PapaOso

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

⛮ Milo St. Claire ⛮

Time: 8:00 am

Location:The Most Luxurious Suite Imaginable

Mention: N/A

Mr. St. Claire awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the heavy velvet drapes of his lavish Victorian-era suite. The golden rays kissed the intricate patterns on the ceiling, casting delicate shadows that danced upon the walls. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, fluttered open to the sight of the women around him, their forms draped lazily over the satin sheets. Each one lay in a state of blissful repose and relative undress, their skin glowing in the morning light as their breathing synchronized with the gentle rise and fall of Milo's chest.

A small, knowing smile played on his lips as he stretched, his muscles flexing beneath the warmth of the bedding. The sheets slipped off his body as he shifted, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest and abdomen, the result of years of meticulous care and discipline. The women stirred slightly at his movement, but Milo was already slipping out of bed, his bare feet padding softly on the plush carpet.

Milo reached for the silk robe draped over a nearby chair, its fabric as smooth and luxurious as his very touch. He let it fall around his shoulders, the material cascading down his muscular frame, clinging just enough to accentuate his physique before he loosely tied it at his waist. Confidently, he made his way to the washroom.

The room greeted him with the soft scent of lavender and rosewater, a testament to his fastidious nature. A large, ornate mirror dominated one wall, its gilded frame catching the light in a manner that made the entire room feel like a work of art. Milo approached the water basin, hazel eyes glinting with the usual warmth that had earned him the moniker "Mr. Sunshine."

He cupped his hands under the cool water, splashing it over his face in a ritual that had become second nature. As the droplets trickled down his skin, his gaze lifted to the mirror. What he saw there was not his perfect face as would be expected, but instead the reflection staring back at him was... wrong.

The distortion was subtle at first, a slight ripple that made the lines of his face appear fluid, almost melting into one another. He blinked, expecting the anomaly to pass, but it only deepened. The once-kind eyes darkened, and his chiseled features warped as if the mirror had become a portal to a world where everything familiar was twisted into something uncanny.

Milo’s breath caught in his throat as he stood locked in a silent stare with whatever his eyes were seeing there in the mirror. The moments stretched out, each second laden with a growing tension that felt out of place in the otherwise serene morning. The smile he’d worn just moments ago was gone, replaced by an expression that was hard to decipher… anger perhaps, or simply just intensity.

Then, with a blink of his eyes after a long time of not doing so, the distortion faded, leaving his reflection as it should have always been; perfect, composed, untroubled. Yet, Milo found himself unable to tear his gaze away, the afterimage of that warped visage lingering in his mind.

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing as he forced himself to look away from the mirror. With a final glance at the water basin, he turned and left the washroom, his expression shifting back to one of serenity and confidence as he made his way back to the bed where the women, now awake, were waiting for him.

Fallout Franchise Roleplay?

Here's one that's currently active :)

roleplayerguild.com/topics/190516-the…

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte & Cassius

Part 1

Time: 8am (Earlier than starting point)
Location: Lover’s Lake

---

Charlotte was reclining in a hammock strung between two trees, the green fabric cradling her as she swayed gently with the morning breeze. The hammock was perfectly positioned by the water's edge, enabling her to listen to the sound of the cascading waterfalls in the distance as the smell of morning dew permeated the air.

A portion of her dark hair was braided both ways around her head and tied in the back with a blue ribbon, while the rest of it spilled over the edge of the hammock, catching the morning light that filtered through the canopy of leaves above. The pale blue fabric billowed slightly in the breeze, the lace trim fluttering. The dress, simple yet elegant, cinched at her waist with a satin ribbon, giving way to a flowing skirt that brushed against the ground with each movement of the hammock.

Beside her stood Tempestes, a beautiful dapple-gray horse, The horse nuzzled Charlotte’s hand affectionately as she offered it a handful of sweet grass she had picked earlier.

The hammock swayed slightly, and Charlotte adjusted her position to look out at the water, letting one leg dangle lazily over the side. The sunlight danced on the surface of the water, casting shimmering reflections. She watched them with a dreamy look in her eye despite the way her brain was rampant with thoughts.

Her thoughts trailed off as a sudden realization began to take shape. The visions she had been experiencing were memories. And that last one… Walter had known she would see it. Her heart quickened at the realization.

Her gaze slid out to the water and she smiled softly after a moment. "Perhaps I could be cursed… However, you don’t know what it means to me to see you after all these years…" she whispered, her words carried away by the breeze as if she were speaking directly to him. "I want to believe you’re still with me, guiding me, my very best friend." She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.

Getting to see her father’s face and hear his voice so clearly, clearer than she had in more than a decade, had been a gift, no matter if it had been a curse or a blessing. Still, the uncertainty of it all gnawed at her, leaving her feeling both comforted and unsettled.

Meanwhile, the morning sun sat high as Cassius walked toward the lake, the golden light casting small shadows on the ground with each step. His boots crunched on the gravel path purposeful, yet tinged with the weight of uncertainty. He glanced around at the sprawling estates, the manicured lawns, the grandiose architecture of the manors behind him. It was just reminders and the symbols of his newfound status. Honestly, It remained strange to him, this life of opulence; formal dinners, masquerades, and the asinine expectation to behave like a proper noble.

He snorted to himself, the sound carrying a note of sarcasm. "A proper noble," he muttered under his breath. The very idea amused him. To think, how many men would kill for this? To wake up one day with wealth and power at their fingertips, to be treated with deference by those who once looked down on them. Yet, here he was, feeling restless, as if this new life of luxury would reveal itself as nothing more than a gilded cage any moment now.

Cassius had always been a man who valued his freedom, who reveled in the ability to go where he wanted, do what he pleased, and speak his mind however he wished to do so. The endless rules and expectations of nobility were a far cry from the rough-and-tumble world of mercenaries and battlefields he had known for most of his life. The formal dinners, with their stifling etiquette that he was sure he’d never grow used to, the masquerade where everyone hid behind masks, pretending to be someone they weren't… though fun, it all felt like a grand joke, one that he was somehow expected to play along with.

But the joke, he thought with a grim smile, was on him. Because despite the humor he found in it all, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place here, a wolf in sheep's clothing. What was the price of this life, he wondered? And would he ever truly fit the bill?

Cassius paused as he neared the lake, staring out at the calm water in the distance that mirrored the sky above. The calmness of the scene was at odds with the storm brewing within him. His body almost physically ached for the adrenaline of battle, the thrill of danger, the satisfaction of a hard-fought victory. The chaos and peril of his previous life had become so ingrained in him that now, in the stillness and safety of Sorian, he felt like a man out of place, out of time. This concerned him, as he had only been a part of this new world for a short while.

There was a restlessness in his bones, a gnawing need for the unpredictability that had once defined his existence. Here, everything was predictable and controlled. Even the dangers he faced were carefully measured, wrapped in the trappings of politics and intrigue. The thing that something inside of him missed was the raw, unfiltered life of a sellsword, where every decision was a matter of survival, and every day was a gamble.

He flexed his hands, the familiar calluses on his palms a reminder of the life he'd left behind. In those days, his weapons had been an extension of his will, and every scar on his body told a story of a battle won or lost. Now, his sword and his axe hung in his room as almost nothing more than a decoration, a relic of a life that seemed to be slipping further away with each passing day.

Finally, he had almost reached his destination, just in time to hear her words as softly spoken as they were.

Turning to face the sound, Cassius laid eyes on Charlotte. Confusion spread through his mind. He had not seen her since the masquerade a couple of nights ago, though part of him had hoped to. Alas, here she was. He processed her words and wondered who she was speaking to. It was surprisingly reminiscent of the way he would sometimes speak to the wind as though his mother were with him. She looked lovely there, and comfortable laying in her hammock. Cassius smiled as he shifted his momentum in her direction and adjusted the dark leather doublet that clung to his broad shoulders, its worn edges and faint scuffs betraying his reluctance to fully embrace the pristine elegance expected of him in Sorian. Beneath the doublet, his linen shirt was simple, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the hard earned scars that crisscrossed his tanned skin. A small dagger hung at his side from the belt laced through his dark wool trousers.

“Good morning, Lady Vikena.” Cas greeted her in hopes of not startling her. “What brings you out here, well ...other than talking to ghosts?” He asked with a sly smile and a glint of curiosity in his eye. He approached slowly as he did so, closing the distance and reaching a hand out to pet the beautiful mane of Charlotte’s horse as he waited for her response.

Charlotte’s face lit up and she beamed at Cassius. “Hi! Good morning!” Without a second thought, she jumped up from the hammock and she closed the distance between them. Then, she wrapped her arms around him in a brief embrace.

Subsequently, she pulled back and told him with unnecessary haste, “You will not believe it—I completely forgot to find a gift for Lord Drake’s birthday… So I had to rise at the crack of dawn and ride to the store to find something fitting… A bit dreadful of me, I know.”

“And once that was done, well, I simply couldn’t resist coming here afterward,” she confessed with a smile. Tilting her head in that curious way she always had, she asked, “But what about you? What brings you here so early?” Though she had initially been hesitant to trust Cassius, especially after the rather terrible first impression he had made, Charlotte had gradually come to see him in a different light. His kindness during the ball had softened her heart, and the more she reflected on her distrust, the more she realized it was in poor taste to judge him simply for his name. She had been judged enough for her name and one of her best friends had bore the same last name as him, after all.

With that in mind, she had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she knew she had truly made up her mind during their dance at the ball.

His lips curved into an even wider smile as he accepted Charlotte's embrace, a rare moment of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant demeanor. As they released, he returned his hand to stroke the horse’s mane, though his eyes did not leave Charlottes.

“I wasn’t aware that grown men had birthday parties.” Cassius said in jest with a slight chuckle. “But I’m sure he’ll adore the gift…it’s very thoughtful of you, Lottie. As for me…” He cast a sidelong glance at the lake, nodding towards a cluster of fishing traps partially hidden among the reeds. "You see those over there? Those are mine. I’ve come out here a few times since arriving in Sorian, not just for fishing, but it's also a good place to clear the head. This spot has a way of putting things into perspective."

Lottie immediately giggled. “It’s quite normal in noble circles, Cassius… Certainly, your father will try to throw you one, so beware.” Lottie said as she continued to laugh, “I love birthday parties… Though I haven’t had one in some time myself. “

Her eyes brightened with a sudden memory, a grin spreading across her face. “I remember at my parties, we used to play pin the tail on the donkey, and I always failed miserably... It was such a splendid time!”

Noticing his gaze shift toward the fishing traps in the lake, Lottie followed his eyes, feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed them earlier. “Oh... I suppose that’s breakfast, then?” she asked with a hint of playful curiosity.

“Oh he can certainly try…” Cassius mused. “But whether I show up, now that’s an entirely different story.”

His laugh was genuine, but his eyes softened a bit at the revelation that she had not had a party of her own in some time. “Guess we’re just going to have to fix that, aren’t we? If no one else throws you a party, Lottie, I’ll give you one you’ll never forget.” He said confidently.

She blushed and fixated her gaze on the fish traps instead.

“Oh and yes, that is most certainly breakfast.” Cassius ran his fingers through the perfectly groomed mane of the horse one final time before motioning toward the traps. “Well…are you gonna make little ol me go grab them all by myself, or are you gonna help?” His smile was both disarming and enchanting as he teased her.

“Me? A lady? Help you?” Charlotte teased with mock surprise, feigning shock, “...Oh, you poor thing. You’d be positively lost without me to save the day.” With a cheeky smile, she flexed playfully, then hitched up her skirt with exaggerated elegance and made her way toward the reeds.

“I’ll be sure to tell everyone far and wide of your heroism here today, princess.” He said with sarcasm and a wink as he let her pass and then followed behind her casually. “Such bravery, such charity from an esteemed woman such as yourself.” Playfulness laced every word as he spoke, and after a moment the two found themselves at the traps. Cassius lowered to grab one of the smaller baskets and pull it from the water, revealing it to have a healthy bounty of fish. “I hope you’re hungry, Lottie.” He said with a smirk as he reached out to hand her the basket with joy.

She took the basket into her hands with enthusiasm, however it was a little heavier than she anticipated. Charlotte wobbled on her feet as she adjusted her grip and found her balance once more. Hoping to brush off the moment with grace, she met Cassius’s eyes with a bright smile.

“So. Do you usually fish in a lake for breakfast?” She inquired with a playful lilt. “I mean, no judgment… “ The thought simmered in her brain a little and she could not help but continue, “Well, perhaps a bit of judgment. Surely you have enough to eat at home. It’s hardly fair to waste these poor creatures' lives.”

Cassius stepped closer, ready to catch her if needed, but Charlotte quickly regained her footing and met his eyes with that bright smile of hers. He himself smiled at the way she wobbled. He couldn’t help it, it was just too damn cute.

“Not all the time, but often, yes.” Cas admitted. “Just a piece of my old life that I can’t let go, I suppose.” He nodded at her point, understanding the concern.

“Besides, whatever I don’t eat at home goes to the staff, so I feel like it balances out all things considered.” He looked down to his other traps, which were most likely full as well, and continued, “Don’t worry, though.” He said, turning back to her. “I only take what I need.”

Cassius then moved to open the other baskets, letting the majority of the fish escape. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m some heartless brute.” His smile softened with his words, a mix of teasing and genuine affection in his eyes.

“I assure you my impression is quite the opposite.” Charlotte told him warmly and smiled. She considered his words before adding, “ It’s lovely you think of your servants…I often forget mine are paid to live with me as they’ve become so dear to me…” Her look grew far off and her smile grew as her mind wandered to the faces of their staff. “Delilah has always been my attendant and maid for the household, but I suppose I have always seen her more as my big sister… Or perhaps even like a mother.”

After a pause, she giggled and said, “And Gilbert is our darling chef. He is a liiiittttllee grumpy, but goodness do we love him. Then, Nathaniel is more my stepfather’s employee but he has a wonderful heart. “ Charlotte had then approached closer to assist if needed. Though, she forgot her hands were already quite full. Her expression shifted with enthusiasm as she proclaimed in a hushed voice, “And we have a secret handshake!”

Listening to the way Lottie spoke of her servants filled Cassius with a sense of ease. Not all nobles felt the way she did about their staff. Having gotten to know her a bit, he wasn’t surprised by her sentiment, but still…it was a comfort to confirm she was the kind of person he thought, and hoped, her to be.

“You really are as sweet as you seem, aren’t you?” Cassius asked with curiosity and a playful grin. “Most people wear kindness like a pretty necklace to be shown off, but you…you just…care, don’t you?” He smiled at her once more. “It’s honestly refreshing. And I bet they adore you, don’t they?”
As he finished releasing the fish that he wasn’t going to use, Cassius took a moment to reset the traps for next time, gently took the basket from Charlotte, and began leading them back over to her horse and hammock.

“Hopefully I get to meet ‘em…Delilah, Gilbert, Nathaniel, and the rest. They sound lovely.”

“You really think so?” Charlotte had asked with genuine curiosity as she came to a halt beside Tempestes, who nuzzled her hair affectionately. She smiled and gently hugged the horse for a moment, then turned on her heels to meet his gaze once more. “Of course you will! I live right next door, silly. You can just come over.”

“I do.” Cassius said simply, kindly, and with full conviction.

Morior Invictus; How Do We Continue On?

As am I 🙌

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

⛮ Milo St. Claire ⛮

Time: Late Morning

Location:Primitus Church of Sorian

Mention:@Tpartywithzombi None of your characters are directly mentioned but I def wanted you to read this xD

In the sanctum of the Primitus Church of Sorian, there hung a masterpiece of regal grandeur. Bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight that poured through the stained glass windows, the portrait of King Edin Danrose stood as a testament to Milo's unparalleled talent, a testament now marred by a grotesque act of defiance.

The king, in the painting at least, was a vision of dignity and sovereignty. Every line had been rendered with such exquisite detail that one could almost hear the rustle of his robes and feel the weight of the crown that rested upon his kingly head. Milo had turned a man such as King Edin into a true work of art, but now, a dark veil had been cast upon this visage of majesty.

Across the king's noble countenance, an affront of crude mockery manifested in the form of a mustache, twisted and mocking…curled like a serpent's sneer. Beneath it, the once pristine lines of Milo's brushwork gave birth to a pair of horns, repulsive markings of defilement etched upon the sacred canvas. His anger did not come from a place of royal worship. He was not livid at the sight of Edin being disrespected by his subjects. The truth was that Mr. St. Claire could not care less about the king, but his painting…HIS MASTERPIECE had been rendered hideous. In that moment, what his perfect hazel eyes beheld was not merely a painting defiled, but an assault upon his very fucking soul.

Reaching out with trembling hands, Milo dared to touch the canvas, his fingertips grazing the tainted strokes of brushed brilliance. But where once he had felt the pulse of his creation, now he found only the chill of desolation. It was as if the very essence of his art had been made asunder, leaving naught but a hollow echo in its wake.

And in that hollow emptiness, sweet and wonderful Milo found fury.

With a primal roar, Milo tore the painting from its perch, the muscles that were well hidden beneath the finery that made up his layered ensemble, coiled with unbridled rage. With his very hands he rended the once masterwork piece of art into pieces, splintering it’s wooden backing and slamming the remains onto the polished floor of this sham of a temple built to worship a counterfeit god. A single tear journeyed down the cheek of Milo St. Claire as he looked upon the wreckage. The fury in his eyes now simply manifesting as sadness.

Taking a long, deep breath and with a roll of the neck and shoulders, Milo gathered himself just in time for footsteps to echo through the chamber. He recognized the cadence with ease. His smile returned as he shifted his body so that he could turn to face the amicable dressed form of his publicist, Mr. Duval

The approaching man’s gaze fell from Milo to the pile of rubble that once was King Edin’s portrait. “Tsk tsk tsk…I almost feel for the poor bastards that would commit such atrocities against you, Mr. St. Claire. Almost.” The man said, his posh voice echoing through the church. “If it pleases you, I can have Ms. Sharpe hunt the culprits down and bring them before you. We could do so publicly…or privately.”

“Thank you as always, Mr. Duval, but that will not be necessary.” Milo stated with a settled grin that exuded kindness. ”Our royal majesty has assured me that the matter will be handled. However, I do require you to send a missive to the King for me, Mr. Duval.”

“Oh, a missive you say? And pray tell, Mr. St. Claire, what would you prefer such a missive to articulate?”

”Tell King Edin that I wish to be there once the vandals are discovered, and that I wish to be present and participate in determining a punishment fit for such a misdeed.”

“As you wish, sir.” Mr. Duval’s lips curled into a curious grin as he made his statement. “But I must ask, Mr. St. Claire… What penance do you have in mind?”

Milo’s smile shined as he walked over and patted Mr. Duval on the back with friendly rapport. ”That, good sir, is just going to have to be my little secret.” He began leading Mr. Duval away from the broken painting and back towards the entrance. “Have Melburn prepare the carriage. As for Ms. Sharpe, have her continue that…other task we discussed upon our arrival to Sorian. She can tell me of her progress later tonight.”

“Right away, sir.” Mr. Duval responded with respect. “And for young Athena and Atlas, what’s your plan for them today?”

“I will not be free for lessons this evening, I’m afraid. Instead, have the apprentices working on their consistency. Send them to the botanical gardens, where they will pick something they find particularly beautiful and instruct them to paint it again and again until the sun sets. We will judge the results another time and present them with points based on individual merit.”

“They would gladly paint day and night if you asked them to, sir…but are you not perhaps expecting too much from them Mr. St. Claire? They are naught but street mutts, after all.”

“I was no less of a street mutt, Mr. Duval…and remember…we must all suffer for our art.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Cassius, Liliane & Alexander

Mention:@JJ Doe Count Fritz

---

As the heavy wooden door closed behind the duo, a mix of aromas—ale, tobacco, and the earthy scent of rain-soaked leather—rushed to greet their noses. The tavern was abuzz even at such an early hour; loud laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air. The patrons ranged from rugged laborers to vigilant drifters.

Liliane, her navy blue gown contrasting with the mostly earth-toned attire of the tavern's regulars, moved with grace as she shut her umbrella. Eyes slid to the well-dressed pair, the chatter hushing for just a moment as she made her way to the bar, the wooden floor creaking under her steps.

The barmaid approached with a smirk, wiping her hands on her apron. She stood out with her shoulder-length curly red hair and dark lipstick. Her face was littered with freckles and her dark eyes were adorned with makeup. She leaned on the bar casually, “Hey! Name’s Marcy. What can I get for you guys?”

Cassius rested against the bar in an equally casual manner, taking in the lively scene around him with a joyous expression. The tavern was filled with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of mugs, just the kind of atmosphere that felt like the closest thing to home to him. Breathing in the all too familiar scent of stale ale, his gaze shifted to the barmaid. She seemed confident but looked rather young…perhaps too young to be tending the bar in an establishment like this. “Morning, love, I would simply adore a glass of brandy, the top shelf variety if possible.” He said with a charming grin. “And if it’s not too much trouble, we have some questions.”

Liliane's polite smile did little to mask her purpose, her eyes scanning the room not for a drink but for a face. "We're actually here inquiring about a young woman that may have passed by here last night.”

“Pale skin, long raven hair, and an unforgettable pair of crimson eyes.” Alexander's words cut in as he stepped from right behind Liliane to find his place beside her at the bar. His interjection was so chillingly sudden, as if he had kept from out of her very shadow. “Any information would be appreciated.” He added before glancing down at Liliane, concern painted across his face.

Cas straightened slightly, his eyes moving away from Marcy and his instincts sharpening as he assessed the abrupt arrival of this newcomer. His expression remained neutral, betraying none of the curiosity that stirred within him. Instead, he observed with a cool detachment and a naturally calm demeanor as he simply waited to see if Liliane was familiar with this man.

Lily’s gaze shifted to Alexander calmly, studying him briefly as the barmaid responded.

“Oh, yeah, I remember her,” Marcy said, tilting her head slightly, causing her red curls to bounce. “Scar across her face, right?” She gestured animatedly with her finger down her face to highlight the placement of the scar. “She came in last night and practically inhaled a whole bottle of whisky on her own.”

“Was she alone? …Did she say where she may be heading?” Liliane asked, her tone hopeful.

Marcy nodded vigorously, her smirk fading slightly as she recalled the details. She placed a hand on her hip, the other gesturing towards an imaginary bottle. “She was here with a man, dark hair and charming-looking. He was watching over her the whole time, especially when she started to get a bit... wobbly.”
She mimicked a swaying motion with her body, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Girl was a huge downer but then once she finished the bottle, she was a lot more fun.” The barmaid pretended to stumble, catching herself on the bar with a laugh. She leaned her head backward over the bar with a cheeky grin.

“ As for where they were going, they mentioned moving to another bar, but I didn’t catch which one…” Marcy straightened up and tapped her chin before adding with urgency, “...And a group of thugs followed them out! Seems like they were in some sort of trouble.”

Liliane glanced toward Cassius, interested in his thoughts as she replied to the barmaid, “...Thank you, sweetheart, that’s very helpful.”

His eyes were still settled on the stranger even as Marcy spoke, though Cassius listened intently to every word the young barmaid said. Finally, he turned his gaze to Lily as she thanked the woman. He took his moment to address her curious glance with a whisper meant only for her. “I wonder who this mysterious casanova is? If they were being followed, perhaps your initial sense of urgency was well founded, Lily.”

The barmaid flashed a quick smile. “Good luck. Hope you guys find her.” Then she paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, and you know what? I saw the same man here a few nights ago with Lady Charlotte Vikena. They were looking for somebody just like you are now.”

Interesting… Charlotte is quite tied into things.

”She’s a curious one indeed.” Cas stated nonchalantly, though a buzz of curiosity swelled within him at the mention of her name.It seemed as though he was unable to escape her since the night they met outside of his father’s doorstep.

The countess did seem to ponder that information, but she was quick to face Alexander, “...What brings you here, my dear?”

“Well conveniently… You, my dear.” He smiled kindly before his expression slipped back to concern. “But in truth, your husband was whom I was searching for until I spotted you, your umbrella, and your strapping bodyguard there entering this… humble establishment. It's by the mercy of the gods that we find ourselves together, searching for your precious daughter.”

Liliane held his gaze, her smile never falling. Finally, she looked toward Cassius. “Cassius, sweetheart, please continue this conversation with Marcy for me. There are some questions that failed to cross my mind I’m sure. “ She offered an arm toward Alexander, “Let us speak somewhere private.”

Cassius simply answered with a nod as he watched the two take their leave, a look of amusement painting his expression. “Well…that was fucking strange.” He stated plainly to Marcy as he turned his attention back to her. ” I am curious though, have you ever seen that gentleman before?” He asked, referring to the strange man that had appeared seemingly out of thin air.

“...I don’t think so…” Marcy answered hesitantly as she pushed him the brandy he requested. “Any more questions before I attend to the other slobs?” She asked with a smirk.

He shot the brandy in one, long gulp before responding. ”No more questions, but I do have a request…pour me another.” He flashed a kind smile at Marcy as he slid the glass back towards her.
Marcy raised a brow but did as he requested.

Soon enough, Countess Liliane returned. “Sorry Cassius, hope you did not have to wait too long here.” She moved to lean on the bar and waved over Marcy once more, who sighed as she walked back over. “Are you certain you did not overhear the name of the bar nor the name of the man…? Her safety is at risk, please understand.”

The barmaid tapped her chin, then finally her face lit up. “Wait! I think his name is Frizz or something like that. Yes. Frizz.”

Liliane stared at her in confusion as she repeated, “Frizz?”

”I believe she means Fritz.” Cassius declared to Lily. I know this man, met him last night at the masquerade. He’s charming, rather odd, but charming.”

“Let us find this Fritz then.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

⛮ Milo St. Claire ⛮
&
Countess Melanie Monet

Location: The Sorian Grand Hotel on Wulfric Road
Time: Morning
Music playing on the Danophone(an experimental brand new invention)

CONTENT WARNING: SEXUALLY SUGGESTIVE THEME

The brunette had been leaning over the billiards table, her hands gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white. Her deep burgundy dress, slightly disheveled, had its skirts swept over her back. The soft glow of the ceiling light accentuated the curve of her neck, where a single bead of sweat glistened, slowly trailing down to meet the fabric. The soles of her feet met the ground after a deep sigh.

Her breath was still slightly uneven as she rose from her bent position. The dress fell back into place, brushing gently against the carpeted floor. She reached for the pool cue, her fingers provocatively brushing against the polished wood.

“Your technique, Mr. St. Claire,” Melanie said, her voice a soft murmur, tinged with a hint of amusement, “It is truly… inspiring.” She had spent the last hour in Milo’s suite room at The Sorian Grand Hotel while her husband had been at the church ceremony with the children. And to say it had been time well spent would be the understatement of the century.

Milo’s hands still firmly grasped Melanie’s waist even as the woman rose from where he bent her over the table. His eyes, however, were still resting on the majesty of the portrait he painted for her the evening before. Countess Monet was truly a work of art in her own right, but nothing…not a single thing had ever been more beautiful to Milo than his art.

His perfectly toned body, a masterpiece of its own, not unlike the sculptures of marble and clay that he brought into this world through his brilliance, glistened under the soft light as he moved back an inch or two so that his admirer could fully maneuver to a standing position. It wasn’t until she turned to address him, her fingers grasping the pool cue in familiar fashion, that his eyes fell from the portrait to meet her gaze.

“My dear beauty…Intimacy is just as much an art form as painting or sculpting, and one thing is for certain…I take my art very seriously.” Milo expressed with kind eyes and a seductively devilish grin. He reached for her, allowing his fingers to gently wrap around her neck like they had been only moments prior. Leaning down, his lips stopped mere inches from her ear and his voice lowered to barely a whisper as he continued, “Pleasure is a good look on you, Countess Monet. Remember whose technique it was that gave you such ecstasy. You are more than welcome to come create such art with me whenever you get the craving for more.”

Her dark eyes locked onto Milo’s with an intensity that matched his own. “My dear Milo,” she purred in a voice laced with desire, a sultry smile playing on her lips, “your artistry knows no bounds, whether it be on canvas or in the flesh. You paint pleasure with the skill of a true master, and I am but your willing muse.” Her hand rose, fingers trailing sensually up his arm, tracing the path that led to where his hand rested on her neck.

Melanie’s words of admiration washed over Milo like rays of well-earned sunlight. As her fingers trailed up his arm, he moved to press a kiss against her lips that crescendoed into a gentle bite, which caused her to giggle, before he addressed her claims. “Oh, you were not only willing… You were eager.” He stated with a confident smile. With his fingers still wrapped around her neck, he turned Countess Monet’s gaze over to her portrait. ”Now do me a favor and look upon the culmination of that very muse. Isn’t it beautiful?” Milo asked, his words full of passion.
“It is beautiful,” Melanie whispered breathily. Her eyes traced the lines of the painting, capturing the essence of her beauty through Milo’s masterful strokes. “For years, I have felt as though I have faded into the shadows… I have felt so unappreciated.” Her voice saddened only slightly and only for a brief moment. “But your art, Milo… your art makes me feel seen, truly seen, as if I might be beautiful once more.”

She turned her gaze back to him, “You have awoken a part of me that I thought was lost. Through your eyes, I am more than just a woman; I am a masterpiece.”

”Indeed you are, my muse. You are an absolute masterpiece worthy of being immortalized through my art. I’m glad to know that I have inspired such confidence in you. Perhaps I can awaken even more of your radiance if you have time for a little more fine-tuning before your husband returns?”

“As tempting as that is, I need to get going, unfortunately. It’ll have to wait until next time. Thank you again for all this.” Melanie informed him with a disappointed look in her eyes. She moved to slip her heels back on as she continued, “...Oh and Mr. St. Claire, what’s that device you have playing music? I have never seen such a thing.”

Milo flashed her a playful pout as he retrieved his pants from the back of the couch and pulled them up as she spoke. “It was my pleasure, Countess Monet. You certainly proved to be a much more enjoyable session than the one I had with King Edin the other day. His Majesty wishes he could possess half the natural splendor you do.” He said half in jest. ”But regarding the music…speaking of the King, the device is called a danophone believe it or not. The pompous ass just can’t help himself, can he?”

“Must be new! I’ll be fetching myself one real soon… I’ll see you at our next session, Milo dear.” She turned and gave him a wink. “If it wasn’t for my husband being such a stick in the mud, I’d ask to plan our next session here and now.”

Milo approached her one final time, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ”If your husband wasn’t such a bore, I’d suggest you bring him with you next time.” He stated with a wink of his own. ”But alas, until then, my beauty.” In reply, the countess giggled and planted a kiss on his cheek before making her departure.

As he watched the Countess walk away, Milo let his gaze slip back to the portrait. He admired every inch of his work as he pondered the truth. There was nothing special about Melanie Monet. Countess or not, she was nothing but another of his adoring fangirls throwing herself at him to be used for his pleasure. Just another canvas for him to work his magic. To Melanie, this was the best day of her life. To Milo, it was just another Monday.

What was special, however, was the portrait in front of him. He truly was a master of his craft, a paragon of artistic brilliance that deserved for his works to be cherished and remembered throughout time like the legends of his field. He knew exactly how good he was as he looked over his creation with glee. The portrait of Edin he had done in the days prior was a sight to behold, but this portrait was overflowing with muse and inspiration.

After a moment, Milo broke away to pour himself a whiskey on the rocks and draped his unbuttoned shirt over himself as he made his way over to the balcony. His figure was so perfectly highlighted by the light of the sun that no wonder he had gained the nickname Mr. Sunshine. Looking out over his beautiful view of Sorian, he let his eyes meet every building, every person walking the streets and going about their day. He smiled as he took it all into view. This city would be the place where he would truly cement his legacy. In time, there would not be a single person here that did not know the name Milo St. Claire.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Cassius & Liliane

Part 1

---

“Cassius? … Sorry to wake you, but I need your help.”

Closing the window and drawing the curtains closed, Cassius turned his attention towards the door. His intuition led him to believe that whatever Liliane needed from him most likely involved his sister Violet. As he made his way over, he reached to turn the knob but paused just before his hand made contact. He looked down at his body, registering that he wasn’t wearing nearly enough clothes to open that door.

Come on Cassius, you’re not a street dog anymore. He thought to himself with a playful smirk. Gotta wear a shirt when greeting a fancy lady like Liliane. Quickly grabbing one, he only began the process of buttoning it up as he finally reached for the knob and pulled the door open, his patented smirk still present on his face.

“Not a worry, Lady Damien. You didn’t wake me. I was up and simply enjoying the morning breeze.” Cassius stated kindly. “Whatever you need, I’m your guy.”

Liliane stood before him in a simple yet elegant navy blue gown. There wasn’t a hair out of place on her blonde head as she met his eyes without a blink. She held out an arm, revealing a black umbrella. “ Good morning sweetheart. It is a rather lovely morning, isn’t it?” She greeted him with a smile. “It is, however, forecasted to rain so you will need this regardless if you can spare me your time.”

Cas finished buttoning his shirt as she spoke. Then, as the last button as secured, he ran his fingers through his messy hair before responding. He matched her warmth in both expression and in tone. “Indeed…It’s rather lovely, actually.” He said, his thoughts turning back to the beautiful song that helped him overcome the panic of his nightmare. “And if we’re to have rain, I’m certainly glad you came prepared.” Cassius took the umbrella with a thankful nod and hung it on the door handle behind him. “I do not mean to delay your plans, milady, and I assure you I have all the time in the world to offer…but perhaps I shall take a moment to at the very least find my boots and throw on a jacket if we’re about to go on a grand adventure together. Is that alright?”

“Of course, but please make haste. I am aware that you were informed of Violet’s disappearance and I know you have experience with this sort of dilemma…I hoped that you would not mind assisting.” She took a step to the side to give him time as he requested.

“I am indeed aware of the situation with Violet, and you’re correct…not only am I well versed with this kind of work, but this also isn’t the first time I’ve assisted in bringing dear little sister home from an ordeal such as this. Perhaps together, you and I can catch a lead and find her quickly.” He stated with reassurance in his voice. “But of course, I won’t take long…I promise.” Cassius took but a moment to get ready before returning to Liliane, grabbing the umbrella off the door as he did so. “So…shall we?’ He asked, offering her his arm and a confident smile.

She giggled and locked her arm with his. “So dashing!” Subsequently, Liliane led him downstairs and then picked up a small basket. Its contents were hidden beneath a cloth, however, the tantalizing aroma of fresh pastries wafted up from within. “ I had some breakfast packed for you. “ After handing him the basket, she said, “I had received word that she was spotted in our gardens, but we made no discovery there. I believe she ventured off the estate grounds, and now we shall need to go make some inquiries.”

Cas excitedly looked through the basket as Lily spoke about their first lead. He welcomed a biscuit into his mouth and took a generous bite, making sure to chew quickly so that he wouldn’t be responding with his mouth full. Nodding in agreement with her observation, he finally spoke. “In that case, before we begin asking the locals…Would you mind telling me a little more about Violet? Is this type of thing something that happens often? Is there reason to believe that she might be in danger? And forgive me, but matters such as this often need a direct and full-pictured approach…So I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you considered that she simply doesn’t want to be found?”

“Oh I’m quite certain she does not.” Lily answered matter-of-factly, yet retained her soft tone nonetheless. “Especially if she ran away on her own accord and this isn’t some elaborate kidnapping.” She slid onto a stool gracefully and folded her gloved hands on the table. “I have quite the pickle on my hands when it comes to Violet, if you’ve ever so fancied the phrase and can understand… You may judge my choices, but I wish to have an honest relationship with you, Cassius, so I shall explain the situation at hand… But do understand, that you will need to keep this discussion within this household. What I am about to tell you could endanger your life just for knowing, is that understood? ”

“You don’t have to worry… Discretion has always been one of my areas of expertise.” He stated with confidence and panache. “Plus, I’ve been working on a theory since the other night. I’m aware that she bears a curse, that much I can say with certainty. The real question is what flavor of curse are we dealing with here? I’d put a lot of father’s gold on it being vampirism, but that’s just a hunch.” Cassius continued to carry himself with a certain level of nonchalance, but his demeanor shifted slightly as he approached Lily and placed a hand on her shoulder for the sake of reassurance. “I understand the danger that comes with such things… I’ve endured those very perils before. The more you tell me, the more I can help. So, I suggest you tell me everything.”

She smiled at him, but this was a smile visibly more genuine, especially to Cassius. “You remind me of your father in the way that not many see of him.” The countess told him. “You have the same kindness and reassurance he bestows me and his girls… I’m sure he’s rather proud of the person you’ve become.” She let the words settle in his mind briefly but did not give him much time to respond just yet.

“She is a vampire. Liliane confirmed calmly. “ Your father and Dr. John Williamson found her with an axe driven in her face the other night. She was presumed dead on the scene, however…” She drew off, choosing her next words carefully, “There is a rare phenomenon where someone may seem dead at first glance, their heart rate slow, their body still, however, they are still clinging to life. It’s a delicate state that may not have persisted much longer. I acted swiftly that night. Your father and I have a connection to mages that can assist at our request, but it was a significant favor to ask. Violet was barely clinging on and waiting until she perished could mean that we’d have to find someone willing to perform necromancy magic, a costly and dangerous task, especially for those without a natural affinity for dark magicae. Healing her was also out of the question I was told. “

Her gaze lowered, “Losing Violet so young was not an option. I knew what it would do to your father, and sadly I feel that the events the last few days are very much damaging his psyche… Anyway, cursing her was our only option in her state, and the effects of such a curse are detrimental and even dangerous to those in her company. We must keep an eye on her and know where she is as much as possible, especially so until I can figure out a way to cure the curse…”

Her voice then softened with sadness. “She resents me for the decision to save her, and she’s also changed a lot from the girl we raised.

Cassius took in each and every word Liliane spoke, allowing the information to ruminate in his mind as he processed it all. Though his expression did not change, he vehemently disagreed with her decision... They should have just let her die. He had seen what such curses could do to a soul, and honestly…it would have been a mercy to let their Violet perish as she was instead of having to witness what Cas was certain she would become. However, he would not say as much. There was no good to come from condemnation in this moment. He had been asked to help find the poor girl, and that’s where his focus remained.

Gathering his thoughts, however, he could not resist the urge to speak his mind on one matter. ”Listen…I do not judge you for your decision. But I do pity you, and I pity Violet. There will be consequences, they have already begun to manifest themselves…and these consequences aren’t simply going to go away. Not ever. For the rest of your lives, as long as she remains cursed like she is, the ramifications of the decision you made that night will follow you.” He gave her just enough time to let the smoke of his own words clear before he continued. “With that understood, I do have a question. Why not just go to your mages for their scrying? Surely they could track her down with a spell?”
Liliane met his eyes as he spoke, but simply only addressed the final question, “We did have the girls on our tracking globe for some time now, but as soon as the curse was enacted, she disappeared off it. We’d have to have the spell redone.”

He nodded in understanding, but again he made his thoughts known. ”I suggest you do so quickly. Please do not mistake my suggestion as being pushy… I just have enough experience with this type of thing to know that it’s imperative if you want to continue keeping Violet, and those around her safe.” The thought that came afterward almost forced a subtle smirk to cross his lips, but he held it at bay. He was pondering the weight of Lily’s revelation, the breadth of danger that would certainly come their way, and found a funny sense of irony in the fact that even here…away from the war and turmoil of mercenary life, safety was nothing but a dream men like him could not have the luxury of living.

“The request and globe were sent to the mages already. The process will be complete today, however, considering how she was found in the first place, we still must make haste.” She told him and rose from the seat. “The city guard relayed to me that they heard a rumor that she was sighted at a tavern, so The Tough Tavern will be our first location.”

”Then I see no reason to linger here any longer. I know the place… Allow me to lead the way.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: The Morning of Sola 24th
Location: Damien Estate, Cas’s bedroom
Mentions/Interactions:@JJ Doe Fritz @princess Liliane

***TRIGGER WARNING***
This post includes graphic content including the depiction of torture, be advised.

Cassius reclined against a fallen log, his gaze fixed on the stars above while Kamal sat opposite him, nursing a mug of watered-down ale that he held in shackled hands. Despite their current roles as captor and captive, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual respect that had blossomed amidst the quiet of the open road.

"So, Kamal…" Cassius broke the quiet, his voice laced with the smooth cadence of a practiced charmer. "You mentioned a daughter…tell me about her."

"She's the light of my life…" Kamal glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes before a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Her name is Aisha, and there’s nothing more precious in this world to me."

"Do you think she misses you?" Cassius nodded, a genuine warmth infusing his features.

"I do..." Kamal stated somberly. "And I miss her, every moment of every day. I promised her I would return…Seems you’ve made a liar out of me."

Cassius’s eyes broke away from Kamal’s as he let the man’s words process in his mind for a moment before responding. "No..." He said with a calm smile. "If anything, I’ve helped you be an honest man, Kamal. One who faces the consequences of his actions. One that perhaps she can be proud of."

"Bold of you to think she could be proud of a criminal like me." Kamal responded bluntly, raising his shackled hands to add weight to his words. "I will never be the world’s best father…I just wish for the opportunity to try, to leave all of this behind."

Standing, Cassius walked over and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. "Then I suggest once all of this unpleasantness is over…you go home and begin again. Do not let your yesterdays define your tomorrow. There may be hope for you yet, but you look exhausted…get what rest you can, we’re heading out early."

With an acknowledging nod from Kamal, the night soon fell silent. After some time, under the dim and eerie majesty of flickering starlight, the two eventually drifted off to sleep.

As morning came they continued their journey, and Cassius found himself drawn into Kamal's world, his tales of fatherhood and love painting a picture of humanity amidst the harsh reality of their circumstances. It was in those moments, that he glimpsed even more of the man behind the bounty. Yet, as they drew closer and closer to their destination, a palpable tension hung in the air like a storm moving in over the horizon. Kamal's eyes darted nervously, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as the weight of their impending encounter bore down upon him.

"Cassius, please…" Kamal implored, his voice trembling with a growing panic. "You have to let me go. I beg of you."

Cassius met the man’s eyes with a steady gaze, his expression softened by understanding. However, the truth planted a pit of guilt inside of him. "I can't, Kamal…you know that. Iron Wolves always finish the contract." His words were stern but gentle. "But I promise you, as long as you cooperate with Lord Jamari, you'll see your daughter again. If he wanted you dead, he would have asked me to bring you in much less intact than you currently are."

Though Kamal's fear lingered like a shadow, there was a small ember of hope in his eyes, a glimmer of trust in Cassius’s promise. "Thank you..." He whispered, gratitude suffusing his voice. There was a long sigh from Kamal before he spoke again. "My father used to tell me that every man must one day face the music that they compose. Perhaps you’re right, Cassius. Perhaps now I will have the chance to be half the father to my little girl that he was to me."

As they finally reached the outskirts of Lord Jamari's camp, Cassius was greeted by the imposing figure of his mentor Silas, one of the captains of the Iron Wolves. The man’s keen gaze met him with both pride and concern.

"Good work, Vael." Silas remarked, his voice carrying a note of admiration. "The Lord will be pleased with your efforts."

Cassius offered a tight-lipped smile in response, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity at the veteran’s obvious worry. As Kamal was escorted away by the guards, Cassius bid the man good luck. He and Silas then lingered in the fading light. First they caught up on the happenings since Cassius had been away, and then Cassius gave a recounting of how he captured his quarry as well as their eventful journey back to the Yola outskirts. Eventually, Silas voiced the concerns that were so clearly haunting him.

"Something's not right…" The captain murmured, his voice a low rumble in the scarcely lit camp. He cast a wary glance around, ensuring that they were alone before pressing on with his thoughts. "Lord Jamari's demeanor has shifted, Cassius. The man has always been a warlord, but lately…it's as if there's a darkness consuming him. A madness."

Cassius’s brow furrowed, his mind racing with the implications of Silas's words, but before Cassius could respond, a guard approached with urgent haste…his breaths ragged with the urgency of his message. "The Lord requests your presence." He announced, his words strained with tension. "He awaits you in the royal tent."

Silas exchanged a meaningful glance with Cassius, a silent understanding passing between them. The guard escorted the men to their destination, and as they stepped into the much more significantly lit interior of the Lord’s massive tent, the sight that greeted them sent a shockwave of horror coursing through Cassius's veins.

Kamal hung suspended by his ankles over an open bonfire, his bloodied form contorted in agony as he gasped for breath…his eyes pleading for mercy as they found Cassius. Lord Jamari's voice echoed through the chamber as he welcomed his guests with a sadistic smile.

"Ah, it brings me such joy to see that the young Wolf has returned...and with such a phenomenal gift," He greeted them, his voice dripping with jubilation as he motioned towards Kamal. He stepped forward and waved the two mercenaries over to the table that had been set up with a gratuitous feast. "Join us, won't you? We're just getting started."

Cassius’s heart hammered in his chest as the air within Lord Jamari's tent hung heavy with the scent of roasted meat and the sickly-sweet tang of burning flesh. Cassius forced himself to swallow back the bile rising in his throat as he watched the grotesque spectacle unfolding before him.

Lord Jamari sat at the head of the table; his face twisted into a mask of sadistic glee as he delighted in the agony of his captive. The man's screams and pleas for mercy echoed through the chamber, sending shivers down Cassius's spine. He tried to maintain a facade of composure, though every fiber of his being screamed for him to intervene…to do something, anything to put an end to this barbaric display.

However, Silas's silent urging kept him at bay, the reminder of his mentor's hand on his arm acting like an anchor to keep him rooted in place.

As the feast progressed, Lord Jamari's cruelty only grew in severity. He reveled in the torment of his prisoner…his laughter a chilling exhibition of the man’s growing madness that Silas had mentioned. Cassius felt a profound sense of helplessness and guilt wash over him, gnawing at his conscience as he watched Kamal's flesh blacken, blister, and melt away bit by bit in the searing heat of the flames. Eventually, the man’s screams fell silent, replaced by the sickening sizzle of burning skin as his body was completely consumed by the inferno.

As Kamal's charred remains crumbled to ash, Cassius felt a wave of numbness wash over him, a hollow emptiness that threatened to engulf him entirely as all he could think about was the way Kamal had spoken about his daughter, Aisha. He looked to Silas, seeking comfort in the familiar presence of his mentor…only to find a stoic expression staring back at him, a quiet display of the toll that years of mercenary life had taken on his very soul.

In that moment Cassius understood, for the first time, the true cost of their profession…the very price of survival paid in blood, anguish, and gold. As he gazed upon the smoldering ruins of Kamal's life one final time, he knew that he could never truly reclaim the piece of himself that burned away that night along with a man whose daughter would never see her father again.

Slowly, as his eyes lingered on what was left of Kamal…a pulsating glow of green light began to blink from the center of the bonfire. Suddenly, Cassius was not in Lord Jamari’s tent at all, but rather on the balcony of the Damien Estate where he and Fritz had spoken.

The bonfire shifted into the cityscape of Sorian yet that blinking green light…the beacon…remained. He turned to say his goodbyes to Fritz, but the figure next to him was not the dashing enigmatic man he had been speaking to, but rather the smoldering and melting form of Kamal. Lunging backwards, Cassius tripped on the furniture behind him and turned to brace against the balcony only to find the Sorian cityscape in a blaze as every structure and civilian burned to ash before his very eyes.

It was not the first time he had witnessed such horrors…

Smoke filled the open air around him, consuming his senses and filling his lungs as he began to choke.

__________________________________________

With a desperate breath, Cassius woke in a panic. A cold sweat drenched his trembling body causing the sheets to cling to him as he sat up. His heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still haunted his thoughts.

Images flashed before his mind's eye, distorted and surreal as he pieced together his reality. He was in his room at the Damien estate. There was no smoke to fill his lungs…no fire to char his flesh…and no ghosts from his past here to collect for his sins.

Cassius let the weight of the dream wash over him as he focused on steadying his breaths. Eventually, he reached for the water next to his bed and took a long sip from the pitcher. Memories of the night before…and the beacon, flashed through his mind. He remembered leaving the masquerade in route to the distress signal, only to be interrupted by his father. Calbert informed him of Violet’s disappearance, the unease in his eyes clear to Cassius despite the man’s attempt at his usual, controlled demeanor.

Something within him burned with concern about the beacon…warning him that it could be a trap. It MUST be a trap. Combining that with the news of Violet gave Cassius pause. Despite his own curiosities, Cas decided to heed Calbert’s plea to remain at the estate.

He spent the rest of his night helping however he could, and sat with Crystal in the dining room offering what comfort he could to her. Throughout it all, he felt as though in some ways his assistance was appreciated, but he could not shake the gut feeling of being an interloper.

Cas rubbed the sleep from his eyes, only to find his senses greeted by a welcome yet distant melody; the soft vocals of a song, muffled by the walls of his room yet unmistakably enchanting. He made his way to his feet and walked over to the window, drawing back the velvet curtains and opening it so that he could hear it better. The cool morning breeze greeted his skin, carrying with it the sweet harmonies of the woman’s song.

Closing his eyes, Cassius listened, the melody washing over him in nostalgic fashion. Though this voice was its own kind of comforting beauty, he heard echoes of the songs his mother would sing to him in moments of comfort and solace during his childhood. He focused on the words intently.

“...So close your eyes now dear, my little angel,
I found you here today,
Under the leaves of the willow,
As the morning embraces us,
I'm right here with you.
And right here in my heart, you'll always be.”

Just as he was getting lost in the song, it came to an end. He wondered who the mystery girl with the beautiful voice could be, but his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. The sound of Liliane’s voice followed.

“Cassius? … Sorry to wake you, but I need your help.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

NPC used: Count Gustav Hansen from Varian Kingdom

Dear “Gorgeous” Gustav,

Apologies, my friend. It’s been at least a month since I’ve written, and I know how you enjoy these little missives. For me to make a Count as “prestigious” as you wait for such things should surely be a crime. How dare I keep you on the edge of your seat wondering when my next letter will arrive. But maybe a little patience could do you good, G.

I jest, but I do hope you know that I have wanted to write, and that you have been on my mind quite a few times lately. Especially this last week. You see, things are very different these days, my friend. So much so that I fear you will think me a liar by the end of this letter. But you know me, and I only lie when I’m paid to. Though I am damn good at it, aren't I?

The truth though, is that my life looks nothing like it did last we spoke. For starters, my mother passed away. I know when I was there with you last year I told you I was going home to visit her, but I never did. I ended up taking another contract before I could even leave Stravinsky. A man just outside of Elso was trying to find the people that took his wife. Turned out to be a real shit show. As unlike me as it is, I even had to reach out for a little help on this one. The woman wasn’t just taken, she was one of thirteen that had been grabbed off the streets for some fucked up trafficking operation that ended up having ties to the Ruvani family. You may have heard about it. We saved nine. The others, we just weren’t quick enough.

I could’ve gone back home then, spent a little time with my mother. She had been writing less often. I could tell she was getting worse. I should have gone, but I didn’t. Gustav, I couldn’t. Another job came my way and I told myself I had to do it. I told myself that no one could get it done like me. I wrote her a letter saying I would visit soon, that I just needed to clear one more job.

I should have gone home.

That contract had me on the front lines of a trade dispute gone bad between a couple merchant cunts that both pulled together enough sellswords to topple a kingdom. So much blood spilled in the names of those elitist dicks (no offense) that by the end I just wanted to go home, G.

The more I climbed the ladder, the less the Wolves felt like home to me. They wanted me to lead, but I was already losing my love for it. There’s more to that story, but I’ll save that for another day. I’m rambling enough as it is.

When that letter came in telling me that she was gone, I didn’t even cry. Not at first. Something just broke. It still is, I think. Doesn’t feel real if I’m being honest. Especially now. Things feel more like a fever dream than they ever have. Turns out in my own way I’m an elitist dick just like you and those merchants. My mother’s revealed the truth about my father. I think I told you the story she had spun me when I was young. Well, she left out a few key details. This, G, this is the part where you’re gonna think I’m lying.

I’m in Sorian visiting my father. He’s a Count just like you, buddy. You’re officially reading the words of Calbert Damien’s bastard son. Yeah, THE Calbert Damien. I have every confidence that you know that name. I told you, you’re sitting right there swearing to yourself that I must be lying. Part of me, though I don’t know why, wishes I was lying. However, this is my new reality.

Here I am, moments away from getting dressed for a fucking masquerade. I bet you’re smiling at the thought. I bet you’re picturing how incredible I would look all done up in clothing fit for nobility. You’re probably even drooling at the thought of how good my ass looks in these tailored pants. You’re not wrong, it looks absolutely perfect.

I miss you G.

Somehow, I feel like things would make more sense if you were here. But more than anything, I wish I could drink a fucking barrel of that mead you had last year. Don’t get me wrong, this Caesonian wine is special, but that mead was the nectar of the gods themselves. Imagine you and I taking the dance floor together. Me in this ever so dramatic wolf mask that the good Count himself had commissioned jussssst for little ol’ me, and you in…whatever pretentious, sexy bullshit you would certainly show up in. We’d undoubtedly be the talk of Sorian. But, alas my friend, you’re in that frozen shitbag Svenborg, and I’m here eating grapes and tasting all the beauty that an actual civilized place has to offer. Guess I’ll just have to find another way to take this place by storm. You know I will...I always do.

Write me back you beautiful bitch.

Send mead,

Cassius “Damien” Vael