Tpartywithzombi

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time:Past:Nighttime Present:10am
Location: Damien Estate
Mentions:@FunnyguyAlexander @reusableswordRoman @princessCalbert and Liliane

...Past

The long-awaited trip had finally arrived for the Damien household, though not under the circumstances anyone had hoped. Their mother, too ill to make the journey, had reluctantly stayed behind in Montauppe, where she could be under the constant care of the finest doctors. Violet was given the responsibility of traveling in her place, a duty she had grown accustomed to over the years. It wasn’t a choice, not anymore—just another task handed down, like an unspoken inheritance. Watching over Crystal, her younger sister, had become less of a request and more of an expectation as they both grew older.

For once, Crystal was able to travel. Having finally shaken off the last remnants of her recent illness, she was in good spirits, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of health. Their mother had insisted she go, determined to give her daughter a taste of the world beyond Montauppe. Crystal’s future carried the weight of the family’s hopes; she was the daughter meant for bright things, a promising marriage, and the revitalization of their household’s name.

Violet didn’t mind the arrangement—at least, that’s what she told herself. She had long since accepted her role, the quiet one who stood in the shadow of her sister’s potential. As Crystal’s future blossomed, Violet’s own had dimmed. Approaching the age when most young women were presented to society, she knew that life wasn’t meant for her. It had never been in the cards. She was practical, reliable, and the one entrusted with the quiet burdens of the family. And so, she traveled in place of their mother, not for her own sake but for Crystal’s—always for Crystal.

It was alot harder to wed off someone with the disfigurement she obtained as a child. Though not impossible, Violet held down her expectations to avoid disappointment. Knowing her family she’d likely be married off to a business arrangement or perhaps a wealthy elder man whos life would expire before hers began. Thankfully she had many books to read, stories of romance and lives unlived.
Her favorite book was one she had since she was a child. The gold lettering on the front had been nearly chipped away, the spine was broken in and the book looked well-loved. Whenever she could she re-read it, over and over and each time the story was just as magical as the first.

Her favorite story had become that of a man, misunderstood and shunned by all because of his grotesque appearance. The villagers saw him as nothing more than a beast—a monster to be feared and avoided at all costs. She found herself deeply relating to this so-called monster, feeling a kinship with his isolation and the way others recoiled from him without ever trying to understand the person beneath.
In the midst of his loneliness and despair, a woman entered his life. Unlike the others, she didn’t let his terrifying appearance drive her away. Her aversion to the men who pursued her—a parade of suitors who flaunted their charm with empty, superficial gestures—only made her see the true ugliness that lurked in their hearts. Their attempts to win her affection were shallow, filled with arrogance and entitlement. But the Beast was different.

Despite his fearsome exterior, he was kind, patient, and strong in ways that mattered. He treated her with gentle respect, taking the time to truly know her, to understand her in a way that none of the other men ever had. His tenderness and thoughtfulness transcended the surface, and in turn, she came to understand him as well. Their bond grew slowly, built not on appearances but on the quiet care they shared for one another, forged through patience, trust, and a deep sense of mutual understanding. She found beauty in the beast.
It was a tale as old as time itself.

Their travel had been long, they had arrived just in time for their father's meetings and just in time for the seasons unexpected snowstorm.

Days of icy winds and thick frost had kept the Damien household confined indoors. It was the longest and coldest winter her father had said. They were meant to travel back to Montauppe after her father's work events but the weather had become harsh. It wasn’t that she disliked the cold—quite the opposite. She adored it, but her love for the warmth of a crackling fire and the comfort of a soft blanket always won out. Her windowsill had become her refuge here, the perfect place to curl up with a book. Close enough to feel the fire's gentle heat, yet far enough to watch the snow drift from the sky like fragile crystals.

Her fingers ran down the cover of her favorite book, tracing the detailed outlines of the filigree and aspects of gold that remained, the title nearly vanished from view but she didn’t need anyone else to know its secrets. The important thing was that she knew was laid beyond the cover.

Her silver eyes reflected the flurries outside, each snowflake twirling and spinning as it fell. The night was so dark and heavy with snow that she could barely make out the outlines of the trees beyond her window. The fire crackled beside her, filling the room with its comforting, steady hum.

Then came a sound—a soft knock at the door, delicate and hesitant.

A tiny whisper broke the stillness.

"Violet?" The voice, barely more than a murmur, was timid, like a mouse stirring in the quiet.

Violet lifted her gaze from the worn cover of her book, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

"Crystal," she replied softly, recognizing the fragile voice of her younger sister. Peeking around the doorframe, the small child stood there, her large blue eyes shimmering, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like pale silk.

“What are you doing up so late?” Violet asked, her voice warm and soothing. Crystal, frail and delicate, tiptoed into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her fingers twisted nervously as she shifted from one foot to the other, eyes lowered in guilt.

Violet's smile softened. She set the book aside and turned, her eyes scanning Crystal with understanding. "Another bad dream?" she asked, her voice tender. Crystal gave a small nod before rushing toward her. Tiny feet padded across the floor, and with a dramatic flair, the child flung herself into Violet’s lap, burying her face into the soft folds of Violet’s dark night dress.

Looking down at her sister, Violet’s expression melted into one of pure affection. Her hands moved instinctively, stroking Crystal’s back in slow, comforting circles. "Shh..." she whispered gently. "It was just a dream... Whatever it was, you're safe here."

Crystal’s small head lifted from Violet’s lap, her large blue eyes shimmering like sapphires, tears brimming in their depths.” I miss home..” she said between soft whimpers“ I miss mama…” her lip quivered as she attempted to speak.

Violet offered her a reassuring smile, her hands stroked her hair softly before pulling her up into her lap. Cradling Crystal between her legs she relaxed back against the window as she continued to play with her hair.

“Don't worry, we will be heading back to her any day now…” she whispered. Her fingers fed through her hair combing her fingers through her hair.

Sniffling Crystal relaxed in her lap, reaching over to pull the blanket over her and Violet's lap. It was one Violet had made for the trip, hand-woven with embroidered ravens and black roses enterlaced amongst the fabric. Crystal traced the pattern with her finger.

“ What about a song?” Violet asked softly, still combing her hair with her fingers.

Crystal didn’t respond, only her tiny whimpers and her small hands as she grabbed the blanket relaxing into Violet's arms.

Smiling softly, Violet's silver eyes looked down at the Raven on the blanket. Reminding her of a song she found in an old book she had finished recently.

Clearing her throat, Violet began to sing. Her voice was soft but her pitch and tone were near perfect. She always had the natural ability to sing but always shied away from doing it. She didn’t enjoy the attention it brought. She knew it was one of Crystal's favorite things, it always worked to calm her down.

Í gegnum þokuna og storminn flýg ég,
Svartir vængir skera í gegnum himininn,
Frá frosnum löndum, þar sem ísvindarnir væla,
Ég ber hvíslið, hina fornu sögu.

Þöglir skuggar um nóttina,
Leiddu hina föllnu til endalauss ljóss,
Augnaráð Óðins á vængina mína,
Ég syng lagið sem örlögin bera með sér.

While Violet sang crystal had fallen into her, her eyes falling heavy as she continued to stroke her hair.

Heyr kall mitt í gegnum myrkvaðan himininn,
Hrafnsóp þar sem hinir föllnu liggja,
Í sölum guðanna rísum við upp aftur,
Á vængjum nætur ferðumst við um fræðina.
Valhalla bíður, þar sem hugrökk hjörtu svífa,
Söngur hrafnsins að eilífu....

English

Through the mist and raging storm I soar,
Wings of midnight, shadows roar,
Across the frozen fjords where the ice winds wail,
I carry the echoes of an ancient tale.

I am the silent shadow of the night,
Guiding souls in Odin’s sight,
The fallen rise beneath my wings,
To the sound of the song that destiny brings.
Hear my call through the blackened skies,

A raven’s cry where the brave ones lie,
In the halls of the gods, we rise once more,
On wings of night, we reclaim the lore.
Valhalla waits, where the warriors soar,
The raven’s song forevermore.

Smiling softly, her voice trailed off into the quiet of the room, the last note of her lullaby fading into the stillness. The small girl in her arms slept peacefully, her tiny breaths steady and warm against Violet’s chest. Gently, she cradled the child closer, feeling the rise and fall of her fragile frame, safe and sheltered in her embrace. A soft sigh escaped Violet’s lips, barely more than a whisper. She would do anything for her family—anything. Yet, on nights like this, a small ache settled in her heart, a quiet yearning she could never quite silence.

There were days she selfishly longed for someone to hold her with the same tenderness, to take care of her as she cared for others. Her parents, always consumed by their own concerns and worries devoted their energy to looking after Crystal. And though Violet never resented them for it—she understood, truly she did—it still left an emptiness, a quiet space in her heart that begged for more.

Her gaze drifted to the worn book that lay beside her on the bedside table. With one hand, she reached for it, careful not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms. The pages were soft with age, familiar beneath her fingertips as she opened it to her favorite passage. The words, etched into her memory, offered her the comfort she sought.

At least for now.
—-----------------------
Present Day...

Her fingers glided across the worn cover of the book, tracing its edges as if the touch alone could conjure the memories held within. The familiar texture beneath her fingertips stirred something deep inside—a quiet, aching nostalgia. Each stroke brought her closer to what she had once dreamed, what she had once hoped for. But those dreams seemed far away now. With a sigh, she lifted the book and placed it back above her desk, where it had long rested, gathering dust like an artifact from a forgotten time. The layer of dust was thick, an unspoken testament to how long it had been since she'd last opened it.

Perhaps she had given up on it. The idea of her dream—of a life where hope still flickered—was something she had slowly buried. She had resigned herself to facing the brutal reality of her existence. No matter how much she longed to escape it, life had a way of reminding her of what she had become.

Her eyes drifted toward the mirror, and the reflection that stared back was unforgiving. Her gaze fixated on the scar that marred her face, a jagged line that had long become the focal point of her appearance. Her red eyes followed its path, tracing down to her neck. The scar was not just a mark on her skin—it was a symbol of what the world had made of her. The world had cast her as a victim, but she refused to play that role.

Her hand trembled as it reached up, her fingertips hovering over the scar. Slowly, she touched it, as if to remind herself that it was real—that she was real. The skin beneath her fingers felt both foreign and familiar, a constant reminder of the life she now lived. As her fingers traced the scar, she felt the weight of all she had lost, and the pain of what she had become.

“For us scars are beautiful, they show others the hardships one has gone through and make them stronger for it. My people don't crave strength, we honor survival above all else, and scars are survival.” making sure to look her in the eye for a moment, “your scars are beautiful, they are you. They aren't going anywhere and whoever says that you are tarnished doesn't know what the fu-... What they are talking about.”

Roman’s voice echoed through her mind, a haunting refrain that clung to her thoughts like an unwanted shadow. His words, though distant, seemed to pull at something inside her, as if trying to plant a reminder of something she’d forgotten—or perhaps had never fully understood. The memories felt so distant now like they belonged to another life entirely. Or maybe it was just her, unable to grasp the meaning behind it all. Maybe she was the only one who didn’t know what the hell she was talking about anymore.

A small, bitter smile curled at the corners of her lips as her gaze fell to the blank sheet of paper lying before her on the desk. She had been waiting, hoping, that Roman would have reached out to her by now. A letter, a message, something to bridge the silence that had stretched between them since that night. But nothing came. And with that silence grew a quiet, gnawing fear—a fear that perhaps he didn’t want to see her again. After all, he had seen her—the real her—and the night had ended in such darkness, leaving a bitter taste in the air.
Her mind continued to spiral, debating back and forth as she wrestled with her thoughts. Survival, she reminded herself, trying to steady her pulse. It always came back to that. With a deep breath, she dipped the quill into the ink, the tip hovering above the paper before finally pressing down. She began to write, though the words came slowly. The letter was vague and short, lacking the conviction she wanted it to hold. Still, it was something—a branch extended in hope. She just prayed he would take it.

As the hours passed since they last saw each other, she could feel herself slipping deeper into a familiar darkness, one that taunted her from the corners of her mind. It was growing stronger, consuming her in ways that made it difficult to think clearly. The memory of that night in the forest loomed over her—how everything had unraveled in the shadows, the silent ride back to her manor afterward. The cold grip of revenge clung to her, intertwining with the dangerous apathy she felt toward death. Her mind drifted toward the endless cycle of violence, a need for vengeance that threatened to swallow her whole.

She was worried—worried that maybe she was already too far gone.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention:
Interactions:@RodiakMathias
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella huffed away from her brother, her mother’s words stinging like nettles as she stormed off. Another servant, fully aware of her rising irritation, smirked and glided over with a tray, offering her a cocktail like it was a peace treaty in a glass.

Stopping mid-rant, Ariella eyed the drink, took in a deep, calming breath, and snatched it up with surprising enthusiasm. The servant wisely backed away, clearly not wanting to witness the aftermath of a woman on the verge of a meltdown. Cocktail in hand, Ariella resumed her dramatic exit, muttering to herself about how she *really* wasn’t cut out for these events.

She couldn’t fathom how she shared DNA with her mother—surely some mistake had been made at birth? And poor Drake—his birthday bash had gone from “respectable” to “downright awkward” thanks to their mother’s insufferable lack of decorum. At least her father was the eye of the hurricane, calm and collected amidst the family chaos.

Taking a sip of her cocktail Ariella scanned the crowd. A few guests were rolling around in the grass which she envied, others were clustered around tables sharing drinks, while a giggly mob gossiped louder than the string quartet playing in the corner.

Her gaze zeroed in on someone new—a young man looking distinctly uncomfortable as an elderly woman bore down on him like a hawk on a mouse. Ariella’s eyes widened at the sight of the man’s mustache. It wasn’t just bad it was terrible.

That poor man, she thought, amused. The fear on his face wasn’t exactly subtle. Smirking, Ariella decided to rescue him. Cocktail in hand, she practically skipped toward them, eager to intervene just as the elderly woman came dangerously close to spilling her drink on the unfortunate gentleman’s pristine suit.

“Good evening!” Ariella chirped even though it was still morning, throwing a curveball into the awkward situation, and adding another layer of possible discomfort. “I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Ari—uh—Lady Ariella Edwards.” She winced internally at the title but soldiered on. “Have you tried these drinks? They’re amazing!” She held up her glass before realizing it was, yet again, empty.

Mid-rant, she stumbled to the left, narrowly avoiding a full-body collision with Lord Wimsley. Grabbing onto his arm for dear life, she erupted in laughter. “Oh my, I think I tripped over my shoes!” she said, wobbling but somehow still standing. Peering down at her feet she laughed again “Oh wait, I'm not wearing any…” as she attempted to straighten herself back up. “Dreadful things they are… Don’t you agree?” she said looking at the two of them her eyes darting between them as her cheeks flushed pink from all the alcohol she had consumed.

Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as she leaned in, cupping her hand around her mouth like she was about to spill the kingdom's juiciest secret. "My mother wears them—some truly uncomfortable ones, too... I think that's why she's so mean." She gave a solemn nod as if this revelation explained everything.

Leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, Ariella beamed as if she'd just solved world hunger. She even gave a little nod, as though waiting for the crowd to break into applause for her sheer brilliance.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10 am
Location: Drakes Birthday
Mention:
Interactions: Gideon@papaoso, Captain@citrusarms, Drake@Lava Alckon, Callum@helo, Victoria@princess
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella blinked up at her father, a wide, slightly dazed grin spreading across her face as his familiar voice broke through the haze of the alcohol. The flush in her cheeks deepened, both from the warmth of the drink and the surprise of his presence.

"Father!" she exclaimed, almost stumbling as she turned toward him, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady herself against his arm. She let out a breathless laugh, her eyes sparkling with an impish glint. "I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that."

The playful air that surrounded her seemed contagious, her carefree nature at the moment reflecting the years of love and freedom she’d always had with him. His gentle teasing only brought out a more dramatic reaction. She straightened her back, puffing her chest slightly as if to prove that she was entirely capable of handling herself. "I’m perfectly fine," she declared, her voice lilting as she took a sip from her own drink. "Just enjoying a little...well-deserved fun after the dungeon, you know."

She flashed a mischievous grin at Captain Stratya, then back at her father, thoroughly enjoying the absurdity of their conversation about chocolate and mead. Ariella leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I think Stratya here has the right idea. Chocolate in sweetbread—what a revelation!"

As Gideon’s hand found her shoulder, she relaxed a bit, the steady weight grounding her, even if her head was spinning a little. His gentle warning about the drinks earned him a mock pout."Slow down? Me?" Ariella laughed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the suggestion. But her father’s wink made her laugh even more, the kind of unguarded, bubbling laughter that only came from too much drinking and too much happiness in the moment.

Her eyes followed his as he glanced down at her bare feet, and she let out a small, sheepish chuckle. "You know me too well," she said, wiggling her toes with a grin. "Shoes are a torture device."

For a brief moment, the whirlwind of the party faded away when she heard her mother shouting towards her "Ariella! Put your damn shoes on right now or so help me, I will come over there and smack you with one!"

The chatter around them grew silent as they all stopped to look at Ariella and back towards Victoria. The whispers erupted as the crowd continued to look towards Ariella as she felt a flush of embarrassment as her eyes darted nervously between her father and the captain.
Her eyes landed back on her father, filled with disappointment and sadness she masked it with a soft smile and a squeeze of her father's arm.

“I’m sorry, I hope you both can excuse me,” she said softly, her voice nearly cracking as she decided to leave the table.

A server noticed Ariella leaving empty-handed and shuffled over offering her another drink. Without much thought she took it and threw it back, putting the empty glass back on their waiter’s tray before attempting to shuffle around the tables.

While her bother was giving his speech she hoped she could just sneak out and avoid this mess, already feeling like it was a mistake. However, suddenly she heard a gasp and the sounds of crashing. She looked over to see Drake falling into the tables.

Grabbing a fist full of her skirt she ran over to her bother but Callum had already intercepted it, she watched him offer a hand out to her bother. Knowing how Drake felt about Cal made this situation all the more interesting for Ari “Not such a bad guy after all, is he Drake…” she thought. As she reached his side she offered Cal a smile before her attention turned to her brother.

”You alright?” Callum had asked, whispering something to him she didn’t catch.

“ Drake!?” Ari added. “ Are you hurt?” she looked at him with a concerned expression as Cal attempted to help him up. She felt her mother's presence moving towards them as her body slightly stiffened.

"Drake!" she whisper-hissed, glaring down at him. "Do you have any idea how utterly embarrassing that was? Falling off the stage like a commoner who can’t hold his drink! My son, making a spectacle of himself at his own birthday party."

Ariella's eyes narrowed in on her mother as she bit back a remark but she continued.

"Oh, look. I believe a flea just jumped out of your hair, Prince Callum Danrose. You might want to find a comb—though I doubt it’ll help with whatever’s going on there."

Ariella’s smile faltered as her mother’s biting words filled the space. Her initial concern for Drake was quickly overshadowed by a simmering irritation, the familiar sting of her mother’s sharp tongue aimed first at her brother and now at Callum.

Her hand instinctively tightened around the fabric of her skirt, the warmth from the moment before disappearing as tension settled in. She glanced at Callum, who was helping Drake up, her heart aching at the cruelty of the insult tossed his way. Her eyes flicked to her mother, and for a moment, Ariella debated whether to let it slide, to simply keep the peace. But she couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Ariella stepped forward, her posture calm but her voice steely with liquid courage. "Mother," she began, her tone firm but measured, "I don’t think this is the time or the place for such... comments."

Her eyes darted back to Drake, offering him a quick, reassuring smile before her gaze settled on Callum, her expression softening. She couldn’t stand to see him treated so poorly, not when he’d done nothing but try to help.

Turning back to her mother, Ariella’s tone sharpened slightly, though she kept her words controlled. "Perhaps we could focus on making sure Drake is alright, instead of... embarrassing anyone further." Her eyes flashed with a hint of challenge as she stood her ground, unwilling to let her mother’s venom go unchecked.

“It's not very Lady like” she added as she took a step closer to her mother. Something she continuously reminded Ariella whenever she did something unapproving

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention: @Helo
Interactions:@CitrusArms@Papaoso
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella reached for the cocktail a server had placed in front of her, its tall glass reflecting the vibrant colors of Drake's favorite shades. The drink was as elegant as it was extravagant, layered in hues of green and gold, with delicate sprigs of mint and a sugared rim. She raised it to her lips, sipping through the straw, and was immediately struck by the sweetness that danced on her tongue. The flavor was rich, almost indulgent, and she savored it for a moment, letting the taste linger before greedily sipping more.

As she drank, her attention remained on Captain Stratya. The woman’s stories were charming, full of nostalgia and warmth, yet Ariella couldn’t help but let her mind wander. Stratya’s fond memories contrasted with Ariella’s childhood, which had been shaped by discipline and rigid expectations. Etiquette lessons, needlework, and endless demands had left little room for joy. The only bright spot had been Ana, her beloved friend, and the secret alcove Ana had gifted her — a sanctuary where she could escape the pressures of her upbringing.

She nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments in the conversation, but her mind was elsewhere, fixated on the events of the previous night. Callum's words echoed in her head: the secret room, the dangerous magic, and the shadowy stranger he’d fought. Surely, he didn’t face it alone… Her eyes flickered to Stratya, assessing the captain’s strength. Could she have been the one to accompany Callum? Ariella doubted her friend would’ve taken on such a dangerous task by himself, and Stratya looked more than capable.

Ariella’s thoughts drifted again, this time to her growing connection with magic. Recently, her bond with the earth had become more intense, almost overwhelming. There was a heat to it now, an intoxicating pull that she couldn’t quite explain. She wondered if it had anything to do with the magic Callum had uncovered. Was something dark lurking nearby, stirring the elements? Perhaps it wasn’t her own power growing stronger, but the presence of some external force.

Her green eyes trailed to Callum across the party, watching him laugh and take shots at the other table. She felt a pang of sadness, remembering the weight of his tale. He had faced so much, and yet she felt powerless to help him. Her life had been full of lessons meant to shape her into a perfect lady, but none of those lessons had prepared her for this. I want to protect him, to protect my friends. I don’t want to be a wallflower anymore... I want to be a wolf.

The captain’s voice brought her back to the present, just as Ariella finished her drink without realizing it. The alcohol had begun to take effect, a soft buzz relaxing her shoulders as she turned back to Stratya with a bright smile. When the captain complimented her hair, Ariella felt her cheeks flush, whether from the drink or the memory of a similar comment from Callum, she couldn’t tell.

“Thank you!”she replied with genuine enthusiasm. “You know, you're not the first person who’s said that. I always hated it growing up, but I suppose I do look more like my father than my mother, and for that, I’m grateful.” She laughed, a bit louder than intended, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “I used to loathe it, but lately... I’ve grown to appreciate it.”

She made to take another sip from her empty glass before realizing it was gone, setting it down with a small pout. Standing up suddenly, she lifted the hem of her dress and kicked out her foot, showing Stratya her bare toes with a playful wiggle. “I love camping! I love the outdoors!” she declared, her voice brimming with excitement. “I hate shoes, always have. If I could, I’d live in a treehouse or a cabin, somewhere deep in the woods.” She wobbled slightly as she nearly fell back into her seat, giggling at her clumsiness.

Ariella leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Captain… you’re a woman,” she stated as if revealing a great secret. “You must know how to use a sword, right?” Her eyes drifted to the blade at Stratya’s hip, filled with a sudden, reckless curiosity. “Could I hold it?” she whispered with a mischievous grin. “I’ve never held a sword before…”

Before Stratya could respond, Ariella felt a large hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, her heart racing until she looked up to see her father standing beside her. “Oh! Father…” she exhaled, placing a hand over her chest with a wide smile. “You startled me.” She quickly glanced between him and Stratya, her cheeks flushed from the drink. “I was just talking to the captain here about chocolate and mead,” she added with a laugh, leaving out her more embarrassing request.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention:
Interactions:@CitrusArms
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella took a moment to study the woman who introduced herself as Captain Stratya Durmand. The warm smile on Stratya's face put her at ease, and she returned the gesture with a bright smile of her own, her curiosity piqued by this new acquaintance.

“Well, Captain Durmand,” she began, her tone light and playful, “I think you might be onto something with that bread idea. Strawberries and chocolate… sound like a bit of heaven in every bite.”

Ariella leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “ My name is Lady Ariella Edwards, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I haven’t tried strawberries and chocolate together but I'll take your word for it" she smiled.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she added, “And if you do end up making that bread, I hope you save me a slice. Sounds like it’ll be unforgettable.” She sat back in her seat as she noticed her brother wave at her with a smile. She was still truthfully mad at him for his comments towards Callum but knowing her mother was keeping a keen eye Ari smiled and waved back to her brother.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention:
Interactions:
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella arrived at her brother's birthday party feeling a mix of anticipation and weariness. The path to the backyard entrance led her to the large white gates nestled between towering hedges, their pristine surface gleaming under the late morning sun. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing the gates open, the sound of cheerful chatter and classical music spilling out to greet her.

As she stepped inside the backyard, she was immediately struck by the beauty of the meticulously manicured garden. The grass was a perfect, vibrant green, and the flowerbeds overflowed with blooms of every color, their fragrance filling the air. A sense of tranquility washed over her as she took in the scene, the chaos of the past day momentarily forgotten.

The tables, set up in neat rows across the garden, were all adorned in Drake's favorite color. Rich green tablecloths draped elegantly over each one, and the napkins, folded into delicate shapes—flowers, birds, stars—added a whimsical touch to the decor. Ariella couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail; it was exactly the kind of celebration her brother would have wanted.

A classical band played softly from a small stage at the far end of the garden, their music mingling with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The melodies were soothing, a perfect backdrop for the elegant gathering. Guests in their finest attire were mingling, sipping on champagne, and sampling the trays of hors d’oeuvres being passed around by attentive servers. The atmosphere was one of refined joy, the kind of quiet, cultivated elegance that made every moment feel special.

Ariella made her way through the crowd, exchanging polite smiles and greetings with familiar faces. As they returned to conversation she found herself sneaking behind a large shrub and ripping the shoes off her feet. As her feet touched the ground she felt the connection bind her back, the feeling had grown stronger since the last spell she had cast in the forest for Callum. Feeling more relaxed she ditched the shoes under the shrubs before casually walking towards and empty table. Sitting down she tucked her feet under the table, wondering if she would run into Mathias.

Her mind fluttered with thoughts as she sat there, resting her hands on the table she couldn't help but think about what her mother or brother would say when they saw her after her stint in the cells.

TDLR

Ariella arrives at her brother's birthday, quickly removes her shoes and stashes them under a bush before sitting off to the side anticipating the fallout of her stint in the cells.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 12 pm - Night before
Location: The cells
Mention:
Interactions: @Helo Callum
Appearance: No shoes | Thin white long dress | Heavy black cloak with hood

Ariella’s ears perked up at the faint tapping on the cell bars, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence of the dungeon. Her heart leaped as she recognized Callum's voice, the familiar warmth in his tone chasing away the cold despair that had settled in her chest. She shot up from her makeshift straw bed, her movements quick and eager, a grin spreading across her face as she rushed to the bars.

When she saw him there, her smile widened, stretching from ear to ear. The sight of him, standing just beyond her reach, brought an unexpected surge of relief. As he began to remove his shoes, a small, amused smile tugged at her lips, but she bit it back. She watched intently as he sat down in front of the bars, his presence a much-needed comfort in the bleakness of her surroundings.

Her eyes followed his every move as he started to smash the wine bottle against the stone wall, using his shoe to muffle the noise. Each strike echoed in the small space, a sharp contrast to the stillness of the dungeon. “I didn’t think you would be allowed down here… I…” Her voice faltered, the words caught in her throat as she struggled to express the mix of surprise and gratitude she felt. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she accepted the bottle of wine he passed through the bars.

Ariella’s hands wrapped around the cool glass. She lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a long, appreciative drink. The wine was a welcome distraction, its rich, warm flavor washing over her tongue and spreading through her body like a comforting hug. “Ahh…” she breathed as she swallowed her first sip, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Just what I needed,” she murmured, a genuine smile curving her lips.

She leaned against the bars, her eyes locking with Callum’s as she teased, “My schedule was a little busy, but I can always make some time for you.” There was a lightness in her tone.

As she took another sip of the wine, Ariella's gaze softened. “Cards and secrets,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as she glanced around the dungeon, aware of the prying ears that might be lurking in the shadows. “I don’t think I could think of a better way to spend my night in the cells.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Violet Damien

Location: Damien Estate
Time: Late night
Mentions: @reusablesword Roman @Conscripts Fritz

After a night of heavy drinking with Alexander, Violet found herself engulfed in a strange mix of relief and anxiety. Alexander’s understanding of her unique affliction had brought a rare comfort to her troubled mind, but it also magnified the precariousness of her situation. The realization frightened her. The idea of making someone her continuous meal felt unsettlingly intimate. Feeding was already an act charged with closeness, and the thought of establishing such an understanding with another person was something she had never truly considered. As the carriage bumped along the cobblestone streets, she gazed out the window at the passing night, her thoughts swirling.

When she finally arrived at her family’s estate, the sight of the grand, imposing structure felt cold and distant. The air was thick with the heady scent of night-blooming flowers, but even their sweetness couldn’t mask the faint, metallic tang of blood that clung to her senses. She could smell it emanating from one of the guards by the door, her heightened senses honing in on the familiar scent with unsettling clarity. The footman assisted her out of the carriage, and she nodded her thanks, though her mind was already miles away, drifting toward the letters she knew she must write.

Inside, the estate was eerily quiet, the servants long since retired for the night. The only sound was the soft rustle of her skirts as she ascended the grand staircase to her bedroom. The room stood exactly as she had left it, plush and opulent, but the comfort it once provided now felt suffocating. Violet shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to push away the persistent thoughts of blood that clawed at her

She moved to her writing desk, her fingers trembling slightly as she lit a few candles to chase away the oppressive darkness. The flickering light cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. With a heavy sigh, she sat down, pulling out a sheet of fine parchment. Her hand hovered over the quill, uncertain where to begin, the weight of the words she needed to write pressing down on her.

The first letter was to Count Fritz. Violet’s mind raced as she contemplated his offer to provide her with …himself. The idea was tempting, especially given her current predicament, but the thought of drawing someone into her world, someone who would inevitably become entangled in her dark secrets, filled her with unease. She dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, her words deliberate and cautious, each stroke of the pen echoing the turmoil within her.

As she finished the letter and sealed it with her family crest, a knot of tension settled deep in her chest. The second letter would be far more difficult to write. Roman. The very name sent a wave of sadness and trepidation crashing over her. The memory of their last encounter was still painfully vivid—his kiss, the slap, the raw emotion in his eyes when he looked at her, realizing the truth. Her hand trembled as she reached for the quill again, but she forced herself to steady it, though the weight of her emotions made it feel impossibly heavy.

She had just begun to pour her heart onto the page when a soft knock at the door startled her, pulling her abruptly from her thoughts. Quickly, she hid the letter beneath a stack of papers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Who is it?” she called out, her voice carefully controlled, betraying none of the fear that had suddenly gripped her.

“It’s just me, Miss,” came the familiar voice of Martha, the older housemaid who had been with the family since Violet was a child. “I heard you come in and wanted to see if you needed anything before I retire.”

Violet relaxed slightly, the tension easing from her shoulders. “No, thank you, Martha. I’m fine.”

The maid hesitated for a moment, then quietly closed the door, leaving Violet alone once more. But the brief interruption had shattered her fragile concentration. She stared at the unfinished letter to Roman, her thoughts now a chaotic mess, the words that had flowed so easily moments ago now tangled and elusive.

With a weary sigh, she set the quill aside. Perhaps it was best to leave it for now. The night had been long, and her emotions were too raw, too unsteady, to make sense of anything in this moment. She rose from the desk, extinguishing the candles one by one, and moved to the large window that dominated the wall of her room. Outside, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon, casting the estate in a pale, ghostly light that seemed to drain the warmth from the world.

TDLR

Violet heads home after drinking contemplating the letters to Roman and Fritz. She arrives home and starts to write the letters. She finishes Fritz but struggles with Romans and decides to wait until she sends his.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10 pm
Location: The cells
Mention:
Interactions:
Appearance: No shoes | Thin white long dress | Heavy black cloak with hood

Ari’s heart pounded with a mix of dread and resolve. The guards, clad in their gleaming armor, showed no emotion as they took hold of her arms and led her through the grand corridors of the palace. The stone walls, once familiar, now felt cold and oppressive. She wondered if that was how Callum felt here. She struggled against the guard's grip as they passed through the ornate halls and descended into the depths of the castle.

The journey down to the cells was long and winding. The light grew dimmer with every step, the air growing colder and more stale. Torches flickered on the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced and twisted. The sound of dripping water echoed in the silence, each drop like a countdown.

Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the cells. A massive iron gate, rusted with age, creaked open to reveal a dark passageway beyond. The guards pushed her forward, their grip unyielding as they guided her into the darkness. Her bare feet hit the cold cobblestone, echoing with each step. The stench of dampness and decay filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn. She could hear the distant sounds of other prisoners—murmurs, cries, the clinking of chains—a chorus of despair that chilled her.

They reached her cell, a small, damp space with stone walls and a floor covered in straw. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding clang, the sound reverberating through the chamber. Ariella was left alone in the suffocating darkness. She could barely make out the outline of her surroundings, but the overwhelming sense of isolation was impossible to ignore.

The cell was cold, the air thick with the smell of mold and filth. A single, small window high up on the wall let in a sliver of moonlight, casting a pale beam across the floor. Ariella shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she sank onto the straw. The rough, dirty material scratched her skin, a stark contrast to sleeping in the grass.

Time passed slowly in the darkness. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant wail of another prisoner or the scurrying of rats in the corners. Ariella tried to focus her mind, to steel herself for what lay ahead. She knew that the king's punishment would be harsh But this was her price to protect her friend, and magic had its consequences.

Her green eyes scanned around the cell as the wailing continued around her. Sliding down the cold stone wall as tucked her legs into her chest attempting to keep herself warm. A fleeting thought of Mathias and the lunch date entered her mind. She sighed slightly, the captain of the royal guard would likely take issue with her current situation.

All Ari knew at this point was it was going to be a very long night.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Location: Rough Tavern
Time: Morning/Afternoon - Night
Mentions: @funnyguy Alexander @Princess Anastasia @Tae Thea @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk

The morning sun broke through the cracks of the slums, piercing the shadows and illuminating the sad remnants of the night before. Slumped over in a dank alley, Violet's pale frame leaned against a weathered box, her tattered cloak draped over her like a shroud. Her body lay there unmoving, in a deep state of drunkenness she fell asleep. The stench of whiskey and blood tainted the air around her, a pungent testament to her activities that night.

As the sun continued its slow ascent, its rays crept across Violet's face, revealing her shocking state. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed with the lingering heat of alcohol coursing through her veins. Blood stained her lips, a macabre crimson trail trickling down her chin and onto her chest, painting a ghastly portrait for any who dared to look. Yet in the slums, compassion was a scarce commodity, and curiosity even rarer. Here, the streets were ruled by indifference and self-preservation.

The alleys, narrow and unforgiving, seemed to strive with life as the last bar patrons stumbled out of dimly lit taverns, seeking their next fix or perhaps joining Violet in the grim embrace of the darkness surrounding them. The sun's unrelenting march continued, casting the slums in harsh daylight, and the once-desolate streets began to stir.

Men and women, hardened by their own struggles, passed by the unconscious woman, scarcely sparing her a glance. Curled into a fetal position, Violet had shrunk into herself, blending almost seamlessly with the refuse and other fallen souls littering the alley. In this forsaken part of the city, she was just another piece of the broken landscape, a silent, suffering specter among many.

The streets outside the restaurant were busy. Carts and people of all manors came and went through the wet cobblestone streets. The large man surveyed the scene adjusting his wide-brim hat and trench coat. Taking in the moment to survey his surroundings and the conversations of those going about their day. A trio of passing guards piqued his interest, normally he wouldn't bother with the gossip but the thinnest guard spoke two words that gained his attention. Violet Damien.

Seamlessly Roman turned to follow them to hear more. The noise from the surroundings muffled their speech but he did manage to hear a few key words. Violet Damien, Missing, two days, information, and reward. There wasn't much to put together for that last part but the fact that she was missing after he was told she would be heading home soon. His heart raced for a moment before he calmed himself, how strong could the count be if he let one of his precious daughters just go missing? This was not to mention that he still wanted to see Violet again and the thought that she could have been kidnapped infuriated him.

Still, the guards didn't seem too bothered by the news and either were not significantly worried or motivated to find her, giving Roman some form of relief no matter how slight. If it was a kidnapping, demands would have been sent and they would be more attentive to their surroundings. So now he had to figure out how to find her. None of the reports that he was given had any mention of her or her current condition and the last he saw her was two days ago.

He checked his pocket watch, there wasn't anything too pressing for him to do for the rest of the day and she is important. Roman only needed to go over the idea in his head once to be sure of what he was going to do for the remainder of the day. Finding out where to start was the next step. He didn't have the manpower currently at hand to organize a search, well that wasn't true but it had too many risks with it to commit to that so early, so he decided on chance.

A flip of a coin every other street or so. Heads he would go left, tails he would go right, if he didn't catch it or going left or right would result in him going in a circle instead he would go straight. And so, he wandered through the wet stone paths keeping his eyes and ears open to the world around him.

Walking through the streets was actually quite comfortable and a bit nerve-wracking. He could swear he saw some of the commoners staring at him from the corner of his eye while he trekked further and further through the city. His unusual navigation drawing quick glances from some while his size deterred the more unsavory types. The giant of a man was unsure as to why some of them were staring as he walked deeper into the slums, his clothes might have been nice for a merchant but bore no house sigil or mark.

Pushing down his unease he stopped at a beggar and crouched down, he asked if the man had seen anyone in the area that didn't belong placing the large coin he had been flipping in a small cup the man had. Through the man's slurred speech he couldn't understand much of the maddening mumbles the man spoke but one constant he could pick out in the man's speech was that of Alleyways and dark areas. These were dangerous places, places where the unseen underbelly of cities like these called home and freely hunted their prey. Prey like that of a well off nobleman or woman that did not know their place.

It was a risk especially with his injury but one he would take to try and find the ever-mysterious Violet Damien. He would indeed have to ask her what would drive her to seek shelter in a place like this if he did find her here. Roman stayed on alert and began to venture into the cramped and dirty parts of the slums in search of someone he may never find. Still, he believed in chance and he believed that with what he had done the night before that some amount of luck would be on his side.

Time seemed to move slowly while he walked through the labyrinth of the slums cautious and dead eyes met him all the same from the denizens of this place. He knew all too well why the nobility did not like coming here, it wasn't just because of the inherent danger of close quarters fighting but it was damn depressing too. Through the darkness of this place there was still hope for it no matter how small.

His luck finally won out as he nearly missed it or her. The body he nearly tripped over looked almost like the piles of rubbish that littered the area or the other drunkard's that called the alley’s home. The thing that caught his eye was the fabric of her clothes, it was too fine for a place like this even if it was in tatters. He knelt down next to her, a face he almost didn't recognize but the scars on her neck gave her away. Carefully Roman cradled her head in his hand, whipping away whatever red liquid stained her face with his sleeve.

“By the gods, what happened to you Violet?” he spoke softly and with kindness while rage brewed in the back of his mind and behind his eyes.

Upon closer inspection of her face, he would notice welts around her eyes and what appeared to be a hand print on her cheek. As he leaned in to get a better look, his nose would be assaulted by a strong familiar smell of whiskey.

As her chest rose and fell, her body stayed limp and cold. She was knocked out cold.Although it was not obvious if the stench of the whiskey was the cause or the irritation along her face.

He tried to rouse her for a few moments longer but it was clear she was out cold. He couldn't just leave her there, he wanted to know what was happening to her and he would never find that out if he delivered her to the guards or her father first. The path back to the warehouse crossed right by Damien's estate; he couldn't risk another possible diplomatic issue and be sent away. Choices and consequences. If he couldn't take her back to the castle or back to their warehouse then an Inn? The tough tavern is nearby… his head turned in the direction of the tavern with a sigh.

Roman took a moment to move the smaller girl into his arms with most of her weight on his left arm. Hefting her up in a bridal carry, steadying himself on a stack of crates. He still had to try and hide her face the last thing he wanted was questions and spies as he was well aware the likelihood he was being watched was high. Still resting against the stack of crates, carefully he took his hat off and placed it on her head. This exposed him but covered her and would act to shield her face from the sun.

“Ok to the tavern.” he whispered to no one in particular.

It did not take him long to get to the tough tavern, most of the people here knew better than to ask questions or make eye contact, another pervasive truth to the downtrodden of the area. With most losing hope for something better and just going day by day wasting their lives away for cheap drinks and short lived highs. Depressing.

Roman entered the tavern walking up to the bar like he owned the place. A few patrons still lingered around with a barmaid at the bar. If he remembered correctly her name was maggie. The look she gave him was incredulous at first but it seemed she at least recognized him, “Hey maggie can i borrow one of the rooms for a bit while my friend sobers up?”

“The names Marcy not Maggie woldnt ya rater go to da inn with yer lady of da mornin?”

“I apologize, Marcy.” Roman places a sizable amount of coin on the bar which would likely pay for a week’s stay at the inn. “A few hours if you don't mind, don't tell anyone you saw me, and bring up some water and something to eat.” glancing around at the few other patrons in the bar that were also glancing at him, “you can use some of it to pay off what these other patrons owe you too.” he noticed a few raised glasses from a couple of the patrons at this statement.

“Ya ya, just done make a mess with yer Lady Friend.” she gave him a wink while counting out the money.

He knew his way around this place, it was a regular drinking spot for him and callum. A shame the first time he came here this year was for something like this. At least he knew where the spare bed was, Olga never really gave him a straight answer as to why she had the room. He knew enough not to pry.

Fiddling with the door for a moment to get it open while balancing Violet in his arms. He was just about to kick the door in when he finally got it open. The room was rather spartan and simple, a small table, a couple of chairs, candles, and a bed. Ever so gently he laid Violet down on the bed then secured the door. Hanging up his hat and jacket with a sigh and finally sat down to try and rub the pain out of his shoulder.
Violet's frail figure lay motionless on the bed, shrouded by layers of heavy fur blankets that seemed to smother her presence. Time seemed to stand still in the dimly lit room, her shallow breaths barely audible against the eerie silence.
As the sun began its descent, its rays penetrated the grime-covered window, casting shadows that danced across Violet's pale face. A sudden twitch, a faint murmur escaped her lips, as if she were caught in the grasp of a haunting nightmare.
With a jolt, Violet's eyes snapped open, revealing their chilling shade of crimson. Panic seized her as she frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, her memory shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.
The taste of copper lingered on her tongue, a grim reminder of the horrors that had unfolded in the darkness of the night. Things she was still unaware of. With trembling hands, she clawed at the suffocating blankets attempting to rip them off her body, her heart pounding with fear. Had she killed someone else?

It had taken some time for Violet to finally stir from her drunken stupor. Roman had enough time during this to reorganize the room so the table and chairs were between the door and the bed, receive the food and water, and even send a quick letter with his family crest to the damien estate. it didn't say much just that he had found Violet and will be returning her to the estate soon. Making sure to give the barmaid specific instructions to hand deliver the note to the Ravenwood merchant down the street, he knew the letter would be delivered there by this time.
Roman had a foot propped up on the other chair, the subtle red blazen cherry of a lit cigar glowed gently with a slow inhale drawing the smoke into his mouth then out again. Smoking wasn't a common sight for him yet the music and faint sounds from the tavern below continued to lure him into fond memories of the place, memories of a simpler time.
His attention was stolen from these memories as the sound of cloth being torn away filled the room. Out of a reflex long forgotten he snuffed out the cigar with one hand and clenched his fist with the other. Relaxing only when he saw that it was violet fighting with the blankets.
“Easy violet, you are safe and we are alone.” he stayed in his seat, not daring to draw closer. He had been attacked a few times from waking the wrong person from a drunken dream.Violets red eyes shot towards him her mind spinning still. Roman… “I have some food and water here, take your time and tell me what has happened that led to me finding you unconscious in an alley?” not only was he curious, he was worried. What could have happened to her to make his raven fall so far. A wave of calmness crashed over her but it was short lived until he mentioned finding her in an Alley.

Does he know?

Did I kill him…the..blood

Sucking in her breath she relaxed slightly realizing where she was and who she was with. Her eyes dropped down towards the food as the taste of blood still lingered. Offering him a forced smile “ Roman “ her forced smile turning genuine as his name left her lips. “ I just went out drinking with a friend. Got a bit carried away I guess” she lied. “ I am perfectly fine, no need to be worried” she added softly as the expression on his face gave much away.
His eyes never left hers. He wasn't asserting dominance or held any contempt for her, his eyes only held curiosity that slowly turned into determination. Roman was making his own decisions in his head. Her simple explanation would have been enough for him had it been the night prior, but today was different. This time he wasn't wearing his mask and he knew that if he wanted her then she needed to see him and know him. The real Roman Ravenwood.

Maintaining his eye contact he slowly pulled his right sleeve down. The rings on his fingers glinted in the candle light while he tugged at his cotton shirt until it passed his elbow. Muscles flexed under tanned and scarred skin with the movements of his hand, resting his elbow on the table between them so she could see.

“Trust is not earned. It’s given.” his eyes shifted for a moment to his arm, focusing on something hidden beneath the scars. He felt that she was hiding something, it wasn't the whole story so instead he would give her his. Tell her how he felt.
Her eyes moved to his arm, then back to meet his. His response catching her off guard as she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The intensity from his eyes was not something she had seen from her friend before. Something felt wrong.

He knows…he knows what you did…

His voice was calm and collected yet, it somehow didn't have the warmth it normally did. “My feelings for you and about you have not changed since the night I found you on that balcony. I want us to be close…” pausing for a moment his eyes focused on his hand and his family signet ring then back to her.

“But I've been lying to you, to everyone. The Roman that you have met doesn't exist. It's a mask that I present to my enemies and friends alike, to give them a false sense of my abilities and intelligence.” a slight discoloration, a reddening of his skin began to form in a strange pattern. Similar to what one would get from an allergic reaction.

Violets eyes dropped back down to his arm noticing the change in his skin. Strange that it only effected his one arm but didn’t seem to effect any other parts of him.

“Not for any dastardly plan or evil scheme. I do this to perform my duty and what is expected of me. To complete it no matter the cost.” Clenching his jaw to ward off the pain coming from his arm he remained stoic even if it felt like his heart was in his chest. Not letting his discomfort show as much as he could. The pattern of red on his arm slowly became more noticeable. Roman locked eyes with her again, he would say no more until he received some of that trust in return.

She could see the veins in his neck pulse rapidly. Pain. He was in pain. She knew now what that looked like and that scared her. She was starting to notice the patterns.

Slowly, Violet pushed herself out of the bed. Wobbling slightly as she caught her balance on that table she reached out to touch his arm. Her shockingly cold hand pressed against his skin, feeling the heat that burned from his flesh. “You’re hurting..” she looked at his hand then to him.

Sitting down slowly in the chair across from him she removed her hand. It was hard to hold back that feeling she felt last night with Count Fritz. The humming of his heart, even in pain, sung to her like a sirens call. Why hadn’t Alexander warned her of this. She felt like an addict needing its next fix and as the hours went by it got worse.

The copper taste that lingered in her mouth was a reminder what she was missing, she had no interest in the food he had brought. Her eyes fell back to the pulsing vein his neck. Taking in a deep breath she returned her gaze back to Roman. “We all have secrets Roman.” she said softly.

He began to sit up when she made her way over to him on shaky legs but stopped when she reached the table. Her hands were cold, colder than they should be. The pain in his arm throbbed and he knew that he was pushing his luck with it. Her words were soothing to him. It meant at least so far that she wasn't going to run, yet.

“My secrets can get you killed.” he looked away from her for the first time since they started talking. “I can't tell you the specifics, it would probably kill me. I can't tell you when or how or why.” there was a pause, a brief moment of silence before he locked eyes with her once again. “I've done horrible things to those that deserved it and those that did not.” he grimaced and clenched his fist till his knuckles were white.

The pattern on his arm darkened and the faint outlines of what looked to be a snake wrapped around his arm shown through his scars. A strange tattoo or something more? The head of the snake bore two large fangs the outlines of which looked to be cut off as if they were buried in his hand.

She reached across the table, Violet's hand resting on his clenched fist. She gripped his hand with a strong force that someone of her size and stature would not have. attempting to release the pressure of his grip she rubbed the top of his hand soothingly, the cold feeling of her touch offering its cooling effects against his heated skin.

“Shh.” She whispered softly, seeing the pain his own words caused him. “You can't kill something that is already gone…” she replied softly, alluding to her own death. Her eyes fell to the pattern on his arm as his heart continued to race in pain. Was this his secret? Was he putting himself through this pain to show her ? But why?

When she realized that her efforts for calming him weren't working she decided to be more forward.

The idea of a woman alone with a man with their stations in life would likely cause a stir, but this wasn't the balcony so many nights ago. So much had changed, so many things lost.

She wasn't afraid. Not of him, not of rumors … only thing that scared her was herself. Unsure of what she was capable of , of what she might do next. But in this moment she set those fears aside.

Standing to her feet ,Violet quietly and slowly walked around the table. She found herself standing in front of him, between his large thighs that spread in his chair. Positioning herself between his legs, her body nearly pressing into him as her cold and pale hands found their way to his face cupping his jaw gently but with enough force to turn his head to look at her.

Her words caught him off guard. Broke him of his stoic demeanor. It was a strange response that took him time to process what it meant. “Something that is already gone.” he played the words over in his head it wasn't until she grabbed his chin that he realized she had moved at all.

Her finger tips lingered on his skin for a moment as her red eyes scanned his face. Her body tensed as she attempted to ignore the pounding sound of his heart as it continued to race in pain.

She then did something she wished had been given to her.

Her small frame wrapped its arms around his shoulders, his head would be against her chest as she embraced him. Her cold body pressing against his as she held him “ shh…” she rested her head on the top of his as the need once again attempted to consume her she stiffened in response.

She would not hurt her friend. She refused to allow it.

“Whatever it is, you are safe here…” she said softly to him. She had wished someone had done the same for her. “ You’re not a monster.” She said as if attempting to remind herself of the same thing.

Again her actions and words caught him off guard and again he wasn't sure how he was supposed to process this. He stopped everything he was doing and thinking about. In that moment he felt at peace. The pain was gone, the tavern, this city, it was just them. His arms wrapped around her pulling her closer to him. Letting go of a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding back.

Roman looked up at her and stood slowly letting his hands trace up her back causing the hairs on Violet's arms to raise in response. His right hand moved up to caress her cheek and tuck back her hair, her head leaning into his hand. “Thank you Violet.” his voice trailed off again, his eyes slowly looking back to his left arm,

He had to be quick, “it's a… Blo-od Bond.” he spoke through gritted teeth as the lines of the tattoo flared again. “Stops. Me from saying- things… from, Gah! Doing things.” he hadn't pushed it this much in a long time and it was starting to take its toll. Violets eyes opened in worry as she ran her hand down his left arm as he continued to bite back his pain.

“I… no. We are a monster.” his hand left her face to touch his chest and his necklace. “Two souls, on-one vessel.” his pain was starting to make him angry but he pushed through it with determination. “The blood we have spilled… it mmh. It flows behind us like a tidal wave.”

With that last sentence out his muscles relaxed and his arm went limp. He was sweating, with ragged breaths he grimaced at his arm. The fangs of the snake drew two trails of blood that clung to his hand. A last warning. Violet held his hand up to look at the markings, unknown to her that blood had began to drip from the markings of the snake.

As she held his hand between them, his blood dripping down her arm as she felt the warm crimson gold taunt her.The sweet scent surrounding her causing the things around her to go dark, her vision tunneling.

Moving his hand exposed his wrist. Watching as the blood continued to flow and the pulsing of his veins calling to her. Its all she saw. It was all she wanted. she was to weak to resist.

In a furry of need she moved his wrist to her lips as if to plant a gentle kiss on his skin but instead he was met with a searing fire of pain as her mouth wrapped around his skin and her teeth punctured into his flesh.

Hot liquid poured from him into her mouth, but the taste was not something she had before. This was different. It was sweet and fiery like tasting your favorite food for the first time. Her fingers gripped around his wrist as she turned primal with her need for more. His blood swelling in her mouth as it dripped down her chin similar to how he had found her. Violets red eyes opened, her pupils dilated as they fixated on something behind him. You could see the humanity escape her gaze as they rolled to the back of her head, unable to stop herself.

For a moment he thought she was just inspecting his arm and she very well might have been. He thought she was just going to kiss his arm but the grip she had wasn't right, it was tight. He was going to say something to ask her what was wrong, maybe she didn't like what he said? In the next moment he suddenly knew that wasn't the case.

Sharp teeth sunk into his flesh making him snarl in surprise and pain, “Ahh what the fuck!” he growled as a sudden urge from the back of his mind lurched forward anticipating a fight. This wasn't her, she was cursed or possessed maybe. This was a bad situation having to fight off two beasts at the same time. If he lost to the beast in his head no one in this tavern would survive the night.

Acting on instinct as the pain in his arm grew. Roman pulled his arm in toward himself trying to pin her against him and wrap his right arm around her throat. With her grip and surprising strength, he tried to take a step back to brace himself only to trip over the chair behind him making him fall and tumble over the chair onto his back with Violet tumbling down ontop of him the sudden crash causing her to unlatch from his arm.

Blood strained her lips and chin mimicking the same look he had found her in. Romans arm was still wrapped around her neck as she laid ontop of him, her body swallowed by his frame as her red eyes stared up at the ceiling. The primal hunger still rampant as the smell of blood lingered in the air. She struggled to pull herself from his grip on her but he was still much stronger and larger then she was.

As the darkness faded, crawling its way back inside her reality set in as her pale complexion turned ghostly. A gasp escaped her lips as her eyes widened with horror. It happened again…this time to Roman. Flashes of the night before triggered her memory. The screams of men as they clawed at her face, punching and kicking as she devoured them like a carafe of wine.

Drilled fighting experience kicked in taking advantage of her momentary lapse in composure. Roman rolled with her pinning her between himself and the floor. Quickly he pulled his right arm out from under her and grabbed a handful of her hair tight at the back of her head. His left hand gripping onto her arm and pinning it into her back. Quickly he rose onto his knees pinning her legs down with one leg and her free arm with the other.

“What are you doing?!” he growled at her as pain continued to pulse from his left arm.

The look on his face and the anger in his voice sent shards into her chest. Her secret was no longer a secret and his reaction although justified cemented the Monster she was. She had hurt the one person she swore she wouldn’t.

She was the Monster.

Her red eyes looked into his, soaking in the anger. She needed to run.

Leave.

Her body was pinned to the ground but she still attempted to wiggle her way out. Which she managed to do, releasing her one arm and legs as she squirmed out of his grasp, flipping onto her belly as she attempted to claw her way from under him.

His grip lightened for a moment as he quickly ripped some of the bandaging off his shoulder to wrap around his bleeding wrist. While he was quick he wasn't quick enough for her to get out from under him for a moment. A short-lived moment his teeth pulling the bandage on his wrist taught. He shifted and kicked his foot out sending the table and its contents clattering across the floor.

Holding one of her wrists he snatched the other she was attempting to crawl away from him with. She had strength he didn't expect but it still wasn't enough. He eventually was able to restrain both her arms behind her back and grip them hard with his right hand. His legs pinning hers as he straddled over her just behind her butt. Struggle all she might for now she was his.

With a loud crack his left fist protected by the makeshift brass knuckles of his rings cracked the wooden floor next to her head. “Enough!” his anger and adrenaline pumped through him. Violets eyes shot over to his fist as her head pressed agianst the wooden floor “Tell me what happened to you! Tell me who I have to kill for what they did to you!” Even in his rage all he wanted was to protect her and now he knew he failed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to squirm again but he had her in his grip. She wasn’t able to go anywhere.

She started to realize that the look her given her, that look of disgust wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at her parents.

Her voice matched his tone, as her pain filled her words. “Let me go Roman!” she shouted at him, her head turned as her cheek rested against the floor. “I’m already dead…just let me go.” Her voice dropped to a soft broken whisper. “It’s too late…for me.” Tears began to well in her eyes as her body relaxed under him. “It’s too late..”

He felt it more than he saw it, how she gave up and came back to her senses. She almost seemed to melt into the floor underneath him. He felt heavy and guilty for getting angry like this at her, at the world. His grip on her arms loosened and he sat back. He could hear her pain, almost feel it. Unlike his outburst, Roman gently picked her up from under her arms, setting her up on her knees with her back against him. She didn’t fight him, her body limp in his arms as she allowed him to control what he did next.

She didn't need to be restrained and hunted, she needed to be held. So he wrapped his arms around her chest pulling her into him. Violets eyes dropped down to his arms as her eyes settled on his bandaged wrists as he pulled her closer into him. She was frozen. “Forgive me, my anger can get the best of me.” he didn't growl or snarl he just whispered into her ear.Violet's eyes looked forward as she listened to his words. “You died, I knew when I saw you in the park. That's what made me so angry.” he paused but didnt let her go, “you’re not a monster you’re just lost, trying to find yourself.” Violets body sunk into his arms as she wrapped her arms over his. She felt undeserving considering what she had just done to him.

Feeling safe in the moment she let down a wall she had been keeping for too long.

“I left the ball after we talked on the balcony. I just remember a sharp pain then darkness.” she paused as she pulled his arms around her tighter. “It happened so fast the next thing I knew I felt sunshine, warmth…calmness. Serenity. I was at peace.” Her mind wandered back to that feeling but it was only a memory now, like a faded dream. “Suddenly I was ripped from peace and brought back.” She took a long breath before continuing ”My body had died, it failed. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t walk…For the first while I couldn’t find a single word.” she sucked in her breath “My parents… My mother, she brought me to some wack doctor. Begged me to turn me into this…monster.” her words were filled with Venom and disgust. “ They pulled me from peace to this…They brought me back. They hid my death from the rest of the world.” she ended in a whisper.

“I didn’t know what happened, I didn’t remember anything but little by little I got some memories back, I got my mobility back….and my vision.” she shifted slightly in his arms “ but it came at a price. I tried to starve myself, ignore the cravings. I didn’t understand what they meant. “ she stopped for a moment debating on mentioning Alexanders role in everything. “ I ripped my dress the night of the masquerade, decided to go out to run an errand and locate a new one. On my way to the stables.” she stopped herself deciding to spare him even part of the details. “ I found my first real meal and everything changed. My vision came back, I was walking stronger but I did something awful to become a fragment of my old self. “

“There … there is nothing left of me Roman. Nothing to find. All you will find is a corpse with an addiction to blood.” Her eyes dropped back down to his bandaged wrist.

“I can’t go home.”

“ I went to the masquerade after getting a new dress. I couldn’t make it inside. I could pretend that everything was okay. I ran into Count Fritz. In the gardens. He took me out drinking, noticing how much I didn’t want to attend. He helped take my mind off of things. We were being followed at one point of the night, he had dropped me back off at the Manor but I still couldn’t find myself able to go back inside. I managed to push myself and change but I went back out drinking. The men they - “ she paused catching herself as she felt herself choke up. “ They followed me back from a Tavern. One of them split off and attempted to lure me into an alley and…” Images of his wide terrified eyes staring back at her haunted her. The look that he knew his life was done, as his blood decorated her lips. He looked at her like the monster she was and she fed into it. “ Well… “ her head dropped. “ He wont be following any more women into Alleys.” she said softly.

He didn't say anything, just took it all in. it was worse than he thought. He wouldn't be able to go off any of this but it cemented his distaste for her family. To pull a soul from the afterlife because you can't grieve or suffer the loss, he can see her distaste for them. Her hate. She continued and it just got worse.

Still he stayed silent and readjusted himself, lifting her out from under him and cradling her in his arms. Slowly slumping back against the wall. He was getting all the information right in his mind while he stroked her hair. “You're not a monster… you were pulled from eternal peace by someone who should have loved you enough to let you go. Betrayed by your family. And now you have taken a few lives.”

Violets eyes fell, unable to keep eye contact. There was so much power in his words as he validated her emotions. She felt crazy with these emotions, the betrayal as he so perfectly stated. She felt seen.

Again he was quiet trying to find what to say. “Taking a life feels fucking awful it doesnt matter how many you take. What you were, who you were is gone.”She turned to look away from him but with a gentle hand he held her face her eyes still unable to look at him. “Now you're a new creature, a new person with her own quarks.” a strange way to put her cravings, “you need to find yourself, find who you are and who you want to be. What we are doesn't make us who we are.”

He moved his head closer to hers as he cradled her head in his hand her red eyes meeting his . Pressing his forehead against hers his voice almost a whisper. “You don't scare me, you're still just as beautiful as the moon, my Raven.” his eyes never left hers as he remembered the first time they met on that balcony and again in the park. “I will defend and honor thee, i promise i'll get you out of this kingdom even if it starts a war. All of it for you.” he was serious about her about his words. It's going to be hard and it won't be fun but he will do that for her.

Shutting her eyes she lived in the moment with him. A moment that her older self would have relished in. He was right, she was a new person. She also knew that she couldn’t give him what he deserved, what he wanted.

She could lie, tell him that this was all a mistake. Tell him she lured him here. That she did not care for him.

..or you could kill him. You already started…finish it. Her mind cackled in the enjoyment of the thought. The twisted monster that grew louder with each person she harmed.

The darkness loomed over her decisions as of late. A spiral of madness lingered in the back of her mind waiting for the perfect chance.

No. It was Roman. Sweet, strong and kind. She pulled back slightly from him “ you can't …” she said with defeat in her voice. “ You said it yourself, I am not the same. “ She took a deep breath, her hand reaching around his newly Injured wrist.

“This is my present and my future. You're protecting something that's not even alive anymore. The raven you so desire flew away the night I was killed. I am simply a reminder of what could have been but cannot be.” Her eyes glimmered like rubies as she caught back tears. “ I cannot subject you to a life of torture and misery trying to fix something that cannot be fixed. I can handle hurting thieves and rats. I cannot handle hurting you as I've already done.”

He held her there in that room as she poured her heart out to him. The darkness within, reminded him of himself after he had his magical misfortune. For a moment all he could do was look at her, not with anger or judgment but worry and understanding. His thumb traced along her cheek to her lip pushing it up just enough for him to see the fangs that dug into his skin just a few moments earlier. Violets breath hitched in her throat as he examined the secret she held so privately. She felt exposed as his large rough finger gently stroked her soft lip. She slowly moved her hand to cover her mouth but With a quick breath, he planted his lips upon hers taking in the moment with a passionate kiss. Just as suddenly as it started he pulled back to look at her as Violet's pale complexion grew pink, her cheeks flushed as she blinked in surprise her heart raced in response as she looked at him frozen with wide eyes.

“We are different and we are the same. I fight every day to keep my demon at bay. I want to be that light for you that I never had, that reason to maintain control. You don't deserve to walk my path, to do what I have done.” his hand continued to slowly rub the back of her head with his left hand resting comfortably on her hip. Violet continued to look at him as if she had seen a ghost. Unmoving as her heart continued to race.

“You died, my life is forfeit, you have a future, my doom is set, your monster is hard to hide, my demon lurks beneath the surface.” he paused again a tear silently running down his face, “we are both monsters in this world now, neither of us chose this but its who we are. My life will always be torture, to never truly be free.” the tears began to stream down his face, Violet small and delicate hands reached for his face resting them along his cheek as she wiped away the falling tear with her thumb.“don't push me away, please. I-i freely choose you with what freedom I have.” he spoke with a shaky voice as if this was something he had never been able to express before, something that rested heavy on his heart and his shoulders. Although Violet wanted to understand more of his words, she felt the pain he shared as the large, strong man wept in her arms. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t think there were words enough to soothe him.

To show him he wasn’t alone.

Not having kissed someone before and afraid she would hurt him, Violet leaned in, hesitant at first but her emotions took over. Her lips pressed softly against his as her hands gripped with need along his jaw. While she kissed him she repositioned herself as her leg moved to the other side of him, straddling him as she pressed him into the wall.

Violets small frame crashed into his in a powerful push as her arms pulled her into him. Her heart raced, trying to rip itself from its cage as she suddenly felt a fire. She felt alive.

Breathless she broke the kiss, unsure if she went too far. Her forehead touched his ever so softly as her lips relaxed exposing her sharp teeth again her red lips. A breathless gasp escaped her lips as her eyes scanned his for any sign of acceptance. “I wont push you away…” she said breathlessly.

This reaction was unexpected but this whole night was unexpected. He felt her passion in every hesitant kiss grow with each one. His heart was racing and he could feel hers as well. It was a rush he hadn't felt before with any of his other partners. This was what he wanted, he decided then and there that he will have her no matter the cost.

Quickly he crossed his legs, shifted them under him and stood up supporting her the whole way and not letting her go. One hand on her lower back the other on her thigh as he turned to pin her up off the ground against the wall. His left hand left her lower back to grip her wrist, pinning it above her head. Violets eyes looked above her head to see both her hands against the wall. She bit back her lip exposing her toothy smile as she couldn’t hold it back as her eyes moved to look at him attempting to anticipate his next move.

His breaths were deep and quick, his eyes locked onto hers with an instinctual need. His lips found her neck, his teeth finding skin in a fast attempt at revenge. One bite, then two, kisses traveling up her neck and back to her lips again. His face burning just as hot as it does in front of the forge. As their lips crashed together with fiery passion, Violet melted into the wall. She knew this was wrong, A lady was meant to reserve herself for her husband.

The books she read shared all sorts of details that made her blush, wishing that one day she would experience what they described. This was better.

The fire that set her skin ablaze continued to fan as she felt his weight against her. During the moment of passion, suddenly her fang stabbed his lip. The taste of copper seeping into their kiss, touching her tongue and suddenly the darkness swarmed her vision, like a nightmare consuming her.

Her eyes opened wide in fear as her foot swifty kicked up between them, shoving him with a force enough to push him back to where she fell to her knees with a thud. Her trembling hand covering her mouth as she hunched over on the wooden floor. Her fist hitting the floor with a crash of frustration as she attempted to fight back the urge.

The sudden pain in his lip and then in his chest was not entirely unexpected. Where he thought he crossed a line he was only met with a look of fear, but not of him. He could see it he knew the look. “No.” he coughed, the wind knocked out of him. “Fight it Violet, find your light and focus on it!”

Her breath ragged not just from the moment they shared but the physical torment she was fighting as the darkness continued to swallow her. She couldn’t do this… she couldn’t be near him.

Just one more bite… The darkness hissed.

“Your stronger than you know! Fight!” he yelled at her while he stood up.

Without looking at him, her hand still covering her mouth Violet sprung to her feet “ I’m sorry “ she managed to say before she swiftly left the room, rushing down the hall of the tavern as she shoved her way passed some unknowing patrons. Fleeing into the busy and bustling tavern she pushed her way through the lively crowd towards the door.

“Mam!” she barmaid called out to the women in distress but it was too late.

Violet rushing past the other patrons was quickly ignored when The giant of a man hopped the balcony splintering an unfortunate table below sending men and women tumbling. The look of the man was ragged, his shirt was torn, his lip and hand were bloody, and the look of sheer determination and anger could stop the heart of a lesser man. Such a gaze flickered to the familiar faces of Anastasia, Thea, and Sjan-dehk for just a moment.

The bear wasted little time rushing out after Violet, any attempt to stop him was met with strength and momentum that matched his speed. A runaway train on a mission. He knew he would have to pay for that but that would have to wait.

Just like that, the Raven flew away. With the bear chasing close behind.