Nikolai yawned as he slowly got up. The day was still young, but there was already so much noise going on outside.
and i thought once uni was over, i wouldn’t have to wake up so early…
Going to the window, he saw all sorts of people outside. Oh. It was the first day of the courting season, how could he forget? He quickly headed to his closet to pick out an appropriate outfit.

The breeze against the girls sunshine yellow skirt, brought a chill to the girls thighs. She had been called numerous names for wearing such attire. Whore. Hooker. Slut. For a skirt? A skirt that barely cut at the middle of her pale, bare thighs? Ha, just the time we live in.

“Anaise, you’re outdoing yourself with this piece!” She said, tapping her quill feather to her lip. It was courting season, the first day of it. A day she truly dreaded.

She scrunched her face at the sounds of the people outside. They had been cheering for such a disgusting act ever since she awoke. She had been writing all morning. It was to calm herself. Though, being a feminist in the 1800’s wasn’t very common, she still had hope that her work would inspire young women.

Who were they to just let the men control their lives? They get married only to become slaves! To cook and clean for the unfaithful lumberjack. To feed and bathe the children if a blacksmith who never returns home. To care for him when he’s sick, but he tells you to suck it up when you’re dying.

They get education. But girls do not. We must obey your fashion laws, you don’t have to do anything! And yet, you expect us to throw away our lives for a man.

If it wasn’t illegal by law and sinful in the Bible; She’d date a girl.

She tossed her quill down and sighed.

“Fuck.”

Nigel didn’t fully know what to think about the new season. In terms of romance, he was pretty well-sought by the men in the city, but after leaving for so long, Nigel was unsure if anyone would still want him.

Nigel was a handsome man, his blue fluffy locks of hair a rare occurrence indeed. Nigel wondered briefly if his looks were the only reason anyone gave him a chance, or perhaps his money, but Nigel was unsure. Did people only love him because he’d be a pretty husband to show off if they successfully courted him over the seasons? Was he nothing but a trophy…

Nigel shook the thoughts out of his head, refocusing himself on walking his three year old snow-white poodle, Krypto.

As Nikolai walked outside, he could immediately hear the people around him stop talking. He could also feel their eyes appraising him, and who was to blame them? Nikolai’s white blonde hair seemed to positively glow in the morning light, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled. He also was rather well-known around these parts, as the pretty, incredibly intelligent, newly-graduated, Oxford medical student. It was almost certain that he would be able to become a doctor, and that meant he would be rich. Who wouldn’t want to be a doctor’s spouse?

Nikolai knew all this, and despite knowing that most people would definitely be seeking him, he couldn’t help but be a little sad.
They probably only seek me for wealth and my looks In his absent-mindedness, he somehow didn’t see the man walking his dog.
“Oh my, I am so sorry for bumping into you,” he apologised to the blue-haired man.

Nyx almost couldn’t breathe as her mother tightened the lace on her dress.

It was the first day of courting season, and her parents had been going crazy. They’d been begging her to get a husband, to marry rich, and to impress the royals. Nyx thought they might kill her with the obsessing.

They almost did Nyx thought as the dress became tighter.

“Mother, please loosen up with this dress! A boy isn’t going to want a suffocated girl as a wife.” She rolled her eyes.

Her mother silenced Nyx with another tug on her dress. “They’re also not going to like a girl that doesn’t dress up as a proper lady. Now let’s see that perfect smile.”

Nyx smiled, a forced, practiced one of course, but smiles came naturally to Nyx so it wasn’t that hard.

“Good girl. Now get out there and impress some rich men.” Her mother finally finished with her dress and practically shoved her out the door.

“It’s the first day of the season, no need to rush.”

“Exactly! The first day means you have the biggest impression on the men. Now stop arguing and go.”

Nyx shut her mouth when she saw her mother’s face. That was not a face she wanted to argue with.

So Nyx pushed down the sick feeling in her stomach she always got when she thought about marrying and marched out the door, into the park.

Gin was late to wake up and probably would have been later had their mothers not been practically shoving him half-asleep out the door to go mingle. As he adjusted to the bright light he could see the swarm of people thronging just down the stairs.

Gin was what you could call a hopeless romantic: he was in love with love in the simplest terms. He craved moonlight walks and heartfelt gifts. They straightened their cream colored sweater and moved slowly down the stairs. He was well known, but not largely desired and he knew that. Some people knew him from his writing and others simply because he lived there.

He placed his skateboard down on the stone and slid neatly down to a less active corner to observe. His mothers had tried to make him not wear his beanie, but he wouldn’t be caught dead without it.

In reality, seasons had never worked out for Gin… he always found himself finding a friend or two who fell out of touch after a week and nothing more. Writers weren’t marriage material. His biggest appeal was money from his parents. If he inherited from them he would be set for twelve lifetimes and anyone who had approached him in a romantic way seemed only interested in that and not Gin and anyone else who was interested was interested in someone they could push around. Gin didn’t have much of a reason to fight for himself and people liked to take advantage of that. He’d had more than one promising relationship quickly devolve into just abuse, but refused to let go of romance.

He could already see people pairing off: a cloud white haired man bumping into a man walking his dog or woman staring at each other from a distant with that strange look that everyone else but him seemed to get… not that he minded. He assumed some day the perfect man would materialize and the two would settle comfortably on the outskirts of society with three rabbits and a cat named Stratton. He would write his stories and his partner would work just as hard. They would build the house themselves and have a little garden out front.

There had been some push from his parents to consider marriage for social reasons, but he couldn’t. Why marry if not for love? What was the purpose of marrying for money and status if you hated every moment of it? He would rather have their Romeo for three days then die than live twenty years of high standing. What truly disgusted him was the push that he should find a woman to marry for societal standing which would be wholly unfair to him and the girl who got roped in. No. He could never do that to anyone. If he was to be wed it would be for something real, not for gain.

“It’s funny. My parents want me to marry a total stranger, and yet they are nowhere to be found, why?” She asked her made as she pulled her hair up into a tight bun. “Your parents are busy.”

“Mm. Of course. I’ve come familiar with those words they aren’t very affective anymore.” She pouted. “Oh relax, you’ll be fine, princess! Just think of all the excited bachelors waiting to meet you!”

That’s why I’m upset, BLOODY HELL.

“Done. You look beautiful, a queen to be!”

“Great.” She said flat toned. She removed herself from the uncomfortable chair she was positioned on. She opened the main door of the castle and looked around. Everyone was so excited and happy, and there was Anaise. Sad, angry, mad at everything and everyone because of her society.

“This is dumb.” She began walking down a little flower path in hopes of not being noticed.

Rachel woke up earlier than usual because her mother was too excited to let her sleep. She got herself situated and started thinking, “Why in the heck do my parents want me to meet a total stranger? How does that make sense?” She slowly walked out her room as her mother was pushing her out the room, she wasn’t looking forward to today, or any day after this as a matter of fact. She took a deep breath and kissed her mother good bye, “Make sure you get a good one!” her mother said as she was walking away, Rachel rolled her eyes, “Why do I have to do this anyway? Marry a total stranger!” She sat down on one of the couches in the hall. She sat there slouching, “Damn it…”

As Nyx walked through the park, she saw many other young men and women looking around for a suitor as well.

“Alright Nyx you can do this.” She whispered to herself for confidence. This was just like finding a new friend! Not a potential life partner…

That thought did not help. She looked around the park for a nice face. She saw many young people, a blue haired man walking his dog, a white haired man talking to him, but she didn’t want to intrude in their conversation.

Nyx felt totally out of place. It wasn’t right. She could carry a party and was super extroverted. Why couldn’t she just talk to someone?

Because I’m thinking out of it as a romantic meeting. Nyx thought bitterly.

As she strolled down the flower path, contemplating on whether to approach a man in front of her, she tripped over a rock, falling down on the hard cobblestone, blocking the way.

“I’m so sorry I fell on a rock-“ Nyx started to apologize to the person standing behind her.

As she looked up, she realized it wasn’t just any person that she fell in front of. It was the princess, Anaise Cottinghom.

Well this was getting off to a great start.

Rachel walked outside and smiled, “At least todays not as bad as what I have to do.” She was careful not to make any faces as she was walking, “This whole ordeal is so tiring..” She stood next to a pillar and started reading her book.
After about twenty minutes she decided to go ‘mingle’ or whatever they liked to call it.
“I think I just might walk that trail” she thought as she saw a someone walking their dog
she didn’t bother trying to interact with anyone.
her hair was loosening her already loose bun and her brown hair was somewhat shining in the sun.

Nigel scoffed, brushing himself off and grabbing Krypto by the collar, halting the greyhound before he could run off, grabbing the leash and freeing the collar from his slim fingers.

He shook himself, eyes narrowing at the other male, clicking his tongue. He cocked his head. “Where do you get off, running into me like that.” He said, his heart quickening a bit at the thought of getting to mess with the other. “You have a lot of nerve. You have no idea the things I could do to punish that behavior.. So mindless, so reckless.” He said, unable to keep the purr in his tone from escaping. Oh, this was just too much fun.

Rachel hurried and walked past a man with blue hair walking his dog not trying to interfere in the situation, “Why are they doing this so early in the morning” she thought as looked back and rolled her eyes. She stopped to sit on a bench to see what was going to happen. Today just might get interesting…

“Um, what-“ Nikolai was pretty sure the man was flirting with him, and he had expected this to happen, but not this early… He could feel himself getting a little nervous.
calm down, why do you always have to be so jumpy and skitterish? he told himself. He hated this part of himself, why was he so easily flustered?
Taking a deep breath in, Nikolai said.
“Sorry. I meant, what on earth makes you think that way?”

Gin got tired of waiting about this point and again slid around on his board in between people without much expectation of being stopped except for the fact that he did not account for hitting a rock, flying through the air, and landing face first on the cobbles. “Bloody fucking hell!” He blurted out before he could stop himself and look around to see that he was just a few inches away from the two men he had observed talking earlier.

He jumped to his feet, grabbed his board, did a fake bow, and simply said, “Gentlemen?”

Rachel observed as another man entered the conversation and started silently laughing.
Rachel looked down trying to find her grandmothers locket, she got up immediately noticing it was gone she ran to go inside, and shoved someone that had a board, “I’m sorry, I’m in a rush please excuse me!” Rachel said as she ran towards the building. She looked back at the man she shoved and waved. When she got inside she burst her room door open and started looking in her jewelry box, she couldn’t find it Fuck it! where could it be!
After looking everywhere she went outside her room and found it inside a potted plant. She sighed and put the necklace on walking outside.

John smiled as he stepped outside, his hands placed carefully on his sword like it normally was. He had a book in his left hand, which he carefully set down on the nearest bench. He then sat down on the bench, breathing in the crisp air that he hadn’t breathed in for so long. When was the last time that he had gone outside, to the wonderful palace gardens? He didn’t remember the exact date, but he estimated about four or five years, when he started to truly begin his training as a prince. He knew that he probably should be studying inside his room right now, actually, but he had felt a tug in his heart to come outside and appreciate the nature, so he had done so. It wasn’t like anybody was going to command him to come back in, as he was the tutors’ star pupil, along with being a prince. He was normally treated with the utmost respect.

John looked around at all of the foliage and flowers that adorned the area and his smile grew slightly bigger. He could see all of the colors erupting in it, all of the beauty that was put inside the tiny, delicate object that was the plant. He then saw the massive shrubs, carefully groomed and cut by the gardeners that were of the utmost quality and mastership. He made a mental note to find the group who had done this work and congratulate them on their success.

His mind then moved to other areas and focused on them. He now saw that there were numerous other people in the garden, talking and smiling and flirting with each other. Of course, he didn’t really know how to do that himself, and he wasn’t exactly the most interested in doing that, but it could be a welcoming change of pace. So he decided to introduce himself to someone.

A lady walked outside right as he had that thought stuck in his mind, and he almost ran into her. John smiled and stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Hello, I’m Prince John Cottingham, second in line for the throne. What might your name be?”

Darn, that came out completely wrong…

Rachel looked up and smiled, “Hello, I’m Rachel Naheim. Nice to meet you.” she shook his hand.
Did he mean to say that in that way?

“It’s a pleasure yo meet you, how are you doing today?” When Rachel shook his hand she immediately remembered why she was here..To find someone to marry .
Is it possible that I can avoid this conversation? When I go back I don’t wanna hear my Mother brag about this She looked around seeing almost everyone flirting and talking, What a beautiful day Her hair was becoming looser because the wind as she smiled looking around.

“I’m doing fine, how are you doing?” John said, smiling.

As John shook her hand, he noticed how dainty it was, how smooth, how flawless, almost unnatural. It unnerved him how much these people tried to be beautiful, sometimes it looked like they tried to alter their bodies directly… which he knew some of them actually did. This hand might be altered, it might not have been. There is almost no telling, as some of the young women might be truly beautiful, their hands and bodies might be as natural as his, although they wouldn’t seem like it at first glance.

John released the girl’s hand and started to observe her. She looked fair enough, and she definitely looked as beautiful as those nobles. Maybe she was a noble, maybe she wasn’t. He knew that there were some people out there that were as beautiful as the nobles without even trying. Even the dirt that they accumulated each day couldn’t deprive them of their natural beauty. For some people, the dark smudges on their faces made them even more beautiful. Or so he had been told by his father and his tutors.

He remembered a story that his father had told him, about how he had met a maiden in a faraway village when he had visited them. He had met the girl, in rags and extremely poor, quite possible the poorest in the valley. But her beauty made her look like she was the richest, like she was another noble in the court that he had seen. He remembered how his father said that he had an impulse to marry her right there and then, but he had held back. They had left the house a few minutes later, and his father had never seen them again.

John broke out of his train of thought and addressed the girl in front of him, Rachel Naheim. “You have a lovely name, miss.” he said, still smiling. “Would you like to take a walk together?” He didn’t know if he was slightly overdoing this… but that was the way that people met each other normally, on walks… or at least, that happened in all of the books he had read. But maybe books weren’t real life… maybe this was all stupid.

Nikolai looked at the man who had crashed into the ground beside him. He was holding a skateboard in his hands.
“Skateboarding…. such a dangerous sport. Broken bones and sprained ankles everywhere, but don’t be alarmed. I think you don’t have anything too serious… although you do have a slight nosebleed.”

“I’m doing well.” Rachel smiled at the man, “Thank you, I would love too, the weather is beautiful today it would be hard to say no.” she said as she let out a soft giggle, she instantly started fidgeting with her locket, and started walking What is going on today? Rachel hoped that they were just going on a walk and talking about life, she wasn’t good at the flirting thing or whatever they called it, she just acted like herself around people.

To be honest at first she was kind of skeptical about him when he was examining her, she didn’t want to make a face that she was just trying to be left alone.
She stopped fiddling with the locket and put her hands behind her back, she remembered what her mom said, “Men don’t like girls who talk to much! So make sure that your looks do the talking for you.” Rachel sighed at the thought and looked at John Cottingham again smiling. “Shall we get going then?” she said as she let out a wide smile
This is going to be a long day isn’t it…..

“We will, if you are willing to…” John said, his smile growing.

He started walking to a random direction, where he knew that there was a passage that would take them around the castle. The passage was lined with flowers and bushes, most of them being the same kinds as the ones in the courtyard. Some of them were different, though, as this side of the castle didn’t face towards the same direction, and got a little bit less sunlight than the courtyard did… so the plants that were made to be the most beautiful and in the best places were placed there, and not around this area. This place was still amazingly beautiful, though.

“So, what has brought you to the palace on this fine day?” John said, smiling as he fixed his gaze on Rachel. It was always nice to look at each other when people talked, as his father often said, and he put careful attention on making himself look as polite as possible… he didn’t want to look rude in front of the citizens, as that would make the royal family look bad, and that would have consequences… as his father had told him. John was honestly thinking that his father always overreacted about these kinds of things, but he never knew. His father was right, most of the time.

Gin quickly swiped one hand under his nose and it sure enough was bloody, “Well, it certainly could’ve been a lot worse.” He grinned in what he hoped was a charming and not insane way and actually observed the two individuals he had disrupted.

Both carried themselves with the air of what Gin had dubbed ‘the desired’ or those who knew they were set up well and that people would be interested in pursuing them. One held it in the cocky way that immediately made Gin want to punch him even without much context to who he was and the other in the sense of annoyance at it. The cocky one with the punchable face sported blue hair and stood just a little taller than Gin which wasn’t saying much since he was just barely over 5’ 4”. He had a white poodle with him which felt like just something someone with that air of self confidence would have.

The other man was significantly taller than him and his hair was even more cloud like closer up. Gin wondered if they had to pin it down in the mornings so it didn’t float away into the atmosphere. He almost let slip a chuckle at the thought. Gin knew enough to know that the man was what would be considered normally attractive, but that didn’t mean much to him. Physical appearance meant next to nothing for Gin, it was just usually a lovely lie covering a unique monster each and every time.

“Well, where are my manners? Certainly hope I didn’t break them in that tumble.” He laughed while his brain screeched at him about how awful that joke was, “I’m Reginald Malkins, but most everyone calls me Gin. If it’s not too much to trouble it would be most convenient to know the name of the two I have just had the most wonderful pleasure of meeting even if it was through rather unconventional means?”

Rachel looked at John, “Well, to be honest I came to find a spouse by my mothers wishes.” Rachel said as she touched the flowers as she was walking, “I’m guessing your here for the same reason?” she said as she smiled. She noticed the assortment of many beautiful flowers, she bended down to smell the nearest to her, “These flowers are beautiful, what are they called?” she looked back at John smiling.

She didn’t have anything else to talk about so she brought something up that gave her comfort and not something as awkward as marriage, She felt very uncomfortable talking about that subject because she didn’t believe in marrying someone because of their looks or their wealth. She tried to be as polite as possible and noticed that what she was doing was impolite as far as what her mother told her, “Oh, forgive me.” She quickly got up and looked down.

John smiled. “No, you’re completely fine.” he said. He then glanced over at the flower that Rachel had smelled and started to observe them. “I think they’re called Pentas or something like that? I’m not that good with botanic names but I think that one of the gardeners informed me on the names of these one time… they’re also called Egyptian Stars, because of their shape…”

The kind of flower that she was talking about was small, red, and had five points. According to the books that the gardeners had recommended to him (as almost everybody in the castle knew that he was always looking for new books to read), they grew in the summer, and they could grow up to six feet tall. There were many different flowers in a single plant, all ranging from large to extremely small. The smaller ones were more common, but apparently there were bigger ones here. Or maybe John was completely wrong.

“Well, I came here mostly because I haven’t been out in a while. I normally stay in the castle a lot, and I decided I should take a breath of fresh air. I also craved some social interaction with some people other than my tutors or the nobles that always came around, and you were the first person that I bumped into… almost literally.”

John chuckled. “So, do you know your mother’s motivation for you to get a husband? Sorry if this is intruding into your personal life, I just have to ask… I’m curious.”

Rachel smiled, “She just wants me to keep the family tree growing I guess.” she said as she let out a sigh and made a slight face of disagreement. She quickly covered her mouth after noticing her attitude towards her response, she smiled, “Don’t get me wrong I would love to get married and what not, she just wants me to get married for the wrong reasons, If you know what I mean of course.”

She bent back down and found a little bunny and carefully picked it up stroking it’s head carefully as if it was as fragile as a snowflake, “Thank you for showing me the flowers your Highness” She said as she bowed her head.

Nikolai smiled.
“Hello, my name is Nikolai Petrov.” he said succinctly. There wasn’t any real need to say much more to the man. He didn’t need to know his entire life story… Looking at Gin, he felt that he would prove much more pleasant to talk to than the other man, as there wasn’t the same aggressive aura coming from him.

John smiled as she said the first few sentences, about the marriage. He didn’t know what she meant, but he could guess… he had heard similar stories from men that were trying to date other girls, about them being paired up with a girl who had a mother desperate to marry into the royal line, to give them nobleship and prestige and honor and other things like that. Apparently the pairings had not gone well, and when they had tried to break up, the mother or father of the girl had gotten all mad, and things had not gone entirely well. This was one of the reasons why John had never gone particularly into marital customs. His father had a saying that if something could go wrong, it often would, and John often saw millions of things that could go wrong with marital courtship. So, he just didn’t do it. He knew that he would have to eventually, though, so why not start now?

John blushed when Rachel called him “Your Highness”. He wasn’t often comfortable with that title… it made him seem way more important than just the second in line to the throne, like he was the king of the Court or something like that, which he certainly wasn’t.

“No need for the title, miss.” John said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “It’s perfectly fine just to call me John. That’s what people have called me inside the castle, and I’ve grown used to it. I’m not the king or queen, you know. I might never be. My older brother’s first in line, and I’m only the second choice.”

Maria was all too tired of being pestered. Tired of her parents pressuring her to marry, to finally settle down. But she didn’t want to settle down! She wanted to be free, and wild, and be allowed to make decisions on her own when they regarded her body.

She was all too fed up with it. With the nagging, with the poking and prodding. She was perfectly capable of living without the assistance of others. And she certainly didn’t need the opinions of others, when she was perfectly fine with the opinion that was her own.

No, quite frankly, she was incredibly fed up with the muttering. The whispering that followed her like a shadow, the rumors, the things being thrown around about her appearance.

Who cared if she dressed scandalously? Who gave a bloody care in the world if she showed some skin? She looked hot as hell, that part was fact. She was a bloody princess, she could speak and dress as she pleased. She wasn’t some dainty damsel, and she knew it at heart.

She knew that the only man who’d possibly ever deserve her would be a man who was unopinionated. He’d be happy with her, no matter how she looked, or how she decided to do her hair. He would be happy indeed.

Maria was out and about, as far as the royal guard would allow her to leave for the day, wandering about the royal gardens. In the distance she could hear her brother, John, who seemed to be in a frenzy with another woman.

She only hoped that the gods would allow her such a fate, to be happy with a man. A man who cared very little of her appearance, of her clothing. She only wished for that one thing, for unopinionated and unconditional love.

Rachel looked up and smiled, “Okay, It’s probably gonna take me a long time but I’ll try.”

Rachel said as she started laughing, she knew her mother would never allow it nor would she allow her to laugh like such in front of a royal, she got up still petting the bunny smiling, “Shall we continue the walk?” she was signaling that her mom was watching from behind a tree hoping that he will catch on. She slowly put the bunny down and patted her dress drown to wipe of the fur.

Why is she watching right there? The world will never know She’s gonna talk about this forever, I just have to marry someone with noble blood, no that she didn’t like royals and whatnot she didn’t want to marry someone because of their blood lineage either.

Nyx quickly got to her feet and brushed herself off, being very careful not to look into anyone’s eyes. Especially one of the royals. She mumbled an apology and basically ran out of there.

Well now that she was out of that completely embarrassing situation, Nyx had no idea what to do now. Everyone was talking to each other or pairing up.

The feeling of panic and hopelessness crowded in on her again. Nyx forced herself to breathe. She moved from the garden pathways to the grassy plains and tried to make her mind think coherent thoughts.

She needed to talk to someone, just find someone who wouldn’t flirt with her. She spotted a group of men talking and laughing with each other. They seemed nice enough. One person was down on the ground, and seemed to be injured.

Nyx dug into her satchel, and found some bandages. She smiled and found herself thanking her mother for being so prepared. She could almost hear her now, screeching No man would want a bloodied and scratched up girl! Carry these bandages with you.

She took another deep breath for confidence then put on her best smile. Then she walked over to the three men.

“Hello! I couldn’t help but notice you were injured. I have some bandages here if you need them.” She offered the pile to the injured man.

John smiled as Rachel put down the bunny and they started to walk. She looked to a direction while she did that, almost like she was looking at something, but when John looked over, there was nothing there to see other than trees and shrubs. He looked at Rachel and saw that she was carefully avoiding his eyes and he smiled.

Overprotective mother, eh?

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge you… let’s just go on like normal, and hope she won’t nag you about me when you go back to your house.”

John chuckled. Honestly, it was kind of annoying that her mother would do that, but it was kind of comical. It was like those romance novels that he had read… he vaguely remembered reading them, a long time ago, when he was actually interested in reading fictional tales. He hadn’t really liked them as much as the other tales, about fighting and finding treasure and other things like that. He had loved them so much.. but then he had moved on.

Those days are gone now… I’m a man, and I’m going to be a man until I die. I need to focus, I’m not here for childish games…

But wasn’t romance childish? Was he betraying that statement right now, with being here with this girl and her watching mother? Was he being childish, smiling at everything that everybody says?

I’ll figure that out later… let’s get through this first.

John smiled at the girl, trying to hide the thoughts inside his head.

“So, where do you live?” John asked. “Who do you live with? Obviously, your mother… do you have a father or siblings?”

Rachel looked at John and chuckled, “Yes, let’s hope so.” she continued walking with her hands behind her, “I live right next to the castle, that’s why I was able to get here so fast.” she paused before she continued, “My father died on my birthday last year.” She said looking down, “I have brother he should be here by now he’s always flirting with someone.” she said as she softly chuckled.

Get yourself together. Don’t cry right now.
She sniffled, “What about you? Do you have siblings other than your brother?”
She tried to hide that she was about to cry so she put a smile on her face. She didn’t like to talk about her fathers untimely death, even though it shouldn’t be to hard to talk about just saying her father died a year ago, it always seemed to make her cry. But she didn’t have time for that she looked back at John smiling, trying to hold back her tears.

Ravyn had not missed England. He was more of a foreigner here than anything, and, notably, his manners, nature, and accent, had been distinctively tainted by French influence. His tante Vivien had made a clear affirmation of his identity earlier that morning, offering an assuaging hand on his shoulder, as if she could telepathically sense his feelings of estrangement, and said frankly, “France is your home.” Even as fleeting as the moment was, it was a strangely serious comment, and from it, Ravyn could sense an underlying tone of possession, of maternal protectiveness, that he, impressively, held his tongue from questioning. Tante Vivien’s prudish, standoffish attitude immediately returned, but Ravyn had already felt something–pride? Surety?–swell in his heart from the encounter.

He examined his appearance in his mirror one last time before his departure, that same feeling still within him. He was wearing lavish purple fabrics embroidered with fine gold threads, his collarbone exposed and adorned with a single golden chain, the umber skin of his face smooth and its beauty accentuated by the slightest touches of makeup–kohl lining the corners of his eyes, a deep mauve shadow on his lids, lightly coated rouge on his cheeks–and his thick, ebony curls were partially combed back into a style more put-together than its usual unruliness. Despite the sly, calculating glint in his entrancing visage, he looked the prettiest he’d ever been, and, he daresay, princely.

He exuded both royalty and confidence as he stepped out of the ornate carriage he arrived in, which had been ultimately put to waste as there was one glaring issue he had noticed: no one was looking in his direction. Clearly, he should’ve been gawked at, whispered about, adored, though not a single one of the drab common people spared him a glance. Prince Ravyn was right in front of their eyes, directly in the flesh! Had his parents not made them aware of his, their nearly estranged son’s, arrival? Whatever the reason, he understood from then on that he should probably just stick to his usual mischief.

So many new faces, new people and new smells. For whatever reason, it all felt new to her. As if she was walking these paths for the very first time, but she had walked along them everyday. Maybe it was just the situation, yes, that’s what made everything feel so different and new.

The energy was even off. She could tell many were scared and nervous, others angry and sad. It took away from the positive energy which danced throughout the country. Then, the person whom she didn’t even notice in front of her had fallen.

On what exactly? A rock . The person had said something but Anaise was too in her thoughts to care. Before she could react the girl ran away, had she known it was the Princess whom she had fallen in front of? Anaise could have her head for such behavior. Though, it intrigued her.

She followed the girl to the grassy plains where she went to speak with three men. Her parents would probably kill her if they knew she was following common folk out of curiosity. She quietly walked up to the group of four and offered a courtesy.

“Princess Anaise Cottingham. “ She introduced herself in front of everyone. “I saw you fall over on the trail and wanted to make sure you didn’t seriously hurt yourself. You were in such a rush I couldn’t react with much speed. “ she chuckled. “You are okay though, right? And you know these mens?” She pointed at the techs trio.

John’s smile immediately turned into a slight expression of sorrow. He hated to bring this upon her, to ask this of her. He felt a stab of pain in his heart, and he knew that it was torture for her. She looked like she was not seriously hurt, though, so he went on, even though his feelings about her predicament were shown clearly in his face.

Going along with her question, trying desperately to change the subject, John tried to smile again. He succeeded, and he started to talk about his family.

“Well, I have many different siblings… some of them are adopted, so we have many different last names. Me and my older brother, Ravyn, aren’t exactly the closest, but we’ve been together a bit… we aren’t biological, so I haven’t been with him since my birth also, although I was introduced to the family when I was about four… so I’ve had a good eleven years with him. He’s actually the most mischievous of us, which almost nobody expects, as he’s the oldest male by a good three years.”

“I’m the second oldest male in the family… Huye’s the third oldest, four months younger than me, and he’s more of a burly type… he can easily beat me in a race, but then again, he can beat many different people in a race. The only person that he can’t beat is our physical trainer, and nobody’s ever going to beat him… he was chosen as our physical trainer for a reason. Huye’s not my biological brother, also, so I haven’t really gotten close to him… he’s mostly close to his twin, Tate, who’s younger than him by about five minutes.”

“I have a fifth, sixth, and seventh younger male sibling, but I haven’t really gotten to know them well… I hardly see them around the castle, and sometimes I can’t even remember their names… I think the sixth oldest is named Harold, but I can’t really confirm that completely.”

“The one I know the best, though, is the youngest of the eight, Gabriel. He’s my biological brother, and we’ve been through a lot together… he’s a lot like me, in some ways. We both like to read, we both take our studies extra seriously. We actually do have lots in common. He’s a little bit less fitted to physical studies, although he has amazing artistic talent. Sometimes he dreams up worlds that I can’t even begin to step foot in, and he sometimes paints such beautiful works of art… my artistic talent pales in comparison to his. He’s honestly the best person that I’ve spent any time with.”

“I have some sisters, but I haven’t really spent time with them much… I think one of them’s here, around the area… I saw her when I first stepped foot outside, but I don’t actually know her name. Maybe it was Layse or something? I’m probably close… hopefully I don’t offend her or anything by me saying that, although they’re normally too focused on other things to notice what we princes say.”

John chuckled at the thought of the females noticing what the men did. Most of them were in their own worlds, obsessing about boys and what clothes to wear to the next party and all the stupid things like that… John honestly didn’t pay much attention to them, though, so he could be completely wrong. He never had to pay much attention, after all. His studies had never asked for it.

“So, yeah, that’s my family… there’s a lot of them, and it gets tough to remember them all. I guess I should start remembering them more, as that’s what kings have to do… but honestly somebody else is probably going to take that position anyway…”

John chuckled again. Somebody probably was going to take the position… but he honestly didn’t know who was going to. Probably Huye, he was the most king-like, or at least the most like the king that was currently sitting on the throne.

John turned back to Rachel. “So, what’s your brother like?” Honestly, he was kind of getting interested in Rachel, and her life, and everything about her… maybe he could make a relationship here. Maybe he wasn’t too unromantic.

Rachel looked at John, “Hmmm, describe my brother…..Annoying yet entertaining!” Rachel said as she laughed while covering her mouth, “He’s always coming up with something weird to do. He should be here today but who knows the ways of Ryan.” Priscilla said as she lowered her hand. She noticed that he changed the subject and she wanted that to happen, but she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her either. She looked towards the plaza and pointed at a young man, “There he is, flirting with someone…..they’re probably together already.” she said as she turned around and stopped pointing. “Anyways, it sounds like you have a lot of siblings, are they going to be here today?”

She didn’t expect to be in a conversation this long with somebody, she hasn’t been in a conversation this long with anyone especially a young man, they usually ran away by the time she said hello.
She liked that he was mindful of other people and their feelings, she didn’t expect one of the royals to talk to her and hold up the conversation, she didn’t expect to talk to anyone to be honest. She was intrigued in John but didn’t want to pry because that’s just who she is. She started fidgeting with her locket as she was thinking then quietly sighed making it so no one could hear her she looked back at John smiling she might as well continue the conversation, she was warming up to him, and that rarely happens to anyone. He just seems, different.

“Pleasure Nikolai.” He was about to ask a question when a girl showed up offering bandages, “Oh. Thank you, but I do believe it’s mostly just bruising and nose bleed.” He smiled calmly.

“You’re very prepared. Do many risky things yourself?” As he made this quip he happened to notice a rather ornate carriage just over the girls shoulder.

He stood up to get a better look and saw a young man leave it. Gin remembered someone had something about some foreign royalty and he had a good guess that was who he was seeing. As most people do, Gin did have a type that he tended to end with at the end of the season who usually just left him for someone more in their league and that was exactly what this man’s air and energy seemed to scream. Far higher than Gin was in both the social and physical spheres of the world he wore an intriguing and brightly colored robes that glimmered a shiny purple in the sunlight.

Not wanting to seem rude they turned their attention back to the group in front of them with the smile a little less calm, but much more genuine now.

Nyx froze as she heard the princess’s voice behind her. She didn’t dare to turn around and focused on the man who fell down.

“Haha, no actually it’s my overprotective mother. She always makes me carry bandages. I for one, never need them. I’m very careful.”

She heard snickering behind her and hated how her face went red as the princess shook her head. “Well I mean I did just fall over a rock a few moments ago but other than that I’m totally not clumsy. “

“And I’m totally fine, Your Majesty. Just didn’t want to get in your way.” She replied quietly, so it was more of a mumble.

After that, everyone started talking and laughing. To Nyx’s surprise, she found herself feeling more relaxed and more like herself as she talked with the group. She finally got the courage to look at the royal princess.

She was really beautiful, with her long hair put up in a bun, and she was short. Probably almost a foot shorter than Nyx. She felt super awkward and tall all of a sudden.

She shook off the feeling. Nyx didn’t like it. So she focused on talking with the three men when she noticed a large carriage behind her. Oh great. Another royal to make her nervous.

Isabell took a tumble through a ground floor window of the palace, landing on her feet.
Another successful escape attempt! She smiled. She would have to smuggle some booze in to thank the cook for letting her go through the kitchen window, but she would deal with that when the time came. The bells on her jester outfit jingled as she moved through the streets. She knew that people were staring, but she didn’t care, it was her job to look stupid.
alright, time to see, or make, some drama

As Isabell turned into the park, she saw a few familiar faces.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey! If it isn’t John, Anaise, Maria and Ravyn!” she approached them, making sure her bells jingle louder, so they almost verged on unbearable.

Ravyn saw the jester and felt instantly annoyed before she could even utter a single word from her obnoxious mouth. Tally one in the list of things he had not missed in England. “Fancy seeing you Isabell. Has anyone told you that your head would look exquisite beneath the blade of a guillotine? Because I certainly would be obliged to agree.” Feeling a bit remorseful (a bit) for his tartness, he added, “That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? I am mildly apologetic for my jab.” He looked around for the siblings that the jester had called out, surprised but not excited in the least to see any of them. Little Johnny was no longer little, nor cute for that matter, Anaise had…sprouted it seemed in more ways than one, and he swore he could see wrinkles forming on darling Maria’s face. Ah, the passage of time had failed them so.

“Siblings, and, er, company, greetings,” Ravyn gave a mock, introductory bow. “I’d say I missed you all dearly but then I’d be lying.” Still bent into his bow, a person accidentally nudged his backside and Ravyn scoffed at the contact. There were too many people crowding in the rat-infested, filthy streets of London; tally two. He could practically inhale dirt with every intake of air, could feel his lungs gradually become contaminated. Oh, how he was shortening his lifespan by being here!

He turned to the perpetrator, a man well below average height with tufts of pale hair beneath a woolen cloth–what kind of bizarre hat was it supposed to be? A domed one that was a new fashion statement perhaps?–and stared him down interrogatively. For an English, they were slightly cute, but the clothing could be substantially improved in Ravyn’s highest, most respectable opinion. Tally three for what the English claimed to be clothing. “Mon petit souris, do you have any idea as to why there are so many people here? Is there some Plebeian gathering that I haven’t been made aware of?”

The jester chuckled.
“Nice of you to consider my head pretty, but unlike the French, us Brits don’t stick the heads of the aristocracy under a blade, we hang our ciminals.” then she turned to look at the others.
“where are my manners? My name is Ice a bell Quinn,” she said, purposefully exaggerating the syllables of her name. “Court jester, may or may not be a murderer!” she smiled in a way that didn’t tell whether she was lying or being truthful.

Gin quickly turned to apologize to whoever had bumped into only to discover it was the well dressed man from earlier. “Oh, I’m sorry.” At the man’s question he raised an eyebrow, “It’s the season. Y’know, marry yourself off or resign yourself to a life of loneliness or something like that?”

It was strange that someone out and about would just not know that… everyone knew that. It’s why most of the stores were shut down and such. “I’m Reginald, but no one calls me that. You can call me Gin.” He offered a hand for a shake. “And yes, you could call it a plebian gathering.” They chuckled a bit at that.

“Some of them will, I think… I don’t know any of their plans, though, so I could be completely wrong… some of them change their minds at the last second, and one of them may be out there now. I have no idea where they are or will be, honestly.”

John smiled as he looked around. He actually did have no idea where any of them were. Most of them did their own thing, as he mostly did his. Nobody knew what each other’s plans were, unless they were directly stated in a conversation with each other. He never knew where everybody was going, and they often needed somebody and they couldn’t find them… which led to the person forgetting what the wanted, which sometimes had disastrous consequences. But that was only some of the time. Most of the time, things were amazing and great.

Like they are now…

“So, yeah. Do you have anything exciting coming up? Something happening that you’re glad about?”

“That sounds like Ryan, he said he wasn’t coming either but here he is flirting with every single girl he sees.” she said as she giggled.

She thought it would be nice to have another sibling as long as it was a girl, she had no one to talk to except her handmaid and even then she couldn’t share her whole life, it was against her mothers rules. She shook off the thought and looked at John. She put two fingers to her chin smiling, “No, not right now…” She said as she was still thinking, “Oh wait I do! I have to plan Ryan’s birthday next week, I usually do the planning at my house to pass the time.” she said as she crossed her arms, “What about you? Any thing exciting?” she said as she looked at her feet, they were getting bruised, she told her mother the shoes were to tight but she didn’t listen. She didn’t want to stop talking to John so she tried to hide it as best as she could. So she looked back at John smiling.

“It’s the season. Y’know, marry yourself off or resign yourself to a life of loneliness or something like that?”

Ravyn’s expression looked somewhere between genuinely perplexed and amused. “Marry myself off? Remain alone? You’ll have to elaborate further in detail…Ginny, was it? Since you seem to be quite knowledgeable on the matter, I reckon you can answer this for me: do we as humans, as individuals, not have the free autonomy to choose who we desire whenever we desire? It seems that such a season would limit that ability and unintentionally be more counterproductive in the search for a lifelong relationship.” There was a brief pause before Ravyn’s eyes narrowed curiously at Gin, a coy smirk apparating on his face. “Do you happen to be a participant in this event?”

He offered a hand for a shake.

Ravyn reached for the hand that Gin had offered to him, and instead of shaking it, he began to assess it, the manner in which he did, vaguely reminiscent of a jeweler gingerly examining a diamond. Then, he brought it towards him, merely brushing his lips against the flesh of their hand in an imitation of a kiss. He smiled coyly once more. “Excuse me, Ginny, it appears I have lost proper social etiquette: I am Prince Ravyn Cottingham, returning from France to pay my family a visit. It is very enlightening to have had this chat, but, I suppose I should leave you to your search of a potential suitor, as I assume you were doing prior to this.”

“Knowledgeable in the way of this is about my third season now… and no… we don’t get that autonomy most of the time here. Besides, most of us don’t have a choice.” He grimaced at the thought. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on a lot, but he highly doubted half the people would be here without parent prodding or societal pushing. He certainly wouldn’t be. Like their writings they wanted to be caught off-guard in some strange place in such a way that brings about some series of unlikely and awkward events lead to eventual true love. “Less participant, more… stuck in it.”

It wasn’t as common in Gin’s own life experiences for people to be quite as formal in their greetings, but wasn’t untrained enough to read into the hand kiss as more than a formality. “Oh, of course. I suppose you have family to go to then, though I don’t mind the interruption. This whole deal doesn’t work out well for me usually anyways.”

“No no, it’s my job as Princess to look out for the people of England. If I didn’t, would I be able to call myself a princess at all?” She said quite bluntly. Then an all too familiar voice rang in her ears, one, the annoying jester. She couldn’t remember the clowns name due to her always being somewhere else when the family had been having fun.

Then, another all-too-familiar voice. “Ravyn. I see you have returned.” Anaise said, turning away from the girl. “I presume you will be sleeping in your bedroom besides mine? Please remember to be quiet between the hours of 3pm and 10 am. I prefer to do my daily chores in quiet, and I can’t sleep with such a ruckus. You remember that, I’m sure.” She flashed a smile before turning back to the girl.

“Your name?” She asked. “I greeted myself, it’d be rude if you didn’t do the same, wouldn’t it?”

Nyx watched as Ravyn introduced himself and talked with Gin. She felt like she was intruding on something private, so she backed away from the conversation. Then she heard the princess asking for her name.

“Uhm my name is Nyx.” She wasn’t sure whether to bow or curtsy so she did an awkward combination of both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Princess.”

Nyx straightened her black hair and flicked specks of dirt off her dress that she had gotten when she fell, trying to make herself look presentable for the many royals that had gathered around.

Stop fidgeting you look like an idiot. She stopped fixing herself, putting her hands to the side and putting on the practiced smile she had prepared.

“So Princess, how are you tod-“ Nyx got cut off with the jingle of bells.

She finally noticed the very…interestingly dressed girl that cheerfully noted that she may be a murderer. Cool.

There was so many people here now. Nyx became painfully aware that most of them were flirting with each other. What am I doing here?

“Ravyn. I see you have returned.” Anaise said, turning away from the girl. “I presume you will be sleeping in your bedroom beside mine? Please remember to be quiet between the hours of 3 pm and 10 am. I prefer to do my daily chores in quiet, and I can’t sleep with such a ruckus. You remember that I’m sure.”

Ravyn lifted an eyebrow, though the corners of his lips had quirked into a lopsided grin. “And what ruckus do you suppose I’ll make?” Ravyn had an itching feeling that she was implying either him getting into some form of trouble or, quite possibly, him bringing someone to bed–both likely situations, but no less an offensive jab at his character.

On the matter of his old bedroom, however, he grew a bit nostalgic. He could hazily recall the window sill that he used to ritually sit upon at noon, staring out to watch everyone going about their daily activities. Watching them gave him a nagging sense of déjà vu, a feeling that only seemed to be resolved by catalyzing drama or some form of trouble. Everyone just seemed so purposeless otherwise.

“Oh, of course. I suppose you have family to go to then, though I don’t mind the interruption. This whole deal doesn’t work out well for me usually anyways.”

“In that case, I’ll take a bit more of your time, if you don’t mind.” Ravyn had already become fascinated by London’s society, despite its deplorable conditions, physically, and had a growing interest in whatever “season” was occurring. After all, the monotony of England lied in the outdated, stone architecture, perhaps representative of the equally outdated construct of society, but not in the people. People change, as time would never entirely allow human beings to remain in a state of stagnancy. Ravyn was somebody interested in people, in how they changed, in how human they could sometimes be, and, more demeaningly, how primitive and near animalistic they could be. He never quite figured out why he found the subject intriguing, but he had developed his eloquence to improve his social competence, and later, started using it alongside his charisma for the purpose of manipulating, to pry into the lives of others under the guise of mischief. Thus far, it helped him learn plenty, and proved to be an efficient method of doing so.

To reenter London’s society, he needed a key, and maybe or maybe not, this person he just met would be the perfect one. They were a bit eccentric in Ravyn’s opinion, giving an aura of simplicity, and a second of sensitivity, the delicate kind that was malleable and easy for someone like Ravyn to control. He wasn’t going to, as he made a promise to someone years ago that he would never hurt another person in that way again, but just having that power disgustingly thrilled him. He was a horrible person, he knew that, but then again, everyone was just as horrible as the last, no matter how saintly they externally appeared. Gin seemed to be an aimless neutral, neither good nor bad–though generally leaning towards good–and just the type of person that had selfish desires to uncover. That rawness was what Ravyn liked best in people, not the superficial skin they hid beneath.

“You know the public gardens, right? Do you mind showing me the way?”

To say they were surprised by Ravyn choosing to continue talking with him would be an understatement. “Of course. It’s this way.” He headed towards the garden and made sure he didn’t walk too fast for Ravyn to follow.

“So, how are you enjoying your return so far?” He asked pleasantly as he stepped around a broken crack on the floor. The day was nice which was a change of pace from most seasons and the gardens would look lovely at this time of day. They’d seen it before and would again, but the garden always held a certain majesty to it that he couldn’t explain or overcome.

The first time he had gone he had been maybe five and had become so enraptured by the flowers that he had raced into some of the bushes and his mothers had had the unpleasant task of prying them out of the bushes with their clothes and skin torn by the brambles. They had still tried to cling to the branches, unwilling to live behind the beauty. Periodically, they came to sit in the garden’s beauty and work on their stories. In fact, he’d even used them as inspiration before.

Long, loping strides carried the author through the streets of London, hair that could only be described as ‘dusty’, or the color that came to mind at the though of the word, pulled back into a loose bun, flyaway strands of loose hair framing a ruggedly handsome, for the most part, face. Blue eyes were framed by a pair of wire spectacles, a scattering of stubble placed over his chin.

Warren was commonly cooped up in his small housing, occupied with drafts, essays, and manuscripts that would most likely never leave that dim nook. It was rare for him to enter the city’s crowded streets, but the man had needed air, and was in need of inspiration to finish his current piece.

He ducked into the park, tucking hands into the pockets of his coat as he strolled, dropping his speed to observe the couples pairing off and darting away to other activites. Romance and flirting were… not his strong suit. The few people that had passed through his oblivious bubble had found him odd and strange once getting to know him, and so he preferred to watch it occur, rather than partake in the season of romance happening within London. Therefore, he strolled the area, watching the passerbys with a small smile and a sleepy sort of calm.

Brimley downed a shot before pushing open the door to the season. Fashionably late, tie undone, and the top two buttons undone. No coat, sleeve garters, and mid-waist pants with a nice belt. If they were to describe themself it would simply be promiscuous but without the actual promiscuous bits. In short, they knew how to string people along without the mess of actual attachment, and of course they used this to their advantage every season.

People went wild for them and they went wild for the attention. They ran a hand through their hair and noticed a throng already collecting. Smile already up they wandered over to the group. They did not, however, see the tall blonde man they barreled in to. “Oh. Sorry about that. Head in the clouds, y’know?” They replied with a large smile to the blonde man with glasses.

Then in a classic turn their façade came back up and the cheeky grin with it, “Who knew my head would lead me to someone as delightful as you.” Real relationships took time, Brimley’s were a smile, a nod, a conversation, and over. They just wanted the attention. Craved it even. Just one person to dote on them for a day, hour, or minute. Why deal with all the feelings when you can just jump from person to person.

They took a step back and sized the blonde up as if looking at a strange art piece that hadn’t put back together: a move that would either make the other swoon or slap them. “Yes. Delightful indeed. My name’s Brimley, but call me what you like.” Their voice was light, flowy, and just a bit slurred. Maybe three shots before the season wasn’t their best choice, but no way to undo that now.

Isabel yawned. Nothing interesting was happening at all.
“Well OK, I shall no longer grace you with my presence, I will search for drama elsewhere…” she began to walk out of sight of the group. Then suddenly she snapped her head back and said something to them
“Don’t do anything stupid, but if you do, I’ll know about it first, I have connections…” and with that she skipped away. First thing next morning, she would hunt down Simeon and get all the info out of him that she could, before he published it as part of his job as the royal journalist.

A pause, long limbs pinwheeling through the air as the figure barreled into Warren, an oomph coming from him as he righted himself. Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he peered down at the individual, who had the faint tinge of- was that alcohol? following them.

Warren began to open his mouth to speak, then firmly set it as the other began to shoot off rapid-fire words. A small shiver crept up the author’s spine as the shorter figure stepped back, twinkling eyes sizing him up like some sort of prize. It was strange, and he couldn’t quite place how it felt, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, he guessed. A pause, as they finished speaking, before the writer replied, words coming out softly, with a slight hint to the ‘country’ accent that he had grown up with. “. . . It’s- er, nice to meet you, Brimley.” Another drawn-out pause, before the tall man jolted once more, speaking again. “My name is Warren. Alynor, but that’s my surname.”

Another small pause, something the writer was fond of in speaking, before that soft voice spoke again, accompanied with a small, odd smile, as if he wasn’t used to making them. “Pardon me- But are you drunk? It’s a bit odd to drunk, at least at this time of the day. Your voice is slurred, you see, and you carry the smell of alcohol.” Social forteit wasn’t his strong suit, as one can tell. Warren had almost completely ignored the flirting put into work by Brimley, seeming completely oblivious as he peered down at the smaller figure, brows drawn together in a look of curiousity. It would take a fair bit of work to drive that point in.

Brimley’s smiled faltered a bit. They had never had anyone not immediately either reject or swoon. It was… intriguing.

“Warren. Nice name.” They debated throwing in another attempt at a joke, but let the opportunity slide. “I work at a bar so maybe just a bit to drink before I headed out.” They laughed, “I mean… you want to head into this thing sober? Brave move.”

“So, you know something about me in addition to my name so… a fact for a fact. What do you do for a job?” Brimley relaxed their face to a more curious expression.

Catherine stood in front of her full length mirror as her maid helped her put on her stays, “Lilly, will you fetch my new dress? I got it specifically for the new season, and I always wear the pink one.”

“Of course Miss Zelly,” Lilly went to get it from Catherine’s wardrobe. “Only, you are always telling me how you love that pink dress, and how you always seem to have better luck in it.”

“Yes, well I don’t believe in luck.”

“But you were the one who-”

Catherine held in a laugh, trying to take herself seriously, “I know, but it’s still ridiculous. Plus I look better in red.”

Lilly bit in a smile, and handed Catherine the dress, “Here you are ma’am.”

The frock was quite fashionable, with its empire waist and boat neckline. It was red and patterned with small white flowers. Catherine was right, red against her pale complexion really made her shine. Her hair was done up in a half bun, with the rest of her hair in tight bouncy curls. The day had gotten of to a late start for her but she was ready to make the most of the rest of the morning!

Catherine took a carriage down from her modest (that is, modest in comparison to the houses of Lords and Ladies) home and was in the heart of London in a few minutes. As she rode closer and closer to the castle, she could see the amount of people out and about growing. Finally the carriage stopped and she got out. She took a deep breath in,

Ah yes, nothing like the smell of the city. This will be a lovely day. Catherine had never found herself wrapped in much romance during her seasons in London, but from those four years she was personally responsible for three marriages and two children. She made it her mission to set up at least one happy couple a year, though she was always open to finding love herself. Though when she went about her day looking for a romance, she often found herself a bit lonely by the end of it. So, she put her mind to making sure no one else could feel that way.

Before heading to her pre-determined destination, she stopped to take a look around.

So many new friends to make, so many new husbands and wives to be. And so very little time. She smiled, hummed a happy tune, and went to the garden. Wonderful things always happen in gardens.

“I haven’t been here for very long to answer that. We shall see this evening.” Ravyn turned from the flowers to peer at Gin, a curl falling onto his forehead from the motion. He was receptive enough to catch a flash of nostalgia on Gin’s face, the sanguine kind of reminiscing that one might have recollecting something fond or memorable, and smiled warmly at him. “Pleasant memories here, I take it?”

Ravyn had his fair share of memories here as well. On nightly escapades he would walk barefooted on the dirt paths, grounding himself to the earth in a way. The fragrances, the serenity, the sound, would help his mind drift into a blissful state of thoughtlessness that had an almost tranquilizing effect. The calm that would wash over his body was intoxicating, and he kept coming back at night just to feel it again, and again.

Ravyn sheared a white hydrangea from its stem, offering it to Gin. “Une fleur pour une fleur.”

“Eden, wait! Don’t go too far.” Their daughter was twirling about the streets of London in a lacy, white dress that Noen had just finished sewing, guilelessly mesmerized by the fluidity of the skirt. She was busying herself entertaining passersby with her dancing, asking them in her sweet little voice, “Do you like my dress? My Nono made it for me.” And if Noen had not found their scoundrel of a daughter as adorable as she was, they would’ve already wrested her back from her parading. But alas, Noen could not resist the endearing visage of their daughter and were especially rendered weak against her doe eyes pleading to let her continue her mischief.

As much as they adored the girl, Eden was simultaneously a source of dysphoria for Noen. By her existence, they are reminded each day that they birthed her, that the unfadable stretch marks marring their skin were the result of the child standing before them, a product of Noen’s biology betraying them. How could they ever forget what they used to be when there was a living, breathing motif of their past self?

“I’m not going far, Nono,” the little imp responded, flashing her parent a toothless grin. Ah, there it was. That smile would ease any regret in Noen for having her for as long as they lived.

They managed to grasp her tiny arm in the middle of one of her prancing leaps, firm fingers locking on to keep Eden from straying off further than what they allowed. They gave their daughter a small smile. “Now you aren’t.”

Eden pouted. Her whine caught in her throat as she spotted an ice cream vendor nearby that completely stole all of her attention. “Nonie, can I get some? Please? Pretty please?”

Noen saw the price and cringed outwardly. It was too exorbitant of a price for Noen’s limited funds to possibly afford as they had just recently been recovering financially from spending money on the materials to make Eden’s dress and new ballet shoes. They tried to divert their daughter’s attention onto the dogs in the park, but she was already fixated on getting ice cream. “Nonie can’t afford that,” Noen admitted in embarrassment, their pallid cheeks flushing a deep, humiliating red, “I’m sorry.”

Eden frowned but nodded her head in acceptance. “It’s okay Nono.” Noen truly was an awful parent.

“This is where I started writing. Where most of my ideas come from to be honest. Haven’t stopped down here in a while.” His hand traced over one of the purple flowers off to the side. “What about for y-“ Then he was handed a white flower.

“Une fleur pour une fleur.”

They had thought about moments like this before so many times. It was the writer in him that played out such a sappy song that he was most definitely blushing over a flower. Of course, he didn’t fully trust in it, but it still set a smile on his face, “Oh… thank you.” He didn’t understand French, but he could piece together what Ravyn had said.

In his own return he took a thoughtful look before laying out a few words, “Through smoke filled dreams and misty lakes a vision doth bless me. I do believe to find it true that vision is thee.” Not his finest work, but it did for on the spot poetry.

The first day of the season was simultaneously the most stressful and most exciting day of the year for most queens, the day when all the courts eligible children would go out into the world in the hopes of finding a partner and beginning their adult lives. Alas, Her Royal Highness Queen Giselle Anaise Cottingham of England had much more on her plate than the yearly season, full of balls and garden parties and the like. She was much more involved in policy than the queens of old that had come before her, and that caused her even more stress.

But despite not being the most tensioned day of the year, it was still quite anxiously exhilarating, especially when multiple of Giselle’s own children were participating. She hadnt even seen any of them this sunny morning, and she was anxiously awaiting the results of the day, to see how they had paired off or hadnt. She had little confidence for Anaise or Ravyn, even though they were the ones she wished married most. And John, although being one of the most likely to inherit the throne, right alongside Anaise and Philip, her husbands son that she claimed as her own who was currently overseas touring the Americas, was still too young to really find a partner. He would only be “exploring” this year. The real hunt would begin next year.

Giselle stretched, awaking from a deep sleep much later than anyone else in the castle yet still feeling tired. It must be old age, and she brushed it off as nothing more than her aging eyes and muscles. She was losing her precious youth, she guessed. She called her darling maid, Sorcha Haraya who’d come to the palace as little more than an infant and had come to be an essential part of the queen’s daily life, and Sorcha picked out one of her newest dresses to begin the season. Though Giselle liked to think of herself as a modern, intelligent queen, she still had a weak spot for fancy dresses and proper manners, and the season was a delicious excuse to dress in all the decadence and elegance befitting a queen, sparing no expense and ordering the newest fashions straight from Paris. This dress was exquisite, decked out in gaudiness nearly reaching excess but still within the boundaries of simple modesty required. It was gold, one of the colors of the Crown, with a bejeweled neckline and sleeves. The rest was fairly simply, covered in the finest lace and expanding just below her waist into the widest of skirts yet seen. She still wore a corset, though it wasnt tightened as much as she expected all the young maidens would have theirs, and it finished with just a hint of violet, to set of the expanse of gold. It was simply stunning.

Giselle waltzed out of her chambers, into the grand gall where the ladies and gentlemen of the year would present themselves to her later in the day, and where she would cast her favor to those she felt deserving. She sat herself down on her gilded throne, sent one of the couriers to bring her the latest news on the social front, and then rested her feet and began to daydream of the first ball of this season, the King’s Ball coming up in only a few days. The invitations had already been sent, the dresses already purchased, and all the major details arranged. Now all that was left to do was make it real. Giselle sighed. Queens never did get a break.

Brows came together once more in a look of confusion, blinking down at the other person as he spoke. Yet again, the attempt to flirt with Warren was met with confusion and a bit of concern, as it didn’t quite make sense to him. But, nonetheless, he didn’t mind chatting with them, drunk or not. It was human interaction, after all, something the author sorely needed.

“I write stories. Fantasy, typically. Most of them never see the light of day, but I’m trying…” Once again, a small pause at the end of those softly-spoken words, as he rubbed the back of his neck in a rare moment of embarassment. He’d overshared again, per usual.

“Oh. Your attire seems suitable to a bar tender, if that’s what you do. Very relaxed formal wear, with rolled back sleeves to allow ease of movement while also appearing professional to a level. It suits you, and your job.”

Owlishly blinking down at the bartender, the author spoke the words with the same lack of emotion he had typically used, besides a slight hint of curiosity, as if he were analyzing a character in one of his stories. Not so much of a flirt as an objective statement, on his part at least.

Isabell was walking around, occasionally spying on some other people and making a mental note of what happened to tell Simeon later, but soon she stumbled across a familiar face… Noen.

She first thought that the Queen might have sent them out to come retrieve her after going missing, but after sighting that Noen brought their child with them, she realised it was safe to approach.

“Hello, Hello, what brings you here?” Isabell smiled at the child and their parent. Then she noticed how the kid looked rather gloomy.
“Is something wrong, little one?” Although Isabell was know to annoy the hell out of any adult, she was surprisingly good with kids, and she hoped that she could make the child feel better.

Catherine looked around at everyone pairing off and talking. Then, she spotted two men who seemed to have gotten off to a bad start. One looked… intense, the blue hair didn’t help calm his look down, the other looked rather annoyed. She approached the two, “Hello gentlemen. How are you on this wonderful morn-” she looked up at the sky, “Afternoon? Morning. No-”

She shrugged and held out her hand to shake, first to the blue haired man then to the white haired fellow. “I’m Catherine Zelly.”

Nikolai turned around to face the girl who spoke. She had her chestnut hair in some sort of a bun, and she was wearing a red dress that seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Good morning to you, Miss Catherine Zelly” he smiled at her, taking her hand and shaking it.
“the name is Nikolai Petrov, pleasure to meet you. What brings you out this fine day? well its the season… But still.”

“Well, I see myself as more of a Cupid, then a match to be made. So I suppose I’ve come so survey all that I have to work with,” she laughed and looked around, “It seems many have found their way on their own, but others,” she looked behind her to a few sheepish ladies, “might need my assistance.”

“And you? Mr. Petrov, what does the day hold for you?”

Even further intrigued by this enigma to the standard he was accustomed to he settled in for the conversation. “A writer. Not much skill with a pen myself… barely made it through school. And thank you. Put a decent amount of work into looking like this.” He chuckled.

“And I suppose the same could be said of you with a book in hand. What do you write?” He was genuinely curious for once. It was a point for attention, but a true question.

At the sight of the court jester, Noen immediately pulled Eden back, tucking their daughter protectively against their side. They didn’t hate Isabell, but, like any parent, they didn’t want a stranger near their child, much less a clown. “Sorry, we have to go–”

“My Nono can’t afford the ice cream,” Eden blurted out, rousing a mortified gasp from Noen. They immediately became overwhelmed by that sinking feeling of their heart, a familiar feeling that would heat every pore in their body, stir their stomach, and quicken their breath. They were overreacting–they were well aware of that–but they couldn’t manage to stop tears from welling in their eyes.

“Eden, let’s go.” Despite the wavering in their voice, they sounded authoritative, parental. Eden heard the tone herself and appeared taken aback, offended almost. Noen had never passed the threshold of passive parenting, preferring a more gentle handling of their daughter, and thus, minimal discipline. And Eden was certainly not accustomed to such assertiveness.

Eden’s eyes became glassy. “Isn’t it good to be honest, Nonie?”

Noen’s cheeks heated at the fact that their daughter was technically correct. “It is good to be honest, Eden, but saying stuff like that is not appropriate.”

That didn’t console the little girl whatsoever. “Why?” The worst possible word in a child’s meager vocabulary.

Isabell glanced between the child and her embarrassed parent.
“Hey kid, i can get you the ice cream- if you want” she knew the vendor somewhat, and she was sure that she could get ice cream from him for free. Not bothering to get a reply from the kid as she quickly made her way to the stall.

“So what business does the Royal Jester have on the streets of London? Not getting into trouble I hope” the vendor remarked.
“Noooooo, of course not-I’m not going back to the slammer..” Isabell said in a dark tone that was very out of character for her. “But anyways, could you do a favour for a friend? Two free ice creams?” she asked. She had done a good many favours for the man in times past, so she hoped that he would return the goodwill.

“Great news! i have the ice cream! And i didn’t even need to blackmail him!” Isabell ran over to Noen and their child. She had long since mastered the art of running in heels while carrying stuff, so none of it dropped. She gave one of the cones to Eden and began munching on the other one.

Noen was utterly dumbfounded, looking on at the situation with a mixture of relief and shock. How were they supposed to proceed from this series of events?

“Why are you crying, Nonie?” Eden was staring up at Noen, her eyes wide and bright now that she had gotten the ice cream that she had desired. It was honestly fascinating to see how easily sated Eden had been, how simple it was for her to overstep an obstacle. Noen could only wish for such an amenable countenance.

Noen reached for their face, surprised to find their cheeks dampened and slick from tears. They must’ve accidentally let them slip when Eden became slightly riled up. “Nonie’s not crying.” Noen wiped their face with the sleeve of their sweater, shying away from Eden’s eyes as they did.

Noen turned to the jester, shooting her down with a suspicious look. “Why would you do that? I–I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to.”

“Why would I do that? Well, it’s simple- I may be a jerk, but I’m not a monster… can’t bear to see a child sad.”

“Bell, you should really watch yourself, one day your kindness is gonna get you killed.” said the purple haired boy. The young girl beside him laughed.
“You worry to much, besides, those kids really needed the food.” the boy scoffed and said
“Well i suppose that is true, but promise me that you know when to stop, it’s not safe on the streets”
“Sure Isaac…..”

A small hint of a pause, as Warren tilted his head, a bit puzzled over the school subject that had been momentarily brought up, and then glossed over by the bartender. It was odd for them to speak with such… grace, and yet mention being poor at schoolwork. But, that was a topic for later pursual.

“I write fantasy. I’ve currently trying my hand at a bit of a, well, contemporary romance, but it’s a bit of a struggle. Writer’s block and all…” He shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before speaking again. “If we’re engaining in a bit of banter, and exchanging small questions for personal trivia, I shall continue. What’s your preferred drink of choice, if you’re truly a bartender?”

“And you? Mr. Petrov, what does the day hold for you?”

“I believe that today is a little too early for the whole coupling off thing, but i do believe that this first day will be quite useful in finding out who is available… and perhaps form some friendships” Nikolai said. He smiled at the young woman before him
“Say, Miss Catherine, what do you do for a living?”

Catherine’s eyes lit up, she loved talking about her job.

“I’m an actress. I also dance and sing, all of that. I’ve been in a few plays, but lately I’m doing more private performances, for noble families.”

She smiled, and narrowed her eyes at Nikolai inquisitively, “What about you, Mr. Petrov? I can tell you have something frightfully interesting going on in your mind.”

Ravyn did not show much enthusiasm to Gin’s reaction to the flower, but internally, he was thrumming with delightful anticipation. He was impassioned by Gin’s blushing: in a sense of reassurance that his semi-subtle advances were being received positively, and, a second, more intimate sense that his developing want, individual from his impersonal goal, would likely be reciprocated if Ravyn came to desire something romantically from him. Contrary to what others may perceive of him and his promiscuity, Ravyn enjoyed love just like anyone else; he simply did not accept conventional relationships as the only valid form of romantic acknowledgment. They were shackling, easily breakable, and bound for imminent failure.

If not only disliking them for their fragility, Ravyn personally found that conventionality was essentially the acceptance of ignorance committing to one person while knowing that there are many to be discovered. A person with only one person will never know that there are different ways to love, different ways to be in love, or different ways to experience love. And sometimes, learning those things can be some of the most enriching wonders of mortal life. Why deliberately choose to miss out on such things?

Ravyn was already wondering unabashedly if Gin preferred touch over words, or words over touch, if he would enjoy wrist and finger kisses, and massages on the hand he wrote with, if they liked to be spoken to softly, and complimented often. He almost got so enraptured in his thoughts that he just barely caught what Gin had said.

“…Through smoke-filled dreams and misty lakes, a vision doth bless me. I do believe to find it true that vision is thee.”

Ravyn stopped his walking, making Gin stop too, and peered deeply into his eyes. Ravyn had been told before that his eyes were pretty. His irises were dark, near black, his eyes heavily lidded and feline shaped, and slanted in a permanent, Cheshire smile. Did Gin think similarly of them, that they were pretty? “Are you referring to me or someone else? If it is the latter, I must admit that I’ll be disappointed.”

Gin twisted the stem of the flower around his hands and looked around the garden again before letting their eyes settle back down on Ravyn’s which were staring at them. Ravyn’s eyes were like coal… no… they were brighter than that like obsidian. Yes. Formed in a volcano and cooled in the higher reaches of the world. Yes. Obsidian.

“Of course I’m referring to you silly.” He stuck the flower in his sweater and punched the other lightly on the shoulder. He didn’t want to overstep with something more affectionate. He took in his face a bit more. Occasionally there were people who you just knew were born for the job or status they lived in. Ravyn was one of those people. His face held the right angles of an artists representation of royalty. Softly slanted eyes that seemed to hold a mystery he could never explain no matter how much time he spent staring at them. One of those mysteries that made you want to forget everything until you unraveled just one tiny piece of it all.

Gin realized he had been staring for slightly longer than was probably normal and quickly turned his head to the cobbles of the garden path. They were a faded red and caked with mud that filled in the cracks between them. He kicked at a loose piece of rock and watched it skitter across the ground.

“You know, it’s nice, y’know, talking to you. Normally this type of stuff doesn’t go well for me. This has been such a change… a good one.” He smiled openly up at the other man. It was a warm smile that showed some type of hope. Real hope.

An actress, huh? This reminded Nikolai of his father, and how much he used to lament; How if he had just stayed and studied the arts for just a few more years, he could’ve been a star, saying how it was a shame he went off to study business, despite the good money it brought in… He could feel his mood begin to sour, just thinking about his parents…

Catherine’s question brought Nikolai out of those thoughts.
“Oh? I just only recently graduated medical school, so I’m not a doctor yet, but I do work part-time at the local pharmacy.”

At this answer she felt a bit embarrassed. She was never very good with science or math, or any other subject really. It was exciting to meet someone who was, as most of her time was spent among others like herself, but she knew she’d end up looking awfully foolish by the conversation’s close.

She smiled though, and replied, “huh, I never thought I’d cross paths with a doctor. Or at least a future doctor. What do you do at the pharmacy?”

“Oh, just the usual. Giving the patients the medicine that they need.” he said to Catherine.
“Well, do you perform any interesting plays? Any Shakespeare, or is it a little more contemporary?” Nikolai wondered. He had always been a fan of Shakespeare’s work and was curious if Catherine ever had an opportunity to perform some of his plays.

Brimley liked the strange manner of speaking Warren had. It was more proper than he was accustomed to and a bit awkward. “A bartender through and through. Don’t have the brains for much else. Personally, I recommend my secret combo. Well perfected with years of trying and failing.”

He leaned in conspiratorially with that familiar cheeky smile that was the permanent resident of his face, “You seem trustworthy, so I’ll let you in on the secret:” He paused and looked around with mocked suspicion, “Rose petals. Any drink is better with rose in it.” As an afterthought he tagged on, “Do you like roses? You strike me as one who would like strong white roses in his vodka. Perhaps if you stopped by my brewery someday I could make something for you?”

And if that didn’t describe the author to a tea, who knows what would. Proper, precise, and yet awkward, a bit unsure of his actions. Like a marionette cut lose from his strings, with his gangly limbs that seemed to move in odd directions before Warren’s brain could register commands. “Ah… it makes sense now. I see… not particularly intelligent, if you don’t mind my bluntness, but charismatic and charming… It does suit the role of a bartender, if one thinks about it.”

Once again musing aloud, Alynor’s mind drifted as he thought, stormy eyes misting over like the clouds they were reminiscent of. Gaze raked over the bartender, eyes studying them like some sort of creature that had hopped out of one of his fantasy novels, trying to note down any small details previously unseen. As the silence stretched, the meer lack of words snapped him out of his focused state, and he flushed slightly, before speaking again.

“Rose… petals? Actually, considering your flamboyant attitude… it makes sense.” A small gleam in his eye, like he was ticking off a box on a mental list. “… Vodka? Ah, you may have me confused… I don’t drink much, and vodka’s one that I try to avoid…” Warren explained, shrugging balefully. “Thought I do like white roses… they’re part of the crest of the nobility in the story I’m working on.” Another shrug, with the soft-spoken words carried away by the wind once spoken.

“I don’t mind the bluntness and I’d be the first to tell you I’m a damn fool.” They laughed a bit at it. “I deal in charisma like a scholar in books.”

Brimley wasn’t quite sure what to do with the moment of silence, but they didn’t mind it too much as it seemed they had gained the writer’s full attention and that was what they wanted.

One out of two guesses wasn’t bad in the bartenders opinion, “Well, I suppose that’s why I have to keep working at my job so I can be more than half right.” In another sporadic spur of sudden interest they asked, “What type of story are you working on?”

“Ah. Then my assumptions were right. That’s not common for me.” An owlish blink from behind wire frames and glasses lens, as he gave the bartender a small grin, one of the only changes in his indifferent expression so far.

He was prone to those awkward moments of silence, but it seems like his examination of Brimley was done, at least for now. Alynor seemed satisfied with his surveying of the person in front of him, his stormy eyes flitting back up to Burgeson’s face, locking eyes with them. Ah, and there was another thing he was prone to doing, another odd habit that distanced him from his peers. Warren often kept eye contact for far too long, holding gazes for lengthy periods of time as he spoke. In some situations it helped, but in some like this, it was just weird.

“My.. story? It’s a fantasy, but I’m attempting to try my hand at romance for once. It’s… going poorly, so far. I don’t think I have enough experience in the subject to do it proper justice.” The author explained, a small sheepish look coming to his face. “..Aaand I’ve just outed the fact that I don’t have romantic experience to a stranger. Wonderful.” The sheepish look evolved into a sheepish grin, as he looked down at Brimley.

“Nevermind that. Brimley, would you like to join my on my stroll? I’m walking through the park, and then I will be meandering through the city. We can continue talking as we walk.” A small shrug, as he offered his arm to the bartender with a grin. Warren seemed… more open as he talked to the bartender. More lively. Maybe it was the conversation, or maybe he had just simply woken up more.

Brimley smiled and took Warren’s arm, “A walk and talk sounds delightful. I imagine a walk without the talking would make for a very strange experience.”

They were content to have found a companion for the day and one who seemed still further intriguing and more impervious to their light hearted tongue. One with little experience in the thing he made his other livelihood with little money rewarded back, but riches in the attention they craved. The unfillable hole that sat deep in their chest and that every moment was spent deep in the chase of something to keep it from leaving him to bleed out.

“So tell me, since I was wrong on vodka, even a man who doesn’t drink much must have one of choice?”

A chuckle was startled out of Warren by the bartender as they began to walk, guiding the duo down a side path towards the more scenic, wild areas of the park, dappled sunlight and equal shadows created by the trees that lined the path falling onto the author’s rugged face. He wasn’t used to laughter, and it was… nice to experience it, even though it left him with a bemused grin. “It would be one very silent journey, but… more intimate in a sense. Huh… I must remember that.”

He was quite oblivious to most attempts at flirty, but he wasn’t heartless. Alynor enjoyed Brimley’s light hearted banter, despite how he seemed outwardly. It was a nice, light note to his day, and one that had brought forth a smile. After so many hours spent working on his draft, it was nice to be able to spend time in the sunlight, especially with such nice company.

They walked for a little while in comfortable silence, approaching a small pond before Brimley asked their question. “Ah. Well, when I do drink, I lean towards whiskey. Not a lot, just a shot or so, but it wakes me up. Makes me feel alive, if you understand?” He said, smiling down at the bartender.

Brimley mulled over what the author had said about silence. They had always been so loud. Each interaction filled with a thousand words that no picture could truly capture. But… perhaps they had been scared of what beauty could happen if they were silent. If their tongue was held back their mind and heart would make some horrible bond they were so scared of. Why so scared of it?

“Of course. I’ve seen all kinds when it comes to drinking and lively ones are often times much more interesting than criers and sleepers.” They kicked a stone along the walkway and watched it skitter ahead. It was rare a saying truly got to them, but Warren’s comment wrapped itself around their thoughts as they tried to understand. “Personally, I find I’m a bit more… slippery drunk than sober… and of course, accessibility never helps.”

Slippery, like a mirage. That was a good way to see Brimley. Hardly real in any true definition, but there in the mind and promising until they vanished when someone got to close.

It certainly was a subject that was worth pondering. Both words and actions were intimate things, each providing different things. Perhaps that was also what Brimley was missing with their attempts to flirt with the author. It may just be that while Warren doesn’t pick up on flirts through the form of words and teases, he’s quite apt at paying attention to body language and the hints it gives. Just a thought, after all, since the man seems more fond of actions rather than words. Ironic, considering his profession.

“I assume so. I do get a fair bit more… expressive when intoxicated. A bit more touchy-feely, which is quite embarassing for my reputation. You wouldn’t want a man of my stature and size clinging to you, I’m likely to crush you.” Was that a joke from Alynor? What a shock. Watching the stone skip ahead, he continued to lead Brimley down the path, arm locked with the bartender’s.

“Slippery is helpful in all sorts of situations. And the opposite is true as well, after all. I would quite like to see you in both states of intoxication and abject lack of it. To note the differences of one who is used to alcohol such as you, how they react under the effects of it even while having been used to it for much time… It would be quite the interesting study, wouldn’t you say?” A small smile, with a glance down to them. He may phrase things oddly, but the general meaning is that he enjoyed their company, if you removed all the general oddities and read between the lines. It was an invitation to see eachother once more after this, in all ways.