#aeternaemorte

Continued from here

    The woman seemed a bit too young to be invited as a personal VIP guest to the bride-to-be, but nobody questioned her as soon as she mentioned the name Apostolou. They all knew the seamstress and it was perfectly understandable that the old woman would send her young apprentice to do the work instead of herself. What they did not know was that she had another agenda, far more ominous than finishing an embroidery for the wedding dress.

    The vial was barely the size of her little finger but it felt as if it weighed a ton inside her dress pocket. The cloth she was embroidering had lain forgotten on her lap for the past half an hour at least, while she gazed unseeingly at the perfectly trimmed trees in the garden, trying to reason with her wildly beating heart. It is only a slight change of surroundings, a bit of modification to the plan, you can still do this well. Three days until the wedding, which means three days until the murder would take place. Most of the guests had arrived, but not her target. She was sewing slower than her usual speed, making sure she had a reason to stay inside the gates until the big day. It would not be her first murder, she had tipped poison into drink from the age of thirteen, after all, and learned to make one before her first milk tooth fell out. But it would be the first time she had to do it inside of a secured perimeter, with guards standing every ten feet apart, and likely a thorough searching and lock down after, should she succeed. Medea was, undeniably, distressed.

    Preoccupied with thoughts as she was, she had only noticed the newcomer when he greeted her. Now this could very well get you killed, Medea. Always stay vigilant. Hazel eyes snapped right, catching none other than the Prince of Persia himself. What a peculiar proposition. Perhaps that was usual from where he came from. And even if it wasn’t, she supposed, surely a royal could afford to be lenient with formalities when they felt like it. She made a move to stand up, remembered the pristine cloth on her lap, and stopped to set it aside first next to her on the stone bench.

    “Your Highness.” She stood and gave a slight bow to the prince. When she looked back up, a smile was ready on her lips, apologetic and sweet and courteous. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid it is hardly appropriate should I accept it.”

@ask-cerus

Why his father had even agreed to host this wedding in the royal palace of Babylon was beyond Cerus, the prince thought, more than a little miffed at the fact- and he was willing to bet it would take this affair to be over for his mood to improve, too.

The palace, always busy regardless,was literally bursting with people these days, with more arriving every day. Every neighbouring sovereign and his entourage had been invited and, of course, none had really declined. The prince of Persia was under the suspicion that his father’s decision may have, in part, been with the notion of  using the occasion to establish a suitable bride for his only son. The son, however, wasn’t all too pleased with that prospect, or the fact he’d already been enlisted to play chaperone to royal guests as requested; he’d much rather be roaming the city beyond the palace walls, but he also knew his duties.

He’d been sent to check on a seamstress now-because apparently, no one else could’ve done that and the bride-the daughter of one of their closest allies- had been getting agitated. Cerus had paused outside the room the seamstress was working in for a few moments; the girl, apparently daughter to a famous Greek seamstress, certainly seemed...somewhat distressed. Given who her patron was,and more importantly what the bride was like, he couldn’t say he didn’t sympathize, he thought as he finally spoke up, clearly startling her.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you,” he smiled when she got to her feet, mindful to set her work aside before doing so. “and by all means, do not stop your work on my account, I figure the sooner you’re done with...” he glanced at the embroidered piece of fabric, trying to figure out what it was for and failing, “whatever that is, the sooner you can enjoy the festivities,” he shrugged. “As for the offered hug, I figured you needed it for one thing and for another, it is actually a traditional custom for greeting newcomers to Babylon,” he grinned, “so not that inappropriate,” he shrugged airily.

For a time master, nothing short of a tourbillon, I suppose. - Mikaela Schias

———————–

Cerus couldn’t stop a chuckle at the card, even before actually looking at the watch itself. It was impressive,admittedly, and pretty much one of a kind-not many people could afford them, he’d imagine.

But it was hardly its monetary cost or exquisite style that had impressed him; it was  the gesture and the feeling behind the present.

He reached for his phone after he’d put the watch on-he didn’t much wear them, but this one was special in more ways than one.

continued from here:

[ to: Cerus ] I take it they all arrived safe and sound? [ to: Cerus ] Sometime this weekend I should be free, let me get back to you for the exact time.  [ to: Cerus ] Feel free to start without me, however, it was meant for you.

[Text:Mikaela] They did, and they’re all perfect, nothing to worry about there.

[Text:Mikaela]I could just drop by the office, fairly sure I can carry the decanter along easily.:)

[Text;Mikaela]But alright, I’ll definitely do that. Though I’d love the company.

~You are cordially invited to attend our Halloween-themed benefit tonight, after 9:00pm at the exquisitely haunted house constructed with the supervision and unique style of our organisation.

Happy Halloween!~

The invitation, printed on a crisp, velvet soft card decorated with carved pumpkin and witch’s hats’ designs, had arrived in the morning mail. Cerus sat, rolling his eyes at it for a few moments; he knew this organisation, of course. He'd attended their events before, mostly because at some point, he was dating-she called it dating, he called it sleeping with-the daughter of one of the heads of this civically-minded group. He wasn’t fond of these events; the money spent on them,he always thought, would be better off given directly to the people and causes they were supposed to be helping.

If he was going to this thing, he huffed finally, he was definitely not going alone. He took a quick snapshot of the cheesy-looking invite, attaching it to a message a few moments later.

It had been the third village in as many days, the elf thought, taking a moment to wipe his blade on a patch of soft, unsullied grass he’d come upon.

At first, he’d thought it had been orcs, on a path of wanton destruction as they were used to doing. After Sauron’s fall, many of the packs that served him had gone rogue, without his control, spreading death and destruction for whatever joy that brought to their twisted hearts.

But no, this had been the work of humans; human raiders, travelling meticulously from each village to the next, out in the wilderness where no king or his law existed, torching everything and killing everyone in  their path, all for what few valuables and food could be found in the ruins.

Lomear had intercepted  them two nights ago, in a village a few miles away; surprised, the men had made a run for it at the unexpected resistance, the people of the village left unharmed.

He’d followed them after that, stopping a second village from  being surrendered to the flames last night and finally catching up with the raiders today, after they’d started sacking the small hamlet that sat by a stream’s edge.

He’d left none of them alive, the men’s bodies watering the already struggling grasses with their blood, the villagers hard at work putting the fires out-and peering warily at the strange elf who had saved them, sitting immobile by the bodies, now and then.

There was nothing new about this particular job, Cerus thought, as he stalked down the plushly carpeted hallway, quiet as a cat, and yet...it was risky enough to make his blood hum with anticipation.

In other words, he was rather enjoying himself at the moment. Sure, the task he had signed up for was not easy, but as far as he knew, the man he had been hired to kill had it coming. Mobster boss, into all sorts of illegal activities...the world would be a better place without him; and his own pay in getting the job done wasn’t too shabby either, even if he didn’t really need the money.He’d find somewhere to give it, he reckoned, somewhere it might do some good.

He wasn't surprised to find a reaper behind him.  They always did like to spoil his sport. The official snob brigade- always putting themselves so highly above other beings. What, did they think the title made them any less of a murderer... of a life thief?

Oh and she had the {N E R V E} to call him lad- to undermine and right him off. How dare she.

Leaf didn't care for them and he made that clear when he spun to face this scum, expression stoic but eyes blazing with the same vibrant yellow his sister used to paint the leaves.