Rodiak

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Wulfric & Zarai Part 2

The 23rd of Sola, at night: After the masquerade

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WARNING:

The following segment involves Wulfric and Zarai reading a terrible erotica. You have been warned.

"Did you happen to catch a glimpse of Shehzadi Layla this evening? She looked absolutely stunning. It sucks– a shame I couldn't spend more time in her company," she sighed with a wistful shake of her head. Zarai imagined how nice it would have been to dance with Layla, perhaps even making the entire dancing thing enjoyable. Her fingers lightly grazed the spines of the books as she casually perused the shelves, in search of nothing in particular.

However, as she neared the end of the row and glanced toward the bottom, her eyes caught sight of a familiar-looking spine. "Aha!" she exclaimed, extracting it with an exaggerated and theatrical flourish, nearly causing her wine glass to spill over. "Well, would you look at this? It still has the bookmark we left! I thought one of the maids might have snatched it up by now." As she neared the coach again she tossed the book to Wulfric’s lap.

“I have noticed you together. Matching costumes?” he remarked, curious. He hummed at Zarai’s expression of disappointment. “Was there running away involved again?” he questioned, eyebrow arching at her back. Zarai shrugged, unsure herself. The prospect of running away dwindled by the day.

He lazily watched Zarai browse the shelves, reclining on the couch. As he noticed the book she grabbed, however, he instinctively grimaced at it in distaste. “You do have a way of picking them,” he complained. Even so, he curled his fingers at her, and she threw the book at him. The way Wulfric was looking at it, it might as well have been a bucket-full of vomit which had landed in his lap. “Let’s see…” Carefully, he picked it up, and paged through the first few chapters, seeking where they’d left off.

‘The Master’ was embossed upon the book’s cover in an overly flamboyant golden script. There was a stylized black-and-white sketch within the first few pages. A dashing if generic looking noble, and a woman of presumably Alidasht descent staring at the noble, starstruck.

Indeed, it was a romance novel. Its summary promised vague hints of tantalizing erotica as well. Yet, so far the book had been…Exceedingly dull and worrying at the same time. In their past readings, they’ve discovered that the male lead - Maximilian ‘Max’ Trevis Le Velin - was a hedonistic, womanizing, irresponsible layabout with a penchant for drugs. “Almost as if I were reading about Callum,” Wulfric had succinctly noted in their first reading session.

The fellow, Maximilian had inherited his family’s county after the unexpected death of his older brother. He had whinged and complained about his ‘unfair’ fate in equal measure as he had expressed resentment and an inferiority complex towards his now deceased brother. The brother whose funeral was approaching, and whose widowed wife the lead was arranged to meet with.

“Fuck. I woke hungover, with the knowledge that Karoline was arriving today. ‘Fuck’, I swore out loud,” Wulfric began to narrate. Uncomfortably, the book was written from the first person perspective of the sleazy lead. The main character had a propensity for swearing. Presumably, it was meant to be liberating, yet Wulfric found it thoroughly dull due to the sheer repetition. Too, it made the man sound like a neanderthal.

“My stumbling steps carried me across the cool wooden paneling. I clutched a hand to my head, wincing in pain at the sharp headache. My string of sotto voiced curses was interrupted by a loud yell, startled from me as I hit my toe against a desk corner. ‘Fuck!’ I glared at the dim surroundings through half-opened lids, yet I didn’t dare risk lighting a lamp. I didn’t want my pain to get any worse…” he forged on. The text was chock-full of everyday minutiae, at times described in exceeding, exhausting detail.

After a chapter, the widow, Karoline, was introduced. “I met her on the doorstep. I wanted to be the one leading the conversation, but I gave myself away the moment I saw her. I gasped, my breath stolen away by the sight of her. I had nearly forgotten what a stunning woman she was. A perfect face framed by riotous blonde curls. Full lips slightly opened, pouting at me invitingly. Even with tears brimming on her lids, dried tracks of past sorrow visible under her red-rimmed gaze, she was beautiful. Made even more beautiful in mourning, I speculated. Her bright hazel eyes blinked at me, long lashes granting wet kisses upon her cheeks with each feather-light flutter. She heaved an anguished breath, ripe breasts the size of melons bouncing into my view. I was aroused.”

He had read all of that smoothly, his skills of rhetoric arguably the one thing that made the book somewhat bearable. But at that last bit he paused. “Aroused,” he repeated, incredulous as he was aghast.

He put the book down, picked up his previously abandoned glass, and drank from it deeply.

Laughter erupted from Zarai, unable to contain herself from Wulfric’s reaction. “Aroused,” she drawled as she took the wine bottle and traded it with the book.

“Why is it always melons? Why can’t they be… I don’t know, coconuts, pineapples, or watermelons? Gods, why is it always fruits anyway… at least they didn’t write ‘mountains’ or ‘mounds’.” She shifted in her seat, reclined against the back of the couch, and cleared her throat, ready to continue reading.

Wulfric shrugged. “Because women are made of ‘sugar, spice, and everything nice’?” he quoted. He snorted at her suggestions. “At least it wasn’t ‘fearful virginal breasts’ or ‘shy peaks rising to greet me’ or ‘perky peaches anointed in the holy redolence of our lustful exertions’,” he drawled, reminiscing on some of the more…memorable pieces of texts they’d read in the past.

“‘Karoline,’ I said softly, stepping ever so closely to her. The temptation to press myself against her soft curves clawed at me from the inside, so much so I could have given into desire at any moment. ‘I am so sorry for your loss.’ She looked up at me, her eyes now brimming with tears that made them glisten in the sunlight. So captivatingly stunning. In that instant, our gazes locked, and I saw a flicker of something in her eyes, a spark of longing that mirrored my own. I wanted nothing more but to comfort her, to hold her in my arms and make her forget all of the pain.” Zarai scrunched her nose and continued.

“‘Max,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her tears–’ Huh? How does one ever hear tears?” She re-read the same line two more times but trying to figure it out would be a wasted effort and decided to go along with it, “Without thinking, I reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek, my fingertips lingering on her hot soft skin. I could feel the heat between us, the unspoken desire that hung in the air like a tangible thing, swirling around us in a heady mix of grief and passion … This guy might be delusional.”

“Hmm,” he agreed with a hum, and accepted the book as she passed it over. “Her amber orbs caught the light, shining with a familiar lust. She’d always known how to attract a man, and had played around with more than I care to know, the little slut.” Wulfric gave the book, then Zarai a look. “Now that’s a tone shift,” he commented, then went back to reading. “I could give her what she wanted, but I had to stay strong. It was too painful, being reminded of my brother, of how she’d left me for him - for his money.” He paused. “Huh.” He poured himself another glass to sip at, but didn’t comment further.

What followed were several pages describing how oh so holier-than-thou Maximillian was for not succumbing to ‘the wiles of a devil woman’. It was mind-numbingly boring, but there was finally another scene to break up the monotony.

“She strolled out of the bathroom, only my thin, oversized, silken bathrobe hugging her body. She was all wet,” Wulfric snorted lightly, “so I could see more than I should have. Fuck! I was sure she had to know, though, so maybe I was seeing exactly as much as she wanted me to. Her hair was dripping water onto the floor, enticing–” he tilted his head, bemused.

“Water puddles on the floor are enticing?” he interjected. With a shake of his head, he read on. “–enticing me to go over to her. I reached out, brushing her sopping hair. ‘You’re wet,’ I rumbled. I was eager to explore down there, to check if her lower parts were the same. But I had to show restraint,” there was another eyeroll. “‘I’ll fetch a towel for you.’ She stopped me with a hand on my arm. ‘Max, please,’ she whimpered, pressing herself against me. She was breathy, damp, and warm. It was like I was lost in a tropical marsh.” He couldn’t believe that was an actual line he’d read. “Lost. I was lost. Fuck! It was my loss. I gave in to her.

We spent the night together.”

He turned the page. There was a mark for a new chapter. That was it for the ‘sex scene’. “Is this a joke? Where is the eros in this so-called erotica?” He closed the book, and discarded it onto the couch. He glanced at his glass, but left it alone where he’d last put it. He had had enough alcohol for today. “Can we please burn the damn book now?” he turned to Zarai. However, he already knew that she’d want to read the trainwreck to the end. But they’d have to postpone the rest until the next reading session.

“No way we are burning it without getting to the end! It’s already so bad, it can’t possibly get any worse.” But it most likely would; most, if not all, of the books they’ve read of that genre usually did. Zarai simply had to know how bad it could get.

“Do you think the writer hasn’t loved before? Is that why there is no actual love in their book? Probably some ugly-looking man in his fifties writing out his fantasies. Oh! What if it’s a nun writing the books? Someone bound to the life of celibacy?” Zarai suddenly sat up, gasping at her revelation. “It would make sense; they’d be super pent up if that were the case, and no one that pent up would care if there was some actual eros in their erotica.”

Wulfric slowly nodded as he thought about it. “I bet it’s a woman. Men don’t usually value male abstinence.” He gave in, and allowed himself one final drink. Though, he mostly nursed the glass without drinking much from it. “A nun would make sense,” he agreed with a smirk. From somewhere within his coat, he withdrew a pocket watch. “It’s late,” he remarked. “Can you stand up and walk on your own?” he asked, because Zarai had drunk far, far more than he had.

Zarai hummed, looked at Wulfric, and nodded. “I can stand, don’t you worry about me.” She stood, just to prove to him she was fine. How could she not be? Zarai could hold her alcohol as well as any sailor could. She easily stood up, but took a second to orient herself before walking a small circle around the room. “What I told you, huh?” She grinned and began to wave off the prince.

The royal stood up slowly, ready to leave, but then Zarai practically collapsed onto the sofa.

Her world began spinning like she'd just gotten off a merry-go-round that had been spinning for an hour. “I take that back,” Zarai took a few seconds to swallow back the nausea that threatened to bring back all the crab legs she had managed to eat with Layla. “Just give me a second. I can do it. Or you know what, you can leave me here. Yes, this couch is very comfortable.” Zarai laid back, draping one arm over her eyes and the other over her stomach. “You don’t need me to walk you back to the castle, right? The prince is all good, yes? Yes. Wulfy is always all good. Oh fuu– I’m going to be sick.” She swallowed again, trying to steady herself. “No, no. I’m fine. You go.” She waved him off. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow. Or the next day, or the next next one.” In truth, she wanted Wulfric gone so she could enjoy a nice long cry by herself.

“I am not the one who requires an escort,” Wulfric pointed out. He gathered the glasses and bottle and deposited them near the alcohol cabinet. “I cannot possibly leave you in the drawing room,” he stated. He felt languid, relaxed, and overly warm. He was in no rush to leave either. However, as soon as she mentioned being sick, he jumped into action. “Whoa, whoa! Just — hang in there, Zarai,” he spoke in a rush. He nearly dashed out into the hallway, called on a servant, and ordered “whatever’s useful for someone who’s about to be sick”. While they were both waiting, he paced around the room, keeping a careful eye on her. Then there was a knock.

Relieved Zarai hadn’t vomited onto the floor yet, he opened the doors and retrieved the items from a servant. He first carried in the empty bucket, placing it next to Zarai. “Vomit there if you must,” he told her. Then he brought in the rest; a tray which bore a bowl of hot water, a towel, a tea cup and a pot of chamomile tea, and some powdered medicine. Once done, he promptly dismissed the servant and closed the door.
“...Are you going to vomit?” he questioned cautiously. “If not, there’s some tea you could drink,” he offered.

“No. Yes? … I don’t know.” Zarai remained in place, a mix of nausea and regret swirling within her. She didn’t want to ruin her dress with the remnants of the crab legs and alcohol. The regret over the drinking game was growing with every passing moment as she found herself blaming Peter. Zarai knew it wasn’t his fault, but shifting the blame to him momentarily gave her a sense of control in her drunken state.

As Wulfric ignored her and offered his assistance, she lowered her arm to watch him with a mixture of amusement and gratitude. “Look at you being all sweet,” she couldn’t help but tease, though she knew his actions probably stemmed from a sense of responsibility. When the tea was offered, she sniffed it, and when no wave of nausea hit her, she sipped from it. Alongside chamomile tea, the prince fed her anti-nausea medicine too.

After she had finished her tea, she looked up to Wulfric, offering a small smile. “Thank you.” She stared back down at the floor, fighting the stinging in her nose. Zarai would not cry in front of Wulfric. “I should get going; I wouldn’t want Mother to barge in and—” She shook her head, standing up—this time a lot slower.

Wulfric stood up as well, having crouched down next to the couch to help Zarai drink the tea. He set the tea cup aside, and approached her, holding out an arm for her. “Let me escort you to your room.” Speaking of escorts… “Where is that knight of yours, anyhow?” he questioned. “Do you have a lady-in-waiting? Maids? Or do I have to assign you some of ours?” In the state she was in, she’d need the help.

“I escaped Sir Barrios after he kidnapped me from a very lovely lady.” Zarai took the offered arm, very much grateful for the added support. The floor felt like it would give out under her with one wrong step. “He must be looking for me if we haven’t heard my mother stomping around the halls screaming,” she joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood. Her room wasn’t too far, and for that she was glad. Zarai would rather spare Wulfric another panic of seeing her cry. He’d think of her as considerate if he only knew. “It’s all good, one set of eyes keeping track of me is enough. Besides, it would be harder to slip away with another set.”

The prince sighed as he opened the doors leading to her room. “Don’t make his work harder than it needs to be,” he chastised lightly. Wulfric helped her to her bed, but for propriety’s sake, he did not linger in her room once she was safely seated. “Someone will come check in on you in about an hour, and once in the morning,” he informed her from the doorway. “Have a good night.” Before she could protest at the idea of servants being ordered to look after her, Wulfric closed the door, leaving her to her solitude.

"Thank you," she whispered, though she doubted he heard her. Now, finally, alone in her chambers, Zarai sought solace in the confines of her room. She climbed into one of the large, ornate wooden wardrobes, surrounded by skirts, dresses, and blouses. Nestled among the fabrics, she allowed her tears to flow freely, the clothes muffling every one of her sobs.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{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 :
John, @Conscripts
M e n t i o n s :}

“Mama, you are making a fuzz out of nothing.”

“Nonsense! I wish for you to look perfect today, who knows? You might find a husband this morning.”

“You think so? Oh, I really do hope so! It’d be wonderful to run my own estate. I would finally be able to host on own dinner parties and balls!”

“Oh honey, I am sure you will do great. Now, let me fix your hair. You’ve got some a cowlick.”

Zarai watched the two women laugh and smile at one another. The older woman gently smoothed out her daughter’s hair, ensuring no hair was out of place. The daughter smiled and laughed when her mother said something else only the two could hear—perhaps an inside joke or a playful tease about her hair. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her own mother.

Duchess Francesca watched her with blue icy eyes that made her feel as if she were standing under a waterfall. “Don’t speak too loud, smile, and nod. Do not mention anything unseemly, and keep your opinions to yourself. No respectable man wishes to hear a woman speak of politics,” her mother said. She reached out to fix Zarai’s sleeve, but her daughter pulled back and fixed it herself.

“Yes, mother.” Zarai nodded politely, eyes down. "Shall I not speak at all, then? Perhaps some Duke or Count fancies mute girls—” She winced when sharp nails dug into her underarms as her mother pretended to fix her sleeve. “Fine!” she hissed.

“This is exactly what I am referring to,” Francesca huffed, pulling her arm back and putting on that sweet smile again. “Don’t embarrass me; Gods know you’ve done that so many times already. And for your sake, do not stuff your face with food. Any more of it and your dress will burst at the seams.”

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

Zarai stared down at the number 5 scribbled on the small piece of paper. She shot Mingyu one last smile as she walked past and toward her designated table. Despite her initial reservations about the event, Zarai couldn't help but feel a sense of thrill at finally being at Blossom Caffe. It was her first time setting foot in the place, and for as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of visiting. The exterior of the building was a sight to behold, its beautiful facade promising an evening of elegance and sophistication. Every time Zarai had peeked inside, she had caught glimpses of graceful ladies sipping from dainty cups and indulging in culinary delights that could be described as art. She had often imagined herself among them, adorned in a fancy hat and delicate lace gloves, exuding an air of refinement and charm that she did not possess.

Now, she was finally here, not by choice but to fulfill her social obligations. Determined not to let that bring her spirits down, Zarai was to make the most of the morning, even if it meant entertaining a randomly selected date. It was another opportunity to meet potential suitors, something she had been considering more seriously lately, despite her very limited list of prospects.

As she sniffed the air, the aroma of the pastries and delicious food drew a growl from her empty stomach. She did not care if her Sir Barrios was outside watching her from the windows; he wouldn’t barge in if she dared to eat. It would be impolite not to indulge, considering the effort the cafe and the royal family had put into the event. With a playful smile, she decided to fully appreciate any of the culinary delights that would be presented before her.

Zarai only hoped not to see him here. She had avoided talking to him for days, and by some stroke of luck, she had managed to keep her distance. She wished to continue this for a few more days, at least until she felt more prepared to face him.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost forgot her surroundings until an unfamiliar figure caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him approach. Handsome and well-groomed, he seemed different from the typical snobby nobles she was accustomed to encountering. It was a welcome sight, and she felt a glimmer of hope that this evening might not be as tedious as she had anticipated.

Zarai put on a smile and waited to greet her date.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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 :
@Lava Alckon@CitrusArms
M e n t i o n s :}

The world spun in all sorts of fun and dizzying ways, and Zarai struggled to make sense of the words swirling around her, particularly those from the nice Blue lady. She didn’t even feel the hand that had slipped around her waist as she pouted when the bottle was snatched away from her.

“I like your funny words, lady!” Zarai giggled, suddenly aware of the comforting touch. “What if we sneak outta here, hm? Play a game just the two of us?”

Before Blue could respond, a glass of water appeared, and Zarai wasted no time in downing it, offering a slurred ‘thank you’ as she handed it back to the servant.

'What time does the Angel's Trumpet bloom?’ The words floated around her, a puzzle she had no desire to solve in her current state. The man with the pretty hair seemed to speak in riddles, but Zarai dismissed it, knowing she would likely forget the encounter soon, especially after her unfortunate run-in with Lord Monet.

“Departing so soon?” Zarai called out as a man bid their group farewell. Her attention returned to Blue, ready to suggest they continue their fun elsewhere, but her words were abruptly cut off by hands grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away.

“Hey–!” She started to protest, ready to retaliate, until she recognized Sir Barrios in his plain silver mask. “Oh, I know youuu!” Her recognition was delayed, thanks to the alcohol and the distraction of the mask, but she eventually identified him by the scar on his cheek.

“My lady, it is time we depart. It is getting rather late; your mother will worry for you.” Sir Barrios bowed slightly, but his eyes conveyed his irritation, especially towards Blue. Zarai attempted to protest, but he simply excused himself, picked her up, and began their departure.

"Au Revoir! Arrivederci! Adios! Shall we meet again, my lovely players!"

He was ever so glad for these masks; they saved him the embarrassment of having Lady Zarai as his charge. Sir Barrios was already looking forward to a much-needed vacation after this year’s season.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{crown ♛ 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
M e n t i o n s :}

“If we see him reach those heights I propose an alliance to bring him down. The world does not need more men with a similar disposition as the king parading around.” Nahir stated with a pat on her dance partner’s hand. She smiled, following her gaze to see Leo cackling. Strange, and from what she had seen in the past few days, unusual. She wondered if someone had played a jape on him, and what kind exactly. “I know I can do better, dear, and I will.”

That smirk. Cheeky. She grinned, almost delighted. Nahir watched her curtsy. Practiced, yet fluid and without effort. Had she been wrong in her assumptions about Miss Dantes? She certainly played the part well.

“Shehzadi Nahir Kadir, it is a pleasure to finally know part of your name, dear.” Nahir bowed her head slightly to her, “Although, as you and I well know, there was no need for an introduction on my part. You knew who I was the moment you laid eyes on me.” A similar smirk played at her lips behind the gold strings hanging from her mask. “But I am nothing if not polite.”

A falling house? Nahir could not ascertain if Miss Dantes were telling her the truth. She’d ask Lady Miha to search the records for a House of Dantes and see the reason for their fall from grace. “Not to worry, my dear Miss Dantes, your little secret is safe with me.” She shot her a quick wink.

Just then, a woman wearing an ornate silver and blue owl mask and a pair of pink heels in one hand approached. Her dark blue dress with draped sleeves and a head scarf that covered her hair gave her an air of mystery. Not a single inch of her skin was exposed, even her hands were adorned with silver gloves and rings. The woman leaned in, and Nahir mirrored her movement.

Nahir listened attentively, offering Miss Dantes a quick, unwavering smile as she learned of her sister's early departure. The Shehzadi nodded graciously, expressing her gratitude before dismissing the woman with a gentle wave. "Call for the palaquin." The woman bowed respectfully and gracefully exited the duo.

"I apologize for that, Miss Dantes," Nahir spoke with a touch of regret in her voice as she turned to her dance partner, a polite smile on her lips. "But it seems my night has come to an end." Taking her hand, Nahir brought it up to her face and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of Miss Dantes's hand. "I hope to see you in the future, dear. You've made my one wish for tonight come true, and for that, I thank you." With one last smile and a bow of her head, she turned to leave.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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 :
@Lava Alckon@CitrusArms
M e n t i o n s :}

The world was shifting from side to side, and everything sounded distant. Zarai's fingertips were numb, and when she licked her lips, they were numb, too. The sound of glass breaking in the distance snapped her out of her drunken daze and back into the game at hand.

Only Blue, two male nobles, and their newly acquired participant drank to ‘burned anything to a crisp’. Zarai herself did not drink. Anytime she was caught in the kitchens by the maids or any of her tutors, she’d be met with a harsh slap to the hand. Even if she wanted to, Zarai had never touched a cooking utensil, let alone the ingredients.

“You are not welcome to cook in my kitchens, good sir!” Zarai laughed at the man with the pretty hair. “Ah, you get it! Now, ladies and gentlemen, do answer truthfully.” She began pouring more alcohol around their circle, trying her best not to spill any of the marvelous liquid.

She drank to his question, of course. She recalled the last time she had drunk so much was during a night out in the town after a terrible day at home. The back of her legs still hurt from the ruler, but Zarai was determined to drink herself stupid. Fortunately, it happened to be a night when her new group of friends were there. She remembered emptying her stomach right after one of their musical numbers ended.

“Never have I ever…” Zarai tapped her finger on her chin, trying really hard to form a question in her mind. Words were swimming all around, and anytime she tried to form a question, they’d just drift apart before she could even speak it. “…how about… never have I ever imagined the King wearing pink underwear! All of you must drink… for you are picturing it in your mind right this second.” She drank straight from the bottle again, one arm on Blue’s to keep her steady.

“Anyone got some more? We… wemustkeepthisgame… going!” The mask felt suffocating, as if it were melding into her skin, becoming part of her. Despite its discomfort, she clung to it, its anonymity giving her some solace. No one knew her true identity at this moment, and the alcohol promised to erase her troubles, at least temporarily. A welcomed escape from the overwhelming urge to cry that gnawed at her insides.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{crown ♛ 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 :}

Nahir stood there, quietly observing the both of them bicker. A smile tugged at her lips, but she pressed a finger against her lower lip to stop it, as if in thought. In truth, she found Leo's attitude rather— she wasn't what word she'd use. But the pout that slipped out with the end of every sentence was almost cute. And his voice, she'd not mention it before trying to spare him the explanation but her dance partner did not seem to be on the same page. It only served to find him even more endearing seeing him hide his irritation... and was that a hint of embarrassment perhaps?

"It is a lovely bracelet," Nahir hummed, examining it closely as her dance partner picked it up from the table where it had been tossed so carelessly. "I do hope that your pocket watch has not suffered the same fate."

With a reassuring pat on his arm and a smile, she continued, "I'll inquire with Count Damien and hope some pressure will encourage him to find the culprits and the stolen items. Who knows what else these thieves must have taken from other attendees." She full-heartedly agreed that the security in these events, with attendees such as them, was reason enough to tighten security and ensure it all ran smoothly. In the many events Nahir had hosted herself, she'd always place guards disguised as guests to mingle in the crowd. Partly for safety, but most importantly to gather information disguised as gossip. "It seems that the standard of safety in Sorian is not a top priority."

Nahir then turned to study her dance partner, who seemed to care a great deal about the servants of the estate and the guest house. Such empathy was not often found among the upper class, which only strengthened Nahir's growing theory about her.

"Oh, a visit to Stravy would be wonderful, don't you think?" Nahir's excitement held a flirtatious edge. "I only wish to return the favor to you, Lord Smithwood. It'd be lovely to host you during the winter. I do not wish to punish you with our hot summers." She flashed him a teasing smile.

As the woman locked arms with her, Nahir had to suppress the chuckle rising in her throat. Should she entertain her bold dance partner, or sympathize with the lord? She already knew Leo would not say anything to slight her, so why not get another glance at that pout before he left?

"One must always show respect to our hosts and their esteemed guest house," Nahir remarked casually, her shoulder lifting in a subtle shrug. "It's wise to stay on the good side of the servants too. I've found they're more inclined to help with a smile when we don't leave a mess in the halls."

With a smile, Nahir bid Leo farewell. "Good luck with your search, Leo."

Once he had left, she turned to her dance partner, a playful glint in her eyes. "Quite a handful, isn't he? Adorable." She placed a hand over her arm, squeezing gently.

"Well now, will my nameless and lovely dance partner finally introduce herself?"

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Ece watched from her post. She had found a rather comfortable spot atop a tree, her form obscured from those below her enough to render her practically invisible. It was rather comfortable too, and for that she was grateful. She’d been sitting here since the first guest arrived. Ece had informed Nahir of what would be Munir’s and Farim’s whereabouts before the ball and she’d instructed her to follow them and observe. Only observe.

The ceremony and the Varian customs were… interesting. Intriguing even. But she wondered now if real magic was at play, or was it just their herbal teas?

The whole thing was getting rather boring until the ritual began. Ece had perked up, suddenly interested in the song and dance being performed. It was… beautiful. Calming of sorts. She swayed side to side along with the melody of the song until she noticed the gradual change of Lord Ravenwood. It may have been a trick of the light from the fire, but his shadows took the form of a bear for a second. And to add, Sorian guards showed up just in time to interrupt and cause Ravenwood to go mad. Ece was still trying to make sense of things.

Ece remained up in her tree through it all. If Munir or Farim were to be attacked or harmed in any way it were her orders to not intervene. Not that she would have, if a freak accident with a bear-man was to happen then it all would be so much easier for Nahir.

When the giant wolf showed up and carried Lady Blackwood away from the ceremony and Munir gave chase Ece did not spring into action immediately. She was far more interested in what Farim was currently doing. The soft touch, the light and gentle fingers. His easy smile and prolonged eye contact. So this is what that little meeting had been about. Looked like she owed Lady Miha a coffee date.

It wasn’t until Farim began to chase after Manir did she gave chase.

Ece made sure to keep her distance, blanketed by the shadows and confusion of what was happening. Quiet as a mouse, she climbed up the tree to keep her scent far from the large animal. The situation was dangerous. The woman with the wolf was dangerous. Lord Ravenwood was dangerous. From here Ece could see the rippling muscles and trained stance. She was ready to fight.

As the scene unfolded before Ece, she made sure to study the woman closely. Her lady may want to know about any interesting persons, and a woman with a wolf that size would certainly be one interesting tale.

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

218

Post a random fact about yourself.

for some reason, every time i get drunk, i regress into my hamilton phase

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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 :@CitrusArms
M e n t i o n s :}

“Strong enough to burn, aye.” Zarai flashed Blue a wink, though it felt forced. No fault of the woman, she smelled lovely and had such pretty lips but Gods did she feel like a shit. She hoped that the drinks would help lift her mood, and fast. She poured hefty measures for everyone, The alcohol would hopefully distract Blue from Peter's departure.

Once everyone was gathered in a circle, Zarai positioned herself in the center with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Alright, folks! I’ll be your game host for tonight’s masquerade ball! And don’t forget to show some appreciation to our real host Count Damien! I’ve heard he enjoys onions, be sure to send him a crate tomorrow as a gift of appreciation!" she added with a sly grin.

"Tonight, we’re diving into a game of Never Have I Ever! Let’s keep it lively, shall we?" Zarai swayed her hips in a playful dance, ensuring Blue had an unobstructed view. "Everyone knows how to play, yes? Remember, tonight's the night to let loose and have fun; we don’t know who each other is after all!"

She cleared her throat and began, her voice loud enough for those around her to hear. "Never have I ever… swung a sword." She took a sip from the bottle after deciding it might be nice to make up for that lost drink Peter had stolen from her.

"Never have I ever sparred with someone." Most men and a few women drank to that along with Zarai, and hopefully Blue followed suit.

"Never have I ever kissed a pretty lady," Zarai shot a playful glance at Blue before taking another sip. She then turned to look at Blue, “How about you give us something, sweetness? Something fun, something daring.”

What Are You Listening To?