Rodiak

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N L O V E R ' S L A K E , 1 1 : 0 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

It was a beautiful night for celebrations, especially for the Summer Solstice. Their air buzzed with an electric energy, tickling Mathias’s bare arms and filling him with an unusual vigor. Well, that, or it could have been the copious amounts of drinks he had allowed himself to enjoy throughout the day.

While not particularly religious, he could still recall the excitement in his mother’s eyes during this time of the year. She would meticulously arrange a small altar and save for months to buy enough flowers for two modest wreaths. Despite the slight browning at the edges, it was the act of crafting the wreaths with his mother that Mathias always cherished. He’d gather all the peonies and attempt to weave the stems into a wreath, a very wonky-looking wreath.

Approaching the clearing where the ceremony was supposed to be held, Mathias was greeted by the sound of shouting. He blinked, momentarily wondering in his drunken haze if the shouting was part of the religious ceremonies. Maybe in other regions of Varian, up in the mountains, where it had a tighter hold on the people?

However, the scene before him was far from what he had imagined. Mathias had pictured a large bonfire, food, flowers, herbal drinks, and lots of dancing. This was not it.

“I saw nothing; I was never here.”

Had he been sober, Mathias might have stayed to help restore some order. But he wasn’t. And he was not about to intervene in whatever crazy thing was happening this time. So, with a nonchalant salute to the chaos before him, he clicked his heels and turned to march back in the direction he had come.

Probably to a dingy brothel—or a tavern, or a gentleman's lounge, or the guest house. He'd have to see where his feet decided to carry him.

What Are You Listening To?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N dress ♖ crown ♖ crown ♖ 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 : @CitrusArms@JJ Doe M E N T I O N S :

After signaling Wulfric, Zarai raised her glass to her lips again, hoping to savor her last sip of the fancy champagne when it was abruptly ripped out of her hand. Her heart sank as she flinched, turning her head to the side to see that it was not Lord Monet trying to come back for a round two.

“Hey stranger, wanna help a friend?”

She swallowed down her initial fear and equal anger as she recognized that voice almost immediately. What the hells was he doing here?

“Need you to keep that lady in blue off my back. Think you can handle that?”

And what the hells had he gotten into this time?

A part of her wished he hadn’t recognized her. Zarai felt like she was hanging on by a thread, a very tiny hair-like thread. But fuck it. Peter was in need of help and Zarai was indeed a distraction, and that distraction was about to be a very good-looking woman.

“I got you,” She whispered back.

Zarai sauntered through the bustling nobles who either gathered to compete or to watch the spectacle forming before them. Immediately, she pulled one of the servants who had stopped by to watch the commotion, she requested a large bottle of strong liquor. The man nodded eagerly and rushed off to fetch something while she smiled up at the woman.

“Hi there, pretty!” She approached with a sway in her hips,“You look like you can handle your liquor.” she purred as she hooked her arms with the woman, pressing her chest against her elbow ever so lightly. "Care to join me for a little game?"

She then turned to the forming group, her smile widening. "Anyone else up for it?" Her challenge was met with nods and curious glances from the gathering crowd.Shortly after, the servant returned with glasses and a bottle of crystal-clear liquor. Zarai thanked him and began to hand out the glasses, making sure Blue was the first to receive hers.

What kind of RP mood are you in?

a lazy modern SoL

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R dress ♛ hair ♛ mask 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 : Riona @JJ Doe, Leo @Helo M E N T I O N S :

“Lord Smithwood,” Nahir could sense the forced smile as she returned a small curtsey to Leo. The tightness around his mouth betrayed his attempt to appear pleasant, and his hurried manner did not escape her notice. While pocket watches were a common accessory among gentlemen, Leo's seemingly impatient inquiry to the lady struck Nahir as peculiar.

It was disheartening to learn that petty thief could so effortlessly penetrate the illustrious Damien Estate. Not only that, but the fact they had suffered another breach just days ago told of the inadequate ability to protect one’s very own home.

"A pickpocket here?" Nahir could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy for Lord Smithwood. She would have offered him a genuine smile, but it seemed he was not seeking comfort or understanding at that moment.

Amidst the extravagant decorations and the grandeur of the ball, Nahir had noticed little out of the ordinary during her rounds. With voluminous dresses resembling carriages and ornate masks concealing faces, it would have been easy for a petty criminal to blend in, hidden in plain sight.

Nahir's memory stirred as she recounted, "There was a couple who rudely bumped into this lovely lady." She strained to remember their attire, but all she could recall was a glimpse of deep blue. "A woman and a man, she was in dark blue... and gloves. Could they have been thieves?" She turned to her dance partner, waiting for her to check her person.

What Are You Listening To?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N dress ♖ crown ♖ mask ♖ 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 : M E N T I O N S : @SilverPaw

“My little light!”

Zarai froze in her tracks. A cold sweat ran through her body, and the hairs of her neck stood straight up. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to face Lord Monet. Every fiber of her being recoiled at the sight of him, from his smug demeanor to the way his piercing gaze slithered over her like a serpent. His compliments, veiled in honeyed words and subtle gestures, only served to deepen her disgust. Lord Monet personified everything she found despicable in a man: his wealth and power, now spoke of his true nature.

But what truly fucked her up was the relentless pressure from her mother to even consider Lord Monet as a potential suitor. Her mother feigned ignorance of Zarai’s feelings and instead reveled in the promise of obtaining his gold. Each mention of his vast lands, grand estates, and luxurious possessions was like a dagger piercing Zarai’s soul.

Red. All of them red.

“Lord Monet,” Zarai replied coldly. She had considered pretending to be someone else, using the anonymity of the masks to her advantage but he’d already ruined her evening with his pressence. Who was to say she could not ruin his? “Mother had mentioned Calbert’s taste was declining, so I should not be so surprised to see you here. Although, the Damiens should really add in a hygiene requirement to their invitations.” A tiny smile tugged at her lips when she saw the man swallow down his surprise at her words. She could almost see the coyote mask frown at her.

“Now, now, my star. You should not be speaking that way.” Lord Monet shook his head as he took a step closer to her. Zarai held her ground, but the stench of moldy washcloth left out in the sun to dry masked by expensive cologne overwhelmed her nostrils. “Such a pretty mouth cannot be saying such nasty things! And such thoughts will ruin your that little brain of yours.”

“Ruined enough to be sent to the sanatorium, I hope.” Zarai gripped the flute of champagne with both hands. “Now, I’d rather continue my evening rather than stand here and be reminded of what a wet dog smells like. Have a good evening, Lord Monet.” She turned to leave, but meaty fingers wrapped around her forearm with a force she was all too familiar with.

“Listen here, you little slut, if you think you can speak to me like that, I will–”

“Will what, sir?” Zarai spat out as she wrung her arm free, her eyes burning with loathing. She smirked, daring him to strike her. When Lord Monet said nothing and only stared back, she scoffed at him and turned to walk away.

"... bitch."

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Music pounded in her ears, a relentless rhythm that consumed her senses. The voices of the crowd, once a comforting hum, had become a distant buzz. Her feet carried her through the crowded ballroom, a lonely wanderer amidst a sea of faces adorned with elaborate masks that blurred together in an endless sea of anonymity. Even the lifeless eyes behind them seemed to bore into her, their gaze hollow and devoid of emotion.

Zarai found herself standing by one of the servants carrying a tray of champagne flutes. She took one, downed it, and did the same with the other two. The fourth, she snatched up before a man in a rabbit’s mask took it. The tall blonde blinked at her, but recognition flashed in his eyes as bowed before leaving to search for another drink. Zarai grasped at the flute– the familiar stinging of the alcohol doing very little to calm her nerves or stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. She longed to escape, to break free from the suffocating atmosphere of the masquerade ball.

As she stood there, clutching a champagne flute in her trembling hand, her gaze fell upon a tall, dark figure across the room. The stranger exuded an aura of mystery and intrigue– tinged with familiarity. His sleek raven mask seemed to glow from where she stood and she wondered if it was cold to the touch. With a mix of desperation and a deep-seated need to break free, Zarai raised her champagne flute in the stranger's direction, making a small circular motion with her glass.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R dress ♛ hair ♛ mask 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 : @JJ Doe M E N T I O N S :

Amid the bustling ballroom, where the rhythm of music filled the air, Nahir's voice emerged like a calming melody. "Steady," she whispered soothingly, her words intended to ease the nerves of her dance partner.

As Nahir gracefully guided her partner through the intricate steps of the dance, her hand remained securely planted on the lady's back. With every misstep, she did her best to correct it. But the not-so-tall heels of the shoes presented an unexpected challenge. “Keeps your eyes on me; listen to the music…”

“Back home, most of us dance without shoes– that was my foot.” Nahir could feel a hint of frustration creeping in. “Again.” And whenever her foot got stepped on, Nahir cursed her mask, which would do little to conceal her displeasure if she ever let it slip out.

"My dear, perhaps it might be best to stop–" Nahir suggested gently. But before she could finish her sentence, a sudden yelp escaped her throat as she was unexpectedly plunged off balance.

Half expecting to hit the floor, Nahir's eyes widened as her world tipped uncontrollably. Down and behind her in seconds, she braced herself for impact. But a strong hand swiftly caught her by the back, keeping her upside down for a few heart-stopping seconds.

With as much grace as she could muster at the last moment, Nahir was pulled back up. That’s when she saw the shakes of their shoulders and hushed whispers and side looks and the oh-so-polite covering of their condescending smiles.

A strange sensation began to bubble up from the pit of her stomach. Where once she might have reacted with a forced "Haha," this time, Nahir found herself laughing. It started as a gentle chuckle but soon grew into a hearty, carefree sound. It cut through the music, surprising those around her. Nahir laughed with abandon, letting go of something she couldn’t quite name at the moment.

Then, she turned to her dance partner, a newfound sparkle twinkling in her eyes. “Shall we dance do this without the heels, then? Proper dancing, this time, no tripping or stepping.” Nahir’s smile grew as she gracefully slipped out of her own and offered her hand anew.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R dress ♛ hair ♛ mask 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 : @JJ Doe M E N T I O N S :

The woman's disposition before her was unlike any of the noble ladies Nahir has the pleasure of entertaining. When they would play coy and meek, this one did not. Different for sure, but not unpleasant in any way. What was most appealing was the air of mystery the woman carried around her, which clung to the soft fabrics of her brightly colored dress and hung in the air like perfume. Or perhaps it was just the beautiful face with that beautiful smile that Nahir could not simply dismiss.

The shove was sudden, unexpected, and unwelcome. Nahir could have turned the man into stone if she could with the glare thrown his way. Nevertheless, she was somewhat grateful for the action, seeing as the lady now clung to her. A soft chuckle left her lips as she gently grabbed the woman by the forearms.

“Do Caesonians have a habit of causing such disarray towards my family every chance they get?” Nahir’s eyes softened as she guided the lady away to a more acceptable distance from her. Amusement tugged at her lips, seeing her own panic. Was the lady worried about her dress? How cute.

“What is a life worth living if not for the risks and surprises?” Nahir took the woman’s hand with a sly smile. “Worry not, my dear, I'll be sure to keep you close and steady.” She winked and guided her towards the middle of the dance floor.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R dress ♛ hair ♛ mask 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 : @JJ Doe M E N T I O N S :

Nahir’s lips tugged back into a smirk, and she fought the urge to lift an eyebrow at the woman in front of her. Crimson red lips formed a circle as she feigned shock from the words that had just come out of the lady’s mouth. “My dear, I would never!” She waved her hand, and a server rushed to her with a silver platter for her to deposit the empty flute. “You wound me… Though you are right to be on guard tonight. Would be best to steer free from the dragon that is roaming the ballroom. I heard she enjoys pouring sweet beverages on lovely women like yourself.”

So bold. So brave. Nahir wondered who this girl belonged to. A smaller noble house? New money? As of yet, no one had been so bold as to question her intention so outright. She could command the woman to remove her mask, but she doubted she would. Perhaps the woman didn’t even belong here, seeing as she had to confirm the mask sat upon her face.

Nahir patted the lady’s arm, “No need to worry about me, for I’d rather share a dance with you than laugh at you.” Her interest had been piqued already, and it would be a shame for it to end so quickly. So Nahir raised the woman’s hand to her lips, kissing the back of it and bowing her head slightly.

“Would you share a dance with me, my lady?”