for once i hoped that the crazies were right about the world was ending today. i don't want to pay rent tomorrow.
4
likes
3 yrs ago
anything that inconveniences me is now homophobic
6
likes
6 yrs ago
When you want to join RPs but you know you don't have the time and energy to do it so you just make characters for that RP and imagine being in that world just for a little while
C A M P I N G S I T E | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : M e n t i o n s :
The rest of the morning had gone as Mathias had expected. After the small debacle with his fake mustache, he and Ariella spent the remainder of the party exchanging light pleasantries and laughing over the absurdity of Maryâs impromptu mustache artistry. She had, after all, won the hat-making contest during the horse race, so perhaps it was no surprise. Still, despite the humor, Mathiasâ thoughts kept drifting toward Lady Edwards. Discreetly, heâd called for coffee and bread, hoping it would help sober her up. It was only the second time heâd met her, and both times, she had been inebriated. Given what he had observed of Duchess Edwards, he could understand why.
He watched as other nobles stumbled and slurred their words, which only made him want to join their drunken stupor. At least now, he understood why his get-up had gone unquestioned or unnoticed. He had to remind himself he wasnât in Varian, and while appearances were still important for his personal goals in Sorian, perhaps he didnât need to take things so seriously
___
Mathias climbed down from the carriage with a small huff, rubbing the small of his back before thanking the driver and grabbing his bag. Heâd never quite gotten used to the jostling of carriage ridesâperhaps he was just getting old. Dismissing the thought, he paused to take in the crisp, fresh air of the summer night. He could smell the trees, the grass, and the campfire nearby. It reminded him of those nights spent foraging for food when he was younger. The idea struck him againâmaybe he could sneak off after the activities and see what Caesoniaâs forests had to offer. It couldnât be too different from Varianâs foraging, right?
As the camp staff welcomed them, Mathias hung back and scanned the group. He spotted Ariella, chatting with a woman who he had recently learned was Captain Stratya Durmand. Like him, she was dressed lightly but practically, ready for the outdoors. And unlike her, Mathias hadnât brought a weapon, something he was now regretting if he planned on foraging later. He wondered if she carried a spare; she certainly looked prepared for anything.
His gaze drifted to a woman he hadnât seen before. She stood watching the group, a smile on her face that didnât quite sit right with him. Her posture and demeanor seemed out of place, as if she didnât belong with any of the nobles or commoners. Intrigued, Mathias approached her, his friendliest smile in place.
âQuite an exciting night, isnât it?â He folded his arms behind him in a gentlemanly manner. âI wonder what kind of activities the staff have planned for us. Should be fun, donât you think?â His tone was casual and warm. âIâm Mathias, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. And you might be...?â He dipped his head slightly in a polite bow.
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Fritz @JJ Doe M e n t i o n s :
Zaraiâs pulse quickened the moment Fritzâs hand brushed her shoulder. It was such a light touchâbarely thereâbut it was enough to make her entire body tense. She wished, desperately, for the ground beneath her to open up and swallow her whole. How could he see through her so easily? It was unbearable.
Her instinct was to pull away, to retreat into herself as Fritz guided her toward a soft patch of grass, his grip firm but never forceful. She followed, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten as they sat down. She hesitated when he motioned to her shoes before finally pulling them off. A brief sigh of relief passed her lips as her mangled feet were freed.
âI may have lied about being enough competition,â Zarai replied as a blush that crept up her neck and bloomed on her cheeks. Fritzâs hands moved to her feet, his touch warm and sure, and she nearly flinched again. She wasnât used to this kind of tenderness.
The way he looked at herâunderstanding, almost too understandingâtugged at something deep inside her, something she didnât want to face. Shame. Why did she feel ashamed? Why did his gentle care make her want to shrink away instead of lean into it?
She listened in silence as he spoke, his hands working methodically over her aching feet. Occasionally, sheâd wince, a quiet gasp escaping her when he found a particularly tender spot. It was a relief, sure, but it didnât erase the discomfort gnawing at her insides.
âI think heâll be angry for a long time,â Zarai offered in response to Fritzâs words about Peter, her voice steadier than she felt. One hand gripped the fabric of her skirts, the other pulled at blades of grass one by one, a distraction from the raw ache in her feet and the weight of Fritzâs attention. âHave you told him that youâre worried? Maybe he needs itâthe anger. Sometimes itâs the only thing that makes you feel in control.â She understood that feeling all too well.
When Fritz said he wanted to help, she couldnât bring herself to look at him. The sincerity in his voice was too much. Instead, she withdrew her feet from his lap, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, her gaze locked on his hands. Her fingers traced idle circles over her knee, the words she wanted to say lodging themselves in her throat.
âI know you want to help,â she finally managed, though her voice had grown softer. She opened her mouth to say more, but the words wouldnât come. What could she tell him? That she didnât know what she wanted anymore? That the more time passed, the more she feared the answer? Her lips moved, but no sound came out. So, she closed her mouth again.
âIâll tell you,â she said after a long pause, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. âI just... need time. I thought I knew, butâŠâ Her voice trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. What if he hated her for it? What if he saw her for what she really was? A mess. A disappointment. Not so different from her mother after all. âI need more time to figure it out. To see if itâs really what I want and not just something Iâm chasing because Iâm angry. So please don't demand an answer from me now. I don't want to disappoint you."
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Wulfric @SilverPaw , Farim @Lava Alckon M e n t i o n s :
Nahir blinked, watching Prince Wulfric sip the very drink he had just warned her against. A small, appreciative smile tugged at her lips, acknowledging his subtle gesture. In response, she hesitated briefly before bringing her own glass to her lips for a cautious taste. He had been rightâthe drink was tempered, its flavor smooth and enticing, but not overwhelming. The warmth of the alcohol settled in her stomach, but it was more of an afterthought, a fleeting sensation against the deeper, more persistent heaviness she had woken up with that morning.
She had felt it from the moment she roseâa sluggishness that clung to her limbs, making each movement a little harder to execute, as if her body were refusing to fully cooperate. Nahir suppressed a flicker of frustration, refusing to let it show now. She had no name for this strange, intermittent weight that sometimes settled into her bones, nor for the tremors that occasionally fluttered through her hands. Today, her body was simply slower, heavier. But she wouldnât let anyone see that.
âHeâs well practiced,â Wulfric had remarked. She didnât doubt it for a second.
Taking his arm as he escorted her away from the table, Nahir leaned into his support ever so slightly, though her expression remained poised. Her legs felt like they were moving through water, her muscles unresponsive and reluctant. When they reached her cousinâs table, her gaze fell on him, and though she wanted to offer a polite smile, the effort felt too much. Instead, the twitch of her lips resembled something closer to a condescending smirk, the kind Layla wore so often. Perhaps it was the sight of the princess perched shamelessly on his lap. Or maybe it was simply because her body felt more like a burden today, and Nahir couldn't summon the energy to feign interest.
Her time at the opera with Wulfric had been enjoyable and distracting, though the heaviness in her limbs had lingered. The performance was beautiful, but the subtle strain of keeping her movements controlled, of masking her body's betrayal, left her slightly drained. The conversation had been light, though at times she found herself struggling to stay fully present, the fogginess creeping into her mind as the evening wore on.
Now, back in the guest house, Nahir could finally let her guard down. As she sank into the cushions of her chair, she allowed herself to exhale, feeling the weight of the day settle deeper into her body. She requested another bath, this time with steaming hot water epsom salt, mustard powder, and baking powder. She hoped that the heaviness would be gone by tomorrow morning for a few more days.
D A M I E N E S T A T E | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Fritz @JJ Doe M e n t i o n s :
Zaraiâs lips curled into a smirk at his joke, though her eyes lingered on him. "Oh, I donât know, my Lord. You might find Iâm more than enough competition," she teased with a familiar ease, but the moment he shifted the conversation to her feet, her expression faltered. The playfulness dimmed as she glanced away, trying to brush off the discomfort. âTrouble? Nothing I canât handle,â she replied lightly, though the faint tightness in her smile betrayed her. "But if youâre offering a foot rub, I might be tempted to take you up on it."
âHow are you?â she asked, her voice softening to match his. Her hand twitched as though to reach for him, but she kept it by her side. âPeter and Karleen doing alright? The bird too?â It was easier to ask about them, to avoid what truly weighed on her mind. She hadnât seen them since their celebration, and she hoped this small talk might help ease into the real reason sheâd asked to speak privately.
The silence between them grew, pressing down with an unbearable weight. They both knew this wasnât why she had asked him to speak alone, but Zarai still needed to know about them. They had all lost someone dear to them.
Would Udo think her brave for what she was about to do?
No. He wouldnât. It was cowardly, but she didnât know what else to do. Fritz had asked what had to change for her to be happy, and no matter how selfish it was, he had promised to help her. And now, the answer sat at the tip of her tongue, heavy and vile. She couldnât say itânot when it was the very thing Fritz feared becoming. And here she was, contemplating doing exactly that. But was it the same?
She didn't know.
The silence wrapped around her like ink-black tendrils, suffocating and cold, pulling her deeper into the dark lake of despair that threatened to swallow her whole. She felt trapped beneath its icy surface, unable to reach the warmth, the light. She couldn't say it. She couldn't turn him into that.
"I'm sorry. This was a mistake," Zarai murmured, shaking her head. She took a step back, her resolve crumbling under the weight of what she had almost asked. "It might be best to talk later. Away from prying ears." She needed timeâtime to figure out another way to make her wish come true without dragging him down with her.
"Shall we go back?" she asked, her smile returning with practiced ease. "We can't let them start without us!" It was easier to slip back into that mask, to pretend, just a little longer. She only hoped Fritz would allow her that.
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Ariella @Tpartywithzombi M e n t i o n s : Wulfric @SilverPaw
Mathias shot a glance back at the woman, praying she wouldnât follow. To his relief, she was too preoccupied, watching the strands of his fallen mustache floating in the breeze. Up, up, and thenâdown. Downâright into Prince Wulfricâs plate. Mathiasâs eyes widened in horror, and he quickly looked away, wiping any lingering bits of the mustache from his upper lip.
Once they were safely away from the elderly woman, who was now quietly giggling to herself, Mathias tried to conceal his embarrassment behind the oversized top hat. It only slipped further down his forehead, forcing him to remove it. As he finally turned to face his savior, Ariella looked like she was on the verge of bursting into laughter, her cheeks flushed with the effort of holding it in.
For a moment, Mathias couldnât speak, just watched Ariella's arched brow and the quiver of her lips. The sight was enough to make him break. âNo, Iâ itâs my first time,â he managed to say through his pressed lips before a snort escaped him. A second later, he was laughing uncontrollably, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from drawing attention, but it was too late.
This was absurd! Ridiculous! He couldâve been caught and humiliated, but somehow, Ariella had saved him just in time. Tears welled in his eyes from laughing so hard, one hand clutching his stomach while the other gripped the top hat.
âDid I at least look good as an old man?â he asked between fits of laughter, still gasping for breath. âGods, that mustache smelled horrible.â And somehow, he could still smell it! "Thank you Ari, for the rescue."
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Wulfric @SilverPaw M e n t i o n s : Rohit
Nahir made a mental note of the list Wulfric had provided to Rohit, storing it away for future amusement. Lady Suhasani, in particular, would adore the Seaside Heaven Resort. And she could already feel Eceâs excitement when gambling was mentioned. Perhaps a little outing with her ladies-in-waiting would be the perfect break. It had been far too long since they spent quality time together.
She had just raised her glass to her lips when Wulfric spoke again. His words made her pause, and after a brief glance at the prince, she placed her cocktail back on the table. "A shame, really," she murmured, her eyes scanning the busy servers hurrying around with trays of cocktails. Had they known what was in the drinks? Or were they just as unaware, caught in the trap of this chaotic scene? Spiking a drink to humiliate certain nobles was understandableâalmost expected in some cases when the servants were treated badlyâbut all of them?
This spoke volumes to the common folk's feelings toward Edwards and the family, and to do so in the presence of such high-ranking nobles. Were the people of Caesonia dissatisfied with the ruling class?
Nahir had been looking forward to a simple evening of sitting back and savoring Caesonian delicacies. But left and right, nobles were now giggling, gossiping, and swaying drunkenly as though they were common folk.
âWhat a farse,â
He had read her mind, but Nahir gave no indication of whether she agreed or disagreed. She simply took a bite of her salmon roll, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding around them. Her eyes lingered on Charlotte and the Damien bastard, both of whom were lying on the grass like fools as the chaos slowly unfolded around the,. And yet, they seemed strangely at peace in that moment. A pang of something familiar tugged at her chest, but she quickly turned her attention back to the prince as he addressed her once more.
âI wouldnât mind a change of scenery,â Nahir replied with a soft smile. âDuchess Victoria handled it with as much grace as one could, considering she dared others to smell her feet to prove her âun-cheesiness.â If her husband had not interfered, I wager she would have been the first to lose it. I thought Lord Drake would come second, but he took his fall graciously.â As gracefully as one could. The absurdity of the whole thing had nearly made her lose her composure. Now, as she recalled the spectacle, she took another sip of her orange juice to hide her amusement.
It was always easier to laugh at others than at oneself.
âDuke Edwards certainly knows how to handle her,â Nahir remarked, giving a knowing nod. âBut if we are to relocate, what sort of entertainment would Your Highness prefer?â Her fingers toyed absently with the glass of juice, but she set it down as she felt her left hand stiffen ever so slightly. Not wanting to draw attention to her discomfort, she quickly added, âIâve heard wonderful things about the opera house in Sorian.â The words flowed smoothly, masking the frustration she felt with her own body.
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Ariella @Tpartywithzombi M e n t i o n s :
âAnd how is Miss Alberta, Lord Wimsley? Oh, I havenât seen her since the passing of good old Lord Trang.â The elderly womanâs voice, laced with concern, crackled with the weight of time, her eyes widening in expectation.
âAh wellâŠâ Mathias began, but before he could continue, the old woman raised a hand, cutting him off with exaggerated dramatics.
âDo not tell me! She must be heartbroken! Oh, her poor soul! She must have shut herself away in her studio, no doubt.â With a pained sigh, the woman pressed her wrinkled hand to her heart, eyes fluttering shut as if summoning the strength of the gods. âIâve prayed to the heavens for her and for dear Lord Trang,â she added, dipping her head with a slight tremble, offering a reverent moment of silence. But barely a heartbeat later, she sprang back to life. âLord Wimsley, I heard you were meant to travel west to Varian... wait, are you not supposed to be there now?â Her aged eyes squinted, deep creases at the corners crinkling further as she peered at him, suspiciously scanning his face.
Panic surged in Mathiasâs chest like a flood. âNo... of course not. Iâve sent my valet in advance to prepare the house for me,â he said quickly, forcing a laugh that came out far too awkward. His gaze darted desperately around, searching for an escape. If he simply walked away, surely the woman would cause a scene, and the last thing he needed was unwanted attention. âLadyââ
âGood evening!â
The sudden interruption came like a lifeline, and Mathias barely suppressed a sigh of relief.
âOh, Lady Ariella! Youâve grown so big! I remember when you used to barely reach my knee. Such a lovely face you had back then,â the old woman cooed, her tone nostalgic, though she squinted further as if unsure of her own memory.
Mathias glanced skyward, silently questioning her greetingâit wasnât anywhere near evening. But he bit his tongue as he turned to face the familiar figure of Ariella. Ariella! It wasnât recognition that filled her eyesâhis ridiculous disguise had worked far too well. Or⊠was it the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to her that had muddled her senses?
âGood evening, my lady,â he greeted her with a polite bow, masking his concern as she stumbled toward him. His entire frame tensed, bracing to steady her if needed, though he remained frozen in place to avoid toppling over himself. As she righted herself, the sharp smell of liquor hit him full force. Had she really been drinking this much, this early? He frowned slightly, worry knitting his brows together, but he held his tongueâfurther awkwardness was the last thing either of them needed.
âYou may be right,â Mathias mused, though he struggled to follow the erratic thread of conversation, âOr perhaps she was simply born that way. My own father, for instance, wears the most comfortable shoes but acts like he might as well be teetering in six-inch heels with a corset tight enough to cut off circulationââ His attempt at humor faltered slightly as his lips twitched, feeling lighter than before.
âOh! Lord Wimsley, your hair just fell!â The elderly womanâs gasp broke through the conversation like a crack of thunder. She stepped back, her eyes widening in shock as she looked down at the fallen clump of horsehair that had once been a part of his mustache. âWhat a curious thing,â she remarked, bending slightly as the wind gently carried the fake hair across the ground.
Mathias blinked, staring in disbelief at the sight of his mustache now floating serenely on the breeze. One, two, three, four hairs drifted away with graceful elegance, almost poetic in the way they danced through the air, as if mocking his predicament. For a moment, no one spoke until the morning breeze finally whisked the remaining fake mustache out of sight, carrying it away like a leaf in the wind.
Mathias blinked at the sight of his mustache, now floating serenely in the breeze, as if mocking his predicament. âAhâŠâ he began, feeling his face flush, but quickly regained his composure. âYou know me, my lady,â he said with a strained grin, âI must keep up with the youth!â He glanced toward Ariella, his smile turning nervous as he silently begged her to go along with the absurdity of the moment.
D A M I E N E S T A T E | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Anastasia / Charlotte @princess , Fritz @JJ Doe , Farim @Lava Alckon M e n t i o n s : Charlotte and Drake
Zarai knew more than most the weight of rumors and criticisms that circulated within high society. It was a relentless, invisible pressure, tightening its grip on anyone it touched. She would never wish for anyone else to endure that suffocating scrutiny.
The arrival of the servants with trays of food and drinks pulled Zarai from the storm brewing in her mind. The delicious smell of delicacies filled the air, temporarily clearing the fog. They set the dishes in the center of the table and placed plates before everyone. A tray of cocktails had been brought out as well; even Sir Barriosâs tea had been replaced with an orange juice cocktailâsomething, she noted with amusement, he didnât protest against.
She made a mental note about the charity concert, determined to attend and show her support. Just then, Lord Drake took to the stage, proudly displaying the musical piece gifted by Charlotte. Zarai let her eyes close for a moment, letting the beautiful notes wash over her as the melody unfolded. âThat is lovelyâŠâ she murmured to herself, appreciating the talent behind the music. But when Drake made his dramatic exit by stumbling off the stage, Zarai slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. âI hope he didnât break anything,â she chuckled, reaching for a cocktail to help hide her giggles. Gods, it tasted so strong!
The conversation took a mischievous turn then, and Zarai enthusiastically joined in. âStrip poker does sound rather fun,â she nodded, eyes twinkling with playfully. âBut I will only play if Sir Barrios agrees too!â She grinned as she looked at the knight, just in time to catch him downing his cocktail. âWhat do you say, my knight? Will you partake in a fun game of strip poker with us?â
Sir Barrios, clearly unprepared for such a bold proposition, began to cough into his hand and almost spilled his drink, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Whether from embarrassment or the fact that he was briefly choking on his drink, Zarai couldnât be sureâbut it was a perfect moment to shift her attention to Fritz.
âMay I have a word, Count?â Zarai asked, her tone softening as she turned to him. She gave the rest of the table a quick smile. âIn private.â Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her chair back and stood up, biting back a wince of discomfort. "Worry not; we will be back just in time for poker." She said over her shoulder as she headed towards a more desolate part of the garden. The pit in her stomach deepened with every short step. Her feet ached, but the pain only steeled her resolve.
Today, Fritz would have the answer to his question.
Sola 22, 1739
The midnight sea-side breeze tickled her skin as Zarai descended the narrow alleys behind the Sorian Library. The streets were littered with trash and drunkards alike; some slumped against buildings trying to keep their heads upright while others lay on the dirt road. Even back home, people littered the streets of lower Puerto Vira drunk, drugged, or a combination of both. Her chest twisted with an unfamiliar feeling, it pulled at her until forced herself to look away.
The trip from the guest house to The Tough Tavern wasnât short, not now anyway. She had to take her time, or sheâd run out of breath quickly, and her chest still hurt every time she took a deep breath. It was frustrating and humiliating, and she could do nothing about it but blame herself for her idiocy. Zarai was still debating whether she would beat whoever had done this to he. First, she would have to find the culprit, fortunately for her Duchess Francesca was already on that.
Warmth from the tavern greeted her when she opened the door and stepped inside the building. Sheâd expected Fritz and Udo on the stage, Peter somewhere not too far laughing his ass off, and Karleen giving them all a disapproving shake of her head. Instead, she found them in a corner, all sitting at a table without a word exchanged between themâ Udo nowhere to be seen. The air felt heavy as she approached them, eyebrow arched at the parrot perched on one of the empty chairs.
Luz removed the thin brown cloak from her shoulders as she looked at them all. "Having fun, arenât we?"
âAh, why isnât it the illustrious Heir of Puerto Vira herself!â Peter stood on his seat and anchored his foot onto the table as he dramatically bowed. âWelcome. What brings you to this humble watering hole, milady?â Karleen, seated beside him, smacked Peterâs propped leg, causing the redhead to fall back into his chair. âSh*te! What the f**k Karl?â
âManners.â Karleen nodded at Luz.
"Fabulous as always, Karleen." Luz nodded back, but not before sticking her tongue out at Pete
âGood evening, Lady Ledesman.â Rynâs voice ringed tired even in his ears. âItâs good to see you.â He rose from his chair and offered Luz his best smile. He expected to see the shadow of Sir Barrios looming behind her or in the recesses of the room, but saw no traces of him anywhere. âSo⊠will Sir Barrios still have his job tomorrow?â
"He will, he is just catching up to his beauty sleep. Needs all of the extra hours he could get too." Heâs not the only one in need of sleep. Luz returned his smile easily.
His smile turned lopsided. âCare to join us?â
She nodded, looking around the table. Luz shot a glance at the the parrot, and quickly decided that sheâd rather not add any more marks to her skin than the collection she was currently sporting. Even if she did try, the parrot was already staring her down in an almost threatening way. Iâll cook you. I donât know how, but I will. She thought glancing to the other empty chair besides it.
âGriIllLLlled,â the parrot sheerked at the top of its lungs, as they flapped their wings. âSMOooOooked! MmmmMmm!â Karleen tore off some chicken from the banquet and pushed it into the parrotâs mouth. âMmmm.â The parrot repeated. Zarai cringed.
She began towards it when Fritz suddenly stopped her and offered his own. âThanks.â Zarai glanced at the parrot, glad she didnât have to sit next to a colorful talking chicken⊠that ate chicken. âThereâs someone missing.â She said to Fritz, her eyes darting to the snapped figurine on the table. Udo? Without giving an answer other than a nod, Ryn wandered off to a neighboring table to ask if he could take a chair.
âExcellent power of observation, milady.â Peter held what was clearly not his first drink in her direction then chugged it down. He slammed the empty tankard onto the table and called out to the other red-head manning the bar, âOi! Another round of drinks over here!â
âPoison?â Karleen asked Luz, cutting the idiom down to two syllables.
âAlways.â Zarai replied without a second thought.
Ryn slid a chair between Luz and the vacant seat. âGet whatever you want, itâs our treat.â He heard Peterâs snort, dark and dripping with anger and sadness.
âIâll settle for the usual.â Luz knew that mead could do no wrong for her, and she needed something stronger, she knew the barkeep had something behind the counter that would do just fine.
She glanced around the table and shifted in her seat. Her icy stare darted around the table as if the air it self would tell her what the fuck was going on. Everyone was acting out of the ordinary, even Karleen was quieter than usual. She had expected, and now wished, for Peter to start teasing her over her title. Poking fun and pointing out the obvious for the whole table to hear.
This feels like a family dinner. Luz thought, trying not to shudder at that thought.
Another second later Luz groaned loudly as she slumped back on the chair and crossed her arms. âIs anyone going to tell me what is going on or are we going to pretend this isnât awkward?â
âExcuuuuse us, milady, did we disturb you? Weâre real sorry about that. Hey, letâs move over there so we donât make her feel awkward.â Peter began to rise, a movement halted by Karleen's hands.
âStop it, Pete.â
âWeâre libating.â Ryn stroked the rim of the cup while his eyes remained transfixed on the ripples of the liquid. He only looked up with his signature smile when the beverages were delivered to their table. After thanking the person who brought them their drinks, he distributed the cups to everyone.
Zarai was ready to go like a wind up spring, insult at the tip of her tongue until she realized something. She was being fucking asshole. With a sigh of resignation, she sat back down and offered a small apologetic tug of her lips to Peter. She couldnât demand to know what had happened when it was clear none of them wanted to speak of it.
âLibating.â Her tone had gone softer as her eyes darted to the broken figure on the table.
âFor Udo.â Ryn took a sip of the drink to soothe the lump in the back of his throat, but all the alcohol did was burn everything along its path. It did not make the next words any easier to say. âHeâs dead.â
The air grew thick with a weighty silence that fell over their table like a heavy shroud. Despite the lively commotion permeating the tavernâpatronsâs animated conversations, mugs clinking, and laughter echoing in the airâit all seemed muted and distant.
Luz stared at Fritz, her mouth agape. She was having trouble processing what he had just said. He was lying, she concluded. It was all a sick joke she never thought he would play. How could he say that in front of Peter and Karleen? In front of that stupid parrot?! But as she searched their faces, their somber looks became more and more apparent to her.
âSo this ainât going to get any less awkward, Your Gracious-Graciness.â
It wasnât a lie or some cruel joke. It was the truth. Fuck. A sharp, invisible blade twisted in her chest, and her lungs tightened as though she were being dragged underwater. The world plunged into the icy depths of a frigid lake, and it threatened to pull her down with it.
But she wouldnât let herself drown.
Luz rose to her feet, gripping her cup as if it were a lifeline, and lifted it high above her head. âToââ her voice faltered, her breath catching, âTo Udoâmay he find peace in Nnenneâs arms.â Her free hand moved in a slow, deliberate motion, first to her forehead as Udo had done, then to her heart, and finally to her trembling lips.
Every human at the table followed Luzâs lead while the parrot lifted their piece of chicken as high as they could. âTo Udo,â they chanted in unison and took a swig of their drinks. The silence returned as everyoneâs eyes focused on something far, far away.
âIs he reincarnated?â Karleen broke the silence first.
âAlready?â Peter lit his pipe and gave it a moment before answering. âProlly not. Wasnât it after the ocean picks all the meat off their bones that their souls are released from their body or some sh*te like that?â
âSh****tttTTe LIiikke Ttthhaat?â the parrot parroted.
âI always thought their souls were released once Nnenne accepts their body.â Ryn chimed in.
Peter waved his hand dismissively, âSame difference.â
âDo souls stay in the ocean if theyâre not reincarnated?â Karleen asked.
âAccording to Udoâs sermons, reincarnation is a choice. So maybe they do?â
Karleenâs gaze drifted over at the broken figurine. âI hope his family waited for him.â
Ryn followed her gaze. âIâm sure they did. He worked very hard to reunite with them.â
She kept her hopes for Udoâs reincarnated soul unspoken, choosing instead to observe the group in silence. Leaning back against her chair, Luz cradled the cup of mead close to her chest, a small smile forming as she allowed herself to imagine Udo reborn, this time into a peaceful life. She pictured him as a baby, welcomed by a joyful family and a mother eager to hold him in her arms. The thought was a fleeting comfort.
Fortune favors the braveâŠ
With that, she finished her drink in one swift motion, rising from her seat and heading toward the bar without a word. Moments later, she returned, a bottle of clear liquid in one hand and a stack of small shot glasses in the other. âThis is Mezcal, a traditional drink from Catalonia,â she explained as she poured the spirit into the glasses, her movements deliberate. She handed each person a shot. âDrink up.â
âDonât mind if I do.â Peter said, snatching up a cup. Karleen swallowed her drink in one swift motion, then reached for a cup with a grateful nod towards Luz. Ryn thanked Luz and slid the last cup towards himself out of courtesy, but did not do much beyond that. Unlike his companions, Ryn was still nursing his first drink.
Peter tilted his head back as he released a puff of smoke from his mouth. âNot gonna ask howâd it happen?â
Luz downed her shot swiftly, savoring the burn as the liquor scorched its way down her throat. Peterâs question drew her focus back to the group. Did she want to know the details? Udo was gone, and nothing could change that now. All that remained was to mourn and let go. Luz hoped Nnenne had already embraced his soul, guiding him toward peaceâwhether it be to another life or wherever he chose to go.
Yet, she couldn't deny the pull of curiosity. How had it happened? Was it quick? Had he suffered? Was he afraid? Alone? The invisible knife in her chest twisted painfully, but she silenced it with another shot.
âHow did he die?â
âMurdered.â
The word struck Ryn like a dagger.
âWait. Or was it just an elaborate suicide?â Ryn heard the sharp edges of Boss trying to catch his attention, so he peeled his gaze away from his cup and jumped into Peterâs amber eyes. No words passed between them.
Luzâs chest tightened, her lungs struggling to pull in air as she settled back into her chair. She blinked rapidly, brushing away the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. Her gaze drifted to Fritz, and all she wanted was to pull him into a hug. Hug them all, even that irritating parrot. That was what you were supposed to doâoffer a comforting touch when words fell short.
Reaching across the table, she placed her hand over Fritzâs arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He wrapped his hand around herâs and returned the gentle squeeze.
She had to clear her throat before speaking again, âDo you know who?â
Peter managed to say yes, before Rynâs voice cut in, âDonât.â Although his countenance remained neutral, his grip on Luz hand tightened. Only she noticed the tremor.
She cleared her throat softly, steadying herself before speaking again. âDo you know who the bastard who did it?â
âDonât. What. Boss?â Peter punctuated every word with a hiss. âDonât strip and jig? Donât eat watermelon and cheese together? Donât talk about how we know exactly who did it, but arenât going to do a damn thing about it?â
Luz looked at him, frowning.
âWe donât actually know who was involved.â
âBullcrap!â Peter slammed his hands on the table, causing the items on the table to jump and clatter. âYou f**king know that Blââ
âFor her safety.â
Peter paused. His attention shifted onto Luz.
Ryn also shifted his attention to her. âI donât know what Iâd do if something happened to you too.â His grip loosened on her hand to pat it. âItâs best if you donât know.â Then he gave her a smileâan artfully crafted guise to hide a wellspring of emotions both untold and neglected.
âBest for who, Fritz?â Luz scoffed, the disbelief evident in her voice. Was he really going to pull that shit? As smart and charming as he was, sometimes Fritz could be a complete idiot.
The corner of Peterâs eyes twitched, a telltale sign of his mounting displeasure. Even in his discontent, however, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a silent plea that reached out to Luz.
Those eyes, that look, that damn glimmerâit was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her, chilling her to the bone. If Fritz kept acting like this, she might as well throw the damn bucket herself. âWho?â Her gaze snapped to Peter, determined and relentless. If Fritz wouldnât give her the answers, sheâd get them from someone who would. âWho ordered it?â
âNo.
âZarai.â Rynâs voice was stripped of all warmth and his once soft expression turned chillingly blank. ââItâs best if you donât know,â because, if you get too close, you and all the people you care about might face the same fate as Udo.â As he drew closer, his figure cast a shadow upon herâand hopefully, her resolve. âAsk yourself, are you truly prepared to gamble with their lives, simply out of curiosity? Can you bear the weight of knowing that your actions led to the agonizing demise of those dear to you? How their lives slipped away with no one to share their final moments?â
Stop.
Luz did not need to be a part of this, especially when it could put her life in danger. He had to scare her off. âYou want to know how Udo died? He was ambushed in the middle of the city at night. We found lots of lacerations and more than a couple bullet wounds. One of the bullets hit his heart. He bled to death, Luz.â
Stop it.
âThe thing about having a hole in the heart is that for a few precious seconds, the personâs still alive.â Rynâs hands seized Luzâs shoulders. âThey live long enough to feel the pain.â
Stop!
âThe loneliness.â His fingers dug into the weave of Luzâs garments, desperate for the tactile reassurance.
âThe sorrow.â Heat pooled behind his dry eyes.
âThe anguish.â Despite his efforts to quell it, the tremors resurfaced.
âAnd regretâŠâ Ryn breathed deeply, then curved his lips into a hollow semblance of a smile. âIt was not a peaceful end. Thatâs how Udo died.â
Stop!!
âLiar.â The familiar baritone of Udoâs cadence emanated from the parrot cracked the fragile smile. Ryn shut his eyes as he salvaged the fragments before he fell apart, piece by piece.
â... a hypocrite of the highest order, a liar...â Udoâs words dropped into the water and rippled across Zaraiâs mind. â... would you still step in to help Fritz?â Another drop fell. âHe is so convinced that he has to do this alone and itâs why he will fail.â Then it vanished too, engulfed by the sea.
Whatever angry remark or bitter insult she had prepared melted away as she watched the man before her crumble. He was like glass, shattering slowly, each fracture spiderwebbing across the surface of someone she cared for deeply.
âFritzâŠâ Luz's voice came out softer than she intended, yet it still felt like it wasnât soft enough. She gently pushed his hands from her shoulders and leaned forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. One arm held him close, pressing against his back, while the other hand found its way to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his black hair with tender care. Slowly. The way her grandmother used to do for her when she was just a child.
Rynâs breath caught sharply, his body tensing as Luzâs arms enveloped him.
"You can't scare me off," Zarai whispered, her arms still wrapped tightly around him, as if her embrace alone could hold him together. She clung to him, desperate to stop the fractures from spreading, to prevent him from shattering into a million piecesâpieces she feared he wouldnât be able to put back together again.
Rynâs hands found their way around Luz, pulling her closer. His fingertips traced the contours of her as he pressed his face against the curve of her neck. Their bodies melded together, Luz becoming the one thing holding him intact. Through a shaky breath, Ryn mustered an attempt at joviality, âWell, it was worth a try.â He allowed himself to savor the comfort of her presence for a few more heartbeats, then murmured, âWe can talk⊠but not here.â
âItâs been quite a night,â Ryn said deliberately loud enough to reach not only those huddled around the table but also any curious eavesdroppers. âMind getting the carriage?â Karleen nodded and navigated her way through the maze of people toward the exit. Ryn looked down at the Mezcal and leftover food decorating the table. âAnd Iâll go see if we can take this to go.â Once Ryn left, Peter, Luz, and the parrot were all that remained at the table.
Luz watched Fritz walk away, her gaze fixed on his shoulders, tense as though one wrong step might cause him to fall apart and scatter across the floor. She hopedâdesperatelyâthat this wasnât just an act. That he would reach out, ask her for help. But deep down, she feared he was already planning how to shut her out, to handle everything on his own.
Smoke unfurled from Peterâs nostrils, curling through the air as he exhaled. âThanks. Bossâs always been the type to bottle stuff up butâŠâ The redhead sighed. âHe didnât allow himself to grieve. Just did the sea burial then went straight back to work with that damn smile on his face.â
"I figured." Luz shrugged, casually spinning the shot glass in front of her. "Some people need time to process their grief. Others just need a little push." Her eyes met Peterâs through the lingering haze of smoke. "If thereâs anything you can tell me, please do." She sat up straighter, leaning toward the table with quiet intensity. "Or if you need help, money, transportation, anythingâjust let me know."
Peterâs eyes remained locked on Luzâs as he leaned back into his chair and blew out another puff of thick smoke. âDonât make promises youâre not sure you can keep until you know what youâre getting yourself into first, huh, future Duchess?â The lighting of the tavern and thickness of the smoke made the amber of his eyes seem to glow. âYou never know when a promise might turn out to be a contract in disguise.â
Zarai walks through the dirty streets of Sorian, still recovering from an injury that causes her pain with each breath. She arrives at the Tough Tavern, expecting to find her friends in their usual jovial state, but instead, the mood is somber. Udo, one of their companions, is missing. As they gather around a table, Zarai notices something is off. Her attempts to lighten the mood fall flat, and soon, she learns the terrible truthâUdo is dead, murdered.
The grief hits hard, and the group raises a toast in Udo's memory. The conversation drifts into uneasy topics about souls and reincarnation, but the focus remains on Udo's tragic death. Zarai is torn between wanting to know more about how Udo died and the fear of being pulled deeper into the dangerous circumstances surrounding his murder.
Fritz and Peter argue about revealing the details of Udo's death. Fritz tries to protect Zarai by keeping her in the dark, but Peterâs anger boils over. Fritz, desperate to scare Zarai away from the truth, describes Udoâs agonizing death in chilling detail, hoping it will dissuade her from asking more questions.
"And I don't doubt your talent for persuasion, but you have to agree that I would win. I meanâ Look at me, prince. I am a delight. I'm not saying you're not, but I'm a cake after a long and demanding day. You... you are... a cookie. Cute and tinyâ but sharing is caring, after all."
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : M e n t i o n s :
âOh, donât be such a worrywart, Lord Wimsley!â
âWhat if I get caught?â
âYou wonât, I assure you. This disguise is flawless!â
âMary, I really donât think this is a good idea,â Mathias muttered, fiddling with the fake mustache glued to his upper lip. âIf I'm found out, itâll be in the papers, and somehow itâll make its way back to Varian andâ"
ââand if you keep fretting like a scared child, youâll give yourself away!â Mary interrupted, rolling her eyes. âNow, chest out! Own that mustache like you grew it yourself! Farewell, Lord Wimsley.â She gave an exaggerated bow, her smirk teasing him.
âBye bye, Lord WimâLord Wim...ley!â Lukas added, laughing as he waved from the carriage window.
Mathias watched as both Mary and Lukas waved him goodbye from the comfort of the carriage. His gaze following them as they disappear around the corner, their laughter trailing behind. Left alone in front of the entrance to the garden, he felt utterly foolish. How did he end up here? Why?
He hadnât been invited to Lord Drakeâs Birthday Bash, of course. He wasnât a lord, after all. And there was no connection between his father's family and the Edwards... but here he was, masquerading as a Lord Wimsley, complete with a ridiculous mustache fashioned from horsehair and a top hat that sat far too high on his head. The cane in his hand had been a last-minute addition, purchased when they realized the real Lord Wimsley always carried one.
âOne more week, Mathias. One more week, and sheâll be gone,â he muttered to himself as he approached the entrance of the garden.
With a forced smile under his fake mustache, he tipped the absurdly tall hat at the footman stationed by the gate. âLord Wimsley,â he said in a hoarse voice, too exaggerated to sound even remotely natural.
The footman eyed him suspiciously, his gaze lingering on the ill-fitting hat and awkward stance. Mathias stiffened, trying to mimic the arrogance he remembered from his father, standing with both hands resting on the cane, as if he owned the world. Arrogant. Conceited. And so far up his own ass, just like the real Wimsley.
To his surprise, the footman merely shrugged, bowed respectfully, and handed him the complimentary bracelet before ushering him in.
Not paid enough to care, eh?â
Now standing amid the lush gardens, surrounded by lords and ladies who looked effortlessly elegant, Mathias felt utterly ridiculous. Horsehair clung to his upper lip, the hat casting a silly shadow over his face.
âWhat in the godsâs names am I doing here?â he muttered under his breath, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. He spotted Lady Vikena and Lord Vikena with Crystalâs brother⊠Casss⊠Cassand⊠No. Cass⊠Cassius! That was it.
His gaze drifted to another groupâLady Zarai, Lord Hendrix, Sir Barrios, Princess Anastasia, and two more he did not know. One was clearly from the Alidasht delegation, but he wasnât sure who he was.
At another table, Prince Wulfric sat in conversation with two Alidashtians. Mathias spotted at least two people he wanted to greet, but showing up before the prince in this ridiculous disguise would only guarantee he'd become the evening's laughingstock. He doubted Zanderâs brother would care much about his charade, but Prince Wulfric didnât strike him as the kind of man who would appreciate someone sneaking into a noblemanâs birthday celebration with such a disguise.
No, he needed to shed this ridiculous disguise before he embarrassed himself further. Now all he had to do was find a quiet corner where no one would see himâŠ
âLord Wimsley!â Mathiasâs head snapped toward the voice, and he saw an older woman approaching him. Her eyes were framed by soft wrinkles, and the laughter lines around her mouth deepened as she smiled warmly. âI thought you wouldnât make it! Oh, come closer, dear boyâmy eyesight isnât what it used to be.â
Oh no⊠Panic gripped him as he scanned the area, desperate for a way to escape before his flimsy disguise crumbled as quickly as it had been thrown together.
[right][h3][color=silver][sub] rodiak.[/sub][/color][/h3]
[color=silver][sub]2 9 . h e / h i m . p s t [/sub][/color][/right]
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