Hook || soul-of-astora
Samuel pulled at the gold embroidered collar as he scanned out over the similarly dressed crowd. He was use to the lavish highborn parties, but that still hasn’t stopped him from disliking the atmosphere that these events carried nor the feeling that eyes were constantly following him. His true identity was still hidden to all except the King’s most trusted and his responses have been practiced to wit’s end, but nevertheless that invisible weight remained on his shoulders.
“Perhaps father’s paranoia is finally rubbing off on me,” Samuel muttered to himself as he picked a small glass of summerwine from the tray of a passing server, taking a small sip. The Mirran remained at the edge of the party as he nursed the drink, not wanting to entice any unwanted conversations. The party wasn’t a masquerade, but the Prince felt like he was still wearing one of the many different masks he had in his repertoire. For this event he was the son of Grand Sentinel Cain, and was an fledgling diplomat, studying under Melfian courts; a nice set of lies that will keep any noble satisfied.
Samuel caught himself pulling at his collar once again, and stopped himself before anyone else noticed the out of place behavior. Samuel took a glimpse of the setting sun and sighed quietly. The party still has hours to go, and it wasn’t helping that Aslatiel wasn’t anywhere to be seen either. When the Prince spoke with him a few days ago, he promised he would be here at the beginning; it has been a few hours already, and the bastard still hasn’t showed up. Samuel took another swallow of the sweet wine, eagerly waiting for the event’s end.
