location & timeline: sotera's gardens, february 13th, an hour after the thorned king's appearance.
availability: open to all !
ERIDA had been rather disturbed by the appearance of the Thorned king. While his powers of terrifying every soul in the room had certainly been a thing of appreciation and envy, the amount of chaos it had generated simply be appearance alone, had been quite more than she'd been used in using.
it did help with her own use it, though.
She didn't have to deplete her own reserves of it, instead she'd happily use whatever power constructed by the... king, to her benefit. Still, she could only hope it would be enough to sustain her, for the time being. Being away from Frigoria had threatened to destabilize her magic - and that wasn't something she was keen on happening.
she'll have to do with this little help.
Sensing an additional presence, her mask long forgotten somewhere in the ballroom, Eris checked her posture and her usual lady of the kingdoms mask had slipped back into it's place.
"Do you find yourself unwilling to retreat for the night as well? Tiredness beckons, but I fear I would be unable to sleep. Tonight's events had shaken quite a few individuals - even I cannot remain immune to it."
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location: hallways of the soteran palace
time: after midnight; february 13th, 1276
the words of the jesters still echoed in his skull, unable to throw them completely from his mind. he nodded absentmindedly to partygoers as he passed them, head fully occupied with the unsettling events of the previous hours. as soon as the bards had finished their odd proclamation, the ballroom had begun to empty. the new king was nowhere to be seen, and he had yet to spot the lady of asteria amongst the crowds of uncomfortably leaving guests. he scanned the floods of people, looking for any faces he recognized, but those that still wore their masks made it nearly impossible.
carefully, yinuo pushed his way against the flow of foot traffic, like a salmon swimming upstream as he attempted to work his way back to the main room. any trace of the strange jesters and their...idol was long gone at this point. his eyes outlined the doors of the room, trying to spot any possible clue as to where they might have vanished, all the while attempting to quell the icy hand of panic gripping his heart. the three. they had said it so plainly, so bluntly, so...without fanfare. this slip-up was going to be hard to evade. he couldn't afford a single mistake.
like this one, he thought in frustration, turning to the presence at his back, making themself known with a soft noise. yinuo dropped a small bow. "my apologies; were you speaking to me? i'm afraid my thoughts were elsewhere."
time: the morning of february 13th.
location: the halls of sotera's palace
open to everyone.
the echoes of her footsteps rung in the empty halls as asteria's general moved briskly towards her destination. qynna popped the last of a muffin in her mouth, poppy seed and blueberryβnot a combination she had ever expected, but one that had the potential to quickly become a favorite. it was surprisingly good. then again, maybe she just liked anything the head chef made. it was certainly a possibility.
as she walked, her mind was racing with to-do lists and memorandums. after the disaster at the masquerade last night, there was so much she needed to do. first on her list, however, was to set up a meeting with her...advisor? who should she even talk to about this? perhaps she could just catch anyone of higher rank than her. no, that had the potential to go horribly wrong horribly quickly. it would be better to find someone that knew more about the thorned things than she didβperhaps someone who had seen them enter, or someone whoβ
abruptly, qynna's train of thought derailed as she crashed into another person. "oh, do excuse me, my sincerest apologies!" she exclaimed, arms flying up in an effort to catch whoever she'd bumped into and keep them from falling over. "i-i wasn't looking where i was headed, and i was headed there quite quickly. that'sβmy fault, i swear."
ββββWhere is the metal among the ashes? What do the contrasts in red and blue symbolize? They will return, won't they? And they shall bring their Queen?β
βββQuestions.
βββEntombed before mayhem could exhume them, enshrined within the recesses of her mind.
βββEven then β
βββShe sat beneath the domed roofs of the alcove, the chill of marble walls infused into her spine, and the tendrils of flowers and foliage veiled her in silent oath. Stone, verdant hues, absence.
βββSerenity never came.
βββAnd the structures before her β they loomed. They disregarded the laws of her mind. How she must count upon the simplicity of beingβ¦ For her eyes to trace the rise and fall of rooftops, the sharp turns of windows, but the contours? Never-ending. Even the shadows seemed vast and the moonlight beyond reach. The archway, the spires β endless.
βββThey contested adulation like a grotesque pantheon.
βββThen she must be an ant.
βββThus, she did not think. She did not feel. Mustnβt. To deconstruct these thoughts would be to collapse beneath them.
βββAnd yet, in the abstraction, she was real. Lips fit for song, eyes to beheld meaning, and painted beauty as costume.
βββThen β
βββSomething reflected light.
βββShe stilled.
βββBeneath her seat was a mirror cushioned by the grass. Small, handheld. A thing belonging to someone. Real. Tangible. Provocation by presence and circumstance: a thing-in-itself subjected to her senses.
βββThat β that was enough. She was needed. If left unattended, it could be stolen; if left ignored, it would mean she had abandoned something that required care.
βββShe leaned forward, fingers hovering over its frame, her reflection warped in the glass. Still, she did not move to pick it up.
βββNot yet.
βββSince the masquerade, Lady Jiao Bi felt herself return.
Dakota had been working late when the power went out. She wouldnβt say she panicked, just felt a high degree of confusion and a bit of worry. There was hardly anything she could do about it, especially considering she was not as knowledgeable about technology as the people of Vulpecula. Besides, she was sure that very sector was working on the problem as she was thinking about it. Doing her best to relax, the sector head was relieved to see the power come back on within half an hour. However, just after the power came back on, a whole new sense of unease washed over the woman. Something was wrong, very wrong. Just as she reached for her com to talk to Iris, the quake happened.
Dakota was no stranger to the quakes of lackluster. Being born and raised underground she understood how the work they did could influence the very earth around them. Still, it had been a while since sheβd felt a quake quite this strong. Immediately jumping into action, the Pegasus head grabbed her com, jacket, and boots before racing out the door.Β βIris! Report your location!β
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π«πππ & π»πππ: February 13, 1276; lauds ( 3AM )
βββWhoever remained for that midnight blunder, from hired mercs to the newly knighted, gathered for drinks and to bet dice on the fate of their motley pair: banishment or punishment. Now, this wouldβve been a good way for armies to kill time, but they're not at war, and had he been their superior, he'd disband βem. Someone higher up would get wind of this soon enough. As for him? He stayed around for the intel.
ββββcourse, he excelled at calculating odds, but when it came to gambling? All he could think about was theΒ demise β one crueler than death. And in truth? Nothingβs ever honest about the work; no other approach than to match fix. Stay honest then you'd end up with stacks upon stacks of uncertainty. He regarded βem dirt cheap. Never worth whatever risk.
βββEnzo shrugged on his stool.
βββEh, let them have their joy. It bolstered morale. What with that petty performance hounding their mastersβ¦ in turn, so have they.
βββHe was stationed just near enough to the door to register footsteps approaching. He didn't have to look when the newcomer stood beside him; he just kept to himself and his bananas.
ββββYa planninβ to join? No one's stoppinβ ya,β he spoke with a mouthful.
βββHe had to admit β not that he thought it'd be simple β just how damned demanding trade reports were. Among his equipage were copies of past Madrid guild accounts, including reports to reference from. He figured his official compositions would solidify Erisβ identity while the ones he wrote now were countermeasures to interception.
To the Most Esteemed Guild Master,
Per your request, an audit of the recent supply was conducted following our recent gathering. The Assistant Warden, alongside our masters, expected a routine assessment, but were met with an unexpected outcome. During convene with the traveling suppliers, they proposed a new commodity to the market. However, their demonstration was insubstantial despite their fervency for organizational ideology. Nothing of material worth after inspection β no silver, no iron β despite the promise of gold.
Some members were beginning to hesitate to question their credibility, while others dismissed them as frauds. The market momentum may endure minor fluctuations should external actors seek to disrupt stability. How much stock should we place in such ventures? Their timing and method suggest an interest beyond simple commerce, depending on whether this is an isolated attempt or part of a broader investment strategy.
Further assessments are necessary to determine if future negotiations will follow similar patterns. Our competitors watch, but I shall remain watchful and report accordingly.
π·πΆπΊπ» πΊπͺπΉπ°π·π»πΌπ΄ Caelius has yet to acquire the warrantum suum de fidelitatem of the suppliers.
In service,
Deputy Warden L. de RΓos
Worshipful Company of Fletchers
[π ππππ πππππππππ] February 14, 1276
βββWithout a doubt, the empress would understand his use of βinsubstantialβ over βunsubstantial.β Magic involvement shouldn't be ruled out. And if she were to request details, hell, he'd gladly explain them.
βββEnzo unscrewed the hollow crossbow bolt from its arrow, scrolled the parchment, and slotted it in, followed by a locking. All he'd need to do now was to drop by one of her fletcher guilds and deliver this to a contact. The courier'd handle the rest.
ππ¨ππππ’π¨π§: sick bay, Sotera palace gardens
ππππ & ππ’π¦π: February 14, 1276; terce ( 9AM )
β
βββJiao Bi disliked physicians.
βββNot for their craft nor their presence, but for the expectation of surrendering to their scrutiny.
βββThe tent stood among the trimmed hedges, and the morning breeze did nothing to topple its canvas. Sunlight bled through the fabric, distorting the figures within. Like phantoms. She had half a mind to turn back, but she had not slept well. No, not well β she had not slept at all. Despite feigning composure, her mind had been steeped in wakefulness long enough to skew her thoughts. She had arranged an appointment because her father insisted. Because Zhou had noticed. Because a Shih could not afford to be seenβ¦unraveling. What had happened then had made her slow.
βββWith tentative steps, she approached the entrance, fingers smoothing the creases of her mended sleeves. The court healer was an acquaintance in passing; enough to acknowledge, not enough to trust. Should the woman ask what troubled her, Jiao Bi would supply only what was necessary.
βββIrritation picked at her. Would Kavya dare to prescribe rest? To tell her that fear had suckled onto her bones, as if she hadnβt already known? She sniffed before parting the tentβs entrance, stepping inside. She would not let herself be examined like some tender thing. She was here to straighten herself out. And perhaps, in the depths of her reasoning, for reassurance.
ββββ¦
ββββLadyβ¦ Kavya?β Behavior resembling that of a petulant child, instead of staring at the floor, Jiao Bi kept her gaze on the far wall in front of her.
