Tae

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Kalliope & Sjan-dehk

Date: Sola 26th
Time: Evening
Location: Small little inn

Part 3

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By the time they arrived at the inn, the city’s chaos had given way to the stillness of the night. The inn itself was tucked down a quiet side street, its warm, golden light spilling onto the cobblestone road like a beacon of comfort. The carved wooden sign above the door depicted a coiled dragon resting atop a hoard of coins, its craftsmanship a testament to the inn’s reputation for blending charm and luxury.

Sjan-dehk glanced at the sign, then at the building’s facade. He let out a low whistle. “Fancy look for a quiet place,” he remarked.

Kalliope pushed open the door with familiar ease, stepping into the cozy common area where the scent of wood smoke and spiced tea filled the air. A few patrons lingered at the tables, chatting quietly or nursing drinks, but the room was far from crowded. Behind the polished counter stood a plump, middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a sharp mind. She glanced up as Kalliope approached, her expression lighting up in recognition. Her gaze briefly flicked to the necklace Kalliope war, a silent indicator of who she was that night.

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Vayne,” the innkeeper said warmly, “Shall I prepare your usual suite, my lady?”

Kalliope’s lips curved into a gracious smile. “Yes, please, Elyna. And if it’s not too much trouble, could you have some tea and perhaps something light to eat brought up? My companion and I have had quite the evening.”

“Of course, my lady,” Elyna replied with a slight bow of her head. Her sharp gaze darted to Sjan-dehk, but she said nothing more. Instead, she turned and gestured to one of the serving staff, giving quiet instructions before returning to the counter. “It’ll be ready shortly.”

Kalliope thanked her with a small nod, then motioned for Sjan-dehk to follow as she led the way up the staircase to the second floor. The corridor was lined with ornately carved doors, each marked with intricate plaques indicating the suite numbers. Kalliope stopped at the third door on the left, producing a key from the folds of her gown and unlocking the door with a smooth motion.

The suite inside was the epitome of understated elegance. A plush rug in rich shades of crimson and gold stretched across the floor, its patterns intricate and mesmerizing. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, the golden light casting a warm glow over the room. To the right, a small sitting area boasted a pair of high-backed chairs flanking a low table, perfect for quiet conversation or reviewing documents.

The bed dominated the far end of the room, its canopy draped in sheer, gauzy fabric that shimmered faintly in the firelight. A small sideboard held a collection of decanters and glasses, while a writing desk was tucked neatly into the corner, complete with an assortment of ink and quills.

Sjan-dehk looked at the room with impressed eyes as he carefully stepped inside, as if it wasn’t an inn’s room that he was stepping into, but the stately chamber of a mansion. But perhaps ‘stately’ was the wrong word to use – this room didn’t feel stuffy, or overly-elaborate for the sake of it. Everything seemed to have a reason for why they were the way they were. The decorations were certainly fine and intricate, but they accented the room nicely, rather than dominating it. He could feel a gentle air of cosiness from the furnishings, rather than a desire to impress.

Kalliope stepped inside before glancing over her shoulder at Sjan-dehk, her smirk returning. “Well? What do you think? Cozy enough for our letter-reading adventure?” Her tone carried just enough playful emphasis on the phrase to keep him guessing about whether or not she truly meant to behave as she pulled the letter out of her bodice and waved it before him. As they settled in, someone brought the tea she requested and an assortment of pastries before silently leaving.

Thank the Mother for the interruption, for Sjan-dehk’s mind had wandered to somewhere that wasn’t as savoury as he liked at Kalliope’s words – or her tone, to be accurate – and her actions. His eyes, which had been drawn to her bosom by her hand, quickly snapped away to instead look towards the person with their drinks and food. “Thank you,” he said with a nod, doing his utmost best to keep his voice and tone as calm, level, and devoid of his shame as possible.

That brief distraction returned his attention to the task at hand, but still Sjan-dehk was convinced that there was something dreadfully wrong with him today. He wasn’t usually like this, so easily distracted by the words and ways of a woman. Or just easily distracted in general.

He shook his head slightly, then looked at the tray. “Well, we’ve food and drinks. I think it’s as good a time as any for us to have a look at the letter.”

Kalliope laid the letter carefully on the table, smoothing out the edges with a practiced hand. She then walked over to the writing desk and grabbed a blank sheet of paper as well as a quill and ink, just in case she needed to write anything down to help decode this. She then grabbed a cup of tea and took a delicate sip, savoring the warmth and calming effects before she set it down. The tea seemed extra delightful tonight.

She sat down with a fluid motion, her gaze drifting back to the letter. After a long moment of quiet examination, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in subtle curiosity.

“So,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful as she looked at Sjan-dehk, “other than the random darker spots and slanted letters, does anything about this letter stand out to you?”

With furrowed brows, Sjan-dehk examined the letter. His command of Caesonian had improved over his stay thus far in Sorian, but reading was still something with which he found trouble. To be honest, had Kalliope not pointed out the slanted letters, he wouldn’t have thought them to be suspicious. And still, despite his best efforts to scrutinise them in every which way possible, he couldn’t figure out just why she had pointed them out. They just looked like someone was writing in a rush.

“Can’t say anything does,” Sjan-dehk admitted in a half-grumble. “Reading your language…Well, the characters, at least, isn’t something I’m too good at. It looks like a normal letter to me.” Then, his lips pulled into a grin and he looked at her. “But I’m guessing you caught something?”

She took another sip of tea before also grabbing a small pastry and nibbling on it. “Also, this tea seems to be exceptionally good tonight. I wonder what kind they used tonight because it feels special.”

“Is it?” Sjan-dehk gingerly picked up one of the cups and carefully sipped from it. He allowed the tea to linger on his tongue for a while before swallowing. Then, he sipped again. He emptied almost half of the cup before it occurred to him that, foreign as he was to local teas, he probably wouldn’t know if there was something about this particular tea’s taste. Embarrassed, he placed the cup back onto the tray and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“It’s…A strong tea,” he remarked, sounding more awkward than he would have hoped. “But it’s good, I think. Can’t say I can tell what it tastes of, though.” The fruity, earthy flavour lingered on his tongue, but as a welcome guest rather than one that had outstayed their welcome.

Kalliope took another sip of her tea, savoring the taste with a thoughtful expression. “It’s… fruity,” she mused, tilting her head slightly. “Maybe a little floral too? It’s different. Not something I recognize, though. A new blend, maybe? I'll have to ask Elyna later.” She glanced at the cup again, swirling the tea absently before chuckling softly. “Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. Back to the matter at hand.”

She set the tea down and leaned over the table, her focus shifting back to the letter. With a steady hand, she began jotting down the darker and slanted letters onto the blank sheet of paper, speaking aloud as she worked. “Here’s an odd one… and another… and this one, too.” Her quill scratched against the page as she formed the collection of seemingly random letters.

When she was finished, she held up the paper, her brows furrowed in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. Just a jumble of letters. Whoever wrote this either didn’t want it deciphered or they’ve got a very strange way of hiding their message.” Letting out a soft sigh, Kalliope leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the backrest. “Or maybe I was wrong and it really isn't anything at all.”

As she sat there, the warmth of the room and the effects of the tea began to creep through her in ways she didn’t immediately notice. The edges of her usual sharp wit seemed to blur ever so slightly, and a strange sense of contentment washed over her, one that she rarely let herself indulge in. Her eyes wandered over to Sjan-dehk, and for a moment, a warm, lazy smile spread across her lips. “You know,” she began, her voice softer than before, “I was thinking about earlier. When I kissed you.” She tilted her head slightly, her emerald eyes glinting in the flickering firelight. “I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

Sjan-dehk met her gaze, and was once again struck dumb. He had hoped that, after a night of being teased by her in such a fashion, such words would slide off his mind as easily as water dripping off a sheet of sailcloth. That was evidently wishful thinking; Kalliope’s words, coupled with the relaxed look about her face, brought Sjan-dehk’s thoughts to a crashing halt, and made his heart skip a couple of beats. Once again, he could himself wondering whether she was serious. Once again, he wondered just why that mattered to him.

With nothing to say, and no words coming to his mind anytime soon, he decided to occupy his mouth with other things before he blurted out something thoughtless. He reached for his cup and emptied it in one long gulp.

The words hung in the air for a moment, her tone sincere and unguarded. Kalliope reached for her tea again, her fingers brushing over the cup as she realized what she had just said. Her eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush began to creep across her cheeks. Quickly, she cleared her throat and looked away, pretending to focus on the scattered papers in front of her.

“Ahem. I mean, uh… That was supposed to stay in my head,” she mumbled, her voice quick and flustered. She dipped her quill into the ink again, keeping her eyes firmly on the parchment as if willing it to distract her from her own words. “Let’s… just focus on the letter again, shall we?” The slight tremble in her hands betrayed her composure as she scribbled aimlessly, trying to hide the deep flush spreading across her face.

“Yes,” Sjan-dehk said quickly, the heat still in his cheeks. “Let’s focus.”

Focus, as it turned out, was the one thing that refused to come to him. He watched Kalliope scribble with great interest, following every stroke of her quill and taking in every letter. Even so, it took him a couple of minutes before he realised that she wasn’t writing anything at all, but simply scrawling with neither aim nor purpose. That was indeed a curious thing, he knew. And yet he didn’t feel any need to ask her anything. Not what she was doing, and not whether she was alright. All Sjan-dehk felt was a strange, but comforting sense of calm.

He turned his head. For what reason, he neither knew nor cared. All he knew was that now he could easily catch sight of Kalliope’s strikingly beautiful eyes, bright and glimmering as they were. Had she always looked this attractive? Had he simply never noticed? Or was this yet another consequence of their exciting little adventure in the estate earlier? He didn’t dwell on those questions. He didn’t care much for them, anyway. What importance could they have, when he was here, in this room, and right next to a lady so, very alluring?

“I…” He began. Whatever carelessness he felt wasn’t reflected in his voice, but still he pressed on, a slight waver in his words. Whether it was from embarrassment or something else, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. “I…I mean, it was nice. The kiss. I liked it as well and, well, I wouldn’t mind if you…If you did what you want.” His words died to a quiet and indistinct murmur towards the end, but amidst the peacefulness of the room, he may as well have shouted them.

Kalliope froze at Sjan-dehk's words, her quill stilling on the parchment mid-scribble. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, wide with surprise and disbelief. For a moment, it seemed as if the world had stilled, the only sound in the room being the faint crackle of the fire. Then, almost imperceptibly, her lips curved into a soft, slightly giddy smile.

A light giggle escaped her, uncharacteristic and far too carefree for her normal flirtations and teasing. She set the quill down, standing with an almost languid grace and crossing the short distance between them. The haze of something in the tea, the warmth now coursing through her veins, seemed to melt away her restraint, leaving her feeling bold, almost reckless.

Leaning down, she placed her hands on either side of Sjan-dehk’s chair, bringing her face mere inches from his. Her eyes, bright with something that bordered on mischief and raw honesty, searched his as her breath brushed lightly against his lips. “I dare you to kiss me,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with a teasing, honeyed edge. “But I’ll warn you…”

Sjan-dehk gulped, but it was more of a reflexive action than anything else. Contentment, calm, and a hint of anticipation were all that were on his face as he looked up at her, his lips pulled into a relaxed, lazy smile. What other reaction could there be, to words as daring and titillating as those?

Her gaze dropped to his lips, lingering there for a heartbeat before flicking back up to his eyes. “If you do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop there.” A quiet laugh tumbled out of her, soft and almost self-deprecating. “And that’s because… I think I’m falling for you, Sjan-dehk. Completely.”

She tilted her head slightly, her voice growing quieter but no less sincere as she let the confession tumble out of her. “I tried to tell myself I wasn’t allowed to. That it wasn’t smart, or right, or…” She trailed off, her smile fading just slightly as the weight of her admission settled over her. But then, the boldness surged again, her lips quirking into a faint smirk as she leaned even closer. “But here we are. Your move, Captain.”

“Falling?” Sjan-dehk echoed with a teasing grin. He tilted his head the other way and pushed himself upright. So close were their faces that he could almost count the strands of her lashes, that he could see the faint, warm shine highlighting her lips. For a brief moment, his senses seemed to return, and his smile faltered. His breath caught in his throat. Uncertainty crept into his dark irises. Every instinct told him to pull away while he still could.

But as quickly as it had come, that moment left. What had he even been worried about? Nothing that mattered all that much, he assumed. The grin returned to his face, and he raised his hand, bringing it to Kalliope’s face. His palm rested gently against her cheek, his thumb gliding along the ridges of her cheekbone. He had done the exact same thing earlier, in the estate, but back then it had been just a thoughtless reaction. An act, and nothing more. Now, however, it was more than that. He knew what he was doing. He wanted to touch her.

Her skin tingling beneath his touch and almost instinctively, she leaned into it, her eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment as she savored the gentle, deliberate motion of his thumb against her cheekbone. The gesture was so simple, yet it unraveled something deep within her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and impossibly safe all at once. When her gaze found his again, her expression softened, a quiet, unspoken yearning reflected in the depths of her emerald eyes.

“Falling?” He repeated, then nodded. Whatever he was going to do – whatever he was doing right at this very moment, in fact – wasn’t going to be the wise, or right, or even sensible thing to do. Deep in his heart, he knew that. And yet, he couldn’t say that he was bothered much by it. He knew what he wanted, and that was enough for him. “Then I suppose I’ve to catch you.”

His words came out in a soft murmur, each syllable bringing his face closer and closer to hers, until a hair’s breadth was all that separated them. He gazed into her eyes, his mischievous grin softened to a warm, gentle smile. “Here we are,” he whispered and winked.

He leaned in, and pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss stole Kalliope's breath before she even realized she had given it away. The warmth of his lips against hers sent a jolt down her spine, igniting a fire in her veins that burned through every last shred of caution she might have clung to. It wasn’t like the brief kiss they had shared earlier, the one she had claimed was a distraction. No, this was deliberate, purposeful, and brimming with the kind of emotion she had spent so long convincing herself she couldn’t afford to feel.

Her thoughts spun in dizzying circles, fragmented and incoherent. This is happening. This is real. She couldn’t deny the truth of it, the way his touch and closeness made her heart race and her knees feel as if they would give out at any moment. And then they did.

Her knees buckled beneath her, and before she could stop herself, she sank down, finding herself perched on Sjan-dehk’s lap. She let out a soft, almost breathless laugh against his lips, her cheeks flushed and her pulse racing. “Guess I really am falling,” she murmured without really breaking the kiss, though the words barely registered even to herself.

Sjan-dehk chuckled breathily, his eyes half-lidded and his lips pulled into a silly smile as he looked at her. At the same time, he slipped an arm around the small of her back to keep her in place. “You can fall as much as you want,” he said, the words coming out as hushed, heated breaths. With a tug that was equal parts gentle and firm, he pulled her snugly onto his lap. “You’ll be alright. I have you.”

Her hands, almost of their own accord, moved to his chest. They splayed out over the broad expanse of muscle, feeling the strength beneath his tunic as her fingers traced tentative, roaming paths. His heartbeat thudded beneath her palm, strong and steady, and something about that simple rhythm sent a warm ache of longing through her.

A soft, almost helpless sound escaped her throat—half sigh, half moan—as she pressed herself closer. One hand curled into the fabric of his tunic as if she were anchoring herself to him, while the other slid upward, brushing over his shoulder and coming to rest at the base of his neck. Sjan-dehk replied with a soft hum reverberating in his throat. The closer she pressed herself to him, the tighter he wrapped his arm around her, until their bodies were almost flush against one another.

His scent, sea salt and something earthy, unmistakably him, filled her senses, and it made her dizzy in the best way. Her lips moved against his, hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident, pouring into the kiss every ounce of unspoken feeling she’d kept bottled up for so long. She couldn’t hold back now, couldn’t stop the way her body gravitated toward his as if pulled by some magnetic force.

As her lips moved, so too did his. Wherever they went, his was sure to find them. He leaned his back off the chair, trying to press himself ever-so-closer against her, to feel more of her warmth, to fill his nose with more of her flowery scent, to simply know that this was real. His hand travelled across her back until its fingers could curl around her slender waist, and his arm could pin her to him. It was like his body didn’t want to let her go, now that he had her, even as his mind whispered that this wasn’t a smart thing to do.

The whispers kept swirling in his mind, but could never truly get him to listen. The raw desire burning within him drowned out their warnings. All he could think about, all he could care about, was Kalliope and how she – every part of her – felt against him.

Her fingers at his neck curled slightly, nails grazing his skin in a way that was both tender and daring. She broke the kiss for the briefest of moments, her forehead resting against his as she caught her breath. Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto his with a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Sjan-dehk…” she whispered, her voice breathy and unsteady. A giddy smile played at her lips as she leaned back in, unable to resist pressing another kiss to his mouth, softer this time but no less charged.

Something at the back of her mind screamed that she should stop, pull back, regain her composure. But the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his hands, the way his presence seemed to consume her…it was all too much, too intoxicating. For once, she didn’t care about what was right or wise. She didn’t care about the consequences. All that mattered in this moment was him.

When she did finally pull away, realizing she needed air, she didn’t move far, her forehead resting lightly against his as she struggled to catch her breath. Her emerald eyes fluttered open, locking onto his with a vulnerability that she couldn’t hide. “Sjan-dehk,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, the sound trembling with emotion. Her hand, still resting on his chest, tightened its hold slightly as if to anchor herself. “I think… I think you just made me fall all the way.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, but for once, she didn’t care. There was no teasing now, no coy smiles or witty quips to hide behind. Just her, bare and open, her heart laid bare in a way that both thrilled and terrified her. “And I don’t know what to do with it,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing deeply as her gaze flickered to his lips again, already longing for the next kiss.

Sjan-dehk wasn’t quite sure what to do, either. He wasn’t a stranger to all they had done so far – the many post-battle victory celebrations he had been a part of made sure of that – but going any further than heated kisses and daring touches was wholly unknown to him. He may as well be asked to sail uncharted waters, towards uncharted waters.

And yet, as he gazed into Kalliope’s eyes, and saw the redness in her cheeks, the sincerity etched in her features, and that slight, but unmistakable, tinge of nervousness, that uncertainty didn’t matter all that much, anymore. What did it matter? Before each other, they had laid their needs and wants and desires bare. And it was clear that both of them craved the same thing. He brushed his hand against her cheek, fingers pushing aside the fiery tresses tickling her face. “I don’t know, either,” he said in a soft voice. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know if all this, all that I’m doing, is right. Or smart. Or if it even makes any sense.”

With one hand, he caressed his cheek. With the other, he held her by her waist. “But what I do know is that doing all this makes me feel…Content.” Slowly and gently, he guided her face closer, even as he leaned forward. “Mother help me, being with you like this makes me feel…Light. Lighter than I’ve felt in a damn long time.”

Their lips were now almost brushing against each other. He stopped, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t know a damn thing about what’s going on, Kali,” he admitted in a hushed voice. “But somehow, I can’t say that it bothers me at all, because right now I hear you calling to me just like the sea.” He grinned, but it wasn’t a mischievous one. It didn’t speak of playfulness, but of assurance. “And not even the damn Abyss can stop me from answering. So fall if you’re going to fall. I’ll be falling with you.”

He closed the scant distance between them, and captured her lips in another kiss. This time, he took the lead. With his uncertainties and hesitations discarded, he pulled her closer to him, sitting her fully on his lap. He placed both his hands on her waist, resting them just above her hips.

As his lips met hers, a wildfire seemed to ignite within her. It was all consuming. His hands on her waist steadied her, and yet, she still felt as though she was falling, her entire world narrowing to the feel of his lips and the strength of his touch. Her own hands found their way back to his chest, her fingers fanning out against the warm fabric of his tunic as if she were grounding herself to him.

But grounding herself wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Needed more. Her hands roamed upward, brushing over his broad shoulders before tangling in his hair. The soft strands were a contrast to the callouses of her fingers, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he felt beneath her touch, the way he responded to her, and the way her body seemed to hum with life in a way it never had before.

The kiss deepened, and she let herself get lost in it, the lines between where he ended and she began blurring with every passing second. She couldn’t hold back the soft, needy sound that escaped her throat, muffled against his lips but no less desperate. She pressed herself closer to him, needing to be closer to him. To feel his warmth envelope her completely.

She broke the kiss, her breaths coming fast and uneven as her lips lingered near his. Her emerald eyes glimmered with mischief and raw emotion as they locked onto his, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That same grin, the one that usually preceded a sharp quip or teasing remark, was softer now, laced with affection and desire.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice low and playful, “there is a bed in this room.” Her fingers remained tangled in his hair, tugging gently as her grin widened, teasing and full of unspoken invitation. “Unless, of course, you’re enjoying the chair that much.”

Sjan-dehk glanced at the bed. “So there is,” he remarked, looking back at her with a grin. “This chair has its charms, but it’s not doing my back any favours.” He waggled his brows. “Not with what we’re doing with it.”

Her words hung in the air, daring him, tempting him, yet leaving him with the choice. She let out a quiet laugh, her cheeks flushed and her pulse still racing, unable to fully hide the giddiness or the growing fire inside her. And though her grin stayed playful, her eyes betrayed how much this moment meant to her…how much he meant to her. How much she wanted him. Needed him.

Her laugh was like the gentle lapping of waves to his ears. Calming, pleasant, beautiful. He took time to return her grin, and to hold her gaze for a moment. The challenge in her expression was clear, as was her desire. “Well,” Sjan-dehk began, tightening his hold on her. “Excuse me, then.”

In one swift move, he stood up, at the same time scooping Kalliope into his arms. He looked down at her as he adjusted his grip to hold her tightly and securely against his chest. “Let’s go,” he whispered with mischief in his words and anticipation on his face. He crossed the room towards the bed in only a couple of strides. And yet, his heart thumped as if he were running a mile. It announced his desire, his want like an overly-eager herald.

She let out a soft, surprised laugh as he lifted her effortlessly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck to steady herself. She gazed up at him, her emerald eyes shimmering with affection and playful delight, her fingers curling slightly against the back of his neck. She pressed herself closer to him, relishing the steady strength of his hold, as she nuzzled into his neck, placing soft kisses there.

Sjan-dehk had to resist the urge to rush, to simply toss her onto the bed and continue with things. He took the time to gently lay her onto the soft mattress before standing back up to hastily unbuckle his sword-and-pistol belt, and remove any other unnecessary equipment. They fell to the floor, clattering noisily against varnished wood and resting in messy heaps. None of that mattered to Sjan-dehk – his attention was now entirely focused on Kalliope. A sudden flash of awkwardness came over him, and with it came hesitation. But as with before, neither of those feelings lasted for long.

He climbed onto the bed, crawling over her and gazing down into those bright, verdant eyes. He had lost count as to how many times he had done just that, but that didn’t matter. It still felt as if he were looking into them for the first time. He held himself up with a hand pressing into the mattress right by her head. “So,” he said and lowered himself slightly. “Where do you suppose this is going to go?”

Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, then slid gently along his cheek, her touch light but sure. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her touch, the steady rhythm of his breath, and it made her heart beat all the more wildly. With a soft shift beneath him, she lifted one leg, sliding it over his side until it brushed against his waist. The motion was slow, deliberate, a silent invitation. Her other hand, still resting against his face, slid down to the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as she gently tugged him closer.

Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a breath, hushed with raw emotion. “I want you, Sjan-dehk,” she murmured, her lips almost brushing against his. “I need you. I don’t want to stop here. I want this to go as far as you’ll let it. As far as we can go.”

Sjan-dehk paused for a moment. How far did he want to go? Where did he even intend to go? There was something wrong with this entire situation, a small, quiet part of his mind knew. It wasn’t like him to do anything without knowing his heading or his course. And yet, he couldn’t care less about that. It was too late now, he thought. There wasn’t any way for him to go, but forward.

She let her hand drift down, her fingers tracing over his chest teasingly. She gazed into his eyes, her own vulnerable and open, as if every layer of defense she had built up over time was melting away in the heat of this moment. She recognized there was a fuzziness to her thoughts, something that should have given her pause, but she was too far gone in her desire to care.

“Pretty sure I did warn you that if you kissed me I wouldn't want to stop there.” She teased him with a smirk as she pressed her leg a little closer against him, feeling the tension and the heat build between them. There was no room for hesitation now, no fear or doubt. Just her, her need, and the way she was fully, entirely giving herself over to him. “Don’t hold back.” She whispered, her voice almost a plea.

“That you did,” Sjan-dehk said with a quiet chuckle. He placed his hand over hers, pressing it against his chest, and leaned in closer. A pleased, content sound rumbled in his throat as he brushed his lips over hers in a brief, fleeting kiss. Then, he grinned, his other hand slowly, languidly, trailing down the front of her dress. He felt the soft fabric beneath his fingertips, the stiffness of the bodice against his palms, and the tantalising dips and curves of her body.

Instead of taking her clothes off, however, he brought his hand to the sash around his waist. With the swift and practiced hands of an experienced sailor, he undid the knot, pulled it off, and scrunched it into a ball before tossing it aside. A few more deft movements of his fingers loosened the strings that held his tunics in place. His clothes now draped from his frame like sails from a mast. “I don’t want to ruin your dress,” he said even as he teased the laces on Kalliope’s bodice. “So you might have to do this yourself, if you don’t mind.”

Kalliope’s lips curved into a sly, playful grin, her eyes flickering with mischief as she watched him, arching ever so slightly into his touch. “Afraid you’ll get tangled up, sailor?” she teased, her voice low and velvety as her gaze dropped briefly to the loosened fabric of his tunic. “You’ve managed knots in the middle of a storm, haven’t you?”

Her hands trailed down his chest, fingers tracing the edges of the fabric that hung from him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath before her hands slid to her bodice. She took her time as she began to untie the laces he had teased, her fingers moving with a languid, deliberate grace. She tugged one lace loose, then another, her lips parting as her breathing deepened. She leaned in as she loosened the last of it, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “But since you asked so nicely…”

Her bodice fell away, revealing more of her sun-kissed skin, and she reclined back onto the bed, her smirk softening into something more open and vulnerable. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, holding him captive with a look that said she trusted him, wanted him, needed him. “No more holding back, Sjan-dehk,” she murmured, her voice softer now, threaded with affection and desire. “I’m yours.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Kalliope & Sjan-dehk

Date: Sola 26th
Time: Evening
Location: Estate of lesser nobles merchant Lord Edric

Part 1

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The grand estate loomed ahead, its sprawling gardens and illuminated facade shining like a beacon in the night. While not nearly as opulent as some of the elite, it certainly still turned heads. Guests filtered up the cobblestone path, their laughter and chatter drifting through the crisp evening air. The air smelled faintly of roses and lilies, no doubt plucked fresh for the occasion, and the sound of a string quartet filtered faintly from somewhere within the estate.

Kalliope stood just off to the side of the main path, partially hidden in the shadows of a nearby hedge. She had taken care with her attire tonight, a flowing black gown accented with intricate silver embroidery that caught the moonlight just right. If they wanted access to this party, and whatever secrets it held, she’d have to play the part of the elegant, poised socialite. A role she could manage, albeit one that came with a tinge of annoyance.

Her fingers brushed over the simple silver pendant at her throat as her gaze scanned the path for Sjan-dehk. She’d asked for his help not because she doubted her own abilities, but because the Queen had left too many unknowns in this mission. What type of illegal activities they might uncover remained a mystery. Kalliope wasn’t about to walk into that kind of situation alone, and having someone like Sjan-dehk, sharp, capable, and, she could admit, someone she was really beginning to trust, felt like the wisest choice. Not to mention, the Queen requested to avoid violence at all costs. If anything we're to go awry they would need to try to talk their way out of it and sometimes having that second person to help cover up exactly what they were doing was incredibly helpful.

She leaned slightly against the hedge, careful not to wrinkle her dress, as she softly hummed along to the music. She took a moment to stop scanning the street for Sjan-dehk and instead look over some of the guests who were entering the party. She knew some faces and some faces knew her, but under the guise of a different persona. A persona she knew she would have to adopt tonight.

The evening breeze played with the ends of Kalliope's gown as her humming came to a stop. Her gaze was drawn from the estate’s grandeur to the sound of approaching footsteps, a sharp click of heels on cobblestone, and then a familiar, all-too-slick voice cut through the air.

“Lady Alara Vayne, is that you?”

She turned her head sharply, her expression settling into one of polite surprise, though her mind raced. Of course, it would be him. Her lips curved into a smile, the type that could disarm a man if she wanted it to, as she faced the approaching figure. A man she recognized immediately, Ser Victor Lytham.

He was a lesser noble, known more for his charm and indulgence in extravagance than for any significant accomplishments. He had a reputation for being easily manipulated when properly flattered, and Kalliope had exploited that very trait during a prior mission. Flirtation had been her tool of choice back then, and it had worked far too well, leaving Victor hopelessly infatuated. And, it seemed, he still was.

“Ser Lytham,” Kalliope greeted warmly, tilting her head in feigned delight. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Victor stepped closer, his grin widening as he took her in. His gaze swept over her with no attempt at subtlety, lingering just long enough to make her skin prickle with irritation beneath her composed facade. “Oh, but the surprise is all mine, my lady. I thought my eyes deceived me when I saw you standing here, as radiant as ever.” He bowed his head slightly, his voice dripping with charm as he straightened. “It’s been far too long since our last… encounter. You’ve been cruel to leave me wondering when I might see you again.”

“I’ve been… busy,” Kalliope replied smoothly, her smile never faltering. “You know how it is.”

“Oh, I know, but you’ve truly wounded me, Lady Vayne.” His hand reached out, brushing against her arm lightly, his touch lingering just a moment too long. He stepped closer, close enough that she could catch the faint whiff of his cologne. “But perhaps fate has granted me an opportunity to make up for lost time?” His eyes gleamed with something that made Kalliope want to grimace, but she kept her expression calm, even playful.

“Are you alone tonight?” Victor asked, his tone dropping ever so slightly. “Surely a woman of your charm and beauty isn’t here without an escort? Or…” He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. “Could it be that you’ve been waiting for me?”

Kalliope laughed lightly, a sound carefully measured to convey just the right balance of amusement and dismissal. “Oh, Victor,” she said, her voice lilting. “You do flatter me.”

Before she could pull away, his hand moved again, this time resting against her lower back. It was subtle, but enough to signal his intentions loud and clear. Her body tensed slightly, though she kept her composure, searching for the easiest way to disengage without drawing too much attention.

Sjan-dehk had seen enough.

Well, he’d already seen more than enough from quite a while ago, when he’d first spotted Victor and his incessant advances through the crowd. But only after Victor slid his hand onto Kalliope’s back did Sjan-dehk go from simply hurrying through the ever-flowing trickle of people to surging through them like a riptide. Sjan-dehk couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but something about how Kalliope had reacted to Victor’s touch made him feel as if he couldn’t dawdle any longer.

“You are wrong,” Sjan-dehk said brusquely as he stopped in front of the pair. There was such a bite in his words that it surprised even himself, though that didn’t stop him from glaring at Victor from under the brim of his hat. For a few moments – several more than he should have given to such a thought – he considered removing Victor’s hand from Kalliope by force. It would’ve been a simple matter; the man didn’t seem like he’d put up much of a fight.

But Sjan-dehk quickly put that idea to rest. No violence, he reminded himself. Kalliope had been rather explicit on that particular point, in her invitation.

And so, Sjan-dehk instead straightened his back and, despite Victor and he being of roughly the same height, glowered down his nose at the man. “She is with escort,” Sjan-dehk said, tone still as sharp and words still as gruff as before. “That is me.”

Even though Kalliope’s invitation had made it very clear that the event to which she was bringing him was a formal one, and even though this time, Sjan-dehk had good reason to meet the dress code to the letter, the fact of the matter was that her invitation had come much too late for him to prepare anything beyond his uniform. That didn’t mean that he didn’t at least try to make it look a touch more presentable, however. He still wore a blue outer tunic over a white inner one, but he wore variants of both that had artful swirls embroidered onto the collars. Similar swirls, made to look like serpents in motion, decorated the hems of the leather false tassets draping down to his knees. A bright, yellow sash tied around his waist – a symbol of his rank – added a splash of colour to his attire.

Coupled with the two swords and two pistols hanging from his belt, Sjan-dehk looked every part the armed escort of a wealthier lady. And hopefully, that was enough to make Victor think a little harder about his next actions. “You can let her go yourself,” Sjan-dehk said, just to give him that much more incentive to do the right thing. “Or if not, I can make you. Your choice.”

Victor’s confident smirk wavered the moment Sjan-dehk’s voice cut through the night. The lesser noble stiffened, his fingers pulling back from Kalliope’s lower back as if burned. His gaze darted between Sjan-dehk’s imposing figure and the gleaming weapons at his belt, quickly sizing up the man who had so unceremoniously interrupted his advance.

"I-I see," Victor stammered, his bravado slipping as he took a cautious step back. The sharpness in Sjan-dehk's tone, combined with his no-nonsense demeanor, had clearly unnerved him. "I-I meant no disrespect, of course." He straightened his posture, trying to salvage what remained of his dignity with a weak smile. "I was simply caught off guard by the good lady’s presence, you see. A delightful surprise, that's all."

Kalliope, who had been holding herself steady throughout the uncomfortable interaction, finally allowed herself a small exhale of relief. She turned to Sjan-dehk, her expression softening as her eyes met his. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming gratitude for his arrival, and, without hesitation, she stepped closer to him, gently linking her arm with his.

"My apologies, Ser Victor," Kalliope said, her voice warm but measured, offering him a graceful way out of his embarrassment. "I should have been quicker to make my situation clear. I truly didn’t mean to mislead you."

Victor’s lips parted as if to respond, but the weight of the situation clearly sank in. His gaze flicked to their linked arms and he hadn’t missed the way she had looked up at the man beside her, and for a moment, a shadow of disappointment clouded his expression. He swallowed thickly, smoothing a hand down the front of his tunic as if that might help him compose himself.

"Think nothing of it, Lady Vayne," he said at last, his voice tinged with melancholy but free of bitterness. He offered a small, almost self-deprecating chuckle. "I would be lying if I said I wasn’t… disappointed. But I am a gentleman, and I shall not cause trouble where it is unwelcome."

His attention shifted to Sjan-dehk, and for the first time, there was no trace of his earlier smugness or bravado. Instead, his tone carried an odd sincerity as he said, "You, my good sir, are a fortunate man. To have a woman of such beauty, poise, and wit beside you is no small blessing. To have someone look at me the way she does…" He inclined his head, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "Treasure her well."

Victor’s politeness, candour, and good nature pulled much of the wind from Sjan-dehk’s sails, and by the time the man was done speaking, the Viserjantan Captain felt only embarrassment. What was he doing, so easily threatening violence as if he were naught but a common street thug? Perhaps it was his nerves, still somewhat high-strung after last night’s sortie and this morning’s skirmish, but part of him knew for a fact that he’d be lying if he blamed everything on them. Nevertheless, he gave Victor a simple nod. “Yes, I will,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

Kalliope’s lips curved into a small, gracious smile, and she tilted her head ever so slightly in acknowledgment of his words. Something inside her fluttered and she felt the faintest hint of a blush grace her cheeks. “Thank you, Ser Victor,” she said softly, her tone genuine. “I wish you a pleasant evening.”

Victor lingered for only a heartbeat longer before bowing his head and stepping away. He disappeared into the flow of guests making their way into the estate, though not without one final glance over his shoulder, his expression tinged with regret.

As the man vanished into the crowd, Kalliope let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her grip on Sjan-dehk’s arm tightened slightly, and when she looked up at him, her verdant eyes gleamed with gratitude and a faint touch of amusement.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “I didn’t think I’d need saving tonight, but you’ve proven me wrong.” Her lips twitched into a wry smile. “Consider me officially in your debt. Let us hope this isn’t some form of foreshadowing, however.” She let out a small laugh, but there was some truth behind it. She really hoped things would simply go smoothly.

Sjan-dehk returned the laugh, just as small but with much less mirth. “Don’t thank me for that. I think I feel sorry for the man now, more than anything else,” he said with a shake of his head. Then, he let out a yawn that caught him by surprise. He quickly covered his mouth with a hand, glancing towards Kalliope, his expression apologetic. “Ah, sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “These past two days have been eventful. Been doing some privateering work. Lots of pirates and their like active in these waters of yours, I’ve to say.”

He shook his head to clear it. Focus. He had to focus. He hadn’t just come as Kalliope’s invitee; he’d come to investigate the estate as well – its name and that of its owner had appeared on a handful of the documents his crew and he had captured from this morning’s pirates. Serendipity then gifted him an excellent excuse to probe deeper into matters, in the form of Kalliope’s invitation, and what sort of Jafin would he be, if he turned away something so fated?

That said, he knew he was playing with fire, here, and he was playing with it as a clumsy toddler and not a seasoned practitioner. Such subterfuge had always been more of Shim-sen’s domain. But that brother of his wasn’t here, and so Sjan-dehk knew he would have to play by Kalliope’s rules.

“You look good,” he remarked dumbly as he looked at her. In actual fact, he found her stunning, but for whatever reason, ‘good’ was the only word that jumped to his mind. Thankful for the dim light that hid his flushed cheeks, he cleared his throat and quickly went on, “Makes me feel underdressed, but I guess that’s becoming the norm nowadays.” He flashed her a grin. “I only just got your message a few hours ago, after pulling into harbour, so I didn’t have time to prepare anything fancy. Thought I’d come looking like an actual escort. Better a full escort than a half-arsed noble, eh?”

“Oh don't worry about him. His heart will heal before the night is over. He shall likely find another to keep him company.” She reassured him before looking back up at him, having briefly looked back in the direction of Ser Victor. She caught his yawn then and felt a pang of guilt hit her. It sounded like he'd had a full schedule and yet he still came for her. Just that fact alone caused her heart to skip a beat. “No need to apologize at all. If anything, I should apologize for dragging you out here. I do truly appreciate it, though.” She said, a warmth to her eyes.

Kalliope's lips quirked upward, then, at Sjan-dehk’s awkward compliment. His attempt at charm was endearing, and she couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. “Good?” she repeated, raising a perfectly arched brow, her voice light and playful. “Is that really the best you could come up with? I’ve spent hours perfecting this look, Captain, and all I get is ‘good’? Remind me to lower my expectations next time.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, though her teasing was softened by the faintest hint of laughter in her tone. “Of course I only just. Thank you for the compliment, truly.”

She gave his outfit a quick once-over, taking in his clean but simple attire—the swirling embroidery on his collar, the polished weapons at his belt. He looked, as always, like the ever-capable sailor she had come to trust, but the rugged air he carried with him somehow suited the elegance of the night. When her gaze returned to his face, her smile softened. “Though, to be fair,” she continued, her voice taking on a more genuine warmth, “you look perfect. In fact, I prefer you this way. You’ve no need for the frills and airs of these types. You carry yourself with more confidence and strength than any man here could ever muster, no matter how expensive their attire.”

Her arm still linked with his, she began to lead him toward the estate. The cobblestones clicked lightly beneath their steps as they moved past other finely dressed guests. “Besides,” she added, her tone conspiratorial as she tilted her head toward him slightly, “it fits my persona for the evening. Lady Alara Vayne wouldn’t be caught dead with some powdered, overdressed peacock of a noble as her escort. No, no. She’s the young widow of a successful merchant, inherited his business, made a name for herself as she travels the world. She’s adventurous, independent, and, above all, knows the value of keeping competent and intriguing company. Which is exactly what you are.”

Sjan-dekh chuckled. “Well then, glad I stumbled my way into being of use.”

Kalliope threw him a sly glance as they ascended the steps toward the estate’s grand entrance. “So really, Captain, you’re doing me a favor by looking like the sharp-eyed escort every woman here wishes they had by their side. Consider it your first contribution to the evening’s success.”

The two of them entered the estate, the grandeur of the party unfolding before them. Crystal chandeliers bathed the space in warm light, and the sound of soft music played by the string quartet filtered through the grand hall. Guests mingled, their voices weaving into the elegant cacophony of the night, while servants with trays of champagne flitted about like silent specters. “Seems our host has made some upgrades since the last time I was here.”

Kalliope’s eyes scanned the room, her gaze practiced and sharp as it landed on their target. Standing at the far side of the room, by the grand staircase, was Lord Edric de Clairemont. He was a man of middling height with a stocky frame, his graying hair slicked back, and his round face set in a practiced smile as he greeted guests. A merchant by trade, Lord Clairemont had recently announced the establishment of a lucrative new trade route to Alidasht, claiming it would bring more wealth and opportunity to their lands. And yet, the Queen’s suspicions suggested otherwise.

“Edric de Clairemont,” Kalliope murmured to Sjan-dehk, her voice low enough not to carry beyond him. “Our host for the evening. His newly announced trade route with Alidasht has been the talk of the city, but there’s a problem. His wealth doesn’t match the manifests he’s turned in to the harbormaster. The Queen believes he’s involved in illegal trade—smuggling, bribery, perhaps even trafficking. We’re here to find evidence. Enough to not only confirm her suspicions but also expose him if necessary.”

Sjan-dehk nodded and pursed his lips in a grim line. “I might have sent a few of his ships, or a few of his hired ships, to the bottom, as well as killed a fair number of his men,” he said, his voice kept to a hushed whisper and words furtive. “He’s definitely up to nothing good, that much I can say with dead certainty. Found his name on several documents that once belonged to pirates. Mostly contracts and bills-of-sale, and for nothing too wicked, as far as what’s written. But he’s surely in league with many shady characters.”

She turned her head slightly toward Sjan-dehk, her expression calm but her eyes glinting with determination. “Our goal is to blend in, gather what we can, and avoid making a scene. With any luck, we’ll get a look at his private records or overhear something useful. If we find an opportunity to sneak up into his private rooms then even better. The Queen wants this handled quietly. She wants the truth, not bloodshed.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Sjan-dehk said, the corners of his lips pulled in a wry smirk. “But I’ll try not to cause a scene.”

Her lips curved faintly into a smile as she added, “Perhaps we start with a dance and see what we can overhear as we move around gossiping groups?” She nodded toward the mingling guests surrounding a dance floor and the ever-smiling Lord Everhall, ready to guide Sjan-dehk into the lion’s den.

Sjan-dehk hesitated for a moment before nodding. He’d been many things in his life thus far, but not a dancer. That said, he knew that Kalliope’s plan was the best, and perhaps only, way forward if they wanted to eavesdrop on any loose lips amongst Clairemont’s guests. But there was another reason for his hesitancy – if he, someone who looked as if they could be nothing but an armed escort, were to waltz into the room and dance with someone as well-dressed as Kalliope, they would have a bevy of curious eyes on them. That was hardly the sort of thing one wanted for clandestine work.

And so, he cleared his throat loudly. “I-I am only here to escort you,” he said, trying to sound normal but at the same time loud enough for those around them to hear. Let them know him as just another armed guard. Better yet, let them think of him as simple, dumb muscle. That would make it so much easier for him to linger in the background, unnoticed. And now, if Kalliope were to pull him along with her into the room, most would – as he hoped – simply assume her to be some precocious noblelady having fun with her personal guard.

“It is not…It is not right for me to dance with lady like you, yes?” Sjan-dehk continued, a mischievous shine in his eyes as he looked at Kalliope.

Kalliope caught on to Sjan-dehk’s tactic immediately, and a devilish glint sparked in her emerald eyes. Let the games begin. She thought to herself as she snatched a flute of champagne from a passing servant and drank half of it in a moment. She leaned closer to him, a sly smile curling on her lips as if she were already half a glass too deep into her champagne. Her hand slid lightly along his arm, the picture of a playful and slightly tipsy noblewoman amusing herself.

“Oh, Captain,” she purred, her voice carrying just enough to draw nearby attention but remain casual. “What nonsense! Where's your sense of adventure? Who’s to say I can’t have a little fun with my escort?” She tilted her head, the picture of someone scandalously improper yet entirely charming. “I’ve traveled the world, seen its wonders, and let me tell you, rules are far too boring. Besides,” she added with a wink, “I rather like a man who doesn’t bow and scrape.”

She let out a soft, lilting laugh and lightly swatted his chest, continuing in a mock whisper that was still just loud enough to be overheard. “Don’t act so shy, my dear Captain. If I want to dance, I’ll dance, and if I want to dance with you, well…” Her smile widened as she let the sentence hang in the air.

Sjan-dehk mirrored her smile, but only for the briefest of moments. He still had his part to play in this little act of theirs, after all. And now that they had managed to catch the attention of everybody within earshot, it was all the more important that he kept up appearances. “I-It is not shyness,” he said. The embarrassment in his voice wasn’t entirely an act, but despite that, he was enjoying himself. “That is not…It is only that it is not the proper thing to do.”

Truly, this was all so very strange. Pranks and practical jokes were one thing, but a performance like this was another, entirely. The former, Sjan-dehk knew he liked. The latter, not so much. But here he was, having fun pretending to be a thespian on a stage. His eyes flicked down, glancing at Kalliope’s hand on his chest, and he swallowed hard. That wasn’t entirely an act, either. “I…I suppose just one dance cannot be too bad, yes?”

To those watching, it would appear to be nothing more than a flighty, slightly inebriated noblewoman toying with her handsome guard. And if anyone found her antics unbecoming, all the better. It meant they wouldn’t look too closely at her actual intentions.

Her fingers danced over his chest playfully, and she leaned in just a fraction closer, her voice now meant only for him. “There,” she murmured under her breath, her smile still firmly in place. “Now no one will pay attention to a ‘silly, flirtatious widow’ with her dashing guard. They’ll write us off as scandal, not suspicion. And if we sneak away and snoop around, well…no one will question our disappearance.”

“Yes, I suppose not,” Sjan-dehk replied. The words tumbled from his lips, and he felt his cheeks burn as Kalliope closed the distance between them. So close was she that he could catch faint whiffs of a flowery scent clinging to her, and her verdant eyes, shining with mischief, filled his vision. He almost leaned his head back on instinct, but then he quickly remembered that even if their act was over, he still had to keep playing his part until they were properly lost within the crowd.

He covered her hand on his chest with his, and slowly – nervously, almost – placed the other on her slender waist. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing,” he admitted in a quiet voice, leaning in as well to keep their exchange safe from any potential eavesdroppers and gossips. If anything, it only made the two of them look even more like a scandalous noblewoman cavorting with her guard. “I’m afraid you’ll be taking the lead on this one for now.”

Kalliope’s smile widened as Sjan-dehk placed his hand on her waist, the faint hint of nervousness in his movements only adding to the charm of their little performance. Her own heart seemed to flutter with excitement and she found herself silently chastising herself as she tried to ignore the scent of him now they were so close. She tilted her head slightly, her breath warm as she spoke just loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, her tone teasing but laced with reassurance. “If you stumble, just let them think I’ve had one too many glasses of champagne and pulled you into my drunken mischief.”

Her hand found its way to his shoulder, and she swayed slightly, as if already caught in the rhythm of the music that drifted through the grand hall. “All you have to do is keep your eyes on me,” she continued, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “and let them believe I’ve completely ensnared you. A touch of smitten guard and a dash of clumsy dancer, that should do nicely.” Her emerald eyes sparkled as she gently guided him onto the dance floor, her movements fluid and confident.

Can’t imagine how I’d not keep my eyes on you, Sjan-dehk thought, and the words nearly formed on his tongue before he stopped himself, a slight flush coming over his cheeks. Even if he knew that he was simply playing a part, saying them aloud would be going a little too far, for him. He imagined that they wouldn’t sound too natural coming from his mouth, in any case.

They began to move, Kalliope steering them with an ease that belied her sharp focus. Her gaze flicked around the room as she danced, her playful exterior never wavering. It didn’t take long for her sharp ears to catch snippets of conversation from a nearby group of finely dressed guests, their voices carrying just enough to be overheard.

“…Another shipment delayed, and he expects us to just wait? The clients are growing restless…”

“…Careless, really. If the authorities sniff this out, we’ll all burn for it.”

“Quiet, you fool. Not here. We’ll discuss it upstairs later.”

Kalliope tilted her head slightly, pretending to adjust her grip on Sjan-dehk as she leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you catch that?” she murmured, her tone now sharp beneath the playful facade. Sjan-dehk shook his head. “Something about a shipment. Sounds like they’re nervous. You wouldn't, by chance, know why that shipment may have been delayed, would you?” She kept her expression bright and teasing, her lips curving into a mischievous and flirtatious smile as if she were sharing some private joke with him.

“Could’ve been me,” Sjan-dehk said, leaning in and speaking in a quiet murmur. He kept his eyes on the crowd, however, as he looked out for anyone that seemed suspicious, or seemed as if they were a little too interested in Kalliope and himself. “But hard to say for sure. The ships we sank were likely doing work for several people, and there’s plenty of pirates running around in these waters. Could’ve been any one of those bastards who delayed their shipment.”

He carefully followed her steps, occasionally glancing down between their bodies at his feet to make sure that he wasn’t about to accidentally tread on her toes. Dancing wasn’t something he was good or even passably decent at, but he found it surprisingly easy to keep pace with Kalliope. “Yesterday’s catches did have your mark’s name on a few documents,” he continued. “All indicating that he’s just importing innocent stuff. Spices and such.”

He flashed her a grin and chuckled, keeping up the act of sharing a private joke. “But I suppose all of that’s smoke and nonsense.”

Kalliope’s emerald eyes glimmered with intrigue as she listened to Sjan-dehk’s quiet words. “Spices and such,” she echoed softly, her lips curving into a wry smile that carried none of her outward charm. “Intriguing. There could still be innocence, I suppose, but another was fretting over the authorities. Why be so ruffled over some clove and nutmeg, I wonder?” Her tone remained light, teasing, but the wheels in her mind were turning at full speed.

Her steps didn’t falter as she danced them toward a slightly quieter part of the floor, giving them a better vantage point while keeping up the appearance of idle flirtation. “And that third one shushed them,” she murmured, as if simply musing aloud. “If there’s nothing to hide, why would they want them to save the chatter for later?” Her voice dropped even lower, conspiratorial. “Sounds to me like someone’s nerves are frayed.”

Sjan-dehk nodded in agreement, his brows furrowed. His first thought had been that ‘spices’ referred to something else entirely, something likely less-than-legal. But that idea fell apart almost as soon as it entered his mind – he imagined that Kalliope would be in the know about such things, and it didn’t seem as if she had more of a clue than him. “Well, I did say ‘and such’,” he offered. “The documents are still all aboard Sada Kurau. Could still refer to them later, if there’s a need to.”

She tilted her head, her fingers tightening just slightly on his shoulder as she paused their dance and leaned in, her lips so close to his ear it could have been mistaken as an intimate exchange. A heated blush crept up Sjan-dehk’s cheeks, but he fought back his instinct to make space, and instead rested his hand on her back, pressing her ever-so-slightly into him. So close were her lips to his ear that he could feel her soft breaths against his lobe. Still, he tilted his head, leaning his ear even closer to her lips to make their act just that little bit more convincing for any prying eyes.

“They said ‘upstairs.’ If we’re lucky, we’ll find whatever has them so twitchy before they scurry off to whisper about it.” Her gaze briefly flicked toward the group of guests, still clustered in their tense conversation. “But if we’re going to snoop, it needs to be before they excuse themselves.”

Kalliope leaned back just slightly, enough to look Sjan-dehk in the eyes, her expression shifting into one of flirtatious delight for the benefit of anyone watching. For the briefest of moments, her eyes flicked down to his lips and her mind betrayed her, wondering how they might feel against hers. She quickly caught herself and forced the thoughts out as her eyes found his once more. “Think you’re up for sneaking off with a tipsy widow for a bit of adventure, Captain?” she teased, her voice soft and playful, though her sharp gaze flicked meaningfully toward the stairs just outside the ballroom. “I promise to only lead you into the most thrilling kinds of trouble.”

Sjan-dehk looked back at her and grinned. “That’s the best sort of trouble, I’d say,” he said, nodding his approval. His lips parted to say more, but then he instead glanced over her shoulder, at a handful of dancing couples slowly twirling and swaying their way towards the pair’s corner. “Behind you,” he whispered, then smirked. “Guess it’s time to act again. You should feel honoured, Lady Kali. Usually I’m not the sort to do this sort of thing.”

His tone was playful, and his eyes shone with mischief for a brief moment. Then, he leaned his head back and cleared his throat loudly. A look, or at least his attempts at a look of surprise, bashfulness, and some embarrassment came over his face. “Y-You should not–” he began, glancing at the crowd, then at Kalliope. His voice dropped a register, quiet but still likely easily heard by anyone listening in on them. “It is not right to do this thing, yes? N-Not here, at least.”

Kalliope’s eyes gleamed with amusement as Sjan-dehk stumbled through his words, his awkward bashfulness adding a layer of charm she hadn’t anticipated. It took everything she had not to laugh, but instead, she leaned in closer, her voice playful and just loud enough for nearby eavesdroppers to catch.

“Oh, Captain,” she purred, tilting her head and letting her lips curve into a wickedly teasing smile. “You really must relax. I simply can’t help myself, you know. A handsome escort like you? How could I not misbehave just a little?” Her fingers brushed lightly over his chest, the perfect picture of a noblewoman thoroughly enjoying her game.

Her eyes flicked toward the stairs, gauging the tension in the room and the movements of the suspicious group. “We’ll move the moment the floor clears a bit,” she whispered softly, her fingers lingering against his chest as if savoring the moment. “For now, just enjoy the attention. You’re quite convincing.” Her smirk widened, and she leaned in just enough to make it look like she was whispering sweet nothings as her lips brushed against his ear. “Almost too convincing, in fact. You’re not actually flustered, are you?”

Before she could gauge his response, a nearby dancer stumbled into her, the force of the bump causing her to press against Sjan-dehk fully. Her body instinctively molded to his, and a soft gasp escaped her. This time she felt a blush creeping across her face and her heart began to race. They needed to move quickly before anyone actually noticed her own flustered behavior. That could certainly incur some suspicion.

Sjan-dehk caught Kalliope as she stumbled into him, instinctively wrapping his arms around her and using his own body to keep her from falling any further. At the same time, he shot the dancer – along with their partner – a stern glare. The two muttered quick apologies before darting off, disappearing back into the crowd. Just as Sjan-dehk was about to check on Kalliope, she spoke.

“I suppose you're right. Perhaps we should find somewhere a bit more…private.” She said just loudly enough for those nearby to overhear, tilting her head to meet his gaze with sparkling eyes before entwining her fingers with his. “Come, my dashing Captain, before this crowd devours us whole.” With that, she gently but firmly led him off the dance floor, her movements graceful and purposeful as she guided him out the door and toward the stairs.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Munir & Mina

Date: Morning
Location: Guest House

*Note: This takes place the morning of the current day*

TW: ADULT THEMES

PART ONE

---

Mina felt a thrill of excitement as Munir's words echoed in her ears. His promise, his threat, they both sent shivers down her spine. She watched as he returned with an armful of clothes, setting some on the dressing counter beneath the polished bronze mirror and hanging others on the backs of chairs around the room. His playful comment about the clothes looking better on the floor made her smirk.

As he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear about their mutual desire, she couldn't help but lean into him. The feel of his weight, his breath, his touch—it was intoxicating.

But then, Mina stepped away, turning around to face him. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and with a deliberate motion, she let it slip off her shoulders, pooling around her feet. She watched his reaction, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

The next words and actions from Munir had Mina holding her breath as she tried to steady her racing heart. She took a deep breath, her body still tingling from his touch. She knew he was right; their desire could wait just a little longer. Smiling, she walked over to the dressing counter, picking out one of the vibrant dresses he had brought in.

"Alright, breakfast first," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and teasing. "But I wasn't meaning to merely tease and tempt you when I said I needed help getting dressed. Why do you think I have ladies in waiting, after all?"[/color] She giggled as she slipped her chemise on and held up her corset, wiggling it as if beckoning him over to help.

Munir chuckled as she stepped away from him, slipping on her undergarments. “By the Gods how I wish to just….” Munir didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he let out a low sound that was a mix of a growl, grunt and a groan. Running his hand through his hair more in frustration than necessity, he stood from where he sat and approached Mina slowly. On his way over, he took a sip of the iced water that sat on one of the tables in the room.

“You sure you want my help? I don’t know if I know how to put on a corset… I do know how to undo one though… So I suppose it’s just that, but backwards?” Munir’s voice was slightly garbled, and Mina would soon find out why. As he took the corset from her hands, he started slowly undo and open up the lacy straps to give Mina more space to slip the constricting piece of clothing on. “I need to have a word with whoever designed these infernal things and make sure they see that their idea is flawed…” Munir said, in an annoyed tone. Meanwhile, as his hands worked, the rest of his body did not stay idle. He stood behind Mina, holding the corset out to his side as he leaned towards her and gave her neck a kiss. What Mina would feel would be different than what she was used to. Munir had snuck a piece of ice into his mouth as he took a sip of the water and he is now lightly grazing Mina’s neck with just the tip of the icy crystal, trailing it down the crook of her neck and stopping just short of the outer edge of her shoulder.

Mina giggled at Munir's frustrated growl, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Munir, it's not that difficult. You just have to be gentle and patient," she teased, leaning into him as he fumbled with the lacy straps. His kiss on her neck sent shivers down her spine, but the sudden cold touch of ice made her squeal and jerk away, laughing. "Munir! Using ice? Really? You wicked man!"

Turning to face him with a playful glare, Mina placed her hands on his chest. "You're supposed to be helping me get dressed, not making me jump out of my skin," she scolded, eyes twinkling with mirth. Handing him the laces of the corset again, she added, "Let's try this again, and no more surprises until we're ready to face the world."

Leaning in close, Mina whispered in his ear, "Besides, save the ice for later. You might need it to cool down after all the excitement you keep promising." She gave him a sly wink before turning around and allowing him to continue with the corset, this time without any icy interruptions.

“I suppose I can be gentle and patient. But I offer that only to you, Mina al Kadir.” Munir replied, purposely changing Mina’s surname to match his own. When Mina made the comment about his little playful trick, Munir merely smiled and remained silent. He wanted to seduce her, to push her to the brink. Of course, he would respect her wishes if she told him to stop, but he has not heard that from her just yet…

Mina laughed softly, shaking her head at Munir's playful antics and his new twist on her surname. "Mina al Kadir, is it? You really are determined to make me yours in every way, aren’t you?" she teased, feeling a warmth in her chest at his words.

“Fine, no more surprises. And I suppose you and I would both need to don our armor in order to face the world, eh?” Munir quipped, knowing that there is at least some truth behind his words. Truth be told, it is so early into the courting season that Munir behaving as such, under no proper supervision no less, would be considered extremely scandalous. Now. That is not to say he is afraid of a little gossip, whispered between bored ladies of the court and curious men of high standings. Munir is in fact used to such things. Back in Alidasht, his list of nicknames, used by commoners and nobility alike, includes things like “The Sand Stallion”, “Drifting Sun” and the more direct “Lecher Prince”. The names whispered about him no longer affect him. He knows, and is confident about, who he is. But. As Mina’s reputation comes into view alongside his own, he cannot and will not allow it to be tarnished. Whatever is said about her back in Kolonivka be damned.

Mina’s sultry words snapped him back into the present. He smirked in response. “Baby, your mere presence makes me feverish. And I’m one of the desert.” Munir whispered back, gently lifting Mina’s arms so that they were above her head as he gently slipped on her corset for her. As the corset slid down Mina’s upper torso, Munir allowed his hands to follow the lacy fabric and traced Mina’s sides, giving the soft spots just under her ribs a firm but playful squeeze. He took his time adjusting and making sure the corset sat at it’s proper location, making small twisting adjustments so that it offered Mina support where she wanted and needed it. When he was satisfied with where the corset rested, he guided Mina’s slightly to allow himself just a tad more space as he began tying up each knot, making sure that they were tight but not painful.

“Does this mean you’d help me dress as well? Or am I expected to don my own armor before we head into battle, my lady.”

As he worked on the corset, she reveled in his touch, each gentle squeeze and adjustment sending small waves of pleasure through her. When he lifted her arms and slid the corset down, she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. Once he finished tying the knots, she turned to face him, her smile soft but full of mischief. "You’ve done well, my desert prince. I feel like I could conquer the world now." She said as she traced her fingers over his chest playfully.

She then turned away from him and grabbed a white and blue floral sundress that had caught her eye. Slipping on the dress, Mina let the fabric cascade down her body, the vibrant colors complementing her complexion. She adjusted it slightly, smoothing out any wrinkles before turning back to Munir. "As for helping you dress, I suppose I can help you," she began with a playful smirk as she closed the distance between them once again, "But I can’t be held responsible for where my hands might wander…" As she said this, one hand traced its way to the top of his trousers, a single finger barely slipping beneath them teasingly.

Munir stepped back as Mina turned around to face him. His playful smirk never leaving his face. “I feel like you can conquer the world without the corset, or even, without me. For you are fierce, and awe inspiring. I’m just the luckiest one to be able to bow at your knees. He said, with a small chuckle. Munir tucked his arms behind his back as Mina walked away to pick out her dress for the day. He took in the sight in front of him, allowing the sun to glean off of Mina’s skin. He would lose himself in it. He lost himself in watching Mina doing something as mundane as getting dressed for the day. IT was mesmerizing.

“Uh. What? Oh. Yeah. Sure. Wander away. Matter of fact, I want you to wander. I want you to explore me. Munir said, snapping out of his trance. Munir would glance down as Mina tugged at the beltline of his trousers teasingly. “All this teasing. I’m just hoping you’re really up for it, because you’re positively driving me mad with desire and wearing down the wall that keeps me from acting upon my more primal instincts…” Munir said, his voice tethering between playful and lustful. Munir reached down and lifted Mina’s hand away from his beltline and brought it up to give it a soft kiss. “Alright. How do you want me to dress? I’m sure we can find something that I brought over that will match your brilliance.”

A soft giggle escaped her as Mina glanced up at him, a playfully chastising look crossing her face. ”Munir al Kadir, do you dare doubt me?” She teased as she moved to rest her arms on his shoulders. "I think you should wear something comfortable and that you enjoy the most, but also be prepared for rain as it seems to have started drizzling out there.” She suggested with a shrug. ”Perhaps a nice tunic and trousers?" She said, her voice low and sultry. "Something that makes you look like the prince you are but easy enough to remove later." Her fingers traced his collarbone as she spoke, enjoying the tension she could feel in his muscles. "Now, let’s get you dressed before we both lose control and never make it out of this room, leaving poor Hakim to wonder if we're actually coming or not." She added with a playful smile, stepping back to give him space.

“Would you want it any other way, Mina al Kadir?” Munir responded in a jest. As Mina rested her arms on his shoulders, he turned and gave them small kisses. “Mmm. That sounds good. I think we can keep clothing meant for the rain with Hakim, at least for the time being. Seeing as the heavier part of the storm isn’t quite here yet.” Munir responded again, pondering his clothing choices. “Tunic and trousers sound nice. I have plenty of that.” Munir said, looking at Mina as she stepped away with an expression that was both playful and skeptical. He padded over to his wardrobe and parted the doors. In it, Mina would see all of Munir’s clothing hung up according to color and material, a brief glimpse into how organized Munir likes to be.

“If you keep talking like that, we’re really not going to make it out of the room. Hakim will understand.” Munir said, issuing a verbal challenge to Mina in the process. Munir picked up a light blue hempen tunic, to match the color of Mina’s dress and a pair of cream-colored trousers, adorned with thin gold embroidery, subtly laid into the side pleats of the pants. “These will do I think… Munir said, pulling on his trousers but letting the tunic hang over his shoulders as he walked over to Mina. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped on his tunic, stretching his arms out and flexing slightly to allow the shirt to fall into it’s place. Munir’s clothing items all have a certain tailored look to them, as they fit in the right places and fall where they should as if on command. Adjusting the collar to his tunic slightly, Munir smirked and said “So? What do you think?”

Mina watched Munir with a mix of admiration and amusement, noting the way he moved with such confidence and ease. As he slipped on his tunic, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way it fit him perfectly, highlighting his strong build.

"I think you look absolutely dashing," Mina replied with a smile, stepping closer to adjust his collar slightly. "You always manage to look so effortlessly handsome." Her fingers lingered for a moment on the fabric before she pulled back, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"But you know," she continued, her tone playful, "you’re right, if we keep flirting like this, I might just take you up on that challenge, and Hakim will have to wait a little longer." She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But for now, let's show the world how good we look together, shall we?" She offered her hand to Munir, ready to face the day with him by her side. ”Besides, we could always have some fun in the carriage or find a dark corner somewhere while we’re out.” She figured one last teasing comment wouldn’t hurt as she gave him a wicked grin.

“Lady Blackwood. I am appalled. A dark corner somewhere!?, In the carriage!? Just what do you take me for? Some back alley Sally? I would require a fine dinner, candles, wine and persuasion.” Munir said with a slight huff. Not moments later, he starts chuckling and walks towards Mina, taking her hand. “I kid. I will have you anywhere.” He said, barely above a whisper as he leaned towards her and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek. Picking up two cloaks with his free hand, he led Mina out of his bedroom and started making his way towards the gates, where his loyal companion is waiting.

As they walked down the hallway hand in hand, Mina couldn't help but giggle at Munir's antics. "A fine dinner and persuasion, you say? I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned into him as they walked, enjoying the warmth and closeness.

Just as they were about to pass in front of her rooms, the door swung open, and her uncle, Sebastian, stepped out, blocking their path. Mina’s giggles died in her throat as she took in his disheveled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes. The anger in his gaze was palpable, and there was something else—an almost feral hunger that made Mina’s heart race with unease and fear caused her to unthinkingly pull her hand away from Munir’s.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Tough Tavern
Interactions: @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk/Cynwaer @princess Anastasia
Mentions:
Outfit: Dress

---

Thea was in the middle of a lively dance with a sailor whose hands were becoming a bit more adventurous than she realized. She swayed to the music, laughing and enjoying herself, but the sailor's increasingly bold touches were starting to make her feel uncomfortable. Just as she began to consider how to extricate herself from the situation, she heard Anastasia’s familiar voice calling her over.

Without a second thought, she disengaged from the sailor, offering him a quick, apologetic smile before practically skipping over to Anastasia. Her excitement was palpable as she wrapped her arms around her friend for support, leaning into her warmth.

“To ships and peace!” she echoed loudly, raising her glass high before downing her whiskey in one go. She giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I love sailors, they always know how to have the best time...at least until they start fighting like what happened earlier.” She shuddered at the memory, but quickly shrugged it off, her smile returning.

Thea glanced at the two men Anastasia had joined, her curiosity piqued. “But tonight, it’s all about fun and adventure!” she proclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm. “So, who are these fine gentlemen we’re toasting with?” She leaned comfortably against Anastasia, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol and the excitement of the night.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Torvi & Ryn

---

Fenrys regarded Ryn with a mixture of curiosity and caution, his senses attuned to the man's presence. The scent of rain mingled with the faint unique scent that clung to Ryn's clothes. The dire wolf's keen eyes studied Ryn, assessing him with a quiet intensity as he listened to the man's words.

After a moment of consideration, Fenrys rose to his feet, his movements fluid and graceful. With a flick of his tail, he gestured for Ryn to follow him, his steps deliberate as he made his way towards the door of the café. Pausing only briefly to ensure the coast was clear of any patrons that might be frightened by the wolf, Fenrys pushed open the door with a gentle nudge of his muzzle, the warm glow of the café's interior spilling out onto the rain-soaked streets.

Turning to face Ryn, Fenrys fixed him with a steady gaze before nodding towards the bustling interior of the café. It was as if he was inviting Ryn to take a peek inside, a silent gesture that spoke volumes without the need for words. And as Fenrys' gaze drifted towards a figure with hair the color of moonlight seated at one of the tables, he nodded towards her as if to say “she is why I'm here.”

Ryn followed the dire wolf’s amber stare across the café to a woman who looked like she had been spun out of moonbeams and sunlight. Her hair was a river of liquid silver that flowed over her shoulders, and her dress seemed to have been woven from strands of pure gold. Suddenly he felt immensely underdressed in his simple dusty blue dress shirt, mustard yellow ascot, and light grey waistcoat and houndstooth trousers. “Is she your friend?” he asked. Taking the resonant growl as affirmation, he surveyed the café’s patrons. “And where is your date? I find it hard to believe any of the canine variety would be foolish enough to leave an impressive specimen like you alone.”

As Ryn asked about Fenrys' date, the wolf almost chuckled, a low rumble vibrating deep in his throat. The concept of a date was foreign to him, and he hadn't given much thought to finding a mate. But the idea of being seen as an impressive specimen did bring a sense of pride to his wolfish heart.

A heartbeat passed before Ryn smiled at the massive beast next to him, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come inside? I am quite certain I can convince others that you’re simply an exceptionally large, fluffy dog—if you don’t find the notion too offensive, that is.”

The wolf paused, considering Ryn's offer. His gaze shifted to Torvi, who was now observing them with her characteristic golden gaze. There was a silent exchange between them, a wordless communication that spoke volumes.

After a moment, Torvi shrugged and nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. With her silent approval, he turned his attention back to Ryn, nodding in agreement. The idea of being mistaken for a large, fluffy dog didn't offend him—in fact, it seemed rather amusing. With a flick of his tail, Fenrys gestured for Ryn to lead the way into the café and he would follow closely behind Ryn. His presence drew curious glances from the other patrons and even some shocked gasps. It always amused Fenrys the way people were often so frightened of him or surprised by him. Perhaps that was what drew him to Ryn currently, the lack of that fear and judgment.

A few steps into the Morning Blossom Cafe, Ryn found himself bathed in the radiant smile of a cheerful waitress. The brunette stood near the entryway, a wicker basket cradled in her hands, her mere presence seeming to set the very air alight with warmth and welcome.

“Welcome to the Morning Blossom Cafe!” Her voice rang out like chiming bells, each word infused in genuine enthusiasm. “My name is Mingyu and I am so pleased that you have decided to come here today. I will be your guide for the courting event. I hope you love the food and enjoy the chance to meet a wonderful new person!”

Mingyu’s gaze flicked past Ryn to the massive wolf shadowing his footsteps. Her eyes widened slightly, but her smile never faltered.

“I hope you can accommodate for two? My companion here is Mr. Fluffins. Don’t let his size deceive you—he’s gentle, and better behaved than most.” Ryn sank to one knee, fingers ruffling the dense fur behind the wolf’s ears. “Isn’t that right boy? Yes! You’re such a good boy! Yes you are!” Ryn’s voice rose in pitch as he slipped into baby-talk, cooing and fawning over the wolf like a doting parent. And he savored every second. It was a rare privilege to pet a dire wolf in such a manner.

The display of affection between man and beast appeared to dissipate any lingering apprehension from onlookers and Mingyu alike. She extended the basket towards Ryn. “Please take a number from the basket. There will be a table with a big sign that matches your number!”

He reached into the basket and plucked out a neatly folded square of paper. Dark brows climbed as Ryn unfolded it to reveal the digits matching the table where a silver-haired woman sat, poised and regal. What were the odds of such a coincidence?

“Please let me know if you have any questions or even if you simply need someone to talk to!” Mingyu added.

A grateful smile graced Ryn’s lips as he nodded to Mingyu. He rose to his feet and made his unhurried way towards the designated table, the wolf padding silently at his heels. As they approached, his dark eyes locked the golden gaze of his date.

“Good day, fair lady.” Ryn greeted her with a bow and a smile. “My name is Fritz and I believe you already know our mutual friend, Mr. Fluffins? He also answers to the name…?” The invitation hung in the air between them, waiting for the moon maiden to introduce both herself and the wolf.

Torvi's lips curved into a devious grin as she regarded Ryn with amusement, her golden gaze sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I am tempted to let him suffer with the name Mr. Fluffins for the time being," she replied in her accented voice, her tone light and teasing. She received a growl and huff from her furry friend which only made her chuckle some.

Leaning forward slightly, she extended her hand in greeting. "I am Torvi," she introduced herself. "And this, as you so eloquently put it, is Mr. Fluffins also known as Fenrys." She gestured to the dire wolf beside him, who regarded Ryn with a regal air as he elegantly sat beside the table.

“Torvi, the pleasure is entirely my own.” His hand reached out, fingers closing softly around hers as he brought her knuckles to his mouth, grazing them with the lightest brush of a kiss. He then lowered himself to one knee before Fenrys and reached out to take one massive paw in his hands. Ryn touched his forehead to the fur. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Fenrys.”

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Fritz, and I must say, you have quite the way with words," Torvi continued, her tone playful as she insinuated she'd overheard his conversation with Mingyu when he'd entered. "I trust you and Mr. Fluffins have been getting along, how do you say…swimmingly?"

“I certainly hope so! I shudder to think of the alternative.” Ryn wiggled his fingers to show that they remained blessedly attached to his hand. “At the very least, I appear to have escaped with all my appendages intact, so I daresay we’re off to a promising start.”

With a hearty chuckle that bubbled up from his toes, he eased himself into the vacant chair. “But I suspect you would be a far better judge of the current state of my rapport with your furred and fanged companion.” At this proximity, he could see that despite her beguiling features and elegant attire, Ms. Torvi was no sheltered noblewoman. The well-defined muscles and the scar peeking from underneath the gold bracer on her left forearm hinted at a life spent honing the deadly arts of combat. A warm, inquisitive smile fixed on her as Ryn steepled his fingers on the tabletop. “So tell me, on a scale from ‘fortunate to be breathing’ to ‘honorary pack member’ where do I stand?”

Torvi regarded Ryn with genuine interest, her gaze thoughtful yet welcoming. "I would say you have certainly earned his respect and very well may be on the path to honorary pack member," she replied, her tone light yet sincere. "Though I must warn you, Fenrys has high standards."

His smile grew wider, brighter, at the prospect of being part of a pack. The sense of togetherness and acceptance called to an ache deep inside him he never allowed himself to express. Not because he was forbidden from doing so, but because he was afraid. “Then I shall endeavor to rise to the challenge,” Ryn said.

She chuckled softly, a musical sound that echoed through the café, her eyes dancing with amusement. As she spoke, she took a moment to examine the man a bit further. Upon first glance, he seemed almost delicate. Perhaps that's all those without a trained eye would see, but she saw more. There was a contrasting subtle strength to him. His poised demeanor hinted at a resilience that belied his appearance, a quality she respected. While many from her tribe would write him off and think of him little more than a fragile flower, Torvi saw quite the opposite and this drew her to him.

”So tell me, Fritz, are you a native to Caesonia or do you come from somewhere else? I know there are many here in Sorian from different places, myself included, and so I can not help but be curious where you come from. Especially with you having what seems to be more than common knowledge of my dear friend here.” As she asked her question, she picked up her menu to glance over it, but quickly put it back down as the dishes merely confused her.

“On paper, I am Varian. I have a home there, along with family, a thriving business, and people who rely on me. My mother is an immigrant from a land far away, but my father’s side of the family hail from Caesonia. Frequent visits to my extended family had made Caesonia a second home to me.” Ryn picked up the menu the same time Ms. Torvi did, skimming over the options as he continued. “However, if I’m being honest, the majority of my life has been spent traveling the length and breadth of Eromora. There are times when both Varian and Caesonia feel somewhat foreign to me.” He paused and glanced up from the menu. “How about you, Torvi? Where do you and Fenrys come from?”

As Ms. Torvi set her menu back on the table, Ryn lowered his own, studying her expression. “Is there nothing that appeals to your taste?”

His dual identity resonated with her own experiences of straddling two worlds, and she couldn't help but feel a kinship with someone who understood the feeling of being caught between cultures. "Varian and Caesonia," she repeated softly, the names rolling off her tongue with a hint of curiosity. "It seems you have quite the rich tapestry of experiences woven into your life, Fritz."

Torvi met Ryn's gaze with a thoughtful expression. "As for myself, I am technically a Varian as well. Though some from my tribe, including the jarl, my father, might argue that we do not belong to any one kingdom." Leaning forward slightly, Torvi continued. "I hail from the far north, where the land is harsh and unforgiving, and few dare to venture." She offered him a small smile, a glimpse into a world that was vastly different from the bustling streets of Varian or the grandeur of Caesonia.

“Up north? Are you from Krasivaya?” Ryn canted his head as he mentally rifled through the tribes that called the northern wilds home, and which proudly stood apart from the Varian Kingdom. “Which tribe?”

The more she spoke of her origins, the more certain he became that Ms. Torvi was no hothouse flower. The wilderness had shaped her, forging her into one of its own. It was there in the way she carried herself, in the strength of her bearing—a resilience born from the harsh, unrelenting demands of necessity rather than choice.

It was a captivating contrast to the woman who sat in front of him, resplendent in glittering gold. Steel beneath silk.

When he inquired about her menu choice, Torvi hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering back to the discarded menu. "Truth be told, I am not familiar with these dishes," she confessed with a shrug. "I find myself unsure of what to try."

A playful glint entered her eyes as she regarded him once more. "However, since you have shown impeccable taste in companions," she said, inclining her head towards Fenrys with a smile, "perhaps you could choose something for me to try. I trust your judgment."

A similar glint reflected off of Ryn’s eyes. “Well now, if that be the case… Do you know what I do whenever I visit an unfamiliar eatery and find myself flummoxed by the menu?” He paused, allowing enough time to pass for her to venture a guess.

"You ask the waitress to surprise you and pray they have good taste?" She pondered after a brief moment of thought.

“I simply select a dish at random and pray to the Creators, spirits, fates and ancestors that I won’t be retching my guts out in the next several hours.” He flashed a grin before snatching up the menu and positioning himself beside Ms. Torvi. Leaning in close, he whispered, “Close your eyes.” Gently, he took her hand in his, guiding her finger to the menu. “I’ll trace your hand down the list, and whenever you want, say stop. Ready?”

Torvi felt a flicker of excitement as Ryn's closeness enveloped her, his boldness stirring something within her. His playful demeanor and confident approach resonated with her own appreciation for directness and spontaneity. With a playful glint in her golden gaze, she met his eyes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I must admit, your approach is as daring as it is charming," she murmured, her voice laced with a hint of flirtation. As his hand intertwined with hers, ready to guide her finger along the menu, she surrendered to the moment, relishing in the unexpected thrill of anticipation that coursed through her. "Lead the way, Fritz," she said in response with a smirk. She waited a moment, letting him guide her hand until she felt the moment was right. "And stop." slowly, she opened her eyes to see where she landed.

But as her lashes began to lift, Ryn whisked the menu away. “If you want it to be a tad bit more thrilling, let’s keep it a surprise,” he suggested, punctuating his words with a playful wink.

He drank in Ms. Torvi’s smile for a heartbeat longer before dropping to one knee and presenting the menu to Fenrys. “And what will it be for you, my hirsute lord?”

There was a moment when he just stared at Ryn before his eyes locked onto the menu. A few seconds later, Fenrys pressed his wet snout onto an item. “Excellent choice.”

Once resettled in his chair, Ryn beckoned to a passing server with an easy wave. “We would like to have one of this and one of that,” he said, pointing to the items his companions had selected. He took care to ensure that Fenrys’s dish was free of anything that might be harmful to a wolf. “And I’d also like to order the least popular dish, if you please.”

The waiter blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unusual request, regained his professional mien with a nod and dutifully noted the order. [color=9354FF]“Will that be all, sir?”
“Oh, if it’s no trouble, may we have extra small plates as well?” The waiter nodded, and with a final thank you from Ryn, he departed from the table.

Turning to face his enchanting date, Ryn clapped his hands together, his eyes alight with anticipation. “How exciting!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm, eager to see what they would get.

Torvi chuckled, a rich sound that matched the warmth in her golden eyes. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You have a knack for turning the mundane into an adventure, don’t you?” Her gaze flicked to the departing waiter before returning to Ryn. “I must admit, I am intrigued to see what the least popular dish is. Perhaps it is a hidden gem waiting to be discovered.”

“Precisely!” Ryn exclaimed, mirroring Ms. Torvi’s posture and leaning in closer. “And it would be a travesty, a true disservice, to let the fruits of someone’s labors go unrecognized and untasted. No! We must give this culinary potential its moment in the spotlight.”

She glanced at Fenrys, who had settled comfortably beside her chair after picking his own dish, then back at Ryn. “So, tell me more about your travels, Fritz. What is the most extraordinary place you have visited? And have you ever encountered something that truly left you in awe?” Her tone was light and conversational, yet her eyes held a deeper curiosity, reflecting her own love for adventure and the unknown.

He pondered the question. “Well that’s a far trickier question to answer than you might think. Every place has been extraordinary in its own way and each left a mark on me. It’d be impossible to narrow it down to a single destination.” He chuckled weakly, “But that would be a terribly unsatisfactory answer, wouldn’t it?”

So he lapsed into contemplative silence once more while he sifted through the memories. Suddenly, he laughed. “Excuse me,” Ryn shook his head as a blush crept across his cheeks. “I had the entire world to choose from, and the first place that springs to mind is my home city.” Despite a life spent traversing the globe, he still couldn’t stop loving Erwynn and its denizens.

“How about this,” he suggested, his eyes brightening with a sudden burst of inspiration. “What if I tell you the first story that comes to mind from my travels, and perhaps you could share one of your own in return?" He extended his hand, an open invitation to seal the deal.

Torvi smirked, nodding as she met his hand with her own and shook on it. She had many stories she could tell, but she was quite curious of his own story. So she sat and listened as he began his tale, captivated by how he spun his words.

Ryn’s dark eyes roamed around a bit before landing on the dire wolf and he smiled. “In the land of Ruz’Ghard,” he began, “I came across a tribe of people who wore the skin of animals. Their spirit animal, to be exact, and it was believed that they could transform into them at will. I never got the chance to see if that was true or not, but they had many folklore involving animals. The one that stuck out the most to me was the legend about a dog who turned into a human.”

Ryn turned his attention back to Ms. Torvi, studying her closely as she studied him. “Once upon a time,” he said, his voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence, “there was a chieftain’s son and a dog that were inseparable. They spent their days roaming the hills and forests together, hunting and playing and enjoying each other’s company. The chieftain’s son loved the dog as he would a brother, and the dog loved the chieftain’s son with a fierce loyalty that knew no bounds. But, as many of these stories go, their happiness would not last forever. War plagued the land, claiming many victims, including the chieftain’s son.”

“With his dying breath, the chieftain’s son asked his dog to take care of his people in his place. The dog vowed he would. And after his best friend and family died, the dog tore off the human’s skin.” He gestured with his hands, pretending to peel off his own skin before placing the imaginary skin over his face. It peeked through Ryn’s fingers.

“And wore it, transforming into the chieftain’s son. And no one was none the wiser. The dog lived out his days as the chieftain’s son, protecting his people. He won the war and brought peace to the land. He sired many children, who would become the great ancestors of these skin-changers.”

She chuckled as she clapped, her gaze shifting to Fenrys. “Well, Fenrys, what do you say? Are you secretly a human in disguise?” she teased, scratching behind the wolf’s ear. Fenrys gave a soft, playful growl, making her smile even wider.

Turning back to Ryn, Torvi leaned forward, her interest piqued. “My story does not come from my travels, but from my home,” she began, her tone light yet serious. “In my homeland, the far north where the winters are long and harsh, there are legends about the dire wolves. It is believed that long ago, these majestic creatures were magical. Their power was coveted by sorcerers and sorceresses, but the wolves were wise and wary, not easily trusting of others.”

She paused, her eyes distant as she recalled the tales of her people, trying to imitate the way the scalds of her village would tell the story. “Those who craved their magic began to hunt them, but the dire wolves were crafty and not easy to kill. So, those wicked men and women decided they needed something better. They worked together, weaving their dark magics to create a creature specifically to capture and kill the dire wolves, especially their young. These creatures were formidable, but they had a weakness: they needed to feast on blood…human blood.” She paused once more for dramatic effect as her eyes found Ryn’s, a dark and sinister look shining in her eyes.

”There was a tribe of humans that lived near the homeland of the wolves and they unfortunately became the target of these creatures' sanguine hunger. As the dire wolves and tribe of humans found themselves both hunted and dwindling in number, they decided to forge a pact.”

Torvi’s voice took on a reverent tone as she continued. “The wolves granted the humans some of their sacred magic, teaching them how to wield it. Together, they found a way to combat the sorcerers and their creatures. They saved each other and, though those ancient wolves and humans are long gone along with the magic, the bond between our tribe and the wolves of the far north remains strong. It is why you will often see a human and wolf companion in my homeland.”

She finished her tale, her eyes meeting Ryn’s once more with a much softer look. “And that is why Fenrys and I are so close. It is a bond that goes back generations, forged in blood and magic.” Her gaze softened, a small smile playing on her lips. “Your story was captivating, Fritz. It is fascinating how much our tales, though from different lands, share a common thread of loyalty and transformation.”

Ryn sat transfixed, the clatter of cutlery and din of conversation dissolving into a hazy backdrop as Ms. Torvi’s tale enveloped him. Her words painted vivid images in his mind, each stroke a vivid hue of magic and wonder.

Throughout the tale, his expression shifted. His eyes widened in fasination at the mention of the wolves’ awe-inspiring power, so potent and alluring that sorcerers yearned to harness it for themselves, and his brows furrowed when she described the wicked sorcerers and their bloodthirsty creations. Ryn even shivered and he uttered a single, poignant word: “Scary.” However, once it became clear that this was story about how a sacred bond was forged between beast and man, his expression brightened.

In the silence that followed the story’s conclusion, Ryn simply stared at Ms. Torvi. Then, slowly, he brought his hands together in a quiet applause. “Wow… I mean, wow. Words fail me. Thank you, Torvi, for sharing this incredible piece of your tribe’s history and culture with me. I simply must visit someday.”

Glancing furtively around the room, Ryn leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Though, I feel compelled to caution you that there are individuals in Caesonia who are rather sensitive to any mention of the arcane arts. So it might be prudent to refrain from using the word ‘magic’ during your stay here.” He settled back into his chair and adopted a more jovial tone. “In fact, there was this one time when I was reported to the authorities for performing a few harmless parlor tricks at a soirée.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I ended up spending the next three hours teaching everyone magic tricks, just to prove no real magic was involved.”

Torvi watched Ryn’s reactions with amusement, her own heart warming as she shared a piece of her heritage. When he applauded, her smile widened, a rare flush of pride coloring her cheeks. “I am glad you enjoyed it. Our history is dear to us, and it is always a pleasure to share it with those who appreciate its depth.” She chuckled softly at his eagerness to visit her homeland. “If my brothers and sisters and I can accomplish our goals and convince our people to embrace the present and accept outsiders, I would be more than happy to welcome you to our homeland. You would be able to see firsthand the bond we share with the wolves and our way of life. It is this goal that has brought me to Caesonia, actually.” She explained, not entirely a lie. She did wish to gather information to bring back to her tribe to convince them that their ways were outdated and it was time to adapt.

This intrigued him and also brought a question to mind. “Is that why you’re attending a courting mixer?”

Torvi laughed a little and nodded. “Partially, yes. I am trying to establish relationships and get to know the culture here.” She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering as she continued. “I must admit, I forget sometimes how frightened people in this new world are of something so deeply rooted in our histories. It is fascinating, yet also sad, that fear can overshadow understanding. So I thank you for the reminder, I certainly wouldn't want to end up detained and trying to explain myself like you had to.” Her brow furrowed slightly, but the arrival of the waiter drew her attention.

As the plates were set before them, Torvi’s eyes widened in surprise. The blossom salad was a vibrant array of colors, the sunrise plate a picturesque arrangement, and the chicken and waffles for Fenrys were presented with an elegance she had never encountered. “Thank you,” she murmured to the waiter, her eyes fixed on the food.

Before the meal commenced in earnest, Ryn carefully dished out a portion of each item onto the extra plates, ensuring both he and Ms. Torvi could sample each. He set down Fenrys's plate in front of him. “Bon appétit.”

She examined her dish, the artistry of it almost too beautiful to disturb. Carefully, she picked up her utensils, her hands moving with a deliberate grace as she debated how to start. With a small, decisive nod, she took a bite, her eyes lighting up as the flavors danced on her tongue. “This is….different, yet quite delightful,” she said, glancing at Ryn. “I have never had something presented so elegantly before. It is almost a shame to eat it, but the taste makes it worth it.”

Fenrys, meanwhile, eyed his dish with interest, and with a nudge from Torvi, he began to eat, his approval evident in the way he savored each bite. Torvi turned her attention back to Ryn, curiosity and admiration evident in her gaze. “You have quite a way of making an experience out of everything, Fritz. I appreciate that.”

As they savored their meal, and long after their plates were cleared, the conversation flowed effortlessly, meandering from one topic that floated to the surface of their minds to the next. Ryn’s curiosity eventually led him to ask, “I can’t believe I neglected to ask this earlier, but what do you do for a living, Torvi?”

To say she was surprised at how easily she found talking to this man would have been an understatement. Coming to the mixer today she was sure she would be stuck with some stuffy noble who only wished to talk about themselves, so this experience truly was a pleasant and welcome surprise. She pondered his question for a moment, trying to think of the best way to describe what she did to him. “Apologies, I am merely trying to think of how to tell you my job in your language. In my native tongue I suppose I would be called Kylflingar, but I believe the more common term here would be sellsword or mercenary even.” She began explaining, hoping she was using the correct terms.

“I was hired by the Danrose family as extra skilled protection for the children when they required it. In exchange, I get to attempt to form relationships with the nobles and learn of the different customs. All while also being paid, of course.” She laughed a little and shrugged. “Oh, I hope that does not frighten or worry you in any way?”

A jolt ran through him. It stirred. Ryn made no attempt to hide his surprise. “You are employed by the royal family!? What a illustrious position! Your skills as a Kylflingar must be unparalleled for the Crown itself to seek out your services. How did this come to be?”

Torvi shrugged nonchalantly, the weight of her position seemingly inconsequential to her. “To me, it matters not if I am working for royalty or a mere merchant. Pay is pay, and a job is a job. The idea of kings and queens is rather foreign to me, and I truly do not understand the prestige they hold nor the….glory they demand of others to view them in.” She had to pause at the end, trying to find the right word and even then she wasn't sure if she got it.

“My work as a Kylflingar has begun to spread, and word of my skills reached the Queen. She wrote to me, requesting my services. It was as simple as that.” Torvi’s eyes met Ryn’s, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. “I suppose it was my reputation that caught her attention, rather than any understanding of the status she holds. To me, she is simply another person.”

Ryn nodded, absorbing her words. The Queen’s personal involvement in her employment was noteworthy. Further inquiry into Ms. Torvi’s exploits might prove prudent.

She glanced at Fenrys, who seemed to hold her stare for a long moment and then she sighed. ”It seems I am to be reminded of another meeting I must attend soon and so we must depart here shortly. This was…nice. A lot more pleasant than anticipated. Perhaps we can speak more in the future?”

Ryn’s attention snapped to their surroundings, then to the clock, realizing with a start how much time had passed. The mixer had long since concluded. “I hadn’t noticed the hour! My apologies if I’ve caused you to be tardy for your next meeting.” Ryn hastened to draw out the chair behind Ms. Torvi, extending his hand to assist her. “Time has a way of slipping by when in delightful company. It was an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Torvi, and yours, Fenrys.” He dipped his head to the wolf before favoring the woman with a smile. “I quite enjoyed our conversation and look forward to our next meeting.” He bowed deeply, her hand still clasped in his.

When Ryn withdrew, he left behind a business card in her grasp. “Until then, farewell.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Late Morning
Location: Royal Curd
Interactions:
Aesthetic: Outfit

---

Kalliope groaned as she slowly woke up, her body protesting with every movement. The previous night’s exertions had left her muscles sore and her mood foul. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she reluctantly sat up, her joints creaking in complaint.

"Damn gang members," she muttered to herself. "Of all the ways to spend a night." But she did have to admit that the company she had in dealing with the issue was quite pleasant. The thought of the captain actually had a genuine smile crossing her lips briefly.

Grumbling, she forced herself out of bed and glanced at her desk. A piece of paper caught her eye, advertising the church event followed by the grand opening of the Royal Curd. She sneered in disgust at the thought of attending church. "Ew. Absolutely not," she scoffed. But the idea of witnessing the ridiculousness of the Royal Curd did bring a faint smirk to her lips. It might at least prove to be entertaining.

Resigned to facing the day, Kalliope got ready, choosing an outfit suitable for the slightly rainy weather outside. She pulled on a dark cloak with a hood, sturdy boots, and armed herself with a few concealed blades, out of habit and caution.

Stepping outside, she made her way through the bustling streets of Sorian, her mood gradually improving as she anticipated the spectacle awaiting her. The rain was light, more of a persistent drizzle, but it didn't bother her. She arrived at the Royal Curd, a grand and ostentatious establishment in the fine dining district.

The interior was even more extravagant than she had expected. Everything was gilded in gold or some shade of yellow, creating an almost blinding effect. Portraits of King Edin holding cheese were plastered all over the walls. The centerpiece was a grand hall with a fountain spewing yellow water. Kalliope rolled her eyes in disbelief at the over-the-top opulence of it all. Whoever decided on the golden shower fountain should be shot….or maybe praised and given a raise. She thought to herself as she realized the subtle insulting humor of it all.

As she entered, she was greeted by a beautiful waitress dressed in a vibrant yellow gown.

"Welcome to The Royal Curd! We are delighted to have you here. If you possess a ticket bestowed by King Edin himself, you are cordially invited to enter our grand event free of charge. For those without a royal ticket, the entry fee is two hundred gold.”

Like hell she was going to give 200 gold back to Edin. If she could screw him out of more gold, then she absolutely was going to. So Kalliope put on a show of searching her pockets, making a small scene as she stepped aside. "Oh, I must have misplaced it. I'm so sorry, please go ahead," she said, waving other guests past her with exaggerated apologies. In the slight chaos she caused, she silently swiped an already used ticket from a distracted waiter and presented it to the waitress.

"Found it! My apologies for the delay," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Cheesetastic! Welcome to The Royal Curd! Please come right in and take a left toward the event room. You will find King Edin seated at the grandest table, adorned with a majestic throne against the far wall. Velvet ropes will guide you to his table, as for this special event, King Edin is graciously allowing guests to have private audiences with him! Imagine the thrill of conversing with our revered king one on one! How exciting!"

Kalliope smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Been there, done that, don't care to do it again, but know I'm going to have to," she said smoothly before walking away towards the event room.

As she entered, she scanned the room for familiar faces, taking in the lavish decorations and the spectacle around her. She kept her eyes sharp and her senses alert, ready for whatever the day might bring.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Munir's Room
Attire: Munir's Shirt
Interaction: @Infinite Cosmos Munir (hubby)
Mentions:

Mature Content Warning

”Surely I don't know what you're talking about.” Mina teased with a grin as he squeezed her waist, but then he was close and whispering in her ear. Feeling Munir's breath hot against her earlobe, Mina's cheeks flushed with warmth, her body responding to his closeness with a mixture of desire and anticipation. His touch ignited a fire within her, one that threatened to consume her entirely if she didn't exercise some restraint.

”I…” She was cut off, letting out a gasp of surprise as he bit her earlobe then she was on her back and staring up at him. Her chest rose and fell in slightly ragged breaths as heat pooled deep in her core. ”Is that a promise or a threat?” She finally murmured out in a breathy voice as she angled her head to give him even more access to her neck. Her body instinctively arched up into him, knowing she was just about to lose all self control.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Munir's passionate advance was interrupted by the sound of someone at the door, causing Mina to let out an exasperated sigh. She shot Munir a playful glare as he excused himself to attend to Hakim, her disappointment evident in her eyes.

As Munir leaned in for one last kiss, Mina couldn't help but lose herself in the moment, savoring the taste of his lips against hers. Reluctantly, she pulled away as he left to collect the clothing, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I suppose I can forgive the gods this time," she teased, her voice laced with longing. ”But they owe me one." Despite her words and disappointment, she took the brief moment alone to try and calm her racing heart. She knew she needed to get a hold of herself, to follow through with her suggestion of going out, but just as she thought she was calming down her mind would betray her with fantasies that could be.

As Munir returned with the clothing, Mina nodded in agreement to his suggestion as she stood up. "Yes, Bertha's sounds perfect," she replied, a hint of excitement in her voice as she watched him set the clothing down. "Stay. I'm going to need help changing.” She said just as he turned around, all the while letting his shirt slip off of her shoulders and pooling around her feet, her lips curling into a smirk as she watched Munir's reaction.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Munir's Room
Attire: Munir's Shirt
Interaction: @Infinite Cosmos Munir (hubby)
Mentions:

”Would be suitors, huh?” Mina said with a small laugh and shake of her head. ”I think you might be the only one mad enough to fall in love with the whore of Varian and Caesonia.” She said it in jest, but there was some truth behind her words. The truth was that she had been content with never actually finding love, to continue to be considered a whore and tainted in everyone's eyes, so it was still somewhat hard for her to believe that he actually loved her.

As Munir leaned in and whispered his mischievous thoughts, Mina's cheeks flushed slightly with a warm blush. His teasing words sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a playful spark within her.

"Well, if you're so eager to tear off this shirt," Mina replied with a coy smile, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, "perhaps I should just keep wearing it to drive you wild and see how long you can resist while we're out and about."

She watched as Munir slipped out of bed and disappeared for a moment, his absence leaving a void in the room. So Mina took a moment to explore her surroundings. She rose from the bed, her bare feet padding softly across the floor as she ventured around Munir's chamber. Her eyes drifted over the various trinkets and decorations that adorned the room, each one telling a story of its own.

Approaching the desk, Mina couldn't help but be drawn to a half-finished letter lying there. She hesitated, knowing she should respect Munir's privacy and truthfully she would have if she hadn't read two simple words. Count Blackwood.

Just as she was about to investigate further, Mina heard Munir returning, and she quickly moved away from the desk, leaving the letter untouched for now. Returning to the bed, she sat down, smoothing the fabric of Munir's linen shirt beneath her fingertips as she glanced at him with a grin.

As Munir sat down beside her, Mina couldn't help but admire the way the morning sunlight danced across his bare torso, casting a golden glow upon his skin. She felt a surge of affection swell within her along with desire.

"Well," Mina began, pondering the question for a moment, "It seems like we may have a bit of rain today, judging by those clouds I can see gathering out here. It may be best to keep whatever we do to be indoors. Perhaps we can find some place to get some breakfast, I'd suggest Bertha’s Breakfast Bar. After that, I'm curious as to what you may have in mind?”

She reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Munir's face, her touch lingering as she met his gaze with a soft smile. "Whatever we decide to do, as long as we're together, I know it will be a day to remember.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Munir's Room
Attire: Munir's Shirt
Interaction: @Infinite Cosmos Munir (hubby)
Mentions:

Mina listened to Munir's earnest words, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration wash over her. His reassurances were comforting, but she couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered at the back of her mind. Despite his determination to protect her, she knew the dangers they faced were very real, and she couldn't bear the thought of him suffering because of her. Magic was outlawed, not just in Caesonia, but in her homeland too, and even Alidasht. Those caught suffered severe consequences, no matter who you were and those deemed an accomplice faced the same fate. He may believe his status could save her, but could it really?

As Munir spoke of their future together, painting a picture of happiness and love, Mina couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing. The idea of a life with Munir, free from the constraints of her past and present, was a tempting one, but she knew they still had many obstacles to overcome. Obstacles he still knew nothing about, yet she knew far too much about.

As Munir leaned in for a kiss, she felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the moment, to forget about the weight of their burdens and simply bask in the warmth of his love. To believe life and love was nothing more than a fairytale and this was her Prince Charming.

But even as she leaned in to meet his lips, a voice in the back of her mind whispered warnings of the dangers ahead. She knew life never truly worked as it did in fairytales, especially hers. At some point, something would happen and then her world would begin to start crumbling down. Would she drag Munir with her? Would she ruin his life too? She was already a dead woman walking, wasn't she? There were so many questions, fears, and no matter what he said it wasn't going to be easy to banish those fears. But perhaps, for today, she could pretend she was in a fairytale. Then she could worry about the truth of the future tomorrow.

”I have done nothing of the sort, Munir. I have cast no spells on you.” She smirked at him, now hiding all of the thoughts racing in her head. ”I'm afraid you are merely struck with love sickness.” She giggled, only mere centimeters from his lips now.

With a heavy heart, Mina pressed her lips against Munir's, savoring the sweetness of the moment while silently resolving to revisit the topic of who she is and the dangers she brought with her at a later date. For now, she would allow herself to be swept away by the fairy tale romance they shared, that he longed for, but she knew that their journey was far from over. And when the time came, she would do her best to be ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After a moment, she pulled away and looked at him with a grin. ”How about we go do something today? Get out together and have some fun. What do you say?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Munir's Room
Attire: Munir's Shirt
Interaction: @Infinite Cosmos Hubby
Mentions:

Mina listened to Munir's heartfelt words, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she heard the sincerity in his voice. His apology eased some of the tension that had been building within her, and she found herself slowly beginning to relax.

As he spoke of his privileged upbringing and his realization of the commitment required in a relationship, Mina couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his honesty. She appreciated his willingness to acknowledge just how serious of a commitment he was asking for.

"Thank you, Munir," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "I appreciate your honesty, and I understand that this is new territory for both of us."

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "But you need to know that I will challenge you, just as you will challenge me," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination and a small smirk. "I have a voice of my own, and I won't be swayed by coin or pretty gifts. Our relationship will be built on trust, respect, and mutual understanding. I'm not always going to give you you're way."

Mina took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal. "With that all said, there's something else you need to know about me and my family, Munir," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "It's not an easy thing to talk about, but you deserve to know."

She hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage before continuing. "Because of what I deal with and what the women of my family before me dealt with, we don't often live long," she explained, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “The constant sight of the dead, the voices, the torture from some of the ghosts…well it eventually drives us mad…” She took a shakey breath, knowing the next bit was going to be hard to talk about. ”My great aunt was locked up by her husband who was frightened of her madness…and she ended up throwing herself out a window and off a cliff side…my mother was ostracized from society, partially from have a child out of wedlock, and she ended up hanging herself because everything became too much when I was a small child…I have no idea what my fate will be…”

Mina searched Munir's face, hoping to see understanding and acceptance in his eyes. She knew that revealing this part of herself was a risk, but she couldn't keep it hidden from him. She needed Munir to know the truth, no matter how difficult it may be. ”I've been researching more into the condition and how to prevent things, but it's dangerous research as it has to do a lot with magic. That, in itself, can lead me to my pyre if the wrong people find out about it. Especially since in my research I've also discovered I'm a natural born witch...” If she was damning herself, she may as well go all in.