But there was no sight of Alden. Riona expelled a breath, the knot in her chest loosening a fraction. No bodies littering the ground, at least—always a plus. She scanned the area, hunting for any traces of blood she might have missed, but saw nothing on the exterior of the castle.

Riona slipped out and crossed to Wystan’s quarters. “Any luck?” she asked Cal.

As Cal tried to use the sword to reflect moonlight around the room the sudden sound of footsteps followed by a question made him jump. A thud echoed through the room as he dropped the sword, just as he had with every sword he’d ever picked up. “I found a sword?” He wasn’t sure that counted as luck, finding a sword in the watchdog’s room. ”And that door is locked.” He gestured to the door he’d tried as he picked the sword back up and to keep from dropping it again. “You don’t happen to have any lockpicking skills, do you?” He asked, and he’d honestly be surprised if Riona didn’t have some lockpicking skills. She looked like she was about to answer when something else caught her attention.

If Callum had been paying attention to the sword itself, he would have noticed the light dance across the metal, revealing an inscription that had remained unseen in the dimness. As the light traced the contours of the inscription, the characters seemed to pulse faintly, like whispers from the past urging to be heard.

Bare the deepest shadows of your soul, thus the veiled way unfolds.

However, a curious phenomenon began in that moment: a thin wall, started to descend slowly from the top of the original wall. The movement was gradual, almost like the slow, deliberate lowering of a curtain in a theater, and the sounds of gears turning dimly filled the room. It slid into place with a click and obscured the once-visible mounting spot of the sword.

Riona blinked once, twice. Then again, for posterity’s sake. Seconds ticked by, each one more disappointing than the last as the realization settled over her. This couldn’t be it. There had to be more.

She rushed to the false wall, running her hands over every centimeter, probing, prodding, searching desperately for some missed clue or trigger. A latch, a lever, anything to reveal the greater mysteries she was certain lay hidden. But the wall remained infuriatingly unchanged. Immovable and inscrutable as ever.

Riona’s heart plummeted down, down, down, fell right out of her chest to splatter on the floor. She had been so sure, so convinced, that the cryptic puzzle would lead to so much more than a mere sword secreted away. Some chamber filled with old secrets and forgotten lore—a grand revelation. She squeezed her eyes shut. This is what you get for daring to hope too much, she chided herself bitterly.

With a weary sigh, she rested her forehead against the wall and focused on taking slow, even breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. In, out. The same calming ritual she did after a particularly hard day and especially after enduring one of Lady Morrigan’s brutal disciplines. Somehow, the solid press of the castle wall against her skin brought a strange sense of comfort. Grounding her. Soothing her. The castle crooning its lullaby of cool stone.
Madness, of course. Castles didn’t sing. But what did it matter if it helped?

“The sword,” Riona said, not lifting her head from the wall, “does it have any inscriptions? Any markings at all?”

“Bare the deepest shadows of your soul, thus the veiled way unfolds.” Callum read the inscription out loud. He held the hilt in one hand and used the other to steady the blade as he lifted the sword, perpendicular to his mouth. His best guess on what to do next was to offer up a closely guarded secret to the sword of truth, and hope that held the key to move beyond the veiled way, or the newly formed wall.

“I think I’ll fail in the end, at doing something worthwhile, something good. I don’t think anything good can come from bad people.” He paused, closed his eyes and reached for something deeper, whispering to the sword. “And I am easily drawn into anything dark…harmful… addictive. I want the kind of power that will bring devastation to my enemies. I want to ruin everything, and everyone, I hate, and let those ruins topple down upon me as well.” He offered up his shadow to the sword and waited, expecting something to happen. They were too close for this to lead to nothing.

The sound of something heavy lifting filled the air, but it was occurring behind the wall that had covered the previous spot. Callum had been correct in his assumption, but a step was missing.

“I want… power.” The power.
“… bring devastation… To destroy.
“I want to ruin everything…everyone… All of it.
“I hate… The hate. Hate. Hatehatehate!... Give it to us.
“… me as well.” All of it. And—

Riona’s brow furrowed as she felt the wall shudder ever so slightly against her skin. She stepped away, pulse quickening. “That... did something.” Could it be?

“Do it again,” she instructed Cal, already backing towards the door, “this time I’ll pull the lever outside.” And left the room to do just that.

Callum waited for a moment until Riona was out of earshot. “You want a real secret?” He addressed the sword again while rotating the heavy weapon as his arm grew tired from holding it aloft. “I should probably be kept away from magic, I want to push its limits, make it my weapon. They’re afraid of it, more than blades and guns, and using something they fear to destroy them…I can’t think of anything more appealing, even if it drives me mad.” He stopped turning the sword and ran his fingers over the inscription. “How’s that for a shadow? Now, unfold that veil.”

Once the lever was pulled, the wall began to lift once more, revealing a hallway this time. A dark void seemingly stood before Callum.

Riona rushed back into the room. “Did tha—” she began, then her eyes caught the hallway that had materialized and her half-formed question dissolved on her tongue. She turned to Cal, a wide grin splitting her cheeks.

“Open up a creepy, unlit, secret passage? Yup.” Cal answered, returning the grin. He set the sword down and looked around until he found a candle he could use to light the dark passageway. He checked for any markings within the newly formed hallway that might indicate a boobytrap before continuing forward.

As the two went down the dark corridor, they finally came to a room at the end that was hidden behind a heavy door. As Riona and Callum pushed the door open, a musty air, heavy with the scent of aged parchment, greeted them. The faint glow of their candle cast eerie shadows on the stone walls.

The chamber itself was a trove of enchanted artifacts and colored scrolls, forgotten by time. There were no windows and it was obvious to the observer that the room had not been frequented in a long time. Dust-covered shelves lined the walls, each one holding a variety of items. Among the treasures, a gleaming sword with a green gem on its hilt lay across a polished wooden stand.

On another shelf sat a compass, its needle spinning erratically, guided not by magnetic forces but by some arcane power.

A collection of scrolls, each tied with a ribbon of a different color, occupied a gilded rack. One scroll, tied with a crimson ribbon, seemed to pulse with a faint, ominous glow. Another, wrapped in a sapphire ribbon, shimmered with a cool purple light. The third was tied with a green ribbon and seemed to have no unusual effect.

In the center of the room stood an ornate floor mirror. A dark handprint, burnt into the glass, marred its surface, as if someone had pressed their palm against it.

An old, weathered chest sat in one corner. It was half-open, revealing an assortment of trinkets and amulets. Nearby, a small vial of shimmering liquid caught the candlelight.

A pair of worn, leather gloves lay on a pedestal. Next to them, a simple wooden music box. Against the back wall, an object can be seen resting on a velvet cushion atop a solitary pedestal. It's a crown crafted from what appears to be intertwining branches of gold and silver. Delicate, thorn-like spikes jut outward, gleaming with a menacing sharpness. Set within the metalwork are stones that shimmer with an inner light, casting eerie, pulsating glows against the stone wall.

Whispers seemed to echo in their mind, ethereal voices calling out "Rionaaa... Callummm..." as if the room itself was aware of their presence and beckoning them.

TLDR

A treasonous secret is discovered in Alden’s room with no sign of the man himself. Riona and Callum unlock a secret passageway in Wystan’s room and discover a collection of mysterious artifacts.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Amusement Park & Circus
Interactions: none

---

Against a darkened sky the array of colorful lights that shone from the boardwalk outdid the very stars who struggled to compete with such brilliance. A large wheel slowly turned and its passengers dangled from bucket seats reaching heights that offered views of the marvelous city. A small train zipped by on an elevated track while riders screamed with joy. Children rode statues of horses engulfed in a glow that lit up their smiles. Food carts stretched out along the cobblestone streets, supplying an overwhelming mix of sweet and savory. Scents so thick that they melded with the air and lingered on the tongue. Turkey legs dangled in roasted perfection, cotton candy wheels spun their tornados of sugary confection, and gentle whisps of steam rose from freshly baked pies.

Music could be heard all around, light and jaunty, a sound so infectious it lifted the weirdness of travel from Rohit’s bones. Long stretches of utter boredom were washed away, any thoughts of rest were forgotten in a haze of excitement. Lines of people crowded around every source of wonder, and their chatter and laughter mixed seamlessly with music. A bell rang out as someone won a large fluffy prize, a child screamed with joy as she was presented with a toffee apple, and a man expelled his night’s treats into a trash can after exiting a large spinning teacup. Even the man vomiting still wore a smile. Rohit too, wore a smile that stretched to both his ears as he savored the sights of the amusement park.

Sorian stood as a mirage of paradise, never before had he seen so much joy spread across a single street.

Kapow! The sound of a fist colliding with a nose caught his ear.

Oh?

A woman had just punched a man who stood beside another woman. Perhaps not everything in Sorain was so idyllic. Lucky for Rohit he had purchased some freshly popped kernels moments before. A handful of popcorn entered his mouth as he stopped to watch.

Another punch followed landing in the man’s stomach. A small crowd formed as more stopped to watch the scene play out. A venomous threat was uttered before the woman with fists of fury took off. Rohit ate another handful of popcorn as his attention quickly pivoted to a game called Balloon Darts and without much thought, he wandered toward the game.

Pop! A dart hit a balloon and the crowd clapped. Rohit cradled the popcorn in his elbow and clapped along with them as the player was handed a prize. He stood in line for a handful of minutes, watching others attempt to pop a balloon before growing bored with the game. The line was too long and its prizes too unimpressive to continue to wait.

Thud! Again his attention pivoted and he saw a collection of small boats that seemed to be intentionally bumping into each other. Now that looked like way more fun than sitting around board on a ship all day. He made his way to the edge of the boardwalk and leaned against the railing to watch the bumper boats and wait in a different line.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 3

---

Callum used the walk to the palace to relay the events of Roman’s ceremony to Riona. An almost coherent, and greatly embellished, story, with brief tangents about owl-men wearing spooky coats, his thoughts on fire, and Roman turning into a bear. “And I swear, hand to the Gods, Roman lifted like eight men off the ground and tossed them into the forest.” He continued, talking of the guards who interrupted the ceremony and the missing Violet Damien; who Cal suspected had just run away from home for some peace, or ditched her father’s party, both things he could understand.

Then he explained how he’d tried to spin the incident as a Lorenzo-level screw-up, and tried to have the city guards name Calbert as responsible, but it turned out to be Countess Damien who had given the order. Still, he’d gotten them to admit, loudly enough for all who attended the ritual to hear it, that House Damien carried little for respecting the sacred traditions of foreign guests.

“And Munir, Ana, and Ari, all helped order the guards to leave. And…” He paused for a moment, almost adding in how they made those guards leave their boots behind too. He looked away as he continued. “I think enforcing the belief that Sorian continues to disrespect its allies, is a small step in weakening those alliances.”

He left out the part about the boots, mostly because there was a gleeful pride in having all those guards follow a ridiculous order simply because he ordered it. He had reveled in a small taste of having that kind of power; it would take more than drugged tea and a shared bottle to get him to admit that aloud. Once he’d finished his tale, he asked how the Damien party had gone.

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up. Excuse me? A bear!?” Riona stared at Callum, wide eyed. “Cal, you did not just say Lord Roman shapeshifted into a bear… in front of the royal guards?” Unless she missed an important detail, that meant Lord Ravenwood was about to find himself burnt at the stake for witchcraft.

“No, no shapeshifting, he was still Roman-shaped. And already wearing the bear skeleton. But he definitely turned into a bear. Riona, he roared and it sounded like it sounded like so many different things all at once. Incredible. I think the guards thought it was all drugs and drinking and weird Varian customs, but it was magic. Old magic, before books.” Callum spoke with absolute certainty.

“He roared and it sounded like so many different things all at once. “... Like spirits coming together...” Riona thought out loud. Old magic indeed. “For his sake, let’s hope the guards did think it was all drugs and drinking and weird Varian customs… Did you know Lord Roman practiced magic?”

“Yes and no. I know he believes in the old ways, long-standing Varian traditions of honoring their gods, and there’s magic in that. But different from the magic they’ve banned. I’m not sure what, exactly, Roman did tonight, but he did it right under their noses.” He still needed to talk to Roman, tonight had not been the right time, but now they had a lot more to discuss.

“Think the Caesonian magistrates or judges care about that? They’ve burned people just because they did ‘evil rituals’ for a deity they didn’t recognize.” A fresh concern slithered through her gut, coiling around the knot of worry already nestled there. “The Thornbreakers might use that…” she said. “I know you picked Lord Roman as ‘the person you hold dear’ because he won’t be easy to harm… but… there’s more than one way to get to him you know? … Don’t doubt the Thornbreakers will do anything to win.”

“We protect our own and our insurances,” Cal repeated what Quack had told him. “I have not betrayed them, they won’t betray me. That was the deal so unless you’re about to tell me that Quack is a liar, I’m trusting him and the rest of the Thornbreakers.” Callum spoke confidently, he wasn’t going to start doubting them now.

“No,” she sighed, “I don’t think Quack is a liar, I’m just less sure about the rest… Even more reason why you need to win their confidence as soon as possible.”

“As for the courts, Roman had the crown’s permission for his ceremony tonight. He, and his family, are beloved in Varian, with powerful friends here and from Alidasht. Coming after Roman over this would be deeply stupid, even for Edin. Especially given how poorly things are going with Alidasht.” He was less confident about this, but he was sure that there were a lot of people who would not stand idle if anyone tried to send Roman to a pyre.

“Somehow, I really doubt they thought the ceremony involved literally summoning spirits when they approved it. Besides…” Riona’s eyes became distant. She felt the phantom heat of fire against her skin. The pain of the blade. Screams from the past echoed in her head. “Being popular doesn’t protect you from so-called ‘misfortunes’.” The heat and screams receded as she dragged herself back to the present moment. But the pain lingered—a dull, throbbing reminder.

“And if being a foreign noble is really enough to get away with things that would land other people, even nobles, in trouble… the Crowns’ gonna have to deal with a very different kind of problem.” As amusing as Riona found the image of the King and Queen scrambling to maintain even a veneer of authority while simultaneously attempting to appease everyone, lest their rule be seen as feckless and spineless. She added, “I’m not so sure how much trouble Varian and Alidasht are willing to go through to protect just one noble either, beloved or not… Not unless they want to start serious sh*t with Caesonia. Who knows? They might even give him up as a peace offering.”

He didn’t like the way she said ‘misfortunes,’ it sent a cold chill through him. “Mina was part of it too.” He mumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he thought about how many of Roman’s men, and their shaman, were also part of the ritual. He wanted to point out how that was too many people to go after and wasn’t the point of these summers to strengthen alliances between them all. But he could guess at what that distant look in Riona’s eyes meant. And if they’d murdered a whole town before what would stop them from another massacre?

“So maybe they’ll try. They won’t succeed.” Perhaps he was too flippant, but he had prevented one execution; Darryn’s, and he could stop another.

For a span, she said nothing, fingers toying with the ends of her hair until she broke the stillness, abashed. “Hey, sorry if I put a pall over things.” She barked a laugh, “You’re supposed to be the brooding, melancholic one, not me. And here I am, dredging up worst-case scenarios and stealing your thunder. Next I’ll be composing poetry and wandering in the rain to wash away some fraction of my misery. Hm, maybe that’ll attract my own cabal of admirers.” Her lips quirked. “You got yourself some competition, Cal.”

“You make me sound tragically maudlin.” Even as he said it, his words came out like a long whine. Cabal of admires, Cal snorted at that.

“Maybe I should take a break from being the broody pessimist and let you take over. It is less fun when it’s not raining.” He offered, smiling more as the sense of dread slowly faded. “Fair warning, don’t brood too much or it’ll Calcify on you.” That earned a snort and an eye roll from Riona.

She softened then, “I don’t mean to discourage you.” Riona’s fingers found his arm, giving it a squeeze she hoped would lodge her next words deep. “You’ve shown you are capable of protecting people. Saved a life already, haven’t you? And things could’ve gone much, much worse at the ceremony if not for you.”

“If Lord Roman…” she paused and added, “or Lady Mina, or any of the many people that were there, find themselves in deep trouble, you’ll be there to save them again.” Cal’s mumblings about Lady Blackwood held a defiant spark, as if she’d struck a nerve with the dire possibilities she voiced. Riona should’ve been offended that he thought her concerns were overblown. But she wasn’t. What he showed was the stubbornness of one resolved to fight and confidence that he would win. Positivity.

“No, you're right. I can’t work for Quack and ignore hard questions. I hadn’t considered they might see more going than just a strange Varian ceremony.” He paused for a moment, and all of that sank in. “But I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight I’m only worrying about finding whatever they’re trying to hide and not getting caught.”

She nodded and changed subject to the disappearance of Count Calbert’s eldest daughter. “I’m surprised to hear about Lady Violet though. The masquerade ball was… peaceful, all things considered. You’d think the host’s child going missing would’ve caused some ruckus or gotten the whole thing canceled the second they noticed.”

“I’m sure Calbert just cares more about his image than his children. He’s not alone in that.”

“Yeah… with how much he loves his family I guess I thought he’d make a bigger deal out of it.” Riona shrugged and sighed.

“Does he? I heard he’d been hiding a secret son out in the country.” Cal pointed out, having heard all sorts of whispers on the subject. “Fortunate for us he didn’t end his party early.” He added.

“Why’s that?”

“To keep at least some of the family distracted.” He replied. “Wulfy’s been especially watchful of me.” And his eldest brother saw through his games. Callum believed Edin thought he was just an idiot, that Alibeth would still fall for the sad youngest child routine, and most of the guards thought he was just a drunk who enjoyed being difficult; Wulfric fell for none of it.

The mention of Prince Wulfric made her frown. She took a deep breath, cooling her blood to prevent it from boiling. “Is it weird that I have a feeling that a party won’t be enough to stop him from keeping an eye on you? He has eyes and ears everywhere after all.”

“Maybe we could turn him into a frog, he’d hate that.” Callum suggested, mostly joking.

Unlike Riona who mostly wasn’t when she said, “Maybe we should. It’d make things a little easier for us, that’s for sure.”

There was a pause before she confessed. “I… had a conversation with him at the party. It didn’t go well… Like super bad.”

“Sounds like Wulfy.” He tried to remember a conversation with his eldest brother that had gone well. The best he’d gotten was a mutual agreement that neither wanted the other one dead. “How bad? You’re not in trouble are you?” He asked, holding back the question of why she’d even want to talk to Wulfric in the first place.

“Uh…” Riona’s gaze skittered away from him. Her fingers fretted the fabric of her apron. “So… I told him that he’s a monster just like his parents. I hope his reign never comes and if it does I hope it’s short?” A tight smile corseted her lips as she casted a guilty look in Cal’s direction. It lingered a moment before falling away, her shoulders crumpling inward. “I thought I saw him with someone I recognized. Someone who should be dead. I wanted to see if Wulfric knew who he was so I asked him. He didn’t give me much, and… I basically ended up telling him that his parents were involved with the destruction of my hometown. He wanted details, and I said if he really cared, he’d dig them up himself… Then reveal what he finds to the public.”

Cal had to snicker at that. “Reckless and impulsive, you really are stealing my thunder. Wish I could’ve seen his face when you told him that.” He paused, wondering how even disguised Riona managed to say all that to Wulfric and not get thrown into a dungeon. “So was Wulfy just, what, frozen in shock?

She shrugged because, well, he was right: reckless and impulsive summed it up nicely. The anonymity afforded by the masks emboldened her, sure, but accosting the bloody Crown Prince? Now that was f***ing stupid.

But there was more to it than just feeling brave behind a mask. In that white-hot moment, she had recognized that seething rage, the bone-deep hatred that racked her body whenever the curse stirred, and the spell was one ragged breath from activating. Could the ritual of the Solstice Ceremony have kicked up ripples far beyond the woods, amplifying the sensitivity of that which she carried?

—No. Maybe? These past few days have been strange. Her fuse felt shorter than usual. It was getting harder to keep it all hidden. It could be a sign that she had little time left.

“If by ‘frozen in shock’ you mean an icy glare that promises to slit my throat the next time we meet, then yes, he was as frozen as the heart of winter itself.”

“Who did you see that you recognized?” He asked.

“Family.” Although that didn’t really narrow it down since the townspeople were like family. “Or possibly a distant relative of one. Either way I don’t want to put them in danger because they’re obviously doing well… I just… wanted to know if… there’s any chance that I’m not the only one who survived.”

Since there was still a possibility that Cal’s brother might try to get rid of her, Riona said. “Wulfric recognized me, with a mask, from before the slaughter.” A derisive snort. “I worked at the castle for over a decade and he recognized the girl, not the maid… I don’t know if I should consider myself lucky or not… Point is, if he was able to recognize the girl, then he’ll eventually put two and two together and figure out the maid was once that girl.”

“Wait,” He paused, taking a moment to wrap his head around new information. “Was Wulfric there when your town was murdered or he knows about it?” He asked, but either way, Wulfric was fine with keeping it a secret to protect the family. Callum’s stomach suddenly ached, a pit of dread knowing that this would always be his eldest brother’s stance. “And you should avoid Wulfy, and if things don’t work out, you’ve still got an inside man willing to plot a jailbreak.”

Riona whirled around, palms raised in a mollifying gesture. “No.” Odd, sticking up for Wulfric, but the thought of misleading Callum felt wrong. “We met years before that. And I don’t think he actually knew what happened, even if he had his suspicions.”

The memory of their conversation resurfaced in her mind. “Believe it or not, there are truths the general public is not ready for – not at the present time, and perhaps, not until many years in the future.” “But… he did make it crystal clear he’s got no intention of revealing secrets that don’t serve his own interests.”

“We intend to reveal secrets that don’t serve his interests.” He pointed out. “And one day I expect we’ll call each other enemy rather than brother.” He shrugged, not because he did care but because that outcome felt inevitable.

“... Yeah,” was really all she could say to that. The two walked in silence for a while before Cal broke the silence.

“If you think about it,” Cal decided he needed to change the subject.“I have ensured a perfect cover story if we do get caught. I am clearly on something, again, and you are dutifully ensuring I neither injure myself, again, or cause any significant property damage.” Better to get a cover story ready just in case. At least he sounded much more coherent than he felt.

“Right.” Riona teased, “What you’re saying is that’s exactly what’s happening so no need for a cover story?”

“Exactly, nothing else going on here.” The palace loomed in the distance, a far more persistent source of unwelcomed feelings than the hut but far less intense. “Kitchen entrance?” He asked once they were near the palace, if they were being sneaky he guessed the main entrance was out. Riona agreed.

TLDR

Callum and Riona head to the castle for some snooping. They discuss Roman turning into a bear during his ceremony and the possibility that Roman (and maybe Mina) might catch some heat for their ritual. Riona shares her conversation with Wulfric at the ball, including insulting the crowned prince to his face!

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Rohit Amar

Rohit Amar | 23 | Male

Get Lucky - Daft Punk

---

Appearance

Height: 6’3
Weight: 205 lbs
Eye Color: Deep brown
Hair Length/Texture: Medium length, wavy
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: Light Brown
Facial details(freckles, moles, etc): None
Distinguishing features: Being handsome
Clothing Preferences: Bright colors, flowing fabrics, and wearing just enough gold/jewels for it to be a little too much.

---

Psychology

Likes:
-Gardens
-Hookah lounges, tea houses, taverns - Anywhere he can meet interesting people
-Art, beauty, music
-Wild parties and extravagant feasts
-Keeping life as fun as possible

Dislikes:
-Conflict; a friendly spar is a good time but anything with malice, he’s out
-Being alone
-Anything too serious

Sexuality:
-Bisexual

Hobbies:
-Partying
-Swordsmanship
-Meeting new people
-Anything that sounds fun

Life Goals/Dreams:
To have a good time, make exceptional memories, and regret nothing.

Personality Summary:

An extreme optimist; for Rohit, his glass is not merely half full, his cup runneth over with fine wine. To him, the world is a wondrous and beautiful place, with so many things to explore and learn about, so many interesting people to meet, and even bad luck turns around with time. Not that he’s ever had bad luck, good fortune seems to cling to Rohit. Though he possesses a kind-hearted and gentle nature, his noble upbringing makes it difficult for him to understand, or truly relate, to hardships. It takes a lot to bring his mood down and he will choose to look for common ground or a sufficient compromise when conflict arises. Rohit seeks to understand, to know as much about the world as he can, and hopes that one day he’ll be at least half as wise as his father.

Rohit is a wandering dreamer. Often too caught up in whatever has caught his attention to be punctual and easily led astray by curiosity and the allure of new experiences. He knows his promises are flimsy at best, and thus rarely makes them. Having grown up accustomed to the finer things, he enjoys indulging in all that makes life worth living and ensuring those around him have the same opportunity. A generous people pleaser, Rohit will do just about anything to make sure those around him share his joy, because sad people make him sad, and who wants that?

---

Background

Current occupation:
Known throughout Kimoon as a wild free spirit whose scandals are easily overshadowed by his charity work* and philanthropy.

*(most of the actual work part is done by a team of people but Rohit does make sure his projects happen and are well funded)

Any past occupations?:
None

Relatives:
Navi Amar, Vali of Kimoon - Father
Aisha Amar - Mother

Skills:
-Physically fit
-Being oblivious to anything too serious
-Talking to people
-Seems to be naturally blessed with good luck

History Summary:

The Astral Arcana truly blessed Rohit, not only with noble birth but in the care of the kindest and most patient people he knows, his parents. Raised by scholars, Rohit inherited their curiosity about the world but lacked their discipline in studying. He’d rather explore outside than study things from the pages of a book, he’d rather hear people talk about the things they knew than stare at words on a page. Rohit hated being still, hated being alone for too long, hated when things were too quiet.

His parents were endlessly patient and his every whim was encouraged and supported. When he showed interest in music, musicians were brought in to instruct him, when his parents noted he enjoyed touring Kimoon’s gardens, botanists were brought in to teach him about plants, and Rohit once noted that the stars looked ‘pretty cool,’ and a telescope was purchased the next day. His interests always flared and burned out, but his parents always supported learning something new. His childhood was near idyllic; surrounded by luxury but raised to appreciate it all as a blessing.

When his father was made Vali of Kimoon, life only became more exciting. There were even grander opportunities; better tutors and mentors, bigger feasts and elaborate parties, and meeting people from all over Alidasht. He was more than happy to support his father’s new role; socializing at events and engaging in charity work for Kimoon, strengthening the family image. Even with Rohit’s occasional scandal, it was easy for the Amar family to look good when the last Vali was executed for embezzlement and treason. His good deeds and eagerness to spend time with citizens always outshined any trouble he found himself in.

Rohit jumped at the chance to travel to Caesonia for the summer but arrived late due to his instance of stopping at every interesting port along the way. There was only so much time Rohit could spend on a ship before he grew restless, the frequent stops were necessary.

---

---

Q&A

Questionnaire

History
Did you grow up nurtured or neglected?:
“Nurtured, my parents are lovely people.”

When you were upset, where was your sanctuary?:
“Sanctuary? I would just seek counsel from my dad, wisest man I know. Life’s too short to spend it upset, best to remedy the situation and move on.”

What were you like in your teenage years?:
“Happy, wild, and free. Just as I am now.”

How close are you to your parents?:
“Very close, we get along well and I value their insights.” Rohit’s answer lacks the confidence of his previous ones. For a second he wonders if his parents secretly wished for a scholarly son, one more suited to follow in his father's footsteps. His smile soonreturns and the thought vanishes as the next question is asked.

Do you have any trauma that haunts you?:
“No…and who would want to discuss that?”

What advice would you give your younger self?:
“Rohit, I know books are boring. So, so, boring, but we must try and read them. Or pay someone to read them to us. It is the only way to keep up with the conversations at family dinner.”

Were you an obedient child or defiant?:
“Obedient; my parents upheld no frivolous rules, everything was explained so that I understood the why of it and how I was to act. This makes it easy to respect their wishes. …But a little more defiant in my teen years.”

What is your biggest regret?:
“None, next question.”

Romance
Have you ever been in love? :
“All the time, it’s a fleeting feeling though isn’t it? Comes and goes like rain.”

What is most important in a partner to you? Describe your dream partner.:
“Only one? I guess they’d need to have everything. Kind, fun, passionate about something, and good to look at.”

How do you display affection? What is your love language?:
“With affection, however the other person prefers it.”

Have you had your first kiss? What was it like?:
“You’d have to get me drunk to pull that story out.”

Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?:
“Yes, people claim it, and who am I to question if they mean it.”

What does marriage mean to you?:
“Being tied to one person, which is fine, if that’s what you want.”

Are you currently crushing on anyone?:
“Every pretty face in front of me.”

Do you ever consider having children in the future?:
“Probably, in the distant, distant future. Far past where my current plans extend to.”

Personality

Describe your ideal Sunday morning:
“Brunch at the Enchanted Garden! Have you been? There are glowing mushrooms on the trees and food you cannot find anywhere else. Everyone should go at least once. It’s very relaxing after a good Saturday night.”

What kind of person do you aspire to be?:
“Kind.” Rohit did not feel a need to expand on that answer.

What bad habits do you have?:
“I don’t think I have any.”

If you could go back in time and change anything in your past, what would it be?:
“I’d try harder with my studies, maybe try and read a couple of books in front of my parents, I think they’d like that.” Rohit shifts uncomfortably at this question, hoping the next one is lighter.

What is your greatest fear?:
“That’s a dark question! Being eaten by a tiger? That sounds bad, let’s go with that.”

What are your pet peeves?:
“Who wants to worry about other’s habits?”

When you are in a sour mood, do you like to be alone or with others?:
“With others, people who can cheer me up.”

Are you more likely to fight with your fists or your tongue?:
“Neither, I prefer to look for common ground.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Rohit Amar

Rohit Amar | 23 | Male

Get Lucky - Daft Punk

---

Appearance

Height: 6’3
Weight: 205 lbs
Eye Color: Deep brown
Hair Length/Texture: Medium length, wavy
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: Light Brown
Facial details(freckles, moles, etc): None
Distinguishing features: Being handsome
Clothing Preferences: Bright colors, flowing fabrics, and wearing just enough gold/jewels for it to be a little too much.

---

Psychology

Likes:
-Gardens
-Hookah lounges, tea houses, taverns - Anywhere he can meet interesting people
-Art, beauty, music
-Wild parties and extravagant feasts
-Keeping life as fun as possible

Dislikes:
-Conflict; a friendly spar is a good time but anything with malice, he’s out
-Being alone
-Anything too serious

Sexuality:
-Bisexual

Hobbies:
-Partying
-Swordsmanship
-Meeting new people
-Anything that sounds fun

Life Goals/Dreams:
To have a good time, make exceptional memories, and regret nothing.

Personality Summary:

An extreme optimist; for Rohit, his glass is not merely half full, his cup runneth over with fine wine. To him, the world is a wondrous and beautiful place, with so many things to explore and learn about, so many interesting people to meet, and even bad luck turns around with time. Not that he’s ever had bad luck, good fortune seems to cling to Rohit. Though he possesses a kind-hearted and gentle nature, his noble upbringing makes it difficult for him to understand, or truly relate, to hardships. It takes a lot to bring his mood down and he will choose to look for common ground or a sufficient compromise when conflict arises. Rohit seeks to understand, to know as much about the world as he can, and hopes that one day he’ll be at least half as wise as his father.

Rohit is a wandering dreamer. Often too caught up in whatever has caught his attention to be punctual and easily led astray by curiosity and the allure of new experiences. He knows his promises are flimsy at best, and thus rarely makes them. Having grown up accustomed to the finer things, he enjoys indulging in all that makes life worth living and ensuring those around him have the same opportunity. A generous people pleaser, Rohit will do just about anything to make sure those around him share his joy, because sad people make him sad, and who wants that?

---

Background

Current occupation:
Known throughout Kimoon as a wild free spirit whose scandals are easily overshadowed by his charity work* and philanthropy.

*(most of the actual work part is done by a team of people but Rohit does make sure his projects happen and are well funded)

Any past occupations?:
None

Relatives:
Navi Amar, Vali of Kimoon - Father
Aisha Amar - Mother

Skills:
-Physically fit
-Being oblivious to anything too serious
-Talking to people
-Seems to be naturally blessed with good luck

History Summary:

The Astral Arcana truly blessed Rohit, not only with noble birth but in the care of the kindest and most patient people he knows, his parents. Raised by scholars, Rohit inherited their curiosity about the world but lacked their discipline in studying. He’d rather explore outside than study things from the pages of a book, he’d rather hear people talk about the things they knew than stare at words on a page. Rohit hated being still, hated being alone for too long, hated when things were too quiet.

His parents were endlessly patient and his every whim was encouraged and supported. When he showed interest in music, musicians were brought in to instruct him, when his parents noted he enjoyed touring Kimoon’s gardens, botanists were brought in to teach him about plants, and Rohit once noted that the stars looked ‘pretty cool,’ and a telescope was purchased the next day. His interests always flared and burned out, but his parents always supported learning something new. His childhood was near idyllic; surrounded by luxury but raised to appreciate it all as a blessing.

When his father was made Vali of Kimoon, life only became more exciting. There were even grander opportunities; better tutors and mentors, bigger feasts and elaborate parties, and meeting people from all over Alidasht. He was more than happy to support his father’s new role; socializing at events and engaging in charity work for Kimoon, strengthening the family image. Even with Rohit’s occasional scandal, it was easy for the Amar family to look good when the last Vali was executed for embezzlement and treason. His good deeds and eagerness to spend time with citizens always outshined any trouble he found himself in.

Rohit jumped at the chance to travel to Caesonia for the summer but arrived late due to his instance of stopping at every interesting port along the way. There was only so much time Rohit could spend on a ship before he grew restless, the frequent stops were necessary.

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Q&A

Questionnaire

History
Did you grow up nurtured or neglected?:
“Nurtured, my parents are lovely people.”

When you were upset, where was your sanctuary?:
“Sanctuary? I would just seek counsel from my dad, wisest man I know. Life’s too short to spend it upset, best to remedy the situation and move on.”

What were you like in your teenage years?:
“Happy, wild, and free. Just as I am now.”

How close are you to your parents?:
“Very close, we get along well and I value their insights.” Rohit’s answer lacks the confidence of his previous ones. For a second he wonders if his parents secretly wished for a scholarly son, one more suited to follow in his father's footsteps. His smile soonreturns and the thought vanishes as the next question is asked.

Do you have any trauma that haunts you?:
“No…and who would want to discuss that?”

What advice would you give your younger self?:
“Rohit, I know books are boring. So, so, boring, but we must try and read them. Or pay someone to read them to us. It is the only way to keep up with the conversations at family dinner.”

Were you an obedient child or defiant?:
“Obedient; my parents upheld no frivolous rules, everything was explained so that I understood the why of it and how I was to act. This makes it easy to respect their wishes. …But a little more defiant in my teen years.”

What is your biggest regret?:
“None, next question.”

Romance
Have you ever been in love? :
“All the time, it’s a fleeting feeling though isn’t it? Comes and goes like rain.”

What is most important in a partner to you? Describe your dream partner.:
“Only one? I guess they’d need to have everything. Kind, fun, passionate about something, and good to look at.”

How do you display affection? What is your love language?:
“With affection, however the other person prefers it.”

Have you had your first kiss? What was it like?:
“You’d have to get me drunk to pull that story out.”

Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?:
“Yes, people claim it, and who am I to question if they mean it.”

What does marriage mean to you?:
“Being tied to one person, which is fine, if that’s what you want.”

Are you currently crushing on anyone?:
“Every pretty face in front of me.”

Do you ever consider having children in the future?:
“Probably, in the distant, distant future. Far past where my current plans extend to.”

Personality

Describe your ideal Sunday morning:
“Brunch at the Enchanted Garden! Have you been? There are glowing mushrooms on the trees and food you cannot find anywhere else. Everyone should go at least once. It’s very relaxing after a good Saturday night.”

What kind of person do you aspire to be?:
“Kind.” Rohit did not feel a need to expand on that answer.

What bad habits do you have?:
“I don’t think I have any.”

If you could go back in time and change anything in your past, what would it be?:
“I’d try harder with my studies, maybe try and read a couple of books in front of my parents, I think they’d like that.” Rohit shifts uncomfortably at this question, hoping the next one is lighter.

What is your greatest fear?:
“That’s a dark question! Being eaten by a tiger? That sounds bad, let’s go with that.”

What are your pet peeves?:
“Who wants to worry about other’s habits?”

When you are in a sour mood, do you like to be alone or with others?:
“With others, people who can cheer me up.”

Are you more likely to fight with your fists or your tongue?:
“Neither, I prefer to look for common ground.”

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: North Pass; Cabin
Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

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Bowyn drew closer to Rue and wrapped an arm around her waist. “And if your feet and wings grow tired, you can lean on me.” He offered as Rue mentioned leaving the pegasus behind to avoid attention. Luum suggested enchanted rings, which sounded expensive to Bowyn, “It’s not even that cold. Why are elves so dramatic?” He whispered to Rue. “Good deal? Think we could snag whatever Zeva needs for free?” Bowyn whispered to Rue as Zeva asked if she had enough amas. The idea of spending the morning stealing supplies sounded a lot more fun than just shopping for them.

He watched as Bardulf offered the enchanted ring to Zeva, leaving Bowyn to wonder if they still needed to go shopping or if the matter was now settled. “Do we still need to go shopping for the Elf-cicle?” Bowyn asked, as Bardulf was halfway out the door, seemingly eager to hunt beasties. It sounded a lot more fun than shopping, so if that was no longer needed Bowyn preferred the wilderness to marketplace. “Taverns usually have bounties posted if you’re looking to gain some real amas. Otherwise, Me, Rue, or Bridget are likely your best bet for help navigating the woods here.” He added, thinking it was a mistake to let Bardulf go off alone.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Port Vanarosa
Interactions: Jun@JJ Doe, Tanithil @Lava Alckon, Arlen @SilverPaw
Equipment: A halberd and half-plate armor

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Zion listened, nodding his head along as Tanithil spoke. The dark elf sent them on ahead so that he could check up on the rest of the crew and see if they wished to eat as well. It reminded Zion of how Malachi awoke early to prepare breakfast, and this made him confident that Tanithil was an excellent leader as well. “Aye, Aye, Cap’n.” The words flew from the overly enthusiastic lion’s mouth, not only was he about to eat but Tanithil gave him the perfect opportunity to throw out some pirate talk! They had yet to even embark on an adventure and Zion was already giddy.

He nudged Jun with his elbow, “Hear that Jun, if you need to start a bar fight, be stealthy about it!” He joked, hoping to lighten his mood a little. “Breakfast and ale await.” Zion added, voice booming as he corralled Jun in the direction of Arlen.

Once they’d caught up to Arlen Zion answered the elf’s inquiry about his experience in the desert. “I once hunted a savage ogre that dwelled on the outskirts of Myriamor. A breathtaking city deep within a fierce desert, no finer city for a cat to visit, did you know they see cat’s as good luck?” He continued on, spinning an exaggerated tale of his mighty victory over the ogre, pausing several times to prevent Jun from wandering off.

Zion intervened each time Jun strayed from the path, inching far too close to perilous alleyways where trouble could be waiting. Zion kept vigilant, making sure the human did not get lost, or robbed, or kidnapped, or, worst of all, tossed into the ocean for the fish to nibble upon. He said nothing of Jun’s lack of a sense of direction, not wanting to harm the human’s pride but made note of it as additional training Jun would need.

“Surely your travels have led to many exciting battles, Arlen. Have you encountered many sea-beasts?” He asked.