#jasdaeisleen

1-10: 6

Closer than we should be, really.

Scale of 1-10: 10.

He’s uh.

I mean.

Dead. Murdered. By me.

Yeah.

Despite how much James didn't want to attend the masque, it didn't turn out to be as terrible as he anticipated. Granted, his date spent the majority of the time dancing with other men but.... Nevertheless.

He sipped his drink (fifth one that night. Whoops) and leaned against a nearby wall casually, scoping out the crowd to see if he could spot Jasdaë anywhere in the mix. She didn't seem to be with the dancers at all... where had she gone off to, then? 

A sudden commotion towards the front of the room caught his attention. It looked like some bloke had a... Gun, holy shit. Someone had a gun to the princess's head. James hurriedly looked around for Jas to make sure she was okay. He caught sight of her red curls fairly quickly due to them being right next to the man holding the princess hostage.

Sweet fucking hell.

She said she wouldn't do anything illegal that night! They had PLANS, dammit--

Oh gods.

People saw him come to the masque with her. With a wanted criminal who was currently yelling at knights to keep their distance. James downed his drink and decided it was best to... keep his mask on from now on. And the hood up. Yeah. Shit.

Some knights wheeled the king out to speak with the bloke with the gun, who instead went into some incoherent speech. What an accent. Maybe he was just too far off Probably that. Whatever. Who was that fucker, anyways? Holding hostages with Jasdaë... What a fucking mess.

Suddenly a shot went off, then a chandelier crashed to the floor and James did his very best not to drop with it (and his stomach). There was what looked like a fight that ensued, but he was much too far to see past the crowd. It seemed too risky to join in on the clamor, despite everything in him screaming to go check on Jas. Something was wrong. What if she was hurt? Gods, what a mess.

However, the clamor quickly came to an end. James stood on his toes to try and see what had happened, but it was no use. Did they kill them? Was Jas alright? Unable to withhold himself any further, James started to push through the crowd.

Only to get yanked back out.

"AUGH-- Fuckin' hell what in the--" He tore away from the stranger's grasp and turned to see that rude tailor that Jasdaë took him to the other week. "Must you use such vulgar language?" The fellow hissed, rolling his eyes. He had his nose crinkled again. Like he did the entirety of James's fitting. Did he really smell that terrible?

"Have you seen--"

"Not now," Guinnein interrupted and grabbed onto the boy's cloak again, then snapped his fingers. James was overcome with a sudden feeling of complete emptiness-- and not emotionally, either. It felt like someone sucked all his guts right out from his mouth. Terrible. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and distract himself, but the empty feeling was gone as quickly as it came and it honestly felt like he exploded for a moment.

Don’t mind him. He’s teasing you. We could dance, if you’re bored of standing around.

James really did not want to do this.

He stared at the outfit that pompous tailor made for him, somewhat intimidated. He really wasn't even that fond of morbid things, but both Guinnein and Jas insisted. Perhaps it wasn't too late to fake an injury.....

No, that wouldn't work. He was a terrible liar.

"Aren't you dressed yet?" Ben poked his head in the room, "Innit almost time for you to meet Miss Jas...?" The necromancer jumped a little and turned his attention to Benjamin. What time was it? Had he lost track of time already? It couldn't have been too late... "Mind your own business, eh? I'll be ready soon enough."

The creature raised a brow, but shrugged. "If y'say so.... Ya don't look nearly ready to me, but whaddo I know, eh?" Another harsh glare from James sent the boy off. He was right, though. James was hardly ready to go.

After Jasdaë had left, James got himself properly dressed and went to work. As usual, most of his clients visited with business other than funeral arrangements. James carried through the motions almost mindlessly and spent most of his free time doodling rather than working.

"That's a pretty lookin' girl you're drawin' there."

James jumped a bit and glanced up to see one of his more frequent customers-- a man with a tendency to completely vanish until he needed something. "L-Laiyn," he set his things to the side and stood to offer his hand, "S'been awhile. You been well?"

Laiyn ignored the boy's extended arm and picked up the sketch, examining it carefully, "Ain't this that sunspot with a million rupee reward on her head?" Shit.

"Y-yeah, that's... I saw the poster and thought she looked kinda pretty I guess, and--" Laiyn held up a hand to silence James and set the sketch back down. "Listen, boy," he started slowly, clicking his tongue thoughtfully, "I don't have the money to pay you for this months trade, so I was wondering-"

"I'm not doing this shit for free," the mortician interrupted angrily.

Laiyn laughed and clasped James by the shoulders, "No, listen here. How's about you make a few more of these sketches, and I put 'em up over shitty ones in the main square, eh?"

James squirmed in the larger man's clutch, eyeing him warily. Sure, James knew this guy pretty well, but a million rupee reward? That's enough to make anyone a rat. "Why should I trust you?" This was apparently funny to Laiyn and he let out a hearty laugh, then shook the frail boy hard enough to make his vision blur a bit.

"Because if you get caught with anything, all your clients will get taken in with you! Look, Jimmy Boy, what you got goin' on here-- nobody's dumb enough to mess with it! Shit, you got knights stoppin' by here. C'mon, it's a favor!" Well, he had some pretty good points...

"Yeah, alright, fine." If anything went wrong, James could always just.... die, or something.

By the next morning, nearly all the wanted posters for Jasdaë Isleen were replaced with a slightly more accurate sketch of her with little lotus flowers tangled in her hair.

12. Wet Kiss:

This wasn’t the kind of kissing Ghirahim was used to— or liked in the slightest. Still, the Gerudo girl managed to keep him involved somehow. There was something about her drunken self that left Ghirahim feeling a bit intoxicated himself (which was a rare sensation for him).

She kept her mouth open wide while he simply slackened his jaw and allowed her to work her rum-tainted lips across his mouth, sharing the dulled sweet flavor with him as their tongues lazily slipped past each other.