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                ( MAIN ENTRANCE ) ( ALONE ) ( OUTFIT )

                                            There was something familial and oh so comforting when Katherine was in the company of Elizabeth or Sofia. When she had first arrived, she had felt so displaced among everyone there. Yes, she had Sofia to help her out, but her hand maid seemed to have her own agenda, leaving Katherine to find her way. She had stuck to Elizabeth like glue, holding tight once she bonded with them, finding herself feeling a little less alone and a little less scare. The only other person who she felt comfortable around, regardless of the situation. She will not speak about her father's affair with Elizabeth. She'd thought this "Great Matter" of Marius's would be done by now and she'd sit upon the throne as his queen. Her father kept telling her it was only a matter of time but Katherine for one was getting sick of it. She had no idea how much longer she could keep the king's interest as long as she was not his wife. He'd housed her in lavish quarters that were almost fitting for a queen, yet he have not shown any interest in marrying her. Perhaps Elizabeth was right about where her heart ...no ''In matters of the heart there is never an easy way out.'' she took a bite of the delicious pastry.

                                            Did she found pleasure in laying down with the king? He was a passionate lover, Katherine had fallen for his charms. She desire him like a man lust over a woman. It was shameful that such thoughts run through her mind, only to leave her aching for his touch. Only Marius. But days with Marius grew dull. It was the same silly games and the same silly conversations. She grew tired of chatter idly about power and the like. But she'd been bored of Marius’s company for quite some time now, since much before their arrival to the castle. It wasn't as though she'd expected anything different. There were always plans, plans plans plans. They were all consummated with plans, all born with plans, and there was hardly deviating from those plans. They could adapt such plans, but never truly change them. Katherine sighed, there was little to do about any of this, really, she was going to spend the rest of her life acting as a bed partner or her mother’s shadow. There was no choice, no discussion. But she could fight it in her little ways. Micael on the contrary had awake something inside her she honestly didn't knew it existed ''I love them both,'' Katherine whispered, she didn't love Marius because he was the king. After spending years beside him as a friend, she had grown fond of his presence.

                                            The world itself didn't change. Later, much later, when Katherine thinks back on those moments, she wonders why she ever thought it would. Of course, the world didn’t look any different, of course nothing had changed; they were different; they had changed. However, the world hadn’t. For the world itself, nothing had changed; no time had passed; for everyone in it. They, the three of them, were still the same children they had been before, except of course that they weren’t. Marius, Micael and Katherine. But somehow, despite the evidence, it seemed like the world had changed, that somehow everything was different. Maybe, Katherine though many years later, it was just her perspective on the world that had changed. She was so focus on their conversation that she didn't notice they were been watch, or that Sofia had left. Micael voice draw her attention back to reality ''Ah Micael,'' she lower her head then invite him to sit ''Sit, join us for tea.'' her voice was playful and sweet. It seem forever since they talk.

                                            Minutes later Marius walked on them. She wanted to raise from her chair to properly greet him, but she decided not to. ''Your Majesty.'' Katherine bow her head because she was obligated to do it nor because she felt like. Her glance move to Elizabeth who seemed amused by the situation. ''Elizabeth...'' she sighed. The couple of males start discussing shortly after Marius dismiss both ladies. Katherine place down her cup. She was not happy. He was breaking her heart by treating her in a harsh way. Didn't he felt something for her? Didn't they kissed under the moonlight and embrace each other until sunrise? There are moments, when the pain becomes too much, that she wishes she could turn back the clock. That somehow she could change everything back and turn back into that other Katherine, the one who didn't know what she could have; she wanted to be her, the girl who lived in the before, the girl who'd played with two boys. That’s who, in her darkest moments, she wanted to be, the girl who didn’t know, the girl who hadn’t lost; the one who had never known there was something she could lose. Her heart might have been better if she (they) had never known; it would definitely be an easier world to live in. ''Your Majesty. Micael love it was a pleasure to see you.'' Katherine bow her head, then left with Elizabeth.

                                            “You shall die by my sword!” A child crowed as Katherine countered his every movement, their wooden swords clacking loudly in the garden, bouncing off the walls of Spain’s fair palace. Katherine smiled widely as she thrust her sword towards the child, putting all of her might behind her blade. Today was a good day; she had been afraid, for a while, that child could hurt her. Elizabeth’s voice spoke up abruptly from the shadows, causing Katherine to miss her final strike. The kid’s blade tapped her chest, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing—dead. Katherine sat at the fountain’s edge, the happy babbling of the waters at her back muffled and far away. Her hooded gaze reached long into the distance, past an overflowing garden and between columns to a stretch of alien blue. The air was damp. It had rained, or would rain soon. Or maybe the warm, humid breeze rolling on off the ocean toying with her senses. Her time at the castle brought temperate summers and milder winters, but her pale flesh had long adapted to a comparatively parched climate. A young girl approach her, inviting her to play with the rest of the children. ''Hide my dear children for I shall find you all.'' her voice was passive almost dull, she didn't want to run after anyone. Nor the king, especially not kids. Her hands folded innocently together before her. She was growing tall, she no longer quite had the body of a child. But her face was wide and full with youth. She smiled slightly crookedly, and ducked her head out of the shadow, waltzing into the sunlight, blinking slightly from the adjustment. Hours of playing under the sun had exhausted her, so she politely said goodbye.

                                            The colorful fabric hung loosely around her body and billowed out while she walked across the hallway. Her hair was braided back with her hair pinned up with a golden pin matching the belt which kept her dress from leading a life of its own. Like on many other days she had ended up on the balcony which faced the gardens. From her comfortable chair she looked out over the green scenery, following the movements of the small birds inhabiting it. A small book which she had brought with her from the library lay unused on the small table parallel to her chair, right next to a large carafe of water. It is one of those days when almost everything seems a distraction. The grandeur of the castle is dingy, artificial, in comparison to the butter-yellow sunlight on the gardens beyond the walls. She could hear women’s laughter from yonder, and the breeze that sweeps through the leaves, and in her mind’s eye he could see the scattering petals everywhere, landing in the porphyry fountain and making ripples in the reflected sky. It is always the same petals, always the same scudding clouds.

                                            FRANCE

                                            Halloween was drawing closer and the festive mood had engulfed France. Parties and games and a masquerade to usher in the night meant she had so much to look forward to. If anything, Katherine loved a good ball, eager to find the perfect gown, the best way to dress her golden locks, and to make her own mental list with whom she would pursue dances with. The King was, of course, at the top of her list, though she had to admit court would be bustling with dashing, gallant men for the holiday. Perhaps she would not captivate the room as the Queen Isabel would (for no amount of silks, jewels, or elaborate styles could ever draw away from the Rosas of Spain) but she knew her worth. With the right amount of rouge, a touch of gloss to her lips and a coy smile, she would have her fair share of glances. Still, with all that was happening, Katherine felt less than festive. She had too many choices between her gowns to find the perfect outfit for the masquerade. Nothing felt right and she had effectively shoved more dresses back into her wardrobe rather than finding anything that suited her fancy. She was restless and refusing to admit to the reason behind naming her lack of an outfit as the root of her frustration. It was king Marius who troubled her heart, the slightly possibility of him engaging with the french queen was making her anxious.

                                            As countess, Katherine had long since learnt how easy it was to decline the odd, unnecessary invitation to attend a masquerade ball. When it came to the festivities though, all bets were off. Halloween was a time for entertainment. Through deepest snow or strongest gale, each member of the Spanish court were expected to attend the festivities. There had been a time when Katherine adored just being in France, and to some extent, she still did. Yet with the addition of her lover to take care of, her attitudes had inevitably matured. One thing that most certainly hadn't changed though, was her willing enslavement to fashion. Before the Halloween month was even upon them, she'd already begun pick to out potential designs and color schemes; keeping her eyes and ears open for the winter trends. Not just for herself. Oh no... Katherine took great pleasure in trying her hardest to organize the entire Spanish's wardrobe. It was perhaps the one thing she could actually do right, though most the time her suggestions went through one ear, and out the other. This year, she was determined to get her way completely. Which meant her darling Marius and his plain color clothes were no longer safe. Katherine found deep pleasure in dressing him up and undressing him, no doubt.

                                            After going through her entire wardrobe she sent word with Sofia to the seamstress “I'm not sure about the green,” the Countess told the fabric stall merchant, as she ran her porcelain hand over the forest-green velvet splayed out for her. She was meant to be trying to get out from the pine tree look, but then again, green did compliment her complexion well. “May I see the red, silvery olive and gold brocade?” With another 'but of course my Lady,' the merchant assembled a new selection of rolls for the picky customer, and begun to lay them out; one by one. Just in time for the intended coat hanger to draw near. Her hand maid asked if she wanted to drink. Instead, she unrolled the brighter of the two silvery olive and gold brocade fabrics with a pensive 'hmm'. ''Silvery olive, naturally.'' She finally answered, as if the merchant should have known better. At once, he was fishing two rolls from the chest; one a plain yet vivid lace, and the other slightly paler, yet trimmed with shimmering silver and deeper olive brocade patterns. “Ooh!” Came the blushing Katherine's approval as she ran her hand over the fabrics. It was only a matter of time before seamstress was holding the patterned fabric against Kath's arm as though measuring for a sleeve, and then coercing her other hand to hold the plain material against her chest.

                                            Time-skip. Confident all eyes were averted, Katherine seized the opportunity to give a subtle tug upward on what felt like a scandalously low neckline. Though it was plain in the dress of surrounding noblewomen that the swooping cut was characteristic of France, the unsettling feeling of overexposure would not relent as she glimpsed the ghostly stretch of skin beneath her collar bone. Granted, her passionate lover responsible for the fitting had assured her line looked typical, and she was nothing short of truthful in her assertion that the accompanying corset was not as diabolical as it appeared – despite Katherine’s deep skepticism. The french wear had been her first french purchase - not because looking the part of an outsider was bothersome, but because she didn't want to cook in her underclothes. She felt like she could hardly breathe. She certainly could only think of picking at her food, least of all putting it inside of her. Alcohol, it seemed, would be her only comfort as she took her stunted little breaths. It was, after all, something she had a hand in designing. The bodice was heavy with embroidery, which spilled down the entire front of the pale olive silk. The thread itself was silver and the palest gold, tiny little stars dripped down her dress accentuated by glittering little crystals. She'd removed the ribbons, she'd insisted that the sleeves be more simple, she'd refused for her hair to be put into any ridiculously unnatural position and she'd avoided wearing an excess of jewelry. It did not matter if they were spending some time in France, she would not dress terribly uncomfortably.

                                            Except for the corset, which hugged her too snuggly and made it feel as if she could rest her chin on her chest if she so pleased. She felt stupid. But she was the moon tonight and she might as well glow a little bit. Moving was difficult for too long and she'd found herself leaning against a pillar after some time, casually off to the side, observing the carousing in the hall. Katherine was still to enter to the main ballroom, but first she was catching her breath. She felt so terribly pinched, and certainly a little more drunk that she would have liked, the cup never lingering too far from her lips. The french at least knew how to throw a party. The queen must be pleased to be part of such a festivity. Better yet, they couldn't find her. Her gilded silver mask was rather plain in comparison to some of the others, but Katherine had an eye for craftsmanship, and it was certainly finely made, the inlaid, swirling patterns as precise and beautiful as the gems that glittered around her temples. ''Yes more wine.'' Katherine smiled at the servant who carried a trace. She place her hand against the pillar. The view was spectacular.



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                ( TABLE ) ( ALONE ) ( OUTFIT )

                                            This was the Halloween ball de masque at the chateau de vaux le vicomte, and the noise was practically deafening. Katherine knew even before she stepped into the ballroom, it was going to be one crazy night, this would cause her brain great havoc. Each little conversation, each tiny mouth yapping unceasingly, each occasional chuckle--and on top of that live music--added up; ever building into one enormous and terrible roar of voices. So far Katherine was cunning enough to move about the perimeters of the hall to unnoticed, and she trusted that her judgment would keep her out of trouble. She strained a bit to listen in on peoples’ conversations, thinking to herself that this was the best use of her time. It wasn't every day that people were so abandoned to open conversation in her presence. Her delicate hand wrap around the glass, she craved alcohol or any strong beverage that will intoxicate her. Her lips sucked in the expensive wine as she beheld a group of masked revelers. A stringed quartet and cymbals was not enough music for them, so they provided additional noise by singing french folk songs at the top of their lungs, overpowering the string players who were scrupulously carrying on with their presentations. Katherine saw that it was becoming impossible to appreciate the the masterful work beneath all the racket, so she set down her cup to walk inside. However, a gentle tap on her shoulder stop her right on track. Had Marius decide to surprise her? And if that was the case what were his intentions? Katherine was elated, she want to kiss him right there but that will stir up trouble. She slowly turned to see who it was. It was him. The king himself, they were so close, too close. No. How disappointing Katherine was, how could she even consider the possibility of entertaining the king tonight. She looked directly at the mysterious lord's eyes and felt like fainting though, on the outside, she seemed completely calmed. She silently nodded, agreeing that she was enjoying herself ''You are a poet as I am a woman. Poets and women are always free with their hearts, are they not?'' Katherine felt suffocated all of the sudden, she didn't know if it was the corset or the broken spell when the mysterious man seem to recognize her.

                                            Did she hold any friends in France? Not really, well, not male friends. But who was the gentleman who seem to know her? There was just one person she sent word of her arrival and that was ''It's wonderful to see you smile again, my dearest friend. '' His short hair, his intense eyes, his body covered in formal clothes. She became nervous almost instantly. ''But you've changed, have you not, Kayden? You are not the man you were. '' she felt her cheeks turning slightly red. The skinny boy was long gone to be replace a handsome man who stood in front of her. He was looking absolutely handsome in those clothes, the mask gave him an air of greatness and seduction. Something she thought he will never possess or was she unable to see pass a childhood friend? ''It was always impossible to fool you, my lord.'' she answered, even though she preferred to keep her identity hidden. She lower her voice in order to keep the conversation between them ''You are here to keep an eye on me? Don't you trust my judgement, for I am yours and only yours to wed.'' Katherine stared at the floor trying to look up and see his entrancing eyes. She heard steps coming towards her. Oh no it was wrong to tease him with such delicate subject. It was true that they were to be wed, but that was an arrangement between their parents. The young couple have not show any interest of pursuing each other affections, so Katherine enjoy tease him from time to time. The days of childish games were long go Kayden had made that clear when he abruptly walked on her at the church months ago. She needed to apologize ''Pard- Katherine raise her glance to Kayden face only to find another male join them.

                                            He smiled at her kindly and so did she "This is a masquerade ball sir; I am not supposed to let my identity be known" Katherine raise her hand to allow the duke to pay his respect. The place where the duke's lips touched her skin tingled, slowly it sent shivers down her body. Instinctively, she closed her eyes in delight. A french duke with a cute mustache. Being young, beautiful and without husband was a deadly combination for her; she tried not to fall in sin. Not to lust over a particular man. But the desire burning from her inside drove her into... It was then when Katherine woke up of her trance and moved to a side, away from the duke's touch. He retracted his hand, and she could tell his expression underneath the mask was that of calm. No, calm and curious. Katherine stared at him for a while, uncertain of what he wanted from her. She couldn't let him; I must not let him touch me improperly for that will lead only to perdition. ''I might reconsider telling you my name, if you invite me to dance, sir.'' It was a win-win situation. Katherine bow at Kayden's direction ''If you excuse us, my lord.'' Now she will never get to know Kayden's answer. How sad. She didn't have time to glomp over the sad thought for the duke Niklaus was escorting her inside. After entering the hallway, they arrive at the main entrance where the grand staircase awaited them. Their colorful textures and exaggerated masks would've been enough to stare at, but it was their dancing and parading that gave her something to sneer at. Glittering ball gowns and lacy fans sprinkled the crowds. Gas-lit lamps and candelabras lit the entire scene. The contrast of light and dark, black and white, was particularly captivating to her. Gold plated everything in sight.

                                            Katherine slowly entered the room still in awe and then walked towards the great hall, music feeling her ears and the smell of great food all around. There were people dancing happily in the centre as the rest of guest chattered, most of them with theirs masks on. She smiled at the view and allowed her gaze to wander around, looking at the ladies glamorous dresses and well designed hairs. They're eyes were like precious gems compared to her blue ones and most of them had gold locks that made the light brown ones seem opaque and dull. Duke Niklaus invited her to dance "I would be delighted sir" she answered politely and took his hand. Her hand nervously played with her skirt. No other man had captivated her that way, with only one look. Aside from the king. Maybe she acting like this because he is a duke…yes…his power makes him alluring nothing more. Or is she looking excuses to commit a sin? I can tell Duke Niklaus is a handsome and intelligent man. Just as she finished the thought her eyes encountered his brown ones. She immediately blushed and looked directly at the floor. As the music started she felt herself in a dream, looking into his eyes, moving in unison. Katherine was familiar with this dance; she didn't want to look like a jester trying to follow everyone's movements. She saw his eyes wander around be…first her lips then her chest heavily rising and falling and finally, her baby blue eyes. ''Is the duke please with the company?'' Katherine asked. As she danced she catched the duke's glance more than one time, she remained calm and smiled on the outside. But on the inside, Katherine was experiencing sensations she had felt before.

                                            One of his hands slowly brushed the crook of her neck, she gasped at his touch. He knew what he was doing. Yes it was part of the dance, still it didn't stop her from been amuse by his actions. Katherine looked into his eyes, he knew it, he knew she wanted him and she certainly do…but the question remains should she? Sleeping with the king was one thing but sleeping with a complete stranger, was a bold move. What was wrong with her? What did she kept feeling the need to embrace the desire every time a man turn his head her way? It was Marius's fault, it was his fault. He had start a fire inside her she couldn't control it, now, it consuming her soul. She was going to burn in hell for all her sinfuls thoughts. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him, she could feel his gaze on her ''Vous êtes un grand danseur'' she quickly caught his attention once more when her hand lingered on his chest. He was a great dancer. Her fingers caressed his hand, her fingertips brushed against his knuckles in a circular motion. Her blue eyes didn't left his face as their bodies draw apart only to dance side by side. She turn her head allowing her cheek press against Niklaus's face, her eyes pierce into his as they continue dancing. Her hand danced against his chest, she twirl around only to end up facing him. Katherine chuckled devilish as they stood too close, their faces were only inches from each other. If he were to steal a fiery kiss he will only lean and do it. French men were known to be bold, passionate and heart breakers. ''Careful duke, I hope you are not planning that I be one of your many conquests.'' A forbidden affair that must be so exciting! My God! Forgive me…what was I thinking? ''Please excuse me my lord I need to catch my breath.'' Once the tune came to an end she bowed politely at the man and started to move away from the dance floor. As she was preparing to go the courtyard and take some fresh air. Yes Katherine run, run from the duke. If the king see you lusting over other man he will behead you.

                                            Katherine can't recall how long she stood still, her glance fixed on the table embroidered table cloth, her eyes following the golden patterns. Her mind was trying hard to assimilate everything that had happened. If it had been any other man, it would have been different. Most man in court tends to give improper proposals and she got to refuse them without hesitation. But the duke was different, he was seductive, he was soft, he knew how to unleash a woman's desire. She have to confess she feel flushed only by remembering his voice, so powerful; his touch, so soft. The servant place the glass in front of her ''Yes, thank you.'' As he left, she started feeling a great pain inside her head, as if it was about to open in half, all the events of the day coming together making her head feel light. She placed the palm of her hand against her forehead; It was cold, too cold. She raised her head to see the rest of the hall. People were still dancing, chattering and eating all around. The music felt loud to her ears. Little by little the dancing figures became only passing colours, the music started to become quieter and quieter, everything spinning. Katherine place down her glass. Her mother was right, a young woman should never drink too much wine. She was not use to it. A deep reddish color spread across her cheeks.



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                ( TABLE ) ( ALONE ) ( OUTFIT )

                                            The air was cold, biting; the crisp autumn night filled Paris, musky scent of earth and the odor of decaying leaves. The frigid wind was not yet tainted with the acrid breath of ale or the choking coppery stench of wine, nor was the rain-muffled serenity yet broken by the clanging of glasses and heart-piercing music. Royals and nobles alike reveled in the festivities, celebrating not only the alliance but also Halloween. Lords and serfs jostled one another as each strove to be the first to catch a glimpse of the Spanish court. The ladies preened slowly to and fro, taking the opportunity to show off their finest, brightest gowns. The whole of the bailey resembled a fertile summer croft awash with blooming wild flowers of vibrant purples, blues, yellows, reds and greens. It was beautiful to say the least, anyone would be pleased and honor to be part of the celebration but Katherine felt sick. The wine had clearly affected her judgment, the things she said to the good duke. Sometimes she simply did not know when to quiet her mouth. If she had an idea, she was fast to leap to it. And that was not behavior befitting of a lady most of the time, at least not the kind that will marry a proper man. Katherine leaned against the balcony rail, shame wash over her. Running away from a man was not something to be proud of, lord, if only her mother was to find out she will be punished. It was a good thing the duke didn't knew her name. How convenient.

                                            She enjoyed her leisurely pace across the balcony. There was a distinct crisp chill to the air, definitely signaling the arrival of fall. In a few weeks time, winter would be upon them. Though Katherine thought the winter season one of the most beautiful times of the year, she dreaded its arrival this year. Winter would signify a change in her relationship with Marius. It would be generally too cold to be outside for any quality length of time, and thus they would need to remain indoors. She knew things were changing between her and Marius. She rarely visited his chambers at night anymore. Apparently, he was seeking solace elsewhere. That was what Katherine could think, nothing was confirmed. No one dare to gossip or say a word against the king. Even their daytime visits were growing shorter as well, as his king duties were being shoved to the forefront. A breath escaped Katherine's lips she did not even know she was holding. What has happened to my Marius? Katherine thought sadly. She fondly remembered times when his hands touched with such sweetness and such passion. She remembered when words whispered softly in her ear sent chills of pleasure down her spine, and not fear. She'd pretend with that glued on smile that cracked at her lips everything was fine, while the truth was known by anyone who stepped inches within the castle. It didn't matter. Kings and queens were so fortunate that love went to country first.

                                            Unbidden by conscious thought, her mind conjured an image, one of unbelievable softness and warmth. He was there, just out of reach as always, but ever in her heart. She could see him riding toward the plain, his long dark hair flowing unfettered in the wind as he urged his mount onward at break-neck speed. He was coming for her at last, calling her home, bidding her to lay down her arms and fight no more. It was a dream she had often, one of hearth and home, with her lord fair standing by her side on a brilliant summer day as they watched their young sons tussle upon the ground. However the face of the man in her dreams was blurry. Countess Katherine breathed in the crisp autumn air and looked around the inner room with a small smile. She silently promise to never drink again, at least not tonight. The french duke had follow her outside, was he there to claim her? Perhaps he thought his charms had the usual effect. ''Women don't often say no to you Duke. When they do, you thinks it's a game.'' she slowly turn around to face Duke Niklaus. Nervously smoothing her hand over an imagined wrinkle in her silver olive-colored gown, she felt Niklaus's gaze dancing along her features and was deeply gratified to note the fond appreciation accompanying his frank appraisal. She covertly watched his guileless eyes as they roamed over her, feeling the heat of his stare as he traced every inch of her woman's body. What a refreshing surprise to see Sofia joining them, Katherine truly believe that by now Sofia was long gone with a french noble. She lower her mask to reveal her face to the small party.

                                            Sofia asked if she was enjoying the party. Katherine place her hand on the woman's back, a welcoming gesture ''I don't care a great deal for balls and banquets. There's a certain futility to court life, don't you think?'' She raised an eyebrow, amused with the situation. ''I enjoy nothing more than meeting people of broad experience. You see I've never walked the streets of Paris, but I am sure the duke could tell me something about that. '' her voice was low as she twirl her dress, she try to pretend nothing was wrong with her. Niklaus had recognized Micael - his Spanish accent linger in the words. As much as everyone pretended this celebration could bring together two kingdoms, the hate was still there. The duke had made that clear ''Duke,'' Katherine gasped, her free went to her mouth. His dislike for the Spanish court was too obvious, ''I pledge mercy, your Highness. Pardon him, wine can turn friends into foes.'' she reached for Micael's hand hoping to stop the him from fighting the duke. To some extent, Micael symbolized freedom to Katherine. She could be herself with him, and speak what was on her mind. Though her court-upbringing would never completely disappear, she could leave its restrictions when around him. Even with Marius, she could never completely be herself. She wanted to spend her hours reading, writing, having thoughtful, intelligent conversations, and, every now and then, dancing. Micael, on the other hand, preferred Katherine read to him so he would fall asleep as they enjoy the tree's shadow. They would share secret glances like when they were kids. She would gaze into his eyes and his into hers until one of them blinked. She still had those big doe-like eyes, but now her full lips fit her matured face, and the crooked teeth were gone, white straight ones taking their place. Long strands of beautiful blond-auburn hair fell down the back of her body that curved with young woman's enticing proportions. Tall, regal, stubborn and impulsive was this Katherine. However, along with her positive growth was something negative. Micael was wrong. And right. For everything with Katherine was full of complication, sore contradiction, and vibrant newness.

                                            He pulled her away with a jesting smile for Niklaus that included innuendo about what he wanted to be up to with his friend. It didn't take as much an act as it probably should for Micael then to reassure her, and take up her hand within moments so they could make their way down the center of the floor, a display of solidarity. Soon though she felt no need to rush, because there he was, just like he said he would be. Katherine, so tall and slender, long shining curls tumbling down her back. Full lips. Big eyes. Pale and yet glowing skin. Sure enough those alone were plenty to create lust. Always so impulsive and the one to make the first stubborn move, her show now was one of weakness, and it was no wonder. She felt alone, in danger, and unwanted. Katherine wondered if she truly ever knew how deep feelings could go. With Micael it seemed the depth reached much further than tangible. He was a novelty that she had never had the fortune to experience until now. Love of Marius floated away as Micael filled her mind and everything else. He smelled incredibly good, like the finest wine squeezed from grapes, or the sweetest smelling flowers that grew at the lakeside. That tantalizing scent was a given to anyone who got near enough. Of course Mary was new to this, the excitement rising in her breast and the flush of her cheeks stating that firmly, but beyond was the fact that her manor didn't hold many prospects to flirt. And now it was so certain, that this went beyond a man's carnal drives. This was a lot more than a fun little ride. So far beyond lust and the physical. It was something else entirely like everything with Micael was distinct and new. With barely an inch between some areas, and nothing separating them in others, he could feel the fast beat of Micael's heart, confused by it for a second, it so close to his own that she wasn't sure if they were one and the same. Rumor said that Micael was a cold-hearted man, they couldn't be more wrong about him ''The rumors are not true, your Highness does have a heart if they could only see...'' she flash him a smile as she chuckled.

                                            Before he could dismiss her words or twist them she explain the meaning behind them ''Oh no, your Highness! You've made pleasure a shield against loneliness and slander, but you could never change so deep a heart, so eager to be loved. Everyone, even the highest, has some dream of love in his heart and unless he achieve it he must fill that emptiness with noise, fame, excitement, pleasure.'' Though Katherine was actually beginning to enjoy herself at the ball, she was also beginning to feel smothered by the atmosphere. The ball must have been a success, or surely there would not have been so many men and women milling about in their best clothes, servants constantly walking by with platters of food and drink. The sound of music filled the air, though it was hard not to overhear the excited chatter of lords and ladies as they went past. They seemed to be having a good time, light hearts and eyes bright with wonderment. Katherine wondered if the royals looked at the guests as sheep, as pawns in a grand game. She saw a young servant girl at one of the tables, pouring wine into empty glasses which she must have brought from the kitchen. She was a young, plain-looking thing, who reminded her a little of her favorite maid from her Manor. The countess watched as she poured the wine, blood-red, from the bottle. As the tune came to an end she bow as usual and invite Micael to join her.

                                            Once she had made her way to the door, she threw them open and stepped out onto the balcony, filling her lungs with night air that she let out as a sigh a moment later. She felt as though the sigh had been trapped in she chest all night, and she could feel her muscles slowly start to relax once she had let it out. ''My king has needed me. I am thankful to not have failed him. I even love him. But the love I have for him takes nothing away from my beloved friend. Of all there was between us as we were children nothing has changed. For me, nothing has changed or ever will. Forgive me for telling you this without asking you if you had the right to hear it. '' Loosening the mask against her face, she allowed herself a few moments of silence to clear her mind, but such a task was easier said than done. Micael's presence was disturbing, intoxicating to say the least. She turn around to face him. Then pressing her against a column, it was even more apparent by the continued shaking and the pallid sheen upon her skin. Katherine palmed the silky fabric of her dress, enjoying the way the layers of silk and sheer cascaded the length of her body. ''When I'm gone you'll be glad that I didn't stand in the path of your destiny making you less than you were meant to be. Micael, my friend what about...? The love, the youth, the happiness we might have had... what of that?'' her hand rested against his cheek, her fingertips gently brush against this skin in fear he might pull away. ''Shall we dream of it more tenderly because we didn't destroy it?'' Her finger press against his lips shushing his words. There was no need for him to explain things to her. ''Will you walk me to the garden, I wish to admire the flowers before leaving France.'' There was strong reluctance in her voice as she wanted to pretend for just a moment that he was not royalty, no more than a boy and girl, or man and woman, but there was no truth in that.

                                            Katherine wandered around the garden, admiring all of the hard work that had been out into making it. She smiled to herself, sitting down in front of a batch of daisies. She crossed her legs and leaned forward to sniff the flowers, breathing in the scent. Behind her, a figure moved about watching her. She leaped up out of where she sat instantly and wrapped her arms around him. ''Take me in your arms again. Let me have that memory. When I loose heart to go on I shall close my eyes, feel your arms about me. I shall know that I'm in your thoughts, that your thinking of me...'' She ached for the taste of his sweet lips, the rich sensation of his vigorous lips. The wine had surely gone to her head, for it was not often that she let herself think like this.




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NICHOLAS ZARHLO VLADIMIR
THE BRAVE DOCTOR


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                                                                            Nick not wear the apocalypse well. It didn't suit him. He was a wealthy man who had come from a poor family. He'd grown up in Russia/New York City, one of the most glamorous places in the world (though it did admittedly have its own form of grubbiness). He was used to sleeping on silk sheets, going to parties and nightclubs where he would order bottles of scotch that cost more than some people's annual salaries, and were probably old enough to order their own scotch. Instead, he was now reduced to slogging along in filthy rags that had once been nice clothes, with a blood spattered pipe wrench in one hand and a nearly empty backpack on his shoulders. He'd lost weight too, his pants hung off him where they once had been comfortable loose. The leather jacket had fared alright. It's expensive leather was able to hold up under the conditions of sun and pounding rain, but his shoes were a lost cause. He'd had to replace more than three times now.

                                                                            Armed with his gun and a pipe wrench he made his way down the hallways, using the desks and other things like snack machines and water fountain. It made it easy to sneak around when he had places to hide. For extra protection he had a knife with him. A large sharp blade that he kept holstered in his belt. He should only use his bullets if it was absolutely necessary, this he knew for sure. After what seemed like forever of hearing his alter him remind him that bullets were worth saving, he figured it best to finally listen. After all, he had been right about so many things before. It only seemed right that he be right about this as well. Nick stood there, inside the hospital, overlooking the hallways for any dead nearby, making the morbid yet sounds that they make when they walk. Watching them trying so hard to get out to them. Nick wouldn't let them hurt them, even if it was the last thing he did; he had lost one of his reasons to live, he was not about to let Noah an Orphan now. He couldn't lie, it’s a lot of stress to take in but, in a way it just come natural to Nick, like instinct, he had been that way as long as he could remember. It was just another thing his mother loved so much about him, and why she felt so safe. Nick just fears that somehow he might let everyone down, make the wrong choice, or do the wrong thing. He woke up every day with that worried thought in the back of his mind; that wherever his mother was, she looked down on him with pride instead of resentment.

                                                                            That was the harsh reality of it all...that was the way the world was....death was the way of the world. One day you're alive and well, the next day...well, you could very well end up dead. He no longer feared death, Fear was an emotion he was better off not having. Or so he thought but sometimes fear...fear could be what keeps you alive too. Right now things were calm and that’s the way he wanted it to stay, though he knew that it was just a matter of time before all hell broke loose again, they had a place to be “safe” but then again, it wouldn't last forever. All Nick could think about was what was going to happen in the next few months, without the government and what was going to happen to them and to the rest of the people that were a part of his group. That lab was the only safe haven that they had, but knew that it couldn't be forever. He knew that at some point the group would have to move on to somewhere else, but there was really nowhere safe, and they never knew how many walkers was going to over run in the next city they moved to.

                                                                            During his run he came across a walker that was crawling along the hallway, it was missing the bottom half of its body and so, with no legs, it took to crawling around...Strategically he moved around it, taking his knife out and using his foot to put significant weight on its back, he forced it to stay still before driving his blade through the back of its skull. Sometimes the easiest approach was also the quietest. He pulled the knife out from the walkers head before he continued on his way, sneakily moving into the reception...the inside was dark, the windows had been boarded up a bit, he figured whoever had done it was trying to keep walkers out. Not that it worked very well...he could see blood on the floor, luckily, the only body he saw in the room were three people, all of them with bullet holes in their heads...a gun on the floor... Nicholas could only assume that they'd been bitten and rather then turn into one of those things, they killed themselves. Just like that hell broke lose. Walkers, dozens of them, coming into his direction. ''s**t.'' he step back and run towards the lab section.

                                                                            How did he manage to get away? It was a miracle, he had trouble believing in god but after today he believe. He did. Nick believe that he was alive for a greater cause. He was now walking across the hallway when a noise caught his attention. Walkers? He immediately grab his gun, aim in front of him. If he shoot no one was going to hear it, so he could kill the walker then shoot himself. Because these was no way of living. ''Thank god is you Noah.'' he sighed heavily lowering his arm. ''You shouldn't be roaming too far from your mother, let's go.'' he handle over the bag ''There are some candies...junk food kids your age like? I suppose.'' Nick shrugged, truth to be told he wasn't a big fan of kids. However he was nice to everyone ''Is your mother at the lab?'' he asked now in a seriously and less likeable tone of voice, ''Don't wonder too far kid,'' he said before knocking on the glass to draw the woman's attention. ''Dr. Hoffman, any progress today?'' he put on the lab coat. ''Are you done with the patient, can I dispose of him?'' he pause to give her a look ''Anastasia we are running low on supplies... have you given a thought about what we discuss.''

                                                                            location: hospital/lab ll with: anastasia, noah ll feeling: tired & sore

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                                                              Tahlia seemed honest. Likeable and trusty. She could be a good asset to the team. Victoria was well, Tahlia's baggage and they would look for something she could assist with. Four. Her group consists of four members, three adults and Victoria. Interesting. Apparently the two guys were not strong enough to protect her but they were out number by the looters. Gaby understood. ''Nothing personal.'' she show her the gun.

                                                              There was a time when a lacking in privacy wouldn't have even crossed her mind; after all, she had grown up with her cousins she had to share everything from her room to her shoes. Gabriella was not entirely surprise by Tahlia's explanation. She gave her an apologetic glance ''We have to know, sorry. I'm sure it must be difficult talking about it.'' That was worse than anything else, worse than the apocalypse, worse than watching the people suffer, worse than all the pain and death outside the walls that surrounded their safe little compound, this feeling of helplessness. Her eyes wandered to the street. All around there was nothing but, silence and the houses that stood seem to be just frozen in time. Cars still parked in the driveway, trash still sitting out on the side of the curb, and kids play toys still laying in the now overgrown yards. It was still hard to believe that this was the way of life now. Going into people's houses getting what she needed in order to survive. She felt like a thief by doing this but, she had too. She had to survive in this chaotic world and for what reason? She didn't know.

                                                              ''I'm not going to sugar coat it for you hun, the probability of surviving grows within the group number.'' she place the gun into her holster. ''Will you and the rest of your group be interested in joining us?'' she finally address the big elephant in the room. If it wasn't for Nick she wouldn't have been alive at the moment. She would have been living on borrowed time, still trying to survive. Luckily, Nick had sorted all that out in the end, and now she was once more in the right track -- but, she wasn't sure that she was doing much with it. But, she was alive and that was more than she could say for a lot of the people that she had known before the world went to hell. On the other hand, as much as she missed those people, she was sometimes glad that they were lost before the world completely fell apart and they didn't have to see how bad things had become. ''We all had our fair of demons. We had done what it takes in order to survive.'' she stood up from the table to get two plates of food. But, they all had their own ways of coping -- and Gaby was currently taking part in her favorite way of coping. Drinking. Not that anyone could blamed her. Nick was like a second father to her, and she owed him for many things so keeping him company while she was drunk was actually one of her favorite pastimes.

                                                              ''We had crash here for a couple of months now...but the looters are growing bold by the minute. We want to move far away from the city, we have a place in mind but... she place the plates at the table, turn back to the kitchen where she pull out an alcohol bottle. ''Sorry I can't offer you water, drinking only, but you can wash the blood off with alcohol.'' she grab a kitchen rag for Tahlia. ''Here.'' There wasn't much for her to do around here in her spare time, except drink. When she wasn't by the window keeping watch or checking on Nicholas, or helping to keep the hummer running, then she was occupying her time by sitting here, in her favorite chair by the window overlooking the streets, working her way through bottle after bottle. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with company.This was where she had come to rest on this particular day. The chair creaked under her weight as she leaned to one side to set the empty bottle down on the floor. The apocalypse is kind of peaceful sometimes, Gaby thought to herself. It wasn't a totally accurate thought, what with all the biters wandering around these days, not to mention other survivors who might slit your throat for your supplies or the looters that had managed to survive so far and would happily turn you into a main course. No, the apocalypse was a terribly violent time, but then again Gaby was slightly drunk.

                                                              ''The place we want to go is not so easy to get at. We have the hummer so getting will be...comfortable but once we arrive we don't know what to expect. That is the tricky part.'' Gaby start eating the tuna with crackers and beans. Beans her father loved beans, her own father had missed the apocalypse, or whatever they were calling this and at times she was glad for that. and other times there was nothing in the world that she wanted more than to feel her father wrap his arms around her, and know that it was going to be okay. she tried her best to keep a brave face, but she'd definitely slipped into a place that her father wouldn't have been proud of. ''But that place is our best shot, it have his own generator and water system. Is out of sight, and hopefully a place to call home. she smile at Tahlia ''Is not a fairy tale, is not a trap. We don't have an ulterior motive, we only want to survive.'' Gaby asked now looking at the window. ''What do you want? '' she look back at Tahlia.


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                                                              Nick open his eyes, it took a moment to focus on the room and to see what was going on. Gaby was interrogating Tahlia, without him. She can be so damn annoying. Whatever she was a big girl. She could handle herself. He yawned as he got up from the couch. ''Hmmm smells nice.'' Nick lick his lower lip ready to attack the plate over the kitchen counter. Since he was standing in front of the balcony he was able to see people running into the complex ground, no no-no. ********. Looters. ''People coming our way, I will deal with them.'' He gave Gaby a look before running out of the apartment, unlocking the door ''Lock the door behind me, stay put.'' he close the door behind him, then run downstairs. Carefully he made his way to the bottom of the stairs. Nick needed to wait for the strangers to get inside, once the close the door behind them he could sneak under the stairs. Cuz if he duck now once the open the door they could spot him and kill him in the spot. What a stupid way to go down.

                                                              The world was quickly becoming a very unsafe place. Anyone infected would go into a very primal state where any living thing was seen as the enemy and treated accordingly. However they were not like any animals he ever learned about. His father taught him about nature and how animals could be predictable in their behavior, they ran off pure instinct unlike people who could reason and choose to ignore their instincts. These monsters were nothing like that; they had no concern for their own well-being and seemed to feel no pain. Only a kill shot would put them down for good. Civilization went to s**t. Many wanted to head for another city but not him, he like the idea of hiking through the woods. Knowing the cities wouldn’t be safe but being unable to stop them he pressed on using hiking trails and sometimes pushing through dense nature to avoid encounters with infected and soon after that he was also avoiding humans or at least observing them before getting involved.

                                                              Moving quietly the ranger in him knew the qualities of wood and was well versed in walking the miles of forest he use to watch over without disturbing much and making as little noise as possible remembering his father’s humorous lessons about being a guest in such places. The occasional glance at the floor boards allowed him to see which of the planks were rotten or unstable and which ones would support his weight without making too much noise or any if he could manage it. Being physically fit and having muscle tone had its advantages in running and climbing but it made you heavier and larger and so if you wanted to walk without being observed or heard you had to be more careful. He exhaled slowly, well aware that if he wanted to approach the strangers he'd need to make sure that it was safe to do so. He walked quietly, his boots making hollow echoes on the floorboards as he continued deeper into the living room and to the front door. He froze suddenly, positive he'd heard noises. Not growls or any sound related to biters. Two or three humans? At least. Nicholas couldn't tell.

                                                              It didn't necessarily mean he was in danger as not all signs of movement meant the infected but humans could be just as dangerous and he had learned a few lessons that had smacked some common sense and caution into him when approaching them. Not that he was planning on doing it any time soon. Oh no, first he will try to figure out why they were trespassing his camp. He raise his crossbow close to his chest as he leaned against the wall. Always keeping an eye on the hallway. Gaby and him had clean the place but he didn't want to take any chance. Windows and balcony were barricade with furniture. He had set wire traps across the hallways, and tie ropes around the possible entrances. Cans hang on ropes, acting like an alarm system. Some apartments doors were open, strategically, for visibility. While he lurked in the shadows and he possessed a good view of the group they couldn't see him. The strangers pass the first apartment door, by the third door they wire will slit their throats ''Stop. One more step and I will shoot. If you're thinkin' about trying to get what we have here, you'll be regretting it.'' Nicholas state, his voice came off raspy and bitter.

                                                              ''Put your weapons in the floor, slowly. My camp my rules, don't like it the door is right behind you.'' He didn't pretend he was going to trust them right off still. He had seen this far too much where someone pretended they were just wanting someone to let them into their circle of trust long enough to play the scared act, and then turn on them completely. Nick wasn't stupid, and he wasn't going to let anyone try to pull a fast one on him. "They only way I'm gonna hurt ya is if you try comin' at me first, or if you're in danger of turnin' into one of them things. And you better pray that you ain't. And if you come at me, you better make sure you know what the hell you're doin' before you try it." Nick was not playing. If they try something funny he will shoot. He was prepared to kill them.

                                                              Dealing with the remaining human lives that were not taken by this strange disease. The first is that desperation and self-preservation could turn men into animals and an animal with conscious thought and sentience was a dangerous beast. In the wild many animals preyed on others to survive, some even on their own species in times of hardship and human beings placed in situations like this one he found had the exact same instincts. When you were starving the idea of bashing your neighbors skull in with a crowbar was less appalling to you and once you stepped over the line it became easier and easier to justify your action when they were in the name of survival. The truth was though men were not true beasts; they did not harmonize with their environment like animals did as they could choose between instincts and thought to guide them which animals could not. Animals were not evil because they had no choice; everything they did was purely part of what they were and nothing more. Some might argue in the fall of civilization that mankind was no longer bound to the concept of morality when survival of the species was at stake but Nick was not yet ready to abandon the concept of a soul and decency just yet. Retreating into the shadows he now knew to be wary of people.

                                                              ''How many of you are?'' Paranoia started to creep over him, was this some sort of trap? Was she just a bait, anything could be possible, At the same time though, he couldn’t really not do anything now, he had already bit the bait sort of speak. Of course they want a place to crash, help, food, etc... “Three questions… that is all that it’ll take for me to decide whether if you belong in my group or not… answer them truthfully and I can offer you a safe place, a warning though, I used to be a reporter so I KNOW when people lie to me…” Here went nothing… that is all he could really think. “How many biters have you killed?” How many people have you killed?'' Why?''


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                                                    Queen, queen, queen, queen! If she heard that horrid title one more time from anyone, including her knight she’d scream! Being a queen was not who she was, it was a title that had been thrust upon her from birth and even after getting out of fulfilling her duties while in throne, her brother managed to worm his way back into the job! She felt like a five-year old who had not gotten their way, but the overwhelming urge to stomp around scream filled her. This was not what she wanted, nor expected out of life and if she had her way she’d give it all back money included. It wasn't worth it, not one bit. She’d much rather be happy and free from the responsibilities of a Queen than rich and consumed with stress and worry. The turning in her stomach was almost too much to bear and the tears stung in her eyes. Her hands covered her face that was quickly turning red as she worked herself up with the constant thought of the inevitable war.

                                                    The rest of her day had been spent avoiding her husband. She had busied herself with preparations for the lord's imminent arrivals, had her ladies and servants decorating the castle, and had written several letters to kith and kin, alike - doing her very best to ensure this wretched seed of gossip never got a chance to grow roots and sprout into some weed she could not beat back. King Aegon was going to win the war, he will shed blood with every step until his enemies were crush with fire. Her evening had been spent dining with her ladies and the lord's wives she had personally chosen to keep in her company before she had, at last, retired to her personal chambers. There she had allowed herself to be pampered and fussed over - feeling it was necessary after such an exhausting and trying day. She had spent a considerable time in her bath, being scrubbed until her skin was pink, and yet she still felt the filth of that word clinging to her. The King's wife. ''More.'' she order the handmaid to keep scrubbing, hoping the tingling sensation will leave her body. Whenever Aegon ravish her - she will take a long bath in order to wash him away. Even his memory was enough to make her want to peel off her skin.

                                                    Lounging in her robes as she was tended to, she sat in something of a daze as her hair was brushed for what could be considered an eternity until it fell in light airy waves. She couldn't deny how horrible she felt and how badly she wished things could all be different. She loathed Aegon. Loathed what he had done and how unhappy he had consistently made her. But what she loathed most were his sexual appetites and that now weighed so heavily in her head. Not that he had fathered some b*****d, or that he had betrayed her, yet. Languorously she had changed, dressing in her night-gown before a different, heavier robe was draped about her shoulders and another cup of wine poured. She had moved to her chaise, settling upon it like some weary lioness that had once roamed these lands, and brought her chalice to her lips as she stared out into the inky, star dotted sky beyond her window. The chill of the evening air seemed to barely affect her and she only shifted once she heard her twin's voice. ''Brother.'' The secretive smile her twin shared with her made Beaurhys's heart melt. She was quite certain that he was the man she wanted to spend her days with. There seemed to be a bond growing between them, strong, tantalizing, beautiful, and intense … almost as if the gods had made them expressly for each other. ''Did the King send you? '' Beaurhys's violet hues broke from the night sky to her brother. Her lips parted to give him a verbal reprimand - since she had specifically requested that she not be bothered - but she caught the sight of his tall frame in her periphery and thought better of it. Instead, she waved her free hand,"Away, all of you" before glancing back out the window as her ladies picked up their skirts and filed past the prince and out the door, shutting it behind them.

                                                    As he dared speak of his love for her, talking of sealing his word with blood, that steely look of hers quickly melted as the little flame that had always flickered within her exploded, the fire consuming her. She had tried so hard this entire time to keep her tongue, to maintain some dignity despite how angry she had been with him yet now something seemed to snap. She took two big steps towards him, her skirts rustling against the floor before she craned her neck forward, staring down at him as the flame found her eyes and tongue, a sharp, scalding chortled leaving her, "Perhaps it is blood that is necessary." It was not her twin's blood she was referring to. Blinded by her anger, a plot began to unfold in her mind. It seized her hard and swift, poisoning her as it fueled her loathing.

                                                    time-skip



                                                    Queen Beaurhys was, by and large, a woman who loved pomp and circumstance but the day's festivities were just a bit too.. festive. She was in quite the sour mood after watching all kinds of lords and lordlings fawn of the other queen without so much as a nod in her direction and there simply hadn't been enough wine to tolerate such a thing. Reason told her that they only wasted their time on the little brat in the hopes of gaining her as their prize along with the titles and influence that would come with winning a Martell princess but reason had no place in her mind at this point in the day. Wine had long since drowned such thoughts, leaving her bitter and far too loose-tongued to be in polite company. It takes one lady to recognize a whore, princess Obara was after her husband. King Aegon. That b***h. Beaurhys thought. She will not be replaced with a Dornish whore. Her husband left to chase her tail, men were pigheads. Although her actions were generally well calculated, she was also not a woman without impulse. She was quite the mercurial thing, something she most loathed about herself, and not above letting her emotions get the better of her. But that did not mean she was also a woman of regret.

                                                    She call her knight ''Keep an eye on the Dornish whores.'' She noted the guard's nervousness as he did as she requested and moved closer to her. Even when she had been little more than a baby, people had been uncomfortable around her, afraid that they may do or say something that would anger her or a member of her family. She was accustomed to it by now, and in truth, their discomfort was a good thing, for it kept them humble and aware that they should be on their best behavior when in the presence of royalty. ''Yes your Grace.'' His words pleased her, and a soft shade of rose blossomed across her cheeks. He was more attractive up close than he was at a distance, at least what she could see with her head in a position where she had to look at him out of the corner of her eye. She would have liked to ask him to sit next to her, but as the queen's personal guard, he would probably rather stand. She dismiss him.

                                                    After exchanging words with the King's right hand she took her leave. She had - with the gentle and graceful insistence of her ladies - sought respite in her bed chamber where a small banquet of savouries and sweets had been laid out to ensure the dragon Queen had something in her belly in hopes her spirits may lift and her attitude might change by the time the victor's feast end this evening. Chances, however, were slim. In time, and after a few lemon cakes and another glob of wine, the Queen was once more all giggles and sly grins as she chattered and gossiped away with her ladies. Once the dining was done, she appeared ready to be around other subjects once more now that she wasn't like to try to stab a butter knife in some unsuspecting yet well-meaning noble's back. With that, she had bathed - because sticky fingers were utterly appalling - and changed into a new gown - since one of her status could not remain in the same gown for the entire day's events - before her ladies dressed her hair in braids and fingers in gold and gem-encrusted bands. It was during this time that the dragon Queen had a passing thought - one that she felt the need to voice.

                                                    "Lady Bea, sweet child, go find my handmaid. Tell her I demand her presence. Tell her she will find me in the east wing." Lady Margot did not hide her grin before suggesting, "Require may be more fitting, your Grace." Queen Beaurhys pricked a brow and side-eyed the bold woman before turning her gaze back to her reflection in the mirror, "That is what I said." Lady Margot bowed her head obligingly as Bea curtsied deep before leaving as quickly and quietly as she could to go and seek out the Queen's handmaid. Who have been absent the entire morning waiting for her punishment. Queen Beaurhys knew exactly who, when and where her husband ********. Within the castle walls. That she chose to look the other way did not gave him the right to ravish her handmaid, her most loyal companion. That selfish egocentric man. Once Lady Bea escorted Lady Thea into the adjacent room, things went downhill. Standing there, dwarfed by her handmaid, she barely bat a lash. Perhaps striking her was not the right thing to have done but she would've likely done it again if given the chance. The Queen was not one to take such a slight with grace or ease and it took everything in her to keep her hands from shaking from her anger, making small fists at her sides. ''Pray the gods you are not with child.'' Her words came out in a raspy sound. Sleeping with the King and not telling her right away. Was every women in he kingdom trying to take her crown? Keeping her chin aloft, she kept her violet hues locked on Lady Thea, daring not to break eye contact despite it being plain she was struggling to maintain composure against her own rage.

                                                    Upon Lady Thea's admission that she wished and longed for it to have been her Queen and not her. Queen Beaurhys clenched jaw slackened and her eyes threatened to betray her. For but a brief moment, there was a flicker of sadness and longing, yet it passed with a blink as she resent her jaw. Instead, she sneered; she was hurt, angry and upset and, being the prickly and insufferable thing that she was, by the gods, Lady Thea would not get off easily, no matter her sincerity. ''I won't tolerate your insubordination. I forbid you to say a word to anyone,'' Once Lady Thea acquiesced to her demand, Queen Beaurhys only gave her a prompt nod before turning sharply as her skirts whirling about her slippered feet. Offering her back to the handmaid before she had even finished, she left much in the same manner in which she arrived - blowing in and out with the intensity of a summer storm.

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                                                              He listen attentively to the woman who spoke up. "Nah.. I ain't gonna kill ya. I'm not gonna play cop lady." Nick told her, and looked away at the floor before looking back at the group. He couldn't deny she was pretty.. damn pretty. Even if Nick didn't have that much experience with women he couldn't deny that. He knew though still looks could be deceiving. ''Look, if you can assure us ya ain't gonna turn on us and rob us blind, maybe we can help. '' He still had the tone in his voice.. but noticing more and more that.. maybe she could be just a scared survivor, it wasn't as strong or demanding as before. Maybe slightly softer. He didn't know what it as. Maybe Nicholas White.. him.. had a soft spot for women. That simply made him laugh in his head, but.. well this one was pretty, and maybe she really wasn't secretly a psycho, but that didn't mean he was just gonna say 'hey come on and walk in.' If he did that.. she would have to give him a damn good reason as to why Nick should trust her, and then maybe they'd talk.

                                                              One person twenty minutes ago. Nice. "Good.. keep it that way. You don't kill a live person unless you have no choice cause they're about to die the hard way anyway.'' Unfortunately, whatever they had is what they could gather along the way, it wasn't much but, most other survivors out there, those things they had were enough to kill over; despite everything that had happened, Nick was not about to go down without one hell of a fight. Him not stepping in ‘cause a lot of good people’s life, a ‘mistake’ that he was sure to NEVER repeat again. ''Tahlia hold it, there is no need for that.'' Nicholas said. ''Ok man. Keep your end of the bargain and you are welcome to stay.'' So they were a bunch of strangers who bump into each other. For him, with certain people it was just hard for him to believe but honestly it didn't seem like he was being dishonest though. It seemed like he genuinely meant what he said. Nick was good at reading people.. too good at it he thought. He didn't back down when he thought something was off in a certain situation.

                                                              ''Stay put. I'm going to get a flashlight.'' What he did though was step from under the stairs, ''I'm coming out.'' and he lowered the crossbow enough to show them that he wasn't going to shoot unless they really did drop to the floor and come back as a biter. He was also showing them that he wasn't going to attack them. The only way he would do that.. even to someone who wasn't a woman, was if they threatened him first, or decided to be an idiot about something that meant life or death. He had a temper, and you didn't want to try to push his nerves too much.

                                                              He decided the only way was to tell him like it was and not sugar coat it.. which was Nick's specialty. He never beat around the bush, and people who knew him, knew that and Nick even said you could get used to it, or you could just get out of his face, cause he wasn't going to screw around with this stuff. "I ain't gonna sugar coat things sunshine, but your friends would have to be damn good to still be out and breathing in this. I only hope ya find them." He sighed and looked toward the window, ''If you are going back there I will help you, but we will use another way. I don't want to draw any more attention.'' shifting his footing, and just waiting for an answer, and letting them know that he damn well-meant what he said. With that said Nicholas pull out a flashlight from his back pocket, he turn the cap around to turn it on. He lowered his crossbow more to show them he wasn't trying to be a threat, but that he would still defend himself if anything were to happen.

                                                              ''So you are responsible for the car alarm?'' He place his crossbow on his back, walked to the end of the stairs to pick gloves. ''That was stupid. But who I am to judge?'' he shrugged. Nick place the flashlight on his mouth to set down the wire traps. The shiny ******** wires were dangerously threatening to cut the old dirty gloves. ''Tahlia, is any of them part of your group?'' Nicholas aim the flashlight into the strangers direction. ''Can you see the wire traps? Try not to get caught,'' he point the head level wires ''Come on, watch your steps. We set wires by the ankles height.'' He step back, casually leaned against the wall under the stairs. ''Come on, one by one.''



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NICHOLAS ZARHLO VLADIMIR
THE BRAVE DOCTOR


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                                                                            Nicholas made a soft shushing sound, at the little boy who seemed terrified, he was so young when this whole thing started and he could only imagine just how hard it must have been for his mother and for this child too; it was a horror movie for an adult, he couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for a child his age, which he guessed was about 8 or 11 years old, tops. ''Sorry.'' It was not his intention to scare him to death or scare him at all. A small warm smile was placed upon his lips when he took his shoulder, mostly to assure Noah that he wouldn't hurt him. He took a quick look around mostly to assess the situation in hand, his mind speeding like a windmill on a windy day, trying to figure out what to do with this child beside him, to leave him here in a promise of come back later was unacceptable to his standards. However Noah was more interested in what was inside the backpack. AH kids. Well at least the awkward parenting speech was off the table, he didn't want to take care or call his attention. It wasn't his place, he was not the kid's father.

                                                                            ''Could it be possible that ...the virus is blocking the serum's effect of the patient?'' He reply to the Dr. who seem frustrated with the results. Oh boy here we go again, did she really thought those freaking things were still humans? ''If they serve their purpose why don't put them out their misery?'' he quietly ask to himself biting his tongue. Arguing with Asia was not his favorite cup of tea. ''Well doc I think preventing the humans from turning into that will be a good start. Maybe after that you can focus on saving them,'' Nick cross his arm over the chest. That was his opinion and it was not for debate. ''Those things are not human anymore. Once the fever fries their brain they come back as...well that.'' He point the walker on the bed. ''Accordingly to medicine, once the brain is dead there is not much left for science.'' Nick added.

                                                                            Nick knew that to stock up the place with enough supplies would take them a while and though there weren't many of them, in what food was about, they need at least weeks worth of supplies to last. He consider to venture out to get three things, food, batteries and if possible a working car, either to gather things or for an easy getaway in case they'd be forced out of the place they were. ''You have?'' Nick raise his eyebrow, well that was unexpected to say the least. ''Any particular place in mind?'' he start place on the gloves, safety first. ''We are going to need a car, that is probably the only thing that can get us out of here fast enough. But I can't tell if the roads are a mess or not, they probably are.'' He sighed heavily, turning his face to look at her ''What you want me to do?'' Nick asked now obviously referring to work. ''Let's get this over with.'' he made a face. Clearly he couldn't hide his dislike for the walkers.

                                                                            ''I was thinking about cooking my famous pasta.''

                                                                            location: lab ll with: Anastasia, Noah ll feeling: tired & sore

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                                                              Tyson was amusing, beyond words adorable. The way he grasped at straws and tried to make sense of things just made Gaby want to pinch those cute cheeks of his. The ones on his face, not his butt, though grabbing those cheeks were also on her to-do list, but not right now, she'd be able to do is admire them from afar. Until then, at least she had a nice view. Finally Tyson sat down. After breaking the ice and receiving a flirtatious smile and thank you, Gaby figured it would be smooth sailing from there. Dropping a few bottle caps someone's way to get them a drink was a good way to get into their pants, an experiment that had worked in her favor on numerous occasions. Getting them drunk often led to sex in her experience thus far, so why fix a method that wasn't broken? Her smirk widened a tad. ''Well aren't you a sweetheart?'' She wondered just how sweet this man could taste like, finding her mind wandering to an extremely inappropriate place as her eyes danced with flirtation, lowering her gaze briefly to steal a glance of his chest, watching as it rose and fell with his breath, pressed against his clothing, practically begging her to take them in her hands and give them a squeeze. Gaby lightly bit her lip as she brought her eyes back front and center. A prize worth fighting for.

                                                              Hook, line and sinker. Gaby’s mouth quirked upwards in a sardonic smile before letting the role she was supposed to be playing, the woman, the false life over take her. ''Hope you stick around long enough to be part of the family.'' Boundaries wasn't something Gaby abided by, at least 99.9% of the time. When she became friendly with someone, she often invaded personal bubbles, not caring much about the other's discomfort. She just liked to lay back, relax, and enjoy the other's company, even if by doing so she was breaching their personal space. Friends were friends. ''Or at least become a good... good friend.'' She place her hand above Tyson hand. Sometimes words just weren't enough to convey a point and physical contact had to be applied to drive the point home. She'd meant to stay composed, but in the end, she'd come close to grinding him into the table. Thankfully, due to her high-self control, she was able to pull herself away before things got out of hand. ''Drink up, is not like we have to get up to work.'' she giggled. Oh boy she was so drunk.

                                                              ''It must be your lucky day, this building have a water tank reserve. Small thing, but it kept us fresh and clean.'' Down here people knew what life and death meant, how valuable untainted water was, how important safety and comfort had become when so little else mattered otherwise. They were violent, all of them fighting like dogs for the scraps left behind by those before who destroyed most of what was good in the world. Greed and lust ruled these lands, corrupting the flesh and mind to the core no different from the sea now so dark and hollow. Somehow, it felt meaningless, empty and futile, as if the biters influences of the dead were slowly draining what existence the living had left in such barbaric times. When the supplies ran out, who's to say the same mistakes of war and genocide won't simply repeat again? ''There is some water left in my shower, you can take a nice bath. I won't send you for water since is late...''

                                                              For a world gone so wrong, the remains could still be called beautiful. Time was all anyone ever had, an abundance of breaths to take, micro-decisions worth making, and steps in any direction worth saving or spending at will. There were places to see, small things that still remained in the world that could have been worth more than fuel, or bullets, or food. To most it seemed missed, avoided, ignored like that nasty step-relative who would never stop vying for attention despite how you felt. The air was less clean, the sky had less color, the scenery was less lively, but it was still an existence short of misery. In times like this, the sun was the only god anyone could call magnificent. ''Hmmm is getting late. I wonder where are the others?'' she pour more whiskey inside her glass. ''So Tyson do you like the view so far?'' Gaby tended to live her day one day at a time. She rarely made any sort of long-term arrangements, because she lived in a constant state of fluidity. Everything she held close could be put in a bag and thrown on her back in a moments notice. It was hard for the girl to put down any roots, but even such, Gaby had grown to be a sort of home for her she hadn't really anticipated. So when her gaze fall on Tyson's backpack she couldn't help but to feel connected with him. She had forgotten about Victoria, ''Tahlia's kid. Victoria.'' Gaby mumble as she stood up ''Let's show you your bedroom,'' Gabriela wasn't a hooker, nor was she was a slut. She just needed a good, fun time to clear her head. If that meant picking up a stranger, which seemed like the best option, then so be it. It wasn't something she would ever do again, but that didn't make it wrong.

                                                              She gestured for him to walk ahead of her, ''Second door to the left.'' It was a nice room. Just a basic room, but a nice room all the same. There was a single double size bed up against the wall. The headboard was mounted to the wall and there were lights on either side of it. An alarm clock was situated next to a phone on the left side night stand. There was a small circular table by the large window with a chair on either side of it. A long black lacquer dresser was opposite the bed with a mirror mounted over the top. A flat screen TV was also mounted to the wall to the side of the mirror.

                                                              He wasn't fawning all over her to tear off her clothes. Being overeager meant she probably wasn't going to get much out of the encounter, and while the whole point was wham, bam, thank you ma'am, Gaby wasn't going to be happy if he treated her like she was nothing more than a receptacle. Of course, there was only one way to find out. ''Pretty nice. Huh'' She gathered up all the courage she had and reached out to run her hands up the front of his shirt. His body was firm, which wasn't really a surprise to her. His eyes, daring her to do more. It seemed strange to undress him further without having tested the waters with a kiss, so she started there. Her hands slid up his arms, past his neck to his jaw. He was a good kisser. Not too much tongue or sloppiness. Gaby hated feeling like the guy she was kissing was trying to lick her spleen. It was unnecessary, in her humble opinion, and he wasn't like that at all. Her heart slowed just a little as they fell into a rhythm. As her comfort level increased, her hands started to roam. "Holy third leg, Batman," she gasped as he was obviously happy. "Do you need a permit to carry that?" she joked playfully, while getting rid of his shirt. Again there was that laugh. There was something almost infectious about it and she dropkicked the little voice that got sad over not hearing it again after tonight.

                                                              Gaby met his hot look with one of her own and moaned softly. He moved his hand up further to the small of her back. He let his touch linger there warming her skin. “You make me want to be very bad.” she whispered in his ear, then bit down gently on the lobe. ''Come.'' she winked at him, her finger tangled with his ''My bedroom is that one.'' By the time they reached the door to her bedroom, she was smiling. As soon as they were in the room, Tyson had her pressed up against the nearest wall with his body. He pinned her arms to the sides of her head and nestled his leg in between hers. He drew in a long breath, smelling from the nape of her neck to her ear.
                                                              One hand-held her by her wrists above her head, while the other picked her up by the back of her thighs, bringing hers legs around his waist. It didn't take long before her hips were rocking back against him. "Bed?" she gasped, as his mouth latched onto the flesh of her exposed neck. A gasp escaped from her throat at the speed in which Tyson had her on the bed, underneath him, with her face in the mess of sheets and blankets.


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                                                                Melancholy had gripped Mei Li, as it so often did, while she was on her own, locked into her room. Alone with her thoughts, memories had the tendency to break loose, which, more often than not, ended in Mei feeling like the victim of a rockfall. For a while, she had laid on her bed, facing the ceiling, and let all the images from the world of what used to be run through her mind's eye, but eventually, the grief she felt (still all too present after all these weeks) rested so heavily on her chest that it was becoming hard to breathe. The sensation was hardly unfamiliar to her, and she had long found out that company and some sort of distraction was the only remedy. Her melancholy moods had become frequent of late, she noted with concern, wondering what it might mean to experience the memories so vividly, some weeks after the romantic event; but then again it might just be her sense of time, always so skewed and confused at the palace. loneliness had become like a burden to Mei and it irritated her. She had spent half her life on her own. She had never particularly valued the company of other people - had valued much more the retreat into other worlds that the pages of the many books found at the library had to offer. And yet, she had been feeling quite alone - even forsaken at times. It had become more painful to watch others get along, to see friendships form between old and new guests alike; but she had always set herself apart, had built walls of hostility to keep out all the inconsequential chatter that went on around her. Rationally, she didn't long for friends, or even company; she had the few she liked well enough, the ones she trusted and whose company she even considered to be pleasant. But there was something else at work inside her chest, and Mei could not quite figure out just what it was supposed to be. Or perhaps she knew? Broken heart. For a brief moment she travel back time to a place where she once was happy. Bora Bora.

                                                                Mei Li sleeps like a dead, and irony that is completely lost on her as she snoozes hard and deep through most any kind of ruckus. She’s decided that she can, you see. Simple as that. It could also have something to do with the familiar bed that was not her own. She’s comfortable there and sleeps on her back, like princess Aurora ready to be awakened. Deep as she is, though, she awakes with the lightest of touches. Taejun has a voice that sounds very much like how walking on a gravel path feels and when he commands her eyes open. She doesn't blink to adjust, at least not in the fluttery manner in which she ought. Rather, like she had merely been waiting for him. She likes spending time with him—him more than other people. Taejun would speak to her in a tongue that she didn't have to learn, was gruff with other people but she would catch him cracking a little grin. She liked the way his hands felt on her hips, and the way his beard felt on her neck. And the planes of his chest. She was in love. And she liked it. He was interesting in ways that her comrades were sadly not. A sleepy grin cracks across her face, she feels the imprint of his lips and rolls up onto her side. Hello, says her springy posture. Mei cranes her neck and kisses the bridge of Taejun’s nose and winks before mirroring his pose.

                                                                Mei it is to say, is quite fond of his hair. In the permanent non-morning she enjoys running her fingers through it, reveling in the tactile sensation—a simplicity not many stop to appreciate. She likes it. She likes it a lot. Mei endeavors to inform him of how much she does but Taejun has other plans apparently. Plans that involve lifting her from the warmth of the covers and slinging her about like a fur stole. She gives a small exclamation of surprise and mild annoyance at being so suddenly lifted; she had plans. At least the shower water is warm. She doesn’t stay irritated for long, breaking into a smile when the warm water hits her back and hair, gluing the dark strands to her face. Taejun touches her nose and pulls hair from her face and perhaps if they were not half-naked it would feel almost fraternal. He likes to take care of her. She likes that he likes that. She lets him, grinning as he cups her cheeks and asks if she loves him this morning. This morning and every morning, duh. But she wants what she wants before she tells him. Mei smacks her lips together, pointing at them in an expectant gesture. She’s demanding currency for her response.

                                                                She giggles at him, and keeps giggling until he presses her back against the tiles. Cold-Hot-Cold he’s playing today, trying to knock her off balance. Two can play at that game and when he kisses her she latches onto him, pulling him even tighter against her so that if they were any closer he would crush her into a diamond. That’s how she feels, pulled and hot-cold with such a pressure—it’s fun. It’s feeling and in her world that is quite hard to come by. Mei nips, no, bites at his lips when he pulls back, clamping down and releasing just as quick; there is a smarmy grin on her face as she is almost too pleased with herself. Waterfalls in thick rivulets down his back and she traces the lines, rerouting the streams as she does. She pinches his skin lightly, just behind his shoulder blades and winks, kissing him deeply again. Good morning she says in this way. Making sure he’s awake, he’s attentive. She rubs her chin against his own, giggling at the bristles that never go away. They make him look quite tired and she’s spent long pictures what he would look like without that morning shadow across his face. Quite young, she imagines. Quite handsome, too. Mei pulls back against the wall then, just enough to wind her hand between them and shake her palm in a gesture for shampoo. She likes it when he washes her hair. Taejun treats it with all the care one might give to a glass ornament. It’s softer than the way she treats it herself. It’s not so much a pamper as an experience in the sensual arts. And she is nothing if not an expert on that. 'I adore you Taejun' What a fool for believing it could last. Given some time, she hoped sincerely, she would regain her composure. The sense of unaccustomed vulnerability displeased her, and yet she had exposed herself to the assaults of people sitting, as she was, in clear sight of anyone who cared to penetrate the shadows; and she herself started out at them, unfocused, letting shapes blur as she sipped her drink.

                                                                It was her first day off without any media work whatsoever to focus on, deciding to treat herself to relaxation, liquor, and beauty products spread on her face while she watched trash television and sipped mimosas on her lounge chair. After finishing painting her nails, she fanned them lightly with a lazy free hand and washed the green goop off her face until she felt refreshed and clean. Somebody on the television set began to try to use a chair in self-defense against a crazy ex-boyfriend. This was the reason that relationships were off-limits; just a bunch of nut jobs that don't need to reproduce. Plus love was a scam, just something that people used to get more money from; greeting card companies bathing in their wealth and chocolate chefs coming up with more ways to sell mediocre sweets in heart shaped boxes. Ah, Mei Li was not sickeningly sweet or as generous with her feelings and thoughts, not giving in to fancy poetry and love letters. Crown princess Mei Li was not entirely sure about the whole marrying a the crown prince of Japan while her heart belonged to someone else. When the sound of knocking echoed in her bedroom, she took her time to get off the chair and wander to the door, knowing well aware who was on the opposite side of it. Mei Li cautiously opened the door with her long dark hair pulled up into curlers, giving the female a small smile and gestured inside. ''You are late,'' she said with a small chuckle and shut the door behind her before she ventured back to the living room where she tightened the tie at the front of her silk robe and sat back down, taking a sip of her mimosa from the champagne glass. ''Help me with the zipper.'' her voice tone was soft and polite. Mei Li’s favorite dress was white and clung to her skin like mermaid scales. Little white lace sequins lined their way down it in geometric patterns. They zig zagged and crossed, patterning across her body and skin. She held it up at the shoulders, waiting for the servant to come zip her up. She hummed quietly to herself, blinking at her reflection, which blinks back, blushing with that strange bit of embarrassment that these domestic moments always bring her. She drops the dress, letting it slide off her body and down her shoulders, and starts to adjust her earrings. Switching from the pearls to the diamonds and back again, even though she knows she’s going to go with the gold dangly ones. Because she always does. It’s not that she’s a stick in the mud who hates change and lacks spontaneity, but they look the best, and she’s a truly utilitarian person somewhere deep in there, and she always likes to look her best.

                                                                For an indulgent moment, she pictures the way Jianying might look at her, when she’s all done up and at her prettiest. If she catches the right light, he sometimes stops, just to take the entire extent of her in, from her arms to her soul. Moments like that is when Sungjong cannot be farther from her mind or nearest to hers, that she thinks for a second Jianying might be happy. And she would like him to be. More than anything, she would love him to be happy. But he’s as stubborn as she is, in his own way. And he tugs onto that unexisting crush, trying to force it into something holy and eternal. Wang Mei Li you are been delusional. A tiny voice scream inside her head breaking the spell ''Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?'' She batted her eyelashes at herself, absentmindedly, bouncing her hair a little bit in the mirror.

                                                                TIME SKIP

                                                                Before she reached the ground floor, where she was sure to meet with other guests and find the distraction she so desperately wished for, Mei stopped briefly on the first, wandering the hall until she reached Taejun's room. Listening briefly for any noise coming from the room, she knocked softly, knowing already that there would be no response. Taejun, it seemed, rarely ever felt the need to retreat to his room to be alone, quite unlike Mei herself; and so Mei had no choice but to continue her way downstairs, to find the dining room and other kinds of entertainment. Long before she entered the buzzing cloud of noise - a mix of music and voices that sometimes felt soothing, and other times rather the opposite of it - that always hung about the dining room, Mei's smile had slipped into place, and, leaning against the doorframe, she lit a cigarette and surveyed the room. Everyone had found company, it appeared on first glance, laughing and chatting in different levels of liveliness, and so Mei meandered through the groups until she reached the bar. It was unusual for her to be entirely without company - but while the moment lasted, and she waited for the Martini she'd ordered, she revelled in this in-between position: not quite part of the crowd (at least so she felt at this moment), but not quite an outsider either. The drink arrived swiftly, and Mei remained alone as she was, still as a statue save for the soft motion of her breathing and the smoke that curled upwards from her fingers - waiting for someone to break the spell. Before anyone could object to her actions Mei find her way to the bar.

                                                                The taste of olives and gin coated her tongue, and she popped a whole olive (sans pimento) into her mouth to chew. Martini’s were a lot easier to stomach being nervous, it seemed, and Mei Li was grateful for it. She loved the look of a woman drinking a Martini, the sophistication behind the shape of the glass in a hand, the iconic image of it. Smoking too, that was a habit she could now form without concern for her own well being. No chance of winding up like her great grandfather, sputtering on a respirator. She was used to the smell, the musk of heavy smoke mixed with a leafy, mint scent that conjured images of her grandfather’s chambers a place she'd only been a handful of times before his death. Old school, Wang Huan was. Pure confidence man, the quintessential grifter who had helped her learn the difference in the players. “The are three different types of marks, Pumpkin. The Wolf, the Sheep, and the Shepherd. The Wolf is the greedy, the vain, the dishonest who are easy to mark but harder to slip away from with your hand still intact. The Sheep are the naive and the credulous, easy to con, unless you have a conscience. The Shepherd… now, they're the tricky ones. The ones who lead flocks are the ones you really gotta watch out for.” Her newest mark was most definitely a Shepherd. Not quite a wolf, but far enough from a sheep that the idea was laughable. Former crown princess, self-absorbed and manipulative with lots of trinkets and a wardrobe full of the finer items.



                                                                And that was why crown princess Mei Li was seated in the bar, sipping her dirty martini in her white fur coat, watching the disgusting engaged royal couple glowing in happiness. She had spent the past few days (or what felt like it, anyway) observing Eunsung discretely, getting a feel for the cadence of her words and the unconscious movements of her frame. She finished the remainder of her drink, ordered two more. Timed down to the second, Mei Li waited until just the right moment-specifically the sight of the bottom of a glass, before she made her move.


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                                                  xx xxxxx BEFORE OUR MEMORIES ARE FORGOTTEN
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
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                                                                  xxBOW DOWN TO YOUR FUTURE QUEEN!!



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                                                      • Melancholy had gripped Mei Li, as it so often did, while she was on her own, locked into her room. Alone with her thoughts, memories had the tendency to break loose, which, more often than not, ended in Mei feeling like the victim of a rockfall. For a while, she had laid on her bed, facing the ceiling, and let all the images from the world of what used to be run through her mind's eye, but eventually, the grief she felt (still all too present after all these weeks) rested so heavily on her chest that it was becoming hard to breathe. The sensation was hardly unfamiliar to her, and she had long found out that company and some sort of distraction was the only remedy. Her melancholy moods had become frequent of late, she noted with concern, wondering what it might mean to experience the memories so vividly, some weeks after the romantic event; but then again it might just be her sense of time, always so skewed and confused at the palace. Loneliness had become like a burden to Mei and it irritated her. She had spent half her life on her own. She had never particularly valued the company of other people - had valued much more the retreat into other worlds that the pages of the many books found at the library had to offer. And yet, she had been feeling quite alone - even forsaken at times. It had become more painful to watch others get along, to see friendships form between old and new guests alike; but she had always set herself apart, had built walls of hostility to keep out all the inconsequential chatter that went on around her. Rationally, she didn't long for friends, or even company; she had the few she liked well enough, the ones she trusted and whose company she even considered to be pleasant. But there was something else at work inside her chest, and Mei could not quite figure out just what it was supposed to be. Or perhaps she knew? Broken heart. For a brief moment she travel back time to a place where she once was happy. Bora Bora.

                                                        Mei Li sleeps like a dead, and irony that is completely lost on her as she snoozes hard and deep through most any kind of ruckus. She’s decided that she can, you see. Simple as that. It could also have something to do with the familiar bed that was not her own. She’s comfortable there and sleeps on her back, like princess Aurora ready to be awakened. Deep as she is, though, she awakes with the lightest of touches. Taejun has a voice that sounds very much like how walking on a gravel path feels and when he commands her eyes open. She doesn't blink to adjust, at least not in the fluttery manner in which she ought. Rather, like she had merely been waiting for him. She likes spending time with him—him more than other people. Taejun would speak to her in a tongue that she didn't have to learn, was gruff with other people but she would catch him cracking a little grin. She liked the way his hands felt on her hips, and the way his beard felt on her neck. And the planes of his chest. She was in love. And she liked it. He was interesting in ways that her comrades were sadly not. A sleepy grin cracks across her face, she feels the imprint of his lips and rolls up onto her side. Hello, says her springy posture. Mei cranes her neck and kisses the bridge of Taejun’s nose and winks before mirroring his pose.

                                                        Mei it is to say, is quite fond of his silky hair. In the permanent non-morning she enjoys running her fingers through it, reveling in the tactile sensation—a simplicity not many stop to appreciate. She likes it. She likes it a lot. Mei endeavors to inform him of how much she does but Taejun has other plans apparently. Plans that involve lifting her from the warmth of the covers and slinging her about like a fur stole. She gives a small exclamation of surprise and mild annoyance at being so suddenly lifted; she had plans. At least the shower water is warm. She doesn’t stay irritated for long, breaking into a smile when the warm water hits her back and hair, gluing the dark strands to her face. Taejun touches her nose and pulls hair from her face and perhaps if they were not half-naked it would feel almost fraternal. He likes to take care of her. She likes that he likes that. She lets him, grinning as he cups her cheeks and asks if she loves him this morning. This morning and every morning, duh. But she wants what she wants before she tells him. Mei smacks her lips together, pointing at them in an expectant gesture. She’s demanding currency for her response.

                                                        She giggles at him, and keeps giggling until he presses her back against the tiles. Cold-Hot-Cold he’s playing today, trying to knock her off balance. Two can play at that game and when he kisses her she latches onto him, pulling him even tighter against her so that if they were any closer he would crush her into a diamond. That’s how she feels, pulled and hot-cold with such a pressure—it’s fun. It’s feeling and in her world that is quite hard to come by. Mei nips, no, bites at his lips when he pulls back, clamping down and releasing just as quick; there is a smarmy grin on her face as she is almost too pleased with herself. Waterfalls in thick rivulets down his back and she traces the lines, rerouting the streams as she does. She pinches his skin lightly, just behind his shoulder blades and winks, kissing him deeply again. Good morning she says in this way. Making sure he’s awake, he’s attentive. She rubs her chin against his own, giggling at the bristles that never go away. They make him look quite tired and she’s spent long pictures what he would look like without that morning shadow across his face. Quite young, she imagines. Quite handsome, too. Mei pulls back against the wall then, just enough to wind her hand between them and shake her palm in a gesture for shampoo. She likes it when he washes her hair. Taejun treats it with all the care one might give to a glass ornament. It’s softer than the way she treats it herself. It’s not so much a pamper as an experience in the sensual arts. And she is nothing if not an expert on that. 'I adore you Taejun' What a fool for believing it could last. Given some time, she hoped sincerely, she would regain her composure. The sense of unaccustomed vulnerability displeased her, and yet she had exposed herself to the assaults of people sitting, as she was, in clear sight of anyone who cared to penetrate the shadows; and she herself started out at them, unfocused, letting shapes blur as she sipped her drink.

                                                        It was her first day off without any media work whatsoever to focus on, deciding to treat herself to relaxation, liquor, and beauty products spread on her face while she watched trash television and sipped mimosas on the lounge chair. After finishing painting her nails, she fanned them lightly with a lazy free hand and washed the green goop off her face until she felt refreshed and clean. Somebody on the television set began to try to use a chair in self-defense against a crazy ex-boyfriend. This was the reason that relationships were off-limits; just a bunch of nut jobs that don't need to reproduce. Plus love was a scam, just something that people used to get more money from; greeting card companies bathing in their wealth and chocolate chefs coming up with more ways to sell mediocre sweets in heart shaped boxes. Ah, Mei Li was not sickeningly sweet or as generous with her feelings and thoughts, not giving in to fancy poetry and love letters. Crown princess Mei Li was not entirely sure about the whole marrying a the crown prince of Japan while her heart belonged to someone else. When the sound of knocking echoed in her bedroom, she took her time to get off the chair and wander to the door, knowing well aware who was on the opposite side of it. Mei Li cautiously opened the door with her long dark hair pulled up into curlers, giving the female a small smile and gestured inside. ''You are late,'' she said with a small chuckle and shut the door behind her before she ventured back to the living room where she tightened the tie at the front of her silk robe and sat back down, taking a sip of her mimosa from the champagne glass. ''Help me get ready.'' her voice tone was soft and polite. Mei Li’s favorite dress was white and clung to her skin like mermaid scales. Little white lace sequins lined their way down it in geometric patterns. They zig zagged and crossed, patterning across her body and skin. She held it up at the shoulders, waiting for the servant to come zip her up. She hummed quietly to herself, blinking at her reflection, which blinks back, blushing with that strange bit of embarrassment that these domestic moments always bring her. She drops the dress, letting it slide off her body and down her shoulders, and starts to adjust her earrings. Switching from the pearls to the diamonds and back again, even though she knows she’s going to go with the gold dangly ones. Because she always does. It’s not that she’s a stick in the mud who hates change and lacks spontaneity, but they look the best, and she’s a truly utilitarian person somewhere deep in there, and she always likes to look her best.

                                                        For an indulgent moment, she pictures the way Jianying might look at her, when she’s all done up and at her prettiest. If she catches the right light, he sometimes stops, just to take the entire extent of her in, from her arms to her soul. Moments like that is when Sungjong cannot be farther from her mind or nearest to hers, that she thinks for a second Jianying might be happy. And she would like him to be. More than anything, she would love him to be happy. But he’s as stubborn as she is, in his own way. And he tugs onto that unexisting crush, trying to force it into something holy and eternal. Wang Mei Li you are been delusional. A tiny voice scream inside her head breaking the spell ''Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?'' She batted her eyelashes at herself, absentmindedly, bouncing her hair a little bit in the mirror.

                                                        TIME SKIP

                                                        Before she reached the ground floor, where she was sure to meet with other guests and find the distraction she so desperately wished for, Mei stopped briefly on the first, wandering the hall until she reached Taejun's room. Listening briefly for any noise coming from the room, she knocked softly, knowing already that there would be no response. Taejun, it seemed, rarely ever felt the need to retreat to his room to be alone, quite unlike Mei herself; and so Mei had no choice but to continue her way downstairs, to find the dining room and other kinds of entertainment. Long before she entered the buzzing cloud of noise - a mix of music and voices that sometimes felt soothing, and other times rather the opposite of it - that always hung about the dining room, Mei's smile had slipped into place, and, leaning against the doorframe, she lit a cigarette and surveyed the room. Everyone (the servants) had found company, it appeared on first glance, laughing and chatting in different levels of liveliness, and so Mei meandered through the groups until she reached the bar. It was unusual for her to be entirely without company - but while the moment lasted, and she waited for the Martini she'd ordered, she revelled in this in-between position: not quite part of the crowd (at least so she felt at this moment), but not quite an outsider either. The drink arrived swiftly, and Mei remained alone as she was, still as a statue save for the soft motion of her breathing and the smoke that curled upwards from her fingers - waiting for someone to break the spell. Before anyone could object to her actions Mei find her way to the bar.

                                                        The taste of olives and gin coated her tongue, and she popped a whole olive (sans pimento) into her mouth to chew. Martini’s were a lot easier to stomach being nervous, it seemed, and Mei Li was grateful for it. She loved the look of a woman drinking a Martini, the sophistication behind the shape of the glass in a hand, the iconic image of it. Smoking too, that was a habit she could now form without concern for her own well being. No chance of winding up like her great grandfather, sputtering on a respirator. She was used to the smell, the musk of heavy smoke mixed with a leafy, mint scent that conjured images of her grandfather’s chambers a place she'd only been a handful of times before his death. Old school, Wang Huan was. Pure confidence man, the quintessential grifter who had helped her learn the difference in the players. “The are three different types of marks, Pumpkin. The Wolf, the Sheep, and the Shepherd. The Wolf is the greedy, the vain, the dishonest who are easy to mark but harder to slip away from with your hand still intact. The Sheep are the naive and the credulous, easy to con, unless you have a conscience. The Shepherd… now, they're the tricky ones. The ones who lead flocks are the ones you really gotta watch out for.” Her newest mark was most definitely a Shepherd. Not quite a wolf, but far enough from a sheep that the idea was laughable. Former crown princess, self-absorbed and manipulative with lots of trinkets and a wardrobe full of the finer items.

                                                        ''I'm bored.'' And that was why crown princess Mei Li was seated in the bar, sipping her dirty martini in her white fur coat, watching the disgusting busy servants glowing in happiness. She finished the remainder of her drink, ordered two more. Timed down to the second, Mei Li waited until just the right moment-specifically the sight of the bottom of a glass, before she made her move. ''Once upon a time...'' The end, she'd leave the rest of the tale to the imagination, for now, and instead of bowing she knocked back the remnants of her drink. Just as the thought crosses her mind that she'll be needing another, one is thrust in front of her. Confused for a moment, a crease forming between her brow, she wonders if she's gained some kind of magic powers after such a long stay in the in-between. Alas, she has not as stumble into her big brother who seem lost. Mei had hear her maid gossiping about her brother and the king meeting. She had even been told a decent bit of the plot, in case questions arose. Always best to have too much information and not need it than to have too little information and require it. "A word, brother.'' She sipped her martini with practiced grace, she always cut a fine figure in the hallway; cigarette in one hand and drink in the other.

                                                        ''Did father find a new way of torturing you?'' Mei asked, flashing a big smile into his direction. She stood closer ''Spill,'' Traffic in the palace moved in pulses; one great living body transporting the servants like great flocks of chattering birds co-dependent on the each others’ presence and leaving the halls empty in their wake. A rhythm. Her time bloomed in the minutes between them. The thick, pungent effluvium of oil paints filled the empty hall like an extra, lingering body. Lithe fingers prickled with the newness of the brushes in one hand while the other pinched generous dollops of rich, cadmium pigments onto a rusty silver serving platter perched precariously upon the edge of the hall table beside her. ''This place need a extreme makeover.''


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                                                  xx xxxxx BEFORE OUR MEMORIES ARE FORGOTTEN
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
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                                                                  xxI WANT TO BREAK FREE!!



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                                                      • Pain. Anguish. Resentment. There was no more humiliation that the Romans could impose upon Delia that would have made her feel any worse. If she had been dead, it would have been a blessing. Yet in spite of her continuous prayers for a quick and merciful end, the gods would not oblige. Hades was clearly not ready to welcome her into his kingdom - not just yet. Why then, was she still here? Every inch of her skin burned in the hot sun; her tongue parched and swollen as she attempted to produce any amount of saliva that would relieve her suffering. The slave trader scarcely gave her troubles a conscious thought; he was more preoccupied with pinching her rump and squeezing her breasts than making sure whether she was still breathing. So much the better. Maybe she would collapse, choking on her own blood and then she would see and feel ... no more. Against her wishful thinking, no such luck was to be had that day. As a small crowd of would-be buyers began amassing in the street, Delia's gaze shifted upward, to meet the blazing rays of the sun. Defiant to the last, she would bat away any moisture threatening to gather in the corners of her eyes. She did not even feel the strong, repeated push of a muscular arm against her shoulder blades as the seller singled her out from a small army of his 'wares'. Emphasizing her features and benefits as well as unique selling points, he waited patiently to see if her half naked appearance and his ridiculous rhetoric garnered any interest.

                                                        Delia did not object as she stood half naked upon a revolving stand, allowing potential buyers to see exactly what they were about to purchase. Her ethnic origin was disclosed upon a placard hanging from her swan-like neck, detailing not only her nationality and place of origin, but also abilities and many 'virtues'. As she continued to stand motionless on display, Delia heard the seller once again, extolling her extraordinary maiden rectitude. She wanted to spit viciously in the direction of the man, but her throat remained dry and painful, reminding Delia of her abhorrent state. So she remained as she was, her standing upright fueled solely by her hatred for all surrounding her - even the helpless human beings being auctioned off along with her. No, Delia felt no compassion for her fellow human beings this day. Nor any day, following her capture and what followed. Wa--ter ...A single thought permeated her mind now, as both hands reached up to clutch at the iron-cast collar hugging her neck. If there was none to be had, perhaps Persephone herself could impose upon her divine husband to bring an expeditious end to her truculent suffering.

                                                        "On your feet, you dirty Greek whore!" As vertigo had temporarily dislodged Delia from her upright standing position, she was now coughing profusely as her chin nearly swept the ground; whether from the dust or lack of water one could not tell - but probably both. Her fighting spirit seething beneath the cruel lash that whipped across her back, she lifted her head slowly and peered up intensely at the slave monger, like a wounded animal poised to strike. Just then, her peripheral gaze registered a pair of feet closing in on her location. Smaller feet, feminine in shape and appearance. A woman's feet. Delia did not look to the approaching stranger, continuing to unleash a glare of mocking contempt at the vendor's scruffy, lecherous face. It was an unlikely stand-off, one she could not win - and she knew it - but she would stand her ground, nonetheless. Had it not been for her own weakened state and the chains that bound her, Delia would have leapt to the man's throat and attempted to claw his eyes out, long ago. Now only the thought of such action remained; it was that very thought of rabid vengeance, that kept her consciousness afloat.

                                                        "My Dominus wishes to make a purchase. This girl..." A voice of a stranger broke momentary silence as the trader stared down at the woman and revealed a row of rotting teeth beneath a licentious grin. Undaunted, the woman proceeded to pick out two others, their state as horrid and pitiful as the Greek girl's. Walking a proud stride toward the chosen lot, the vendor slapped each girl on her taut behind then canted his head at the public. "Forty denarii for the girl, then. My girls are clean, no lice; and talented like no other on any market in Rome, I can guarantee you that!" Forty denarii per girl. The trader thought he was offering a fair price. Delia did not care. Whatever Roman filth acquired her skin. For now, she could only hope her domina or dominus would conclude the transaction before passing out in the blazing sun...

                                                        The trader appeared genuinely confounded - but only for a moment. So now he had not one, but three potential buyers, and one of them (the woman) seemed to be in the mood for haggling. Maybe she thought him completely inept at his art, or all too easily intimidated? At that point, he began to turn Delia on her pedestal, showing that indeed, apart from the mud and grime her epidermis was intact. Only a few bruises were showing, one on the left side of her ribcage and another, on her back. "This one likes to bump into things. Never does as she's told. Maybe your dominus can break her will? The girl certainly has a lot of spirit." Pausing for a moment, the trader looked thoughtfully to each of his potential customers, and flashed another toothy grin - this time, at Galla. "Well, looks like a decision needs to be made. Tell you what. I have a fresh supply of slaves due to arrive from Carthage, next week. I got to make room. Therefore, since you have expressed your interest first and you're willing to take not one, but three off my hands all at once - I feel like you and I can deal." Delia's eyes watered, as she blinked back the moisture furiously. Utter disbelief painted her features as she shook her head and whispered to herself, the words barely audible ''Hades I beg you, mercy.'' she raise her gaze up before crumbling into the ground. Exhausted. Unable to put up a fight as the woman's slave drag her to their side.


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxCALISTO CRASSUS
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xr o m a n
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                                                  Rome... Calisto was most definitely glad to have returned to the grand city, even though his return was under such important business circumstances. He felt as though he had been away for a lifetime and was now a stranger in his own home - but this did not upset him. In a way, it made it easier for him to get things done. No one to bother him with persistent chatter. Surely, he would love to chat with some people, after all, he was not one to be anti-social... but some people are better off being avoided and slipped away from and he was here on business. Business... the business of investigating the dark events which had recently took his father's complete attention. Spartacus and his rebels. Calisto found it astonishing really, to see a city which rightfully deserved to be called a masterpiece and beautiful also be the home of dark and shadowy actions. But such diversity is what makes Rome what it is entirely; Rome. It was not long ago that Calisto had returned to the city and immediately went to visit his father. Though aged, his father still held his wisdom.. as well as his connections, or rather informants, to gather news and gossip from the streets. They had embraced and what not, asked of the others health, shared stories (though several stories shared by Calisto's father had already been shared one or two times before in the past- but no harm done), and then went on to discuss recent events. His father spoke, in detail, of the events that had happened and of the conspiracy theories which have begun to spread among the populace. He then spoke of the imperial family, how they were dealing with the situation, and put much on emphasis on a good marriage. Calisto had always wished to be of that line, he felt destined to it.. but fate said it was not to be so. Instead, he was only cousin to the Emperor's children. He did not hold this against his father though, for he loved him. Without him, he would not have come to exist or, if he still had, he had no certainty that he would be as well off as he is now.

                                                  It wasn't hard to get used to being the youngest son in the family; Calisto had often been away with the army or on other matters, leaving (insert brother name) behind to help out his father, among other things. And now Calisto was a heir to said father, he had duties too… and he could no longer postpone these duties, which his father had also made clear to him now. Calisto had to find a wife and have his own heirs, and so the quest had begun. There were of course many eligible young ladies in Rome, and Calisto was honestly not quite sure where to begin. He had always liked women and his own fair share of them, but he had postponed marriage because of that very reason; he liked the freedom. On top of that, there was the pressure to produce a children before than his siblings, so hopefully he really would be able to produce children after all… else, his brother’s children were next in line and Calisto wouldn’t have that. He would have his own children if he could; his own son. He had a friend help him out with deciding which young ladies to approach, but he'd yet to actually take the step to do so. Adrastia Zoroastres was his first choice, but he didn't want to meet her at his home or at hers… he wanted there to be neutral ground to stand upon for both of them, and so he had a servant find out where she'd be on this particular day. The servant could inform Calisto, that he found out she was at the Ludus. Traveling to meet her was going to be a pain in the a** but nothing he couldn't tolerate just to catch up with the lovely Zoroastres lady.

                                                  Calisto let loose a sigh of relief as he finally arrived to the House of Zoroastres. Fresh from the provinces, he was absolutely sick of the roads, and had moreover had it with the dust and the dirt that one had to live with pretty much anywhere in the provinces. The mountains and valleys around the Ludus in particular were muddy hellholes at best, whereas the cities and towns on the way there and back where little more than bleak images of civilization. It was good, therefore, to be at the Ludus. The litter stop at the front gate, he gave instructions to his men then await for a friendly face to welcome him. But the gods were against him because he was inform that the family was at the box watching the fights. He was more than welcome to wait inside but simply refuse the offer but promise to return later. His eyes didn't leave his slaves as they carried his belongings and gifts. Two cages covered with a thick blanket was the last thing he saw before his litter continue his way.

                                                  It had been a long while since he last purchased a new slave for any of his villas. And while both were doing well, he had recently lost one of the boys of Galilee to some unknown disease, although it probably had to do with some dirty Roman who bought himself a night with the boy. Calisto was in need of a pretty replacement. Cheap, but handsome and pretty still. So out he went, with a few personal slaves in tow, to the slave market to see what they had to offer him. The market seemed to assault all his senses. It was as if he was experiencing an acute case of overstimulation. The smell of animals, spices, and people; the colours bright and dark, rushing by him in bright red cloaks, deep blue tunics, jewels and semi-precious stones glittering on throats and wrists and hung in stalls (carefully guarded, of course). The sounds of a dozen languages being spoken at once was a dull hum in the background. He was determined now, however, to focus his efforts and his attention. No more mistakes, no more distractions, and no more misdirections.

                                                  He signaled the litter to stop as an auction caught his eye. Many would say that it would be quite inappropriate for him to come himself, but he wanted to take measures into his own hand at least to feel empowered with purpose. Of course, there was the concern of the slaves he purchased hating him and Rome with every intention of trying to run. It was her hope that it did not come to that, but it does not mean it has never happened before. Runaways were always dealt quite harshly however and he was never privy to any of it. The litter stopped with his signal and he observed all of the naked men and women standing at the auction block. They were dirty, tired, abused, dehydrated and malnourished. The slaver deserved a beating as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. However, no one could saw his distaste behind the curtains. There was potential with all of the slaves especially the women. And he wasn't disappointed. Sure, there were a lot of foreign slaves, many who did not even speak Latin, but also many of whom were pretty. Calisto walked by the cages and those chained to the walls, looking each of them over and even picking a few to undress and see if they could be used. He was a bit bored though, he'd seen them all before, or it felt like it at least. There wasn't anything really exotic about any of them. He was drawn to a young Syrian though, she was pretty, but when she kicked towards Calisto as he tried to undress the woman… Calisto's bodyguard dealt a kick in the woman’s stomach, sending her to the ground before moving on.

                                                  “We'll return tomorrow.” He told his slaves, but out of the corner of his eye, he then saw something… mighty interesting! “Wait…” He said, and approached the woman standing there at the podium, chained and staring into nothing. The woman was pretty enough! He approached the egyptian beauty, looking her over as he came closer. One of his slaves join the bid while Calisto smirked and admired the youthful and smooth body before him. Calisto stepped closer, looking over the other, “Very fine looking.” He commented, as if the woman was a horse being inspected, and then he moved around to take a look from behind too, “Definitely useful.” He added with a grin, before moving away again. So it began. Thirty, thirty-five, forty. Calisto yed the slave trader as if he were a newly captured bug pinned against a wooden board. It did no one any good to get angry, especially him. His lips pressed together in a thin line however which barely disguised his impatience, but it needed to be done... He laughed before he shot back at slave trader with a crisp tone, "She do not even look to be worth eighty coins. Look at her condition? Do you know how long it takes to nurse them back into health to even start working? Are any of them carrying your spawn?" Calisto barked out without fear as he spoke his mind. Of course, the two bodyguards that stepped forward also helped with his intimidation. Not that the they cared what happened to a matronly slave. After a short period of time the slave trader agree to sell the woman for sixty six coins. ''Coin well spent.'' he whispered then looked around for the slave trader so he could pay for the goods he would have. The coins were counted out and the rest slipped into his robes, the rest for the shady trader to count out not wanting to question his good fortune for the other’s ill will, before walking over towards the trader and waited until all was said and done. ''To the Ludus,'' Calisto order his men before getting inside the litter, out of sight. ''Come closer where I can see you slave. Your name,'' his voice was velvet and soft. No one could see him talking to a slave in public so and no one would.



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                                                  xx xxxxx BEFORE OUR MEMORIES ARE FORGOTTEN
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                              いつもより少し広い部屋ただ一人 xxxxxxx(It’s over, guess it’s over) xxxxxxx2人で創り上げたストーリーも虚しくxxxxxxx こんなに簡単に崩れてしまうなんてxxxxxxx
                                                          ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬
                                                                  xxI WANT TO BREAK FREE!!



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                                                      • One thing was certain: after having made his decision, the trader looked to be most satisfied. Now all that remained was for the woman to place the money in his hand and the transaction would be deemed complete. She officially belong to some filthy Roman who will either use her body or break her. Her fragile body shifted against the dirt as she curl up trying to blend with the ground. A large man dressed as a slave along with two others moved away from their spot behind the litter and guided the new purchases that could walk while the large man carefully picked up Delia. Her big blue doe eyes gazed at the slave walking towards her direction, she flinched. The slave's body glister in the sun just like her Anaklesto did once. Delia's eyes watered, as she blinked back the moisture furiously. Utter disbelief painted her features as she shook her head and whispered to herself, the words barely audible, ''Anaklesto, my beloved...'' All these months in captivity she believed he was dead. Her father told her once that Anaklesto would have been her soul mate protector, lover, friend ... and yet he did not come for her when their homes burned. So many suffered, many more perished. Her family dead, Delia tried to stand her ground and fight but the Romans were many and her kind were few. Utter obliteration, humiliation, pain and anguish. That was the price that had to be paid for standing up for true freedom. A single thought continued to thunder through her tormented mind. Her Anaklesto did not come for her. Eyes flashed intensely again, this time emitting anger, resentment and dismay. How could he leave her like this, to rot in captivity, alone. Delia flinched from the slave touch and tried to spit back in his direction but only ended up choking on the dirt and sand that somehow got caught in her throat when a dusty breeze blew past.

                                                        In the end, she said nothing to him, barely listening to the goings on around her. The last vestiges of her willpower and consciousness began slipping away, as exhaustion and dehydration finally took their toll upon her battered, willowy frame. She lifted one last glance to the woman and the slave, the words uttered between them muffled, inaudible... then fainted dead away. Delia travel in time - to a place where she first met love. True, innocent and pure love. It was late in the afternoon of a golden spring day in Galini, of the apple trees as Delia and her father made their way back home from Corinth's busiest marketplace. The orchards were in bloom and they rode their horses through a magnificent canopy of blossoms, pink and white against the green grass and the cobalt sky. For a brief moment Delia found herself wondering her father was one the fairy folk taking her to an enchanted world beyond the earth. Aristodemos was watching her face. "Delia," he asked his daughter gently. "Do you ever stop smiling?" The eight year old stiffened as they came up the road and just then the house came into view. It had been built like a palace: a single-story house of gray stone, stretching out on three sides of a great cobbled courtyard. The main part of the house was the wing in front of the two. It comprised mostly of bedrooms and the opposite wing contained the baths. Halting his steps, Aristodemos shouted. In a minute a man came running. "Welcome home, my lord."

                                                        "Thank you, Alexios. Take the horses to the stable, please, and have some food and water prepared quickly. I almost forgot all about the company we shall be having this evening." The stocky brown-haired man nodded and bowed before picking up both sets of reins. He glanced once at Delia before heading back inside. "Come," said Aristodemos and strode toward the great front door. Delia followed. The large double door opened into an imposing vestibule. Beyond the vestibule was a great mosaic-tiled room, with a marble dais like structure at one end. It reminded Delia of an ancient throne, as she let her gaze wash over the structure with a mixture of derision and awe. She followed her father across the room and into another that opened off of it. This room was much smaller and distinctly more cozy. It was furnished with wicker chairs and leather stools, and an old couch leaned against the wall. This floor too was of varicolored mosaic tile. "Sit down," said Aristodemos and gestured to one of the wicker chairs. "I'll find your mother and be right back."

                                                        Delia sat warily on the edge of the indicated chair. A long time seemed to pass. Then a voice spoke to her in a dialect of Greek she had not encountered before but seemed to recognize, albeit faintly - most likely from previous teachings of Thalia, her mother. "I don't speak Lakonian," she said shortly. The man came into the room. "I am Anaklesto," he said in perfect Greek this time around. "And whom might you be?" "Delia," she replied, and their eyes met - locking, as if frozen in time. "Delia," he replied, and looked at Aristodemos' daughter. Her tunic had grass stains on the front and her hair was hanging untidily down her back. It was light blond and it badly needed a comb. He looked at her face and met the biggest, most luminous eyes he had ever seen. The child crossed the room and pulled up a stool next to where he stood. "Did you walk here all the way from the City proper?" she inquired, seating herself. "Yes." Who knew he would be her husband, oh her father was a very wise but tricky man. "You don't look very dusty. I wager father will lend you a pony on your way back. Maybe I can show you my pony sometime? He is nice. We could give him an apple later, if you like ...?"


                                                        to be continue...




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