Samples.

[Cassandrahaven]

Ӄai Ɍonan ʆachance

ɪ ȿωєαʀ ʗσɱє ҭσɱσʀʀσω ҭҥɪȿ ωɪɭɭ βє ɪɳ σʊʀ ραȿҭ.

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Kai's eyes squeezed shut as a screech echoed throughout the house. "Gods dammit, Yonna." The words were muttered through gritted teeth. Glancing at the time on his phone, he groaned. It was barely noon. When had he crawled into bed? Sometime after the bars in the Carnival District closed. At that point in the night, he was not longer concerned with the hour of the day. His sisters did not seem to share that sentiment, however.

Pulling himself out of bed, he began to prepare for the day. His father had sent a message saying he would be in town all day, so the six Lachance children were free to do whatever they pleased. Kai had a tendency to do that anyway, but not having to worry about his father's judgement was a nice change. The downside would be the sheer number of people milling about the town. He would have to spend a larger portion of his day in the woods in an attempt to avoid the crowds. People were never enjoyable to him, and that was especially so on a holiday. What made it even worse was that foreigners would be in town, and they never resisted the urge to introduce themselves to a child of Garrett Lachance. How these strangers managed to recognize the Lachance children always perplexed him. The six bore little resemblance to each other, especially Serilda and Kai. His other four siblings could at least pass as siblings some days. He and his eldest sister simply stood out too much. Their hair color could have caused the two to pass as not even being related to the Lachances. If the whole family was not famous, that is. Unfortunately, due to how well known they were within the town, their hair color simply made it easier to spot them. This constantly aggravated Kai, but, short of dying his hair, there was nothing to be done about it.

As he began his way downstairs, he could smell Yonna's cooking. It was a small perk of waking up. Grabbing a slice of bacon off one of the plates, he glared at his elder sister. "Don't you tire of scaring Ava? I mean really, Yonna, challenge yourself. Or at least do it elsewhere so I can sleep." He gave the younger girl a small smile as he prepared a plate of food. Yonna certainly knew how to cook when she chose to. Kai piled french toast, eggs, and bacon onto his plate before setting it on the kitchen table. He grabbed three glasses and a box of orange juice from the fridge before sitting down to eat. "Thanks," he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

His phone has various messages and emails, so he began checking those instead of conversing with his sisters. Just as he had expected, most of the messages were about the Night of the New Stars. He would never understand why looking at stars fascinated everyone so much. Stars were in the sky every night. Why acknowledge them only once a year? "Hm, clear sky tonight. It would be a shame if a freak snowstorm occurred, wouldn't it?" Kair smirked as he set his phone down. Yonna screamed up the stairs to gather their other siblings. He wasn't entirely sure who was home. Ambrose, most likely. He doubted his brother came back at a reasonable hour. Serilda would be in town at the schoolhouse, and Ghaleon would most likely be off somewhere doing kind knight-like things. Kai really was not sure what all his siblings did, but he knew enough to recognize that Yonna's scream was unnecessary. "Is Ambrose even home? He better get his a** up, or I'm going into town without him." He stood and washed his plate in the sink. Sitting back at the table, he began to sip on his orange juice and listen to his sisters. Once he left the house for the day, he most likely would not see the two again. Ava was technically not allowed to leave the house without their father, but he was sure Ghaleon or Serilda would escort her into town for the festival later that evening. He was not entirely sure what Yonna would spend her day doing, but he highly doubted she would make her way down to the Carnival District. Unless he ran into her during the handful of minutes here and there he would be in the city center, his next encounter with her would be the next morning as she either scared Ava into screaming or she herself screamed up the staircase because everyone but her was still asleep.

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αɳʠ ɪҭ ɱɪɡҥҭ βє fσʀ ҭҥє βєȿҭ.

〖 Location: Kitchen 〗
〖 Company: Yonna & Ava 〗

[Cassandrahaven]

x

Alexandra Rose Gwerder

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Mood: Unenthusiastic
✫✫✫✫
Location: Ballroom
✫✫✫✫
Company: Celice, then Dominick/those at the ball
╚══════════════╝

Allie spent a few more minutes with Celice before heading to the bath to prepare for the ball. She heated the water as much as she could before it became uncomfortable. It was far too cold in the Winter Land to take a bath in room temperature water, which was something she could do most days at home. Instead, she had to make the water extremely warm before even thinking about entering it. Even with the warm water, she rushed her bath. The air was just too chilled for her.

Exiting the bath, she dried off and, wrapped in a towel, headed back to her room. With the help of Celice, she stepped into and laced up her dress. She sat and stared out the window while Celice braided and pinned up her hair. Now all she had to do was wait. She gave the girl beside her a small smile. Allie was not quite sure how she felt about the ball. Part of her looked forward to dancing, part of her looked forward to seeing Prince Dominick again, part of her was interested in meeting her betrothed, and part of her just wanted to go home. While sitting with Celice had been a nice reprieve from the pressures of the arranged marriages, their time together was quickly waning. Celice was leaving before Allie to ensure that someone would be in the ballroom and watching out for her and her brothers. As much as she did not want her friend to leave, she smiled and whispered a thank you to the woman as she left.

Left alone in her room, Allie turned her mask over in her hands. Standing before her vanity mirror, she tied the mask in place just below her bun. The black ribbon ran just above the sun tattoo behind her left ear. If her hair failed to give away her identity, anyone who knew of her would recognize the tattoo. It was a traditional tattoo worn by the ladies of the royal Summer family. She had received it years ago, and, despite not being able to see it due to the location, she was quite fond of the small tattoo. Her mother wore the same one upon her left shoulder blade.

Moments after tying the mask, there was a knock at the door. It was time.

[Time Skip]

Allie walked slowly into the ballroom, her arm intertwined with Prince Dominick's. Her eyes scanned the room for familiar faces. Nearly everyone was masked, but she was certain she would be able to recognize her brothers. Her eyes caught Lucas sliding in through a side door, clearly trying to avoid the large crowd that surrounded the door she had just entered through. She wished that her and Dominick had entered that way. A group of complete strangers bowing to her was unsettling, especially since the strangers were not aware that she was a princess. Of course, she did not allow for her discomfort to show. A smile stayed placed on her face as she allowed the prince to lead her into the room. She nodded and gave various people a small half-curtsy. Normally she would have curtsied regularly, but she was determined not to let go of Dominick's arm. At least she knew him, even if it was just barely.

A few people spoke to Dominick, but she was tuning all noise out. If he replied to them, she had no idea. It was Allie's assumption that everyone recognized their prince. Why would they not? If the ball was taking place at home, she was certain everyone would recognize her. Even here, most would identify her as a Summer princess. At least, that was her assumption. Flaming red hair tended to be a give away. However, one might also assume that the young woman awkwardly dancing in a fiery red dress was from her homeland. She was confused as to why anyone would wear a bright red dress to the ball. Apparently the girl desired attention, and that was certainly what she was going to receive.

As various strangers greeted each other around her, her eyes landed on Celice. The woman was standing amongst the other guards, but, oddly, she was talking to someone else. The stranger was a red headed woman in extremely regal armor, so it seemed unlikely that she was a member of the guard. Allie wondered who the woman might be. She made a mental note to inquire with Celice later that evening. If Celice did not forget, of course. The ball had just begun and the young woman already had a glass of champaign in her hand.

As her eyes finished circling the room, she realized Celice was not the only one drinking already. She caught sight of Solstice drinking a glass of wine while surrounded by a cluster of people. Everyone seemed very engaged in speaking to him, and she let out a small laugh at the sight. Solstice's attire made him appear regal, so she assumed everyone around him was playing a guessing game as to which prince he was. She tried to catch his eye without making a spectacle of herself. The last time she had seen him was moments before she ran into the woods several hours ago. Since then, she had learned that he would be dancing with her, and a dance sounded lovely at that moment.




So let the flames begin...

[Cassandrahaven]

ʆavinia Ɍossi


❤

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Somewhere in between who I used to be
Λnd who I'll be tomorrow,
ѡhen the champagne blows my mind.
τhrills don't come for free;
τhe price you pay for dreams.
ɩn a sea of strangers,
ɩ can't find me anymore.
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Lavinia stepped off the charter bus, glad to be back at the resort and out of the stuffy museum. It wasn't that she didn't like museums━she had spent the summer touring Italy with her parents, and the museums and artifacts there kept her interest for hours. It was just that she had better things to do on this trip (and she was partial to learning about her Italian heritage). But really, when the choice was a trip to a teacher-chaperoned museum and laying in a bikini beside the pool, who would choose spending the day in a museum? Vini had big plans for this trip, and it was much harder to execute those plans while supervised by adults.

"You'll hit the pool with me, right, Senka?" Vini asked, glancing at her best friend as they migrated back to their room. Thank god the two were sharing a room. The other girls in the room were not ideal, and they would probably drag Lavinia's mood down. But that was never a problem with Senka. They'd been best friends for so long that Lavinia couldn't imagine day-to-day life without the other girl by her side. Some people might be uncomfortable around Senka's anxiety, but Vini had grown used to it. Senka was her best friend, and that mattered more than anything. Well, almost anything. But Vini didn't need to worry about crossing that bridge quite yet.

Rummaging through her suitcase, she began to speak again. "I figure everyone will head downstairs eventually, but we need to grab the best spot. People watching on this trip will be crucial, and there's people I hope will be watching out for me." Vini smirked, grabbing her Baywatch-red bikini while imagining all the stares she would snag laying by the pool. Getting Silas's attention was her top priority, but having Asterio or some of the other boys look her way wouldn't hurt either. After the boring museum trip, she wouldn't say no to some exciting one-on-one time with any of the senior class hotties.

Changing into a sundress with her bikini underneath and throwing some pool-side necessities into a bag, Vini and Senka headed back downstairs. Just as she had hoped, the girls were the first ones down to the pool. The afternoon was definitely warm, but that meant that it would be the perfect day to lay out. Claiming two well-cushioned lounge chairs, Vini took her sundress off, exposing her skin and her skimpy, red bikini to the world. She began to apply tanning oil, humming a little louder than intended. "I'm gonna soak up the sun....dadadada-daaa-da-da-da-dum." Her skin glistened with the oil, but it was all part of Vini's plan. She was tired of being everyone's side-chick, so her goal while on the field trip was to show the boys of Merlin Academy how irresistible she was. Shiny skin, a little too much cleavage, now all she needed was some booze.

Lavinia glanced around, knowing that a resort like this would have a bar somewhere. And...there. Grabbing some cash from her wallet, she put on her cat-eye sunglasses on and stood up, determination evident in her mischevious smile. "Be right back, Senny!" Vini bounded over to the pool-side bar, smiling as she spied the young, hot bartender. "Two mojitos, please." She looked away after ordering, trying to seem casual and adult-like. When traveling abroad, she never had a problem ordering a drink, but the Europeans were a smart people with a legal drinking age of eighteen, unlike the unreasonable American requirement that someone be twenty-one. "I need to see some ID, please." The bartender responded. Vini looked at him, shock splayed across her face. "Where would I store an ID in a bikini?" The bartender quickly looked Vini up and down, his face reddening slightly as his gaze lingered too long. "I'm sorry, Miss, but there's a school group here this week. I have to ID everyone." "Well you must not think I'm in high school if you're looking at me like that." The bartender's eyes went wide, and he turned around, quickly making the mojitos.

Vini wandered back to Senka, triumphant with her mojitos in hand and satisfied with the large tip that surely would prevent any further ID questions during the bartender's shift. "I thought a hot day deserved a refreshing drink!" she chirped, handing over one mojito and taking a large swig from the other. Satisfied, she reclined on the lounge chair, impressed by how firm yet soft the cushion was. Her eyes began to dart around the pool, waiting for her classmates to trickle in. She could see the main pool, the bar, the hot tub, and the entrance to the resort. No one would escape Vini's notice today.

[Cassandrahaven]

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Joshua was far from excited about every element of this trip. Already in his fifth year of high school, the last thing he wanted to do was spend more time with his classmates. "But it will be so much fun!" his mom insisted. "You need to get out of the house more!" she chimed, her daily reminder that Josh was not the social butterfly he once had been. It was hard to be social when the right side of your body was broken for weeks and every car ride felt like a death trap and every party felt like a grim reminder that Josh's number was up, but for some reason his mom thought those feelings should be easier to push to the side. "Remember to have fun!" she had called to him as he left the house. And texted to him when he said the plane landed. And again when he woke up that morning. With so much positive energy coming from his mom, why would Josh ever need to try and enjoy life?

But he knew he was being too harsh on her. Josh's mom was just as lost as him, but she was trying to stay strong because Josh obviously couldn't. Mrs. Johnson almost lost her son and husband of twenty years in the same night. When Josh was functioning rationally, he knew that this was hard on everyone. The rational side of his mind was just hard to reach lately. Everything made him so angry and emotional, and an extra year of high school—especially a year that proved to be a lesson in karma now that all his friends had ghosted him—was not helping. The counselor said his anger was to be expected and that Josh should find a positive outlet to help, but that was easier said than done. Physical therapy had made it clear sports were indefinitely out of the question, and, despite Levi's insistence that Josh should try playing guitar again, that seemed impossible too. So instead he sulked, and Vee dragged him around and kept him as busy as possible.

Which, true to her nature, Vee was doing on this trip. They'd been paired together for the museum tour, which was probably the only reason Josh didn't sneak away and hide in his hotel room. Vee was the most loyal person he knew, and, honestly, she was keeping him sane. His post-accident hospital stay resulted in a nice big F for his first attempt at senior year. Vee appeared out of the woodwork with stacks of textbooks every weekend, motivating—and nagging—Josh toward passing grades. Without baseball to fall back on, he needed to bring his GPA up unless he wanted to go to a community college for the first year. Considering he already felt like the biggest loser at Merlin, community college was definitely not an option.

Lost in thought as he migrated off the bus and back toward his room, Josh almost missed Vee's embarrassing slip-up—almost. "You missed you!" she chirped, causing Josh to almost lose it with laughter. He tried to contain his chuckle and sneak off, hoping to avoid the oncoming disaster that would be Vee's recovery, but she grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him into the awkward encounter. "JOSH! Didn't we miss May on the trip? We totally missed you, May! Did you enjoy the trip?" This time, he couldn't help but laugh. For better or worse, Vee could always bring the best of Josh out. "Yes, we totally missed May on the trip," he teased, smiling as he relaxed into Vee's embrace. "Did you have a favorite exhibit, or was this trip a drag for you too?"

Josh spaced out for a moment, watching all the people who were once his friends pass by, not noticing him at all. Even though this had been his life for the past few months, it was still difficult to accept. Just a year ago, Josh would have been rough-housing with the guys and making his way to the pool, where he'd oggle the skantily-clad girls and debate over which one he'd try to sleep with first. But now he just stood on the sidelines and watched, wondering why that lifestyle had once been so fulfilling and now seemed so distant and confusing.

"So... we have the afternoon to do what we want. I heard a couple people talking about the pool, but I'm kind of hungry... do either of you want to get food?" Vee asked, bringing Josh back to reality again. "God, yes, please. Someone get me a pizza, ASAP. Otherwise I'll resort to cannibalism—AHHH!" he joked, leaning into Vee and making a ridiculous zombie noise. The smile on his face felt oddly genuine. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe this trip would be good for him.


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[Cassandrahaven]

Something about Princess Joren made Damnaic feel that he could be genuine. She was definitely not traditional, but that was consistent about her. Even little things, such as her, "I would be more concerned on how they would perceive you, Prince," comment were unusual. He couldn't help but smile, coming to enjoy the unconventional way Joren presented herself. There was something about her that seemed fearless, and Damnaic envied that. As crown prince, sometimes he felt like the whole world was on his shoulders, and it honestly was. Every day drew him nearer to becoming king, and it was important that Dam treat each day as an opportunity to learn about his kingdom, how to rule, and how to be the best man he can possibly be. Anything less would be a disservice to his country. But, if Joren felt that weight, she didn't make it apparent. For a woman to wear armor and make such personal comments, Joren clearly possessed a level of confidence and self-respect that Damnaic could only aspire to obtain.

As Joren spoke of home, Dam caught smiles lingering at the mention of her siblings. Being one of eight children clearly played a large role in her life and identity, something that he could not relate to. An only child, he sometimes felt caught up in the solitude of life, rarely around people his own age. Everything was done privately: private tutors, individual fishing trips, solo training, even family dinners resulted in just Damnaic and King Muirin, whose younger sisters were long ago married off and sent to live in kingdoms far away, never returning to their home of Harenae.

Seemingly embarrassed, the Princess switched from talking about personal matters to discussing the balls thrown back in Gehénnam, all orchestrated by her mother, Queen Ardet. "I believe our mothers would have gotten along well," he commented. "My mother believed that everything should be a special occasion. Every blessing from the gods should be honored with a feast, every birthday deserved a ball. Once, she even held an impromptu festival for a particularly bountiful fishing expedition." The memories brought a smile to his face, one that, despite his best intentions, was tainted by sadness. "Unfortunately, I did not inherit her optimism. Her and my father had that in common, but I like to think I see things for how they really are. Birthdays are just another day in our lives, and fishing expeditions are a mixture of luck and skill." He sighed, realizing that his viewpoint was bleak and could possibly ruin the upbeat mood set by Joren's positive ramblings. If his family memories were overwhelmingly positive then maybe he could shift focus, but, alas, that was not the life fate had in store for young Damnaic.

The cool breeze righted his mindset, bringing Dam out of the darkness of his childhood and back to the current moment, the one he was sharing with a beautiful princess. Having their fingers interlocked felt oddly intimate, but so was everything about this moment. This garden had been private for years, frequented only by caretakers, Damnaic, and King Muirin, essentially acting as a shrine to the lost queen. Bringing Joren here invited the princess into something private and personal, a decision that honestly made no sense to Damnaic, but one that could not be taken back.

Nervous, he watched her intently, eager to gauge her response. "It . . ." she stuttered, her eyes darting around and taking in the flowers. "I apologize, Prince. Words fail me, this garden is absolutely beautiful." As she spoke, Princess Joren released Damnaic's hand, stepping away to inspect the flowers closer. Dam's heart palpitated as she walked away, upset by the distance, but he watched, smiling as Joren looked around. "I can completely understand why the Queen would bring you out here." His hope was to see a reaction like this, but it was impossible to know for sure. Perhaps she hated flowers or found the outdoors unbearable. But if they could agree on nothing else, they could agree on the beauty of this garden, and that brought a sense of fulfillment to the prince. If a woman could love this space even a fraction as much as he did, then he could grow to love her.

Joren turned, facing Damnaic again and moving closer. While he had hoped being outside would ease his nerves, the exact opposite was taking place. The two were now completely alone—more alone than an unwed prince and princess should ever be. No one stood nearby acting as supervision, no one whispered about their proximity, and no one was there to distract him. All he could concentrate on was how the moonlight shone against her pale face. How the wild red of her hair took on different shades as the ringlets fell, dancing with each step and turn of her head.

Dam reached his hand out, longing to feel Joren's skin again his again. If he was not so damn scared, he might even pull her close, as close as they had been when they danced. Every nerve in him screamed to hold onto the princess and never let go, but that was crazy, wasn't it? How could he justify these feelings when he'd only just met her? Despite the intimacy of a few shared moments that night, they were complete strangers, pushed together by a whim of their elders, tolerating each other out of a sense of obligation.

His fingers brushed against her, scared to lock on. Some part of Damnaic was begging for rationality. Surely Joren was just humoring her host, trying not to take offense to his forward touches and too-personal confessions. She was there as his guest, not his confident. He needed to treat this sanely, in a manner befitting of a prince, and, to do that, he needed to be upfront with her. Such an approach might not have been appropriate and might have been above his station, but, if Dam was to consider Princess Joren as a potential bride, then he needed to be honest and direct with her. Anything else would be a betrayal to himself and a slight against her.

Too anxious to meet her gaze, Damnaic focused on their fingers, touching but not quite connecting yet, waiting for her to decide if she wanted to latch on or not. "Princess Joren, I—I need to make something clear." He cleared his throat and forced his eyes to look up. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it the right way, and looking away like a scared little boy was not the solution. "King Muirin said there had been talks of us possibly marrying, and you should know that I have no intention of agreeing to an arranged marriage." In an attempt to remain calm and get his words out, Dam's voice was firm and to the point. He reminded himself that this was for the best. "I believe that a man and woman should wed for love, not for the sake of pleasing those around them. I will never marry a woman who I do not love. If you have come here solely to sign a marriage contract, then I am afraid you will leave disappointed."

Unfortunately, that was the easy part. It was one thing to spew blanket statements; it was another to open up and declare his honest feelings. "However, I—I'm fascinated by you, Princess. You're unlike any woman I have ever met, and, if you will let me, I would like to get to know you. While I am unwilling to agree to an arranged marriage, I would like for you to stay here—for as long as you would like—so that we might get to know each other and see if we care for one another." It had taken all of Damnaic's concentration to speak those words without hyperventilating, and, now that he was done, he did not feel reassured. He was being raw and vulnerable, and there was no way to tell how Princess Joren would respond. Perhaps he had misread her reactions and was making a fool of himself, but it was too late to turn back now.

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[Cassandrahaven]

☼ if i smile with my teeth, bet you believe me ☼

Kat’s stomach twisted itself into knots, growing tighter and tighter until she was sure there was no room left for her dinner to even sneak its way out if she wanted to throw up. Which she kinda did.

Nervous, anxious, and regretful, all she could think was how much she wanted to see the tiny pieces of broccoli florets on her date’s suit. But then she felt bad for ever thinking something so mean because he had been nice and said yes to going with her, and it would be rude to throw up on someone who was really doing her a favor. And it was clear that Gael knew this was a favor. He knew she’d be stranded if he walked away: her best friend was on a date and he was handsome and would be able to sweep anyone at their school away with a romantic spin.

Actually, scratch that “romantic spin” thing. As Gael spun her, Kat realized that twirling around with a nervous, barf-ready stomach was not romantic.

With so much focus going into not hurling, Kat almost missed Gael’s horrible suggestion. Saying hi to Siobhan was definitely not a good idea. The only reason Kat was stuck dancing with Gael—bad date choices aside—was to keep him away from her best friend. "Oh, uh, you really don't have to do that!" The words were feeble, and she couldn’t tell if Gael actually heard her or not. As the song ended and Gael began dragging her away, it became clear that it didn’t matter if her words were heard. This was his circus, and she would get dragged wherever he wanted until whatever small burst of craziness that convinced her to ask him to the ball and dance with him resurfaced. And god did she want that craziness to hurry up and reappear. She needed to get out of here fast.

”Really, Gael, you don’t have—” But it was too late. She could see Siobhan and Graham, the perfect nervous couple who were finally together, and her date was about to ruin it.

Siobhan’s loyal jump to her defense didn’t help things any. The assumption that Gael was a horrible person—which technically was a fact—that blackmailed her—which sounded like something he would totally do—just made her feel even worse. Since her stomach was so busy trying to unknot itself, Kat’s lungs took over the job of being anxious, as they struggled to push air out and even function. Now would be a really inconvenient time to hyperventilate or have a panic attack or something. She really, really, really just needed her body to work in a somewhat normal way so that she could pretend to be a somewhat normal girl. Because she was. Totally normal. At a dance with a totally good guy. Who she totally wanted to be with. With a totally functioning body. Yes, that was it.

Pretending to be convinced by her "rational" thoughts, Kat recalled that her counselor recommended taking deep breaths to calm down, counting to ten as she did so. ”eight . . . nine . . . ten . . . .” While her breath was finally under control, Kat’s face flushed when she realized the last of her counting was done aloud. Her only hope was that the noise of the dance had drowned out her voice.

Now that she could somewhat-breath, she had to face the music and fess up to Siobhan. ”Gael, uh, he didn’t-he didn’t blackmail me. I, er, I asked . . . I asked him. So I wouldn’t be alone while you and Graham . . . were on a date.” She tried to look away, anywhere but at the three people around her, but it didn’t matter. Her insecurity was obvious, and she knew Siobhan would tell her she was being silly. Which she was, but that wasn’t the point. ”I didn’t want you to feel bad for me. So I took control . . . kinda.”

Kat knew the whole idea was crazy. Siobhan was the most understanding person she knew. If Kat had just been honest in the first place, everything would probably be fine. But she had promised to try and move on. And that meant talking to people. And boys. And not just obsessing over the man who saved her life and chewed on pens and politely smiled whenever he caught her staring. No, she needed to try something different. She needed to prove that she could do things. And talk. And stutter and hyperventilate slightly less.

Taking a deep breath, Kat tried to figure out a way to sound convincing. Going with Gael hadn’t been bad so far, right? He was . . . he, well . . . she’d danced with him! Yes, that was good. ”And really, it’s fine!” Her voice sounded a little high-pitched, a sure sign that she wasn’t being completely honest. ”Gael’s been really nice, and he . . . he didn’t mean it when he called you guys awkward! Because you look great. Really, really great!” She reached to wrap her arm around his, hoping that he wouldn’t shake her off and make her look like a fool. If there was any slim chance that Siobhan and Graham would buy her lies—and she really hoped they would because Kat didn’t want to be the one who ruined their perfect first date—then she needed to make it look like she was genuinely enjoying herself. And pray that Gael would play along.


☼ if i smile with my teeth, i think i believe me ☼

[Cassandrahaven]

Thankfully, Lamine was done working at the Cultural Festival. He’d taken long shifts on Monday and Tuesday to free up his schedule for the rest of the week. As long as the food was replenished, he was home free to actually enjoy the festival. Attending the festival was a routine he and Davina cherished every fall, so walking through campus alone, a large, heavy, reusable bag full of homemade, Syrian delicacies in hand, felt lonely. He’d meet up with his current girlfriend/fiance/stranger he was expected to spend his life with shortly, but nothing would be the same. Which was pretty much the theme of his whole senior year thus far.

Keenly aware of this, he couldn’t help but send a few quick texts to Davi, probably blurring the delicate line they were treading between friends, romantic partners, and cheating lovers.



After sending the text, there was a definite pep in his step and smile upon his lips, a telltale sign that he and Davina had been in contact recently. Even after the awkward, somewhat-messy breakup, something about her made his whole world feel lighter, leaving him happier, no matter what the situation. The feeling would certainly make it easier to go and pretend to support Devika at her dance-performance-thing. At least the smile on his face would be genuine now; everyone would just believe the smile was inspired by another girl.

Before Lamine could wander off and pretend like he didn’t know where the stage was (allowing him to show up late with a convenient excuse), someone shrieked his last name. The death-howl was more startling than getting his legged knocked out on the soccer field, and it certainly didn’t make him eager to turn and face whoever’s voice it was. Unenthusiastically, he turned and stared at a clearly-breathless Meiyun, wondering how in the hell she ever shut up long enough to chant the right cheer at school football games. He also momentarily wondered how Amara managed to put up with someone with so much energy and an inability to censor herself, but Amara was not someone he wanted to be thinking about right now. Things between them were . . . weird . . . so focusing on Meiyun and the other girls before him was much easier.

His eyes bounced between the three women before him. Meiyun had given him no information about who this "he" was, and Lamine was still confused about being called "Nazari." Uncertain what else to do, he turned toward Sooyun, as he didn't know the other girl, and this was Yunhee's friend, right? She━hopefully━wouldn't be as loud and annoying as the multi-colored hair woman. "Who is she looking for?" he asked, trying not to let his exasperation show. The polite, well-mannered part of him knew that all of Meiyun’s questions about cooking deserved an answer, but he just couldn’t deal with that right now. If not even talking earned him a monologue, he didn’t want to open the floodgates and encourage her to talk further.

Thankfully, Sooyun responded, saving him from further, Meiyun-induced exhaustion. “Hi. You’re Asterio’s brother, right? Meiyun has something for him, only we don’t know where he is. Do you? We can’t seem to find him."

"I-" Lamine sighed. He and Aster basically were brothers, but that wasn't really the reputation he wanted to earn. Especially not now that he was sleeping around as much as Asterio. Explaining the Nazari relationship dynamic didn't really feel like it was worth the effort though. "You need to find Asterio?" His first instinct was to assume the other man was in someone's bed, but that wasn't an appropriate answer. "Did you check the field? There might be a scrimmage or something. Or if you wait here long enough, he normally follows the smell of my cooking."

“Um, let me check.” Sooyun seemed quiet, almost like she was uncomfortable with Lamine shifting his attention on to her, but she looked to her friends and took charge anyway. “What do you want to do?” Before anyone responded, the small girl’s gaze turned to the stall behind him. “I vote we wait for him here and have some good food.”

"Uh, good luck with finding Asterio," he said, wanting to get the hell out of this awkward situation. Whatever "gift" they had for his cousin, Lamine had a feeling that being around for it would not be an enjoyable experience.

Before he could get too far away though, the inner chef in him turned back. "Try a couple of the dips. They're my girlfriend's favorite." Ex-girlfriend, technically, but that was a small detail.

As he walked away, Sooyun’s voice called back to him: “Thanks for the tip!”

Thankfully free, he made his way to the stage, the sound of music guiding him. He didn’t have to pretend to be lost to justify his lateness now. Getting ambushed slowed him down considerably.


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[Cassandrahaven]

Rosalind was nervous, even though she kept reminding herself that nerves were silly, overly emotional, and completely unnecessary. But she’d put herself into a weird situation, so, on some level, her nerves felt justified.

Over the summer, she’d gotten closer with David F., who she’d been friends with ever since Omariba started to drag her to all his races. She thought that it was clear they were only hanging out like that for the summer, but apparently not? Now feelings were involved, and that was the last thing that Roz wanted to deal with. Last year she had failed relationships with both Sebastian and Omariba, and her on again/off again fling with Asterio that never became anything didn’t really give her a vote of confidence in the relationship department either. So when David texted her and asked to go on a “date,” she panicked, replying that “hanging out” sounded great. And now she felt like a total b***h who was leading him on and destroying their friendship at the same time.

In a perfect world, they’d be going to the Cultural Festival as friends who were just hanging out, with no strings or expectations attached, but David calling it a date kept eating at her. Did he think they were dating? Did fooling around all summer imply they were going to date?

Sure, she liked him. She liked him a lot more than what made her comfortable, but that didn’t mean they were a formal, official couple or anything. That was like a whole conversation with decisions and labels and stuff, and she really just wanted to avoid that. They had a good friendship, and trying to date could ruin that. Last time she tried to date a friend, things just got weird and stressful, and she didn’t want that. Things with David were easy, as long as she remembered to grab some hand sanitizer and wet naps, which she quickly double-checked to make sure were in her purse.

Was that something a girlfriend did, or was it totally normal for a friend to be ever-prepared for her friend’s wants and needs? Friends totally did that, right?

As Roz headed out to the festival, she tried to shake off all of her concerns. Her and David were going to have a great time. Hanging out. As friends. Which would go great just as soon as she stopped freaking herself out. If she could just stop focusing on the word “date,” then she knew she and David would just slip into their easy routine of getting along and having a good time together. Without complicated, weird feelings getting in the way.

It was easier to decide something like that than to do it in reality, so, while she stood waiting for David to find her, she continued to overthink the whole thing, desperately texting a friend for reassurance.



Looking up from her message, Roz couldn’t help but smile to see David walking toward her. ”Hey!” she called, waving with her phone still in her hand and gripping her bag tighter, trying to refocus her nervous tension into her left hand. ”I’m so glad to see you. What were you wanting to do first?” Her mind was racing, so she tried to focus, slowing down her motions and hopefully not saying anything completely foolish.

Rosalind slid her phone into her back pocket and reached into her bag with her now-free hand, pulling out her new Pumpkin Spice hand sanitizer. Squirting a small portion into her hand and offering it toward David, she started talking again, her plan to focus and not ramble failing. ”I was hoping maybe we could eat? I’m always down for food.” Heat rushed into her face, as commenting on her love of food wasn’t flattering on a date. Which this wasn’t. But still. ”I'm going to guess Illinois doesn't have a booth?" she teased, hoping that she at least remembered what state he was from. Last time, she'd mentioned that he grew up in Indiana, and that didn't go over too well.

[Cassandrahaven]

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While Emelie babbled a useless and unnecessary introduction—one which almost made him laugh, as she pretended to forget his position—Jameson’s eyes focused on Princess Vida, a woman he had both spent too much and too little time with. He could tell her gaze was carefully focused away—'Was she nervous to see him again?' The thought brought a small smile to his lips, which he hid behind a sip of champagne. Their last encounter in Eitilt was only a season past; he could remember her warmth against him in the brittle evening hours of winter. The season was far from his favorite—Sruthán being known for its warm climate—but her body alongside his, their furs and coverings discarded throughout a grand tent, was enough to make even the frigid nature of the season bearable. Such thoughts were hideously inappropriate given their current circumstances, but Jamie couldn’t deny the sense of longing that overtook him. Each visit they agreed to end things, to return to the friendship each valued, but the glint in her eye when she finally met his gaze caused him to yet again question such an understanding. Their time together inevitably resulted in an enjoyment of each other’s companionship; could this gathering really be any different? Surely his Vi had no intention of being her father’s pawn in this frivolous arrangement. If the weddings were as empty and pointless to her as they were to him, perhaps they might find enjoyment in each other? And, if his carefully calculated advancements were denied, then they would simply settle for a few drinks together while discussing the horrid situation all those with a royal title had stumbled into.

But he hoped the former scenario might win out.

“Emelie, a lady?” he chided, offering a small laugh. “Why, this is quite a strange day. Salachar must bring out the best in her.” This time he couldn’t hide the mischievous grin that accompanied his words. What was one to do when such an easy target stood so near? After years playing this game of cat and mouse—the curly-haired woman always the timid mouse, of course—he could not imagine their relationship any differently. Perhaps if her face failed to scrunch in disdain at every word that left his mouth, their relationship might be different. Were they ever to find a truce satisfying, the two would certainly make quite a match, although Jameson suspected Emelie desired far more power than the king’s nephew could ever offer her. If, by some divine misfortune, she found herself back in Sruthán after Princess Morgana’s nuptials, he might consider extending the offer to Emelie’s father. Jamie had long accepted that Vida was not his “true love” (if such a foolish thing did exist), and, if he was not to marry one he cared for, then there was really no reason to dally much longer. A family of his own would also provide an excellent reason to avoid any additional, unnecessary time with his father.

Turning his attention to the unfamiliar woman, he offered a slight bow at her introduction. “Ah, Sybilla—a pleasure. Princess Vida speaks quite highly of your skills.” Given the numerous visits he had made to Eitilt, it was shocking he’d yet to meet the head of the guard, and, having noticed how the princess and fiery woman clung to each other so closely, the shock value only increased. Perhaps his place alongside Vi had been replaced by a far more non-traditional friend? “While I pray your services are unnecessary, I cannot deny a desire to see your swordsmanship at work. Perhaps the great kingdom of Salachar will entertain us with a set of games?” From the looks of it, all the kingdoms had brought their fiercest guards, and Sruthán was no exception—somewhere in all this chaos was Adrien, a force to be reckoned with back home. His skill level against those of other nations would be quite interesting to see.

As her sugary voice graced his ears yet again, Jameson turned his attention to the princess, amused that she was extending an invitation to him—as if he had any intent of leaving her side until they found a moment alone. “Is your sweet tooth yearning for anything in particular, Princess?” he asked, teasing her slightly. While improper (something he was sure would set Emelie aflame), their relationship would be a lie if a joking tone was not evident. After years of friendship—and countless evenings spent together under the stars, discussing an impossible and unlikely future where they both had successfully enacted change and saved their respective kingdoms—Jamie found it difficult to be anything but his genuine self around Vida. Only the presence of others prevented him from stealing a kiss or making a personal remark. His travels with the woman had always been under official circumstances, but too much speculation was dangerous. “I’ve heard that Salachar’s chefs have prepared quite an array of pastries and chocolate treats; shall we venture into one of the adjoining parlors in search?” He couldn’t help but shake his head slightly at Vida’s too-eager look of desire; her ability to snack on kilos of sugar without ever falling ill always amazed him.

Ever the gentleman, he extended his free arm to Emelie, curious if she would accept or if she would risk a scene before the princess. “Lady Emelie, have you had the pleasure of visiting Princess Vida in Eitilt? I find the harvest season quite beautiful there—both just before and shortly after the first frost sets in. The way ice clings to tree branches in some of the smaller villages is breathtaking,” he shared, wondering if the visual might remind the princess of his last visit. “Although, if I remember correctly, there are some striking ruins of temples not too far from the palace; is that correct, Princess, or am I perhaps thinking of one of our trips to another kingdom?” Turning to Emelie to share this tidbit—“A few seasons ago, the princess invited me to join her on a trip to the distant nation of Déithe, which is known for its piety and preservation of history, so perhaps this is the memory I am recalling.”


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Location ⇝ Parlour tab tab With ⇝ Vida, Sybilla, Emelie

[Cassandrahaven]

Although her thoughts were still jumbled and murky, Balthazar’s promise to stay, even after the marriages, reached her, providing a warmth in her chest that had long-ago subsided. He had once been a stable figure in her life, available at a few moments’ notice; ready to give her the advice or emotional support that she needed. While he had come to Salachar as a representative from Eitilt, something about his time there–perhaps her own presence beside him–had swayed him to a point where Ayeva found herself seeking out Bal on Salachar’s behalf more and more. Had he stayed, had she any molecule of power, she’d have offered him a position long ago, whether out of respect or desperation to keep him nearby, she could never be sure. She was almost-certain that he would refuse such an offer, either out of pride or a fear of scandal; thus, the two were each other’s greatest supporters and worst enemies, both while alongside each other and from afar.

His words about travel and trips together did nothing to alleviate the mental fog that was slowly becoming suffocating. In addition to the dizziness and inconsistent thoughts, memories of their time together were now resurfacing, reminding her of the strength of their love affair while also shattering her heart all over again. Ayeva could picture his smile in the sunlight as they were shown to nearby farms, the planting and harvest seasons of Salachar explained to Bal, an outsider without a plant-based gift himself. With the gods’ grace, the people of Salachar were able to enjoy many small seasons within their overarching ones, allowing for plentiful harvests and few that ever suffered without fresh produce. The chosen harvests of each village was slightly different, a nuance which fascinated the princess as she learned more about each one. As she dragged him farther from the palace and deeper into her homeland, their formalities were able to fade, the dangers of being caught fewer and fewer, all while her love and appreciation for her nation grew as she formed bonds with her citizens. Would she travel once she was queen? Of course, but it would not be the same without him by her side, as fantasies and dreams sometimes roamed wild within the young woman’s mind. The palace walls confined her, keeping things logical and fairly factual, but the freedom of the kingdom itself was something she could drown in. ”I could never be happy traveling without you,” she whispered, the thought both lucid and whimsical, a creation of whatever madness had overtaken her.

Perhaps it was the mental impairment, her infatuation with Balthazar, or even a desire to wish it away, but Ayeva didn’t at first notice her uncle’s voice. Her gaze instead fell to the fingers intertwined with hers, focusing on the pressure Bal applied to her hand; surely this was a sign that he loved her too?

But no. As the voice she often idolized–and just as often tried to drown out–broke through her hazy consciousness, some fight or flight impulse was triggered in the young woman. Once Adiel’s hands gripped her arm, the tears that had been leaking out over the last hour began to flood, and her own hand tightened further around Bal’s. ”But Balthazar said he would never leave me!” she cried out. Did her uncle not understand the severity of this situation? This man was everything to her. They were finally reunited, and they needed to be together. How could someone who claimed to love her and who believed so strongly in divine intervention rip her away from a man that wanted nothing more than to protect and care for her? At least, that was what he wanted, right? Why would Bal show her such kindness if he only intended to leave her again, returning to Eitilt and never blessing her with his presence?

Just as her thoughts became certain that the ambassador must still care for her, his fingers released hers, handing her over like a child to Adiel, shifting custody of a burden from one frustrated man to another. Perhaps it was whatever brought on this fog, but Ayeva thought–or maybe hoped–that Balthazar’s eyes showed pain as she was pulled away from him, this time physically ripped from his arms, although her heart hurt just as much as the metaphorical break they’d experienced years before. She tried to blink away the tears, trying desperately to focus her thoughts. As the highest of rank amongst the three, she could do something–if she could just think, gods dammit!

Something was wrong, and more than just what was clouding her judgement. No, she had never seen neither her uncle nor her love in this current state. Hatred dripped from their words, burning her, the one caught in the crossfire. She loved both of them dearly; how could they be so cruel to each other? "You should mind your place while visiting. We cannot afford to have rumors," her uncle spat, and the words twisted and twirled through her mind. ’Mind your place. Mind your place. Mind your place.’ Were such toxic words why Balthazar had abandoned her all those years before? Did others think that his place was not beside her?

Her mind as clear as it had been in quite a while (although still terribly distorted), she tried to reason with Adiel. ”But, Uncle, I want to be with him!”

The words seemed to only enrage the older man further, as she felt him pull her even farther away. “Ayeva, you are behaving out of character. Focus on your steps. Please do not give fuel for rumors and embarrassment.”

She was a princess, dammit! Why was no one listening to her? This conversation was not about rank; it was about love! She’d spent years courted by nobles; why was Lord Pyrus so different? Why was the one man who understood her desire to change things and her need to be seen as more than just a princess a villain?

Before her mind could muster another coherent thought, Balthazar was bowing and speaking, his tone foreign and leaving her wishing that he’d go back to discussing the marriages; surely anything was better than this torture? ”I apologize Princess Ayeva, it will not happen again. I seem to have forgotten my place, as I am often reminded.” Ayeva needed the words to explain that one’s “place” mattered little to her. After all their time together, did he not realize formalities no longer mattered between them? But he must have thought otherwise, because he was turning away from her, no sign of love or affection apparent in his cold gaze. Once again, he was just the ambassador from Eitilt, and she was just the princess of Salachar; two strangers who sometimes worked alongside one another. Once again, their love affair that had consumed her heart for many years was cast aside; his icey words a frost that attempted to melt the flames.

’Mind your place. Mind your place. Mind your place.’

Lost in thought, Ayeva barely noticed Adiel leading her away to her chambers, until, suddenly, she was quite lucid again. While the memories of the past hour were a tangled blur, some events stood out quite clear–Balthazar’s pain, his promise, his lips, and his anger. She recalled embarrassing words and tears, but it felt as if another had behaved in such an improper way, although that couldn’t possibly be true. One thing she knew was true–her uncle’s undeniable disdain for Bal. ”Uncle, why do you dislike Lord Pyrus so? I fell ill and he was assisting me; surely that is not cause for scandal?” she offered as an excuse, glad to have her wits about her again when facing a man who had assisted in her studies. ”Your reaction to us together might be far more of a scandal to that princess than our familiarity. You must remember that Lord Pyrus offered us great assistance and advice a few years ago; mistreatment of an ally like that is surely in poor taste.” Her attempt at shaming the elder man was also in poor taste, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. Ayeva needed time to process and understand what had just occurred. She also needed another chance to speak to Balthazar; what was supposed to be a productive conversation had become nonsense worthy of a scandal, as her uncle so kindly pointed out. As an ambassador–and a responsible, respected friend, if she could still call him that–Bal would surely run from her at any sign of scandal, even if she begged him not to.

As the two reached her chamber doors, Ayeva shook from Adiel’s grasp and faced him, trying to straighten her spine and gain as much height and regal authority as a somewhat delusional princess with a tear-streaked face could. ”I believe that you owe Lord Pyrus an apology, Uncle Adiel. He is my guest, and implying he is unworthy to stand beside me while shaming him before another guest is certainly no way to behave.” Hopefully her anxiety and fear were not evident as she stood up to her chosen-father, the man that had always cared for and looked after her. Ayeva had no interest in driving a rift between her and Adiel, but the man had affected Bal in some way she couldn’t recognize. Balthazar had never behaved in such a manner before her, and the change in him bothered her greatly; she had never before considered him a man easy to shake, yet Bal left as soon as Adiel mentioned “place.” Was pulling rank and alluding to power not typical in all negotiations? Surely this situation was not so strange and unusual that it left such a strong man shaken and desperate to flee. Unless she was the reason he found himself so eager to leave.

[Cassandrahaven]

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After she and Hartwell had escaped from the crashed-party, Alia was hoping to steal a few more minutes to talk to him, but the teacher-raid must have shaken him up, as they instead parted ways, leaving her to descend down into the dungeons alone. This was one of the few times when the descent actually felt cold and somewhat menacing, but the feeling was probably left over from being ditched during what she had hoped would become a flirtatious and somewhat romantic conversation. Really, after two or three years of crushing on a guy, you think he would finally notice you and provide the time of day, but that seemed like too much to ask. ’Asterio would have at least tried to sneak back to my room or something,’ she thought bitterly, but the thought made her realize her best friend was at the party and failed to talk to her in the first place, which really didn’t make him any better than Hartwell. At least the Gryffindor had rescued her from detention.

Still bitter over feeling ignored, Alia made sure to slide some passive aggressive (or maybe they were just aggressive) comments to her friends during their rondevoux in Hogsmeade over the weekend. Of course, she couldn’t bring herself to stay mad at them for long. After all, the three had been nearly inseparable since she started at Hogwarts. Even lover’s quarrels and girlfriends/boyfriends gone wrong hadn’t dented their friendship, so she wasn’t going to let a lame party get in the way. She was just going to quietly be salty about it for another day or two.

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, the first weekend was over. All-too-soon it was the crack of dawn on Monday morning, and that meant one thing: Captain Irena’s first practice-to-the-death.

Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, but being up so early with the anticipation of a lot of running and other physical activities certainly felt like a death sentence. Honestly, the only thing pushing Alia forward was the feeling of joy at being reunited with her teammates. At this time of day, not even the hope of being team captain next year was enough to wake her up entirely. The practice was just a painful haze, interrupted briefly by her aching lungs and Irena’s calls that everyone needed to keep up and keep going.

Nevertheless, she pushed through, the thought of collapsing on the grass after practice incredibly tempting, but Alia would never stand up again if that happened. Plus, she needed to somehow shower, get ready for the day, eat breakfast, and make it to Charms on time. How was it that school hadn’t quite started yet and she was already questioning if there were truly enough hours in the day? She already felt behind, as if she had a term paper due the next hour she had yet to start. Or maybe that anxiety came from catching sight of the Gryffindor quidditch team walking over after their practice. Normally the friendly and familiar faces of Rose and Dominique would bring her joy, perhaps even reenergize her after the grueling workout, but the man next to Dom made Alia’s heart skip a beat. As she locked eyes with the blonde woman, she knew she couldn’t just turn and run away, claiming to have plans with her teammates. No, Alia had taken far too long trying to catch her breath and recover before hiking back to the castle, and now she needed to make her move.

While Hartwell McAllister might have been oblivious to her pinings, Dominique Weasley never missed a beat, and so Alia found herself writing to Dom about the unrequited crush as summer drew to a close. Honestly, after years of feeling like a lovestruck fool, she just wanted to get over the damn boy. It wasn’t like she couldn’t have sex or find a partner if she tried; her focus though was on love—true love—and perhaps Hartwell would hold the key to that? Searching for love herself, Dom completely understood and offered to help once school resumed, an offer that Alia was now dreading. Because this was it. The eye contact was her signal, her friend silently communicating, ‘Get over here and talk to him already!

Taking a deep breath for courage, Alia made her way over to the trio of Gryffindors, thankful that pacing (and probably Dominique’s determination) left her alone with Hartwell. “Oh, hey! I’m-I’m really sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together on Friday. I’ve been, uh, looking forward to seeing you.” The words sounded pitiful and lame to her ears. No wonder the young man had no interest in a relationship with her; the fumbles, stutter, and lack of overall confidence was in no way appealing, that she was sure of.

Yet she saw the corners of his lips turn up as they walked together toward the looming castle. “Are you only waiting to see if I’m gonna let the ball drop with quidditch?”

Returning to the familiar topic was refreshing, but also a little disappointing. Was quidditch really all they had in common? Or was it just easy small talk that could quickly end a conversation? “Oh course I want you to drop the ball with quidditch! But . . . maybe we could talk about that more . . . sometime.”

"Sure. And I'd love to . . . catch up more. Want to maybe meet up after classes?" His face looked scrutinizing for a moment, critical of her comment, but his response at least was . . . reassuring? Nerve-racking? Incredibly anxiety-inducing?

While Hartwell’s response triggered a number of emotions, she couldn’t help but flush that overcame her cheeks or the joy that slipped out with her words. "Yes! Uh, yeah, that would be, that would be cool. Great, I just . . . I should go. I need to—" she paused, looking down at her dirty quidditch uniform "—I need a shower," she finally managed, embarrassed that this was how she looked when Hartwell finally paid attention to her.

Her eyes didn’t miss Hartwell’s head follow her body up . . . and down . . . and up again before shrugging. "Probably. But I like the dirty, athletic look. It's hot." And was that a . . . was that a wink?

Flustered, and finally at the castle doors, all Alia could manage was an awkward wave and maybe a squeak before volting inside. Time was scarce in the first place, and her pathetic flirtation with Hartwell certainly didn’t buy more time for her much-needed shower. No, instead she had to rush, skipping her usual clay face mask and having to just grumble a ’thank you!’ to whoever designed shoulder-to-toe cloaks, as she also didn’t have time to shave her legs.

Time was quickly ticking away, leaving Alia so frantic that finding her friends and enjoying the morning was no longer an option. No, instead she just needed to inhale some food and spring up the stairs to Charms, which she’d surely be late to at this point. She’d really have to find a better solution for mornings when there was quidditch practice. Maybe keeping some of those protein bars her mom always snacked on? While far from a Hogwarts breakfast, at least she could grab and go, not worrying about tripping down a moving staircase because she was trying too hard to learn another floating incantation.

Unfortunately, Alia’s very distracted mind and choice not to sit with friends left her vulnerable, allowing for Oly to sneak up, a plate of Alia’s favorite foods in hand. The redhead sat down, pushing over the food and crossing her very long legs. Distractingly long. Enticingly long. Ast—’Stop it! Now is not the time to check-out your ex-girlfriend!’ she scolded herself, trying to divert attention to the plate in front of her instead.

“Have you thought about my proposal from before?”

If the sudden intrusion and distraction wasn’t enough, now they were back on the topic of selling potions and perhaps semi-illegal drugs to the student body. Alia at least expected to get through her first day of class without having to give Oly a straight answer. Restarting the business as a trio again had briefly been mentioned over the summer, but she couldn’t exactly find herself overjoyed at the thought. Surely working a side hustle with your ex made things awkward? Even after a few weeks to think things over, Alia still felt so awkward that she was staring at her food instead of answering. ”I have.” She slowly examined and chose a slice of toasted wheat with a generous coating of orange marmalade before finally giving a semi-straight answer. "It won't be like it was before you know."

Oly shrugged, perpetually unphased in a way that Alia could never quite understand. "Not saying we have to shag or anything. It's just business."

And right now, she really wished she could put up a strong, confident, unphased front, because instead she was nearly choking on her toast, the answer so unexpected and tempting that she wasn’t sure what to say or do besides desperately try to breathe. "That-that's not what I meant! I, uh,” her voice dropped lower before continuing, ”I didn't think you'd want to do that anymore . . . ."

Her eyes finally glancing up again, Alia noticed as the redhead offered a goblet of something, which she graciously took. The dry bread would sit and scratch her throat all day, a teasing reminder of this conversation. "I don't know, Alia, are you offering?"

Her eyes glanced away, and awkward silence filled the space between the two girls as a decade of memories rushed by, memories that answer the proposition for her: "We can work together again, yeah.”

A smile covered Oly’s face, the other girl too eager to hide her triumph. She brushed back a strand of Alia’s hair, making her heart flutter even more, "We can meet up later, talk about the work." The two women stared at each other for a moment. "I guess we have to talk to Potter too."

"Yeah, I'll see you . . . later?" She watched Oly walk away, longing for her childhood friend to brush her hair back one more time, perhaps caress her cheek like the once-lovers had done, but instead she was just left with the smell of the other girl’s perfume, a dry throat, and a small voice in the back of her head screaming that Charms was about to start.
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Location ⇝ School Grounds + then Great Hall tab tab Wearing ⇝ Slytherin Quidditch Uniform + then School Robes tab tab Soundtrack ⇝ Thunder