Multiple Settings — 物の哀れ .

[sox]

— 物の哀れ .

i.

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥.

“𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.”

𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢. 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢.

your acceptance of the tight-lipped lady's challenge brings you here, at long last, to the frigid slopes of qutou, where you hesitantly leave behind your personal attendant to embark on a solo journey whose details continue to evade you even now as you stand before the estate's entrance with your neatly-packed belongings and the envelope carrying your official invitation in hand.

once the creaking front door slams shut behind you, however, your vision promptly fades to black and you find yourself stranded on an island of memories that do not live within your own psyche. the hallucination is brief, only a few minutes in totality, but the terror that settles into your chilled bones at the bloody scene you witnessed lives on as you return to the present, led to your chambers by a smirking butler who utters not a single word in consolation of your distress.

putting aside the unsettling experience, you are finally able to catch a glimpse of the notorious lady once the hour for dinner arrives and the guests rise to greet their host from their assigned seats, the glistening gold pendant and jewels adorning her elegant dress jarringly out of place against the deathlike pallor of her expression as she motions for all of you to be seated once again.

"welcome, heirs to the jewels,"

she drawls, swirling her wine glass without a speck of true interest in her gaze.

"please, dig in. i imagine you have yet to become accustomed to my humble manor. as you can see, it is far from large enough for you to each have your own rooms, so lady cesara will share with lady camille, as will lady lydianna with prince jiraiya, and lord sylvan with lady vaani— but do make yourself at home, i implore you. so long as you remain indoors and follow the lanterns you see along these walls, you will not lose your path."

the mundaneness of her greeting falls short of the typical standard for noble etiquette yet is completely overshadowed by the baffling familiarity of her hoarse, weathered tone. there is no mistaking that voice in your heart, not an ounce of uncertainty no matter how absurd the connection seems with having never spoken to her personally in the past.

'phuong,' cursed with infertility— the last surviving heir to chalcedony, the final child of her bloodline.

without a doubt, it was lady duyen's memories that you witnessed upon entering the foyer earlier this evening, and it is abundantly clear now more than ever that the first trial began the very moment you willingly stepped past the threshold of those intimidating double doors, offering your soul to the cursed confines of her isolated estate.

"now,"

she continues despite the palpable tension, the phantom of a smile dancing along her cherry lips as she seems to subtly delight in your reaction,

"tell me— why do you deserve to wield my precious 'rebirth' more than the person seated to your left? the lady from peridot shall begin."

—
tags:
Uxie triples dreamglow
Pepsionne yokai.

© pasta

Spoiler: MF

your acceptance of the tight-lipped lady's challenge brings you here, at long last, to the frigid slopes of qutou, where you hesitantly leave behind your personal attendant to embark on a solo journey whose details continue to evade you even now as you stand before the estate's entrance with your neatly-packed belongings and the envelope carrying your official invitation in hand.

once the creaking front door slams shut behind you, however, your vision promptly fades to black and you find yourself stranded on an island of memories that do not live within your own psyche. the hallucination is brief, only a few minutes in totality, but the terror that settles into your chilled bones at the bloody scene you witnessed lives on as you return to the present, led to your chambers by a smirking butler who utters not a single word in consolation of your distress.

putting aside the unsettling experience, you are finally able to catch a glimpse of the notorious lady once the hour for dinner arrives and the guests rise to greet their host from their assigned seats, the glistening gold pendant and jewels adorning her elegant dress jarringly out of place against the deathlike pallor of her expression as she motions for all of you to be seated once again.

"welcome, heirs to the jewels,"

she drawls, swirling her wine glass without a speck of true interest in her gaze.

"please, dig in. i imagine you have yet to become accustomed to my humble manor. as you can see, it is far from large enough for you to each have your own rooms, so lady cesara will share with lady camille, as will lady lydianna with prince jiraiya, and lord sylvan with lady vaani— but do make yourself at home, i implore you. so long as you remain indoors and follow the lanterns you see along these walls, you will not lose your path."

the mundaneness of her greeting falls short of the typical standard for noble etiquette yet is completely overshadowed by the baffling familiarity of her hoarse, weathered tone. there is no mistaking that voice in your heart, not an ounce of uncertainty no matter how absurd the connection seems with having never spoken to her personally in the past.

'phuong,' cursed with infertility— the last surviving heir to chalcedony, the final child of her bloodline.

without a doubt, it was lady duyen's memories that you witnessed upon entering the foyer earlier this evening, and it is abundantly clear now more than ever that the first trial began the very moment you willingly stepped past the threshold of those intimidating double doors, offering your soul to the cursed confines of her isolated estate.

"now,"

she continues despite the palpable tension, the phantom of a smile dancing along her cherry lips as she seems to subtly delight in your reaction,

"tell me— why do you deserve to wield my precious 'rebirth' more than the person seated to your left? the lady from peridot shall begin."

 

[Pepsionne]

sylvan kihara

aventurine

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  new mentions!

  
  tag! Cami Uxie , Vaani sox
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

nervous, embarrassed

Chalcedony Estate

[/tab]

"suffering feels religious if you do it right" — Chelsea Hodson

“Lord Sylvan?” His escort’s tone was soft, but inquisitive, the sound stepping its way over to Sylvan with an unsure gait.

The sound pulled Sylvan from his empty stare, gaze drinking in the bone white estate while his body stiffened against cold gusts of air that ghosted down from the surrounding mountainscape.

“Sorry,” He breathed, gaze jetting over to the woman behind him. The look that settled into his honey brown eyes was infected with a sheepish pallor.

‘Sorry’ the last word he uttered when leaving the Aventurine estate, mirrored now in his first word at Chalcedony. Sorry. Like the word had been born into his mouth for him alone to say it. What was he even sorry for anymore? The image of his father bubbled forth. Everything. Then, the memory of his mother’s back as she led him into the forest, to a favored spot of the sika deer for the very first time. Nothing.

Wind chapped lips straightened into a thin line. “I can take it from here, thank you, Mei.”

Sylvan breathed out shakily when the woman nodded, her jet black hair like spilled ink as it brushed across the flush of her cheeks. She glanced at him warily once more, the hesitation of leaving him to the mystery and danger that swam murkily about the estate slowing her departure--but only momentarily. There was something about the intimidating building that gave an edge to the sharp clearing of her throat, something that pushed her down the winding path just a tad bit faster than the pace of having arrived. Sylvan watched her until the comfort of her figure was swallowed by the landscape.

He picked up the bags Mei had left in her place, expression straining momentarily from the weight of them, and pushed through the heavy doors of the Chalcedony estate. The bags hit plush carpets with a dulled thump the moment everything went black and he was swallowed in the vision of another’s memory.

The Aventurine heir looked down at his hands, breaths coming in sharp, short bursts once Sylvan regained himself from--whatever the hell that was.

"I knew you'd come around, phuong..."

Gasping words bubbled up from blood soaked lips. Fratricide. A gruesome, terrifying concept for Sylvan to wrap his head around. He thought of Aspen first, of his brother’s thick hands locked around his own neck, squeezing until bone crumpled within pale flesh.

Sylvan reached down for the discarded bags at his feet, wincing at the noticeable tremble of his hands. He didn’t know if he was more disturbed from this mysterious Phuong’s reluctance and trauma, or the thought that if put in her shoes, Sylvan was sure his brother would have none of it.

His father had been right. Sylvan coming here was a mistake. It should’ve been Aspen, maybe even Cedar. Any of them, truly, but who the sika deer had chosen. The young heir swallowed hard and with the aid of a butler, continued deeper into the estate.

---

His room, at the very least, felt like a breath of fresh air. Decor filled with deep, grounded greens that echoed the breath of the forests he found such comfort in. Found such divinity in.

Preparing for dinner came at no issue, the servants within the Chalcedony estate quick to unpack his belongings and provide aid while Sylvan bathed and dressed himself for dinner. He was hovering over the bed, the tips of his dark waves peeking over his eyes while he decided on attire, when the voice of one of the servants in the room caused his slender back to turn rigid.

“Greetings, Lady Vaani.”

Sylvan turned, the porcelain sea of his exposed chest leaving him in a state of vulnerability. “Vaani?” He echoed aloud. His eyes turned to bleached moons when none other than the heir to Peridot stood before him. What was she doing here? They hadn’t kept in touch since their academy days. Had she known of Sylvan’s arrival and decided to pop in and say hello for old time’s sake?

His stare rounded out to the side, finding solace on the clean planes of the bed. There, peeking in the corner to which he had failed to see before, were a set of bags that were certainly not the ones he had arrived with. What the fuck? Had there been some kind of mishap with the room assignments? Perhaps someone had gotten confused and penned two names to the same assignment.

“Vaani, hey,” Sylvan cleared his throat hurriedly, though the sound echoed through the room as a strangled choke. “What are you doing here? I’m-uh-uh. I must be in the wrong room. I’m so sorry.”

Gaze still glued to where his clothes splayed across the surface of the bed, his cheeks darkened into a deep wine stain of a blush. Not even ten minutes in and Sylvan was already choking on the grimace of his ineptitude.

"Sylvan!" Vaani exclaimed, tense expression brightening upon recognizing an old friend. Despite a soft flush initially coloring her cheeks upon walking in on an undressed man, she didn't seem to take offense to his half-clothed state at all, instead beelining straight to her side table to grab a tube of lipstick she'd forgotten to slip into her purse earlier. "No, no, it's my fault for barging in unannounced! I doubt either of us are in the wrong room." Vaani waved the lipstick in the air for emphasis before returning it to her clutch and clicking the bag shut. "I just came to grab this, so I'll give my roomie some privacy now. It's really nice to see you, though— let's catch up properly after all the formalities, yeah?"

Sylvan stuttered over his words, shock taking up the majority of space in his throat. “Uh--y--yeah that sounds great.”

He was left to stare dumbly after her retreating form, the emphasis she provided on the word roomie bouncing around in his head. The young Aventurine heir swiveled his wide gaze back to the bed behind him. Bed--singular. The red flush now began spreading down his neck at the notion of sharing a bed with Vaani. Although she was far from a stranger, Sylvan hadn’t shared a bed with anyone not since--well not since that summer.

Now the sole heir of Citrine, she was bound to be here, wasn’t she? Sylvan’s stomach dropped at the thought of seeing Cami again. Was it out of excitement, or fear? He swallowed hard and turned his attention back to his task before Vaani had entered. Right--dinner. Other crises could wait until later.

---

Sylvan’s trek through the Chalcedony estate’s hauntedly charming interior was brought to a brief pause when he caught sight of another guest stalled a ways down the hallway. Her head was slightly tilted back while she regarded the painting before her, rich black hair tumbling down her shoulder blades in a silky waterfall.

The young heir hadn’t seen the woman before him since their academy days, and even then he had only been allowed small, stolen glances through thickly crowded halls. But even here, in a foreign estate, her profile smudged by dim candlelight, he knew her--he knew her like a blind man knows the caress of the sun. The whisper of something that was once real. Camille Chung, sole heir to Citrine and--his fiancé.

Sylvan swallowed, his throat suddenly sticky. Fear and excitement joined hands and waltzed within him, his heart rate picking up with each of their combined steps. Does he greet her? Does he allow her to move forward without announcing himself? The young man shuffled from side to side while the internal turmoil surged within him, threatening to drown.

He couldn’t just trail behind awkwardly and pray she wouldn’t look back. Sylvan grimaced at the image in his mind. His fingers had absently begun pulling at the hem of his jacket. So he should simply--go up to her. Right?

Several moments slipped through his fingers while Sylvan stood rooted like that, frozen like a deer caught in the midst of a trap. He willed his feet to move but they had since turned to lead.

“Cami,” He said suddenly, the name feeling as though betraying fingers had ripped it from his throat. The pressure of having called her name so far away effectively eclipsed whatever reservations had gained control of his limbs, and Sylvan found himself walking in her direction.

The more space closed between them the more dread began to barge its way into the majority space within his chest, sucking up his oxygen and leaving him a tad breathless when he finally happened upon the Citrine heir. “Long time no see, huh?” He smiled softly, brown eyes daring a pass over her face only once before becoming fluid to the decor in the background.

Sylvan idly tugged on the softly curled strands of hair hovering near his eyes, “Surprised my family agreed to actually send me?” He laughed awkwardly, eyes pausing on her face for only several seconds before his nerves shook them away.

When Cami turned, the Aventurine heir could feel no shift in familiarity coat and lighten her features the way he had expected. No--not expected. The way he had hoped. What remained instead was an indifference, cold and lazy as it stretched across her expression.

"I'm sorry, but," she began, her voice saccharine but steady, save for the lilt of bemusement that crept into the end of her words, "Are we acquainted?"

The reality that sunk into Sylvan was a stone in his throat, unyielding and difficult to swallow. He dared his gaze upward, through his lashes to meet the inky gaze of Cami’s own as she bore into him. Her stare felt heavy, almost taking on a physical presence as it pressed him further into the floor. His breath caught in his throat when she leaned forward.

"Would you tell me which family you're from?"

“Oh! Um--Aventurine...” Sylvan trailed off, the strength of his voice having since whittled into the shape of something feeble. “Sylvan Kihara,” He bowed his head to hide the emotion that trembled in his brown eyes. So she didn't recognize him then--right.

He was glad for the dim lighting of the hallway, cheeks burning in embarrassment the longer the situation was able to sink in and process. They were engaged, had been for years, and she didn’t even know who he was. Sylvan’s features twitched momentarily in the attempt to shape themselves into a grimace. His siblings would find it hilarious--his father, well he guessed his father would harbor no surprise.

“Pardon my intrusion,” The young heir smiled softly, yet his eyes remained unaffected. He took a shallow breath before hurried steps shuffled him down the hall.

What a way to start this dreaded competition. He didn’t even want to think about whatever challenges lay ahead, if he was already struggling to survive just existing within the building.

Sylvan took a deep breath to steady his nerves after finally having reached the doors to the dining hall. He pushed in, and without a word, took his seat at the table.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[Uxie]

C.

love me

thank you, leave me

S

erpent

cami.

dining room

outfit

sylvan, eddie, (all)

Camille was never one to push and shove to get her way. Perhaps once upon a time, but as the sprightly heir of Citrine and to-be-owner of a fortune worth more than seven of these manors would not even come close to making up, she could not believe she was dealing with this. The trip this far up north had already been tedious to no end — she couldn't recall the last time she'd even stepped foot in the bordering forests of Tanhung.

"With all due respect, you're being ridiculous. I'm only bringing her bags in, for heaven's sake—"

The butler interrupted in a chillingly calm tone, his expression unwavering even against the youth's fussing. "The mistress will be allowing only invited guests onto her premises. No more, no less."

"That's enough, Jesse,"

A hand lifted to gesture her escort back, an easy smile spreading across her face as her gaze shifted to meet the butler's steely own.

"Rules are rules. It's not as if my host is particularly renowned for her hospitality."

Her head tilted lazily to the side, her words a snarl.

"You would afford me the courtesy of calling for a maid at least, yes?"

Cami was almost hoping for a delicious flicker of irritation on the butler's stoic features, but she would find no such gratification today. Instead, a curt nod and a retreat was all she was granted, and she scoffed before striding in through the doors.

No sooner had her second heel crossed the threshold of the manor did her step waver, just barely staying upright as her vision was overwhelmed by the weight of an intimate memory that was wholly not her own. Phuong, the lady of the house. Her gaze flickered to the butler, morphing into a glare as she noticed the trace of smugness in his expression —something she was meant to see, then. The realisation did not save her from the gasping shock, nor the irritation at his gloating.

He'd be the first to get it once she got a hold of that dagger. She'd swallow this entire wretched house.

It had been a conscious decision not to arrive just before dusk swept over the lands, because god forbid she spent any extra time than necessary in this dilapidated manor. Nevertheless, she could admire the decor — her room had been well-furnished, though an eyebrow had raised at the single bed within, and the hallways were lined with distinctly gothic art.

She was poised in front of what she guessed was a lesser-known Fuseli when she heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps against the carpet, and then, surprisingly, her name. Upon unfamiliar lips, in a pitch she did not recognise.

"Long time no see, huh? Surprised my family agreed to actually send me?"

He spoke with a tenderness like they were old friends, and the laugh seemed to go stale as soon as it left his lips. She would be blind not to catch the way his eyes flee from her face, and the corner of her lip curled upward into the slightest smirk.

In better situations, she might feign recognition if out of respect than anything else, but this event provided little need for good graces. It was a competition, after all, and she was sure, at least, she knew the faces she'd need to watch out for; the snake-eyed daughters of Iolite who'd scrambled for her company in the academy, or the square, petulant face of Aventurine's sorry excuse for an oldest child. At the very least, they would hold their heads up high — such was the nature of nobility, and she was no different.

Then, who in the world was this trembling thing before her?

"I'm sorry, but,"

she began, her voice saccharine but steady, save for the lilt of bemusement that crept into the end of her words,

"Are we acquainted?"

Dark eyes lingered on his fingers as if they might yearn a clue — slender, uncalloused, gentle fingertips that fiddled with his hair, hands half-shielding his eyes like she might raze him to the ground with a single look. The thought was amusing, and somewhat familiar. He'd called her Cami, hadn't he?

Her head cocked to the side as she regarded him again, curiously, and she leaned forward. The gaze that swept across his features was almost methodical, as if she were appraising him of his value. He, on the other hand, seemed to crumble beneath the weight of it. There was a memory there, a world away and just out of reach.

"Would you tell me which family you're from?"

"Oh! Um--Aventurine...” His voice faded, stolen by nervousness, no doubt, and she would've missed the mumble of his name had this dreary manor not been eerily void of sound. Sylvan — she turned the name over in her mouth, tasting its strange familiarity. "Pardon my intrusion."

And then he was off, scurrying away like a mouse in the direction of the dining room. Cami's gaze lingered on his back as it disappeared down the hallway, before letting out an amused huff. Her gaze slid back to the painting, and then to an approaching figure at the other side of the hallway, caught in her peripheral.

This one was a welcome sight.

"Eddie,"

she called, little effort made to disguise her joy at seeing her friend,

"Would you believe it if I told you presumptuousness runs in Aventurine's veins? I just had the oddest little interaction with their... champion."

"Aventurine? Who did they send? I hear it's not Aspen."

As the other woman reached her side, she fell into step with her, looping an arm through hers.

"One of that prick's countless siblings, though he was familiar in a very strange way! And,"

Cami laughed, with a roll of her eyes,

"He seemed to think we were friends. Is that not strange?"

The wide doors of the dining hall moved into sight, and she observed the lack of servants with distaste.

"This whole place is strange, honestly."

Indeed, there was a stench of something unnatural within the hallowed halls of Chalcedony, and she could not shake the discomfort it came with. It irritated her.

"It wouldn't be interesting if things were normal, I suppose," her friend shrugged, voice lowering as they neared the dimly lit hall. "Wouldn't feel like a never-before-seen event."

Cami pushed on the wood, its finish feeling aged beneath her fingertips.

"Well, she certainly spared no expense."

she drawled, mirroring Eddie's volume, though she cared less to hide the evident sarcasm in her words.

She allowed Eddie to enter before she followed suit, fingers tugging it shut immediately behind her. Her eyes flickered to take in the dining hall, an austere and somewhat ominous setting, and then to the boy already seated at the table. Her voice did drop to a whisper, then, leaning up to Eddie's ear,

"There he is."

A conspiratorial smile, before her arm slipped away and she all but sauntered over to her seat, so conveniently beside him.

"We meet again!"

Her head tipped forward, playfully, eyes going over his features again in search of that strand of familiarity to catch on to.

"So you're one of Aspen Kihara's younger brothers."

She did not miss the flicker of despair that crossed his features, and then his gaze was fleeing from hers once more. How very peculiar—

A memory surfaced then, of a scrawny little boy surrounded by nature, bangs shading eyes that always seemed on the verge of tears. Her smile faded, ever so slightly, and her gaze narrowed before she sat back into her chair — mischief replaced by contemplation.

 

[sox]

vaani arya.

deep down beneath the bravado, unbeknownst to her family and peers alike, vaani arya had always harbored a steadfast admiration for the unflinching confidence with which lady duyen carried herself. while the icy head of chalcedony had only ever graced the streets of the capital city with her presence on rare occasions, her last public visit being nearly half a decade ago for the youngest prince's debut into high society, she never failed to leave a lasting impression on the inquisitive peridot heir who'd become rather charmed by the lady's unruly demeanor and clipped expressions in response to any thinly veiled jab hurled her way.

too often did an adolescent vaani find herself wondering why she, too, could not act in a similar manner, unbothered by the stuffy euphemisms as she readily trampled on every perfumed bellend that dared make himself her enemy. time trudged on as did she, however, and the undeniable reality of her position blocked the path to freedom she'd so desperately craved as a naive, headstrong child facing the world on her own two ornately clad feet.

lady duyen could behave however she pleased solely because of the wealth of power simmering at her fingertips, irreplaceable in her station and unchecked by the royal powers in furumaki, and if vaani wished to achieve that privilege of indifference for which she so desperately yearned, she would need to become similarly untouchable from all angles, not a single weakness to be exposed nor exploited.

and while all of these aspirations continued to drive the successor of peridot's strategy regarding the political realm to the present day, sudden tests of her sanity that brought forth the unrefined language she stifled most times still slipped through the cracks here and there, whether they came in the form of a useless jiraiya failing to keep up with her anecdotes on the rather boring trip north (

"so because of that disaster, now devi isn't allowed to— hey, are you seriously falling asleep? wake the hell up, twat! we're almost there!"

) or a paralyzing vision that sneakily infiltrated while her focus was preoccupied, converting her curiosity to caution in the blink of an eye.

"what the fuck...?"

the hissed utterance slipped from her lips before she could register its manifestation, instinctually raising her guard at the bizarre memory that had invaded her psyche. according to the academy's covert research, this must have been the workings of a curse given the magenta glow that clouded her vision moments prior, but how could such a ritual have taken place right under her nose, at the very moment she entered the estate at that? a cursory glance around the foyer from between her trembling fingers revealed none of the necessary materials required for the process, and she was quite certain none of her blood had escaped her veins in the meantime to seal the deal...

when she pulled her hand away at long last from where it shielded her eyes to no avail, however, the subtle warmth of fresh tears coating the pads of her fingertips strangled the lingering breath in her lungs, far more rattled than she initially thought now that she had the space to process the gruesome scene she'd just witnessed. 'phuong'— not a name vaani was remotely familiar with, yet the weight of this faceless woman's sorrows threatened to swallow her like a tempestuous flood, overbearing and incomprehensible, before disappearing altogether, leaving behind only a shuddering chill deep within her bone marrow.

'is... the butler pretending not to notice? something is deeply amiss about this...'

a brief run-in with an old friend, however, lifted her spirits tremendously— sylvan kihara, the aventurine bookworm who'd reluctantly resigned to becoming her study-buddy back when she used to spend countless hours poring over tomes and compiling notes in the academy's bustling library. she tried her best to conceal the agitation in her expression as they exchanged pleasantries, a tint of rouge coloring her cheeks at having walked in on her roommate in a state of semi-undress, but she found that she need not try too hard in the first place.

readily found nestled inside the eye of the hurricane with a quaint smile amidst welcoming silence, sylvan kihara had always been a piece of peace for the ever-pressured lady of arya when the turmoil of her academy obligations broke past her fortifications to erode her weary spirit.

“vaani, hey. what are you doing here? i’m-uh-uh. i must be in the wrong room. i’m so sorry.”

flustered by the ill-timed revelation of her roommate's identity as well as quite cognizant of sylvan's discomfort towards her presence at the moment, vaani tossed out some half-baked excuse to scurry away as quickly as she'd entered and slammed the door shut behind her, ditching her initial plan of touching up her makeup in favor of exploring the halls of the estate to cool off her flushed countenance and kill time before dinner.

now, all that remained was dominating the battlefield before her in the shape of ornate bone china and crystalline champagne flutes, a familiar warzone for the jewel heirs with any sort of standing amongst high society. while camille and lydianna's participation in the competition hardly came as a surprise, the sight of vaani's ex-lover seated at the dining table directly next to her nearly elicited a double take from the peridot heir, who wordlessly kept her eyes trained on the stem of her wine glass as she stomped down on the wave of fond and not-so-fond memories gushing forth all at once.

'ha! of course she crawls out of the woodwork to stick her nose where it doesn't belong again, just in case this shit wasn't nauseating enough as is.'

as an eager student for perpetuity who absorbed novel information from the world and people around her like a dehydrated sponge, the list of names vaani could point towards as enriching lifelong companions in her extended circle stretched on for miles—

'cesara sayed' was no longer one of them.

"why do you deserve to wield my precious 'rebirth' more than the person seated to your left? the lady from peridot shall begin."

at the direct address, vaani's troubled gaze finally snapped over to their host whose striking obsidian hair sent a distinct chill of resemblance down her spine as the fragments began to piece together at long last. certainly, this was phuong duyen— she was as formidable as the rumors claimed, posture stick straight as she swirled her prosecco endlessly without taking a single sip, but beyond the regality of her stature hovered an air of intense sorrow wholly unexpected by the intrigued heir.

her pointed stare lacked the vitality of life, utterly hollow yet brimming over with something unkempt all the same, while her pale, manicured fingertips trembled under the weight of her jewelry. far beyond merely shirking it, lady duyen seemed to be altogether unaccustomed to noble etiquette, as though she hadn't entertained a single guest in years.

"a press house has no use for a famed relic,"

vaani answered resolutely after a brief moment of contemplation, tone firm and unwavering yet sharp in her delivery as she cut to the chase, uninterested in complacency in the form of olive branches.

"if 'rebirth' truly harbors some sort of innate blessing, i seek to understand its nature before it can be accurately reported on..."

she glanced over at cesara, steady gaze boring into her fox-like amber eyes before she continued,

"or worse— handed over to the temple to be locked away in some cellar collecting dust."

lady duyen offered no words of acknowledgment to vaani's response, only curtly nodding her head once before training her disarming stare onto the next heir in line to be questioned, the tense air buzzing with anticipation of cesara's answer as the peridot heir breathed a soft sigh of relief and sat back in her cushioned chair, finally relaxing the rigidity locking her tight shoulders in place.

interactions: jiji, sylvan, cesa
outfit | location: dining room

peridot.

© PASTA​