Fantasy Cinders and Ashes (Completed)

[ArcticFox]

You stay back where you are - it seems the Fallen have not yet noticed your presence - and watch them silently for a few moments. Their movements are jerky, uncoordinated, as if they are attached to marionette strings. They are all focused on digging around one specific spot in the earth. You just catch a glimpse of an edge of a large, rectangular object, before they notice you.

Instantly, twenty-four eyes are fixed on you - the Fallen form a wall in front of the digging site, but do not seem actively confrontational. Still, the message is clear: stay away.

Nevertheless, it seems that you've seen something of importance, though it makes little sense out of context. You file it away in your brain for later reference.

The business with the thralls makes both you and your companion uneasy - an extra layer of tension has fallen between you, that subsides only with time. Both of your hearts are hammering at whatever it was that just took place. Whatever its significance was, it was a danger, nonetheless. Eventually, however, heartbeats quiet and talk turns to more ordinary things.

The rain and the silence of the road create an intimacy that is rarely to be found in drawing-rooms or in public places. Indeed, you two could be the only humans on the earth right now. Danaer meets your gaze and smiles.

If there is to be conversation, it's up to you to begin it. For all that Danaer seems proper and retiring among company, you know that he has a penchant for collecting secrets. It might be a good opportunity to find out some of what he knows.

If you have no particular wish to further your acquaintance, there is always the weather, and other suitable general topics of conversation, to pass the time. Small talk has its uses, after all.

And, of course, silence can also encourage a sort of closeness. It is a wonderful day, in its own way, after all - why not enjoy that?

- Make small talk.
- Ask about his interests.
- Enjoy the silence.

 

[Ezri]

In the end they escaped the Fallen unscathed, although the question of what they were doing out there still remained. As long as she remembered the object and its location as best she could, perhaps it was something she should investigate further.

Speaking of which, Danaer seemed like he was making investigations of his own, although to what extent Vivian didn’t know. But he didn’t seem shy about discussing it, at least in private, so hopefully he wouldn’t mind. The steady pounding of raindrops rang louder in her ears than it should; maybe she was just feeling a little anxious, but she felt compelled to break the silence.

“Well, aside from... that,” she said, with a small glance back down the road they’d followed. “Have you learned anything interesting lately?”

 

[ArcticFox]

He hesitates. "I… have learned that I am fond of a good book and would often I rather be invisible, that I might see and hear rather than be judged. That is my secret dream," he smiles. "Besides the Assembly that was rather interesting this time, I have nothing of note to share with you, Miss Price."

After a moment he adds, "Sometimes it feels that society is too confining."

- Answer.
- Change the subject.

 

[Ezri]

Danaer was under a lot of pressure as the heir to such a prominent family; unlike her, he didn’t have the luxury of only worrying about his own reputation. It was no wonder that he would long for those moments when he’s out of the spotlight. It was the least she could do, then, to speak with him candidly. It might even be a bit of a relief for her, too.

“Hm.. I think I know what you mean.” Vivian hummed. Demons and Fae aside, even the usual high society life had no shortage of steps to follow. She sighed. “I often feel that life would be much more pleasant if we didn’t have to worry about all these expectations.”

 

[ArcticFox]

His look is one of intense gratitude and interest. "That is well said."

The sky has nearly cleared by the time you walk Danaer home. "Thank you," Danaer says. "It has been an interesting afternoon. I am sure I shall see you again soon," he adds with a warm smile. "Until then."

- Say goodbye.
- Flirt.
- Ask something.
- Leave.

 

[Ezri]

Thankfully the rain didn’t seem like it would persist. It was a shame about the picnic, Vivian supposed, but the way things had turned out was probably just as good. As far as she was concerned, anyway.

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” she agreed; although she hadn’t exactly planned it, she’d almost become a regular visitor of this manor by now. She returned his smile. “Next time let me know if you have any book recommendations.”

 

[ArcticFox]

A week later, you feel a change in the air. Cinders feels unsettled - the breeze is too stiff, the sunlight glancing off the roofs at odd angles. Everything feels crystalline, just off. Easy as it would be to blame any one side, you know, in your heart, that there are a great many factors at play here, and a great many threads that you do not fully comprehend.

Out of the corner of your vision, a flash of crimson and vermilion, of coal-black, spiked chariot wheels, makes your heart stop and start again. A pale face, slender and sharp-chinned, surveying the street, is visible through the window. It is the demon from the Assembly.

Five thralls, one at the box driving, two serving as footmen at the back, and the other two lumbering along behind the chariot, catch your gaze - carriages crowd around you, forcing you into their wake. That fifth thrall, that one to the left, greyish and pinched.

His face is known to you. A sudden memory of that rectangular object at the edge of town, which the thralls were trying so hard to conceal, comes to mind. It is difficult to discern the individual faces of the thralls - those who are not so new-minted all seem to have the same vague features… and yet… You could swear that one or two of these were there that day.

The street turns into a smaller lane, and the crush of the carriages on market day force you even closer in the chariot's wake. Two of the thralls have most definitely seen you.

- You are concerned.
- You are terrified.
- You are disgusted.
- You are curious.
- You are calm.

 

[Ezri]

Being out while the air felt so wrong had already put Vivian a little on edge; it was hard not to be, although maybe other people were used to this by now. She hoped she would never get used to it.

Although she knew it was tempting fate she couldn’t help watching the terrible, ostentatious carriage, and before she had the opportunity to change her mind it seemed too late to avoid it. So those thralls belonged to the demon she’d met before— was he aware of what they were doing? If they recognized her from that rainy day, what would they do? Her eyes flitted from the thralls to the carriage to the road; keeping questions at the forefront of her mind was a good distraction from her rapid pulse.

 

[ArcticFox]

One of the thrall's eyes suddenly turn from watery grey to shiny black, like a smooth stone found at the bottom of a pond. The Fallen grins at you, an expression so sharp, so present, that it causes a jolt of energy to run through you.

The demon has taken notice of you. You wait with a bit more, but there is no further sign. The black fades back into grey, the thrall's intensity loosens again into the soft habitual expression that haunts the faces of the Fallen.

From then on, though you lose the chariot some ways off Beeker Street, it appears to be crisscrossing with your path, as if herding you, the Fallen, in its retinue, lumber through the crowded streets, forcing you to stay close in the chariot's wake. Whichever way you turn, you're caught up among the thralls, or skirting the vehicle's wheels.

Wherever you have set out today, suddenly, seems much less important, by comparison, than whatever is happening now. Continuing alongside the chariot takes you closer towards the Wilds, past the milliner. At the city's edge, you stop and re-evaluate. Here, there are no crowds, just you and that silent equipage.

This is a chance to find out more about what is going on in Cinders, about the demons, and, perhaps, about yourself. A presentiment grips you: it is vital that you see where this demon goes, and what he does. Here, at the edge of town, not seizing the chance to investigate the demons seems improbable beyond belief.

- You are curious about them.
- You want to save your town.
- You want to save yourself.

 

[Ezri]

This was not good— those eyes sent a chill down Vivian’s spine, but she quickly gave up on trying to avoid the chariot, seeing its persistence. But maybe she could spin this situation to her advantage; if she got out unscathed, then at least she will have learned something.

She followed the chariot almost dutifully, not taking her eyes off it despite how uncomfortable it was to look at. She still had no idea what the demons even wanted. Why was it necessary to hold this grip on the town? Obviously she wanted to be rid of them, if possible— the way they were using the people of Cinders was intolerable regardless of their motive— the question of why surfaced in her mind almost as much as her frustration.

 

[ArcticFox]

In your quest to find out more, you turn your steps towards the east, heading out of town. You keep a steady pace, methodically swerving behind carriages and trees to avoid being seen.

Once out on the open road, your only recourse is to affect a casual air -it is your right to take a stroll along these roads, after all. You need not explain your journey's intent to any person.

As soon as the chariot rolls past the town limits, the vehicle stops. There is a shuddering motion, as the weight is shifted inside.

Then the demon lord himself descends from his chariot and steps onto the dirt road. You know him from that night at the assembly and from your first day back in Cinders. Your thoughts are cut short by the sudden chill of someone's eyes upon you. The demon has turned and is looking at you, dark eyes glittering, and you freeze in the intensity of his gaze.

"Why, this is unexpected," the demon says drily. "It is not often that one, such as I, boasts the honor of entertaining one, such as you, though we seem to be crossing paths more often than supposed to. Allow me to present myself, in the absence of a common acquaintance. You may call me Malachite," he pronounces with a flourish. "Can I assist you in some way?"

- Ask for protection.
- Ask for spina.
- Ask about demons.
- Ask something else.
- Stay silent.
- Run away.

 

[Ezri]

That the demon would step out on his own and speak to her was beyond Vivian’s expectations. Part of her began to panic, thinking that this had already gone south and she should leave, but instead she stood still and watched him, trying not to grind her teeth. Unexpected as it was, this was what she came here for and she should take advantage of it.

“The honor is all mine, I’m sure.” She said, as if it were a reflex— without knowing what the right thing to say would be, she just defaulted to what she would if he were human. Should she give him her name? Would he take it as a slight if she didn’t? He did seem to be at least pretending to adhere to some social etiquette, although from her perspective he had no need to. After a pause, she continued. “My name is Vivian.”

There was no telling what she was allowed to say to Malachite, if anything at all. Everyone else in Cinders made a concerted effort not to even acknowledge the demons, let alone speak to them. But thanks to the fae she had more spina than she otherwise might, and she could afford to risk asking a question. “... if you could assist me, would you? It seems that one such as you and one such as I having such a discussion is rather... frowned upon, after all.”

 

[ArcticFox]

"Interesting. Price's heir, is it so? Well, well. You've quite caught my curiosity."

The Fae magic stirs inside you. You dig down into your gut, and listen there for a moment.

Two things become clear: first, that Malachite is on tenterhooks about something. The second is that he is mildly afraid of you, and wishes to make you an ally.

Thoughts circle round as you attempt to make sense of this. The only reason for Malachite to be afraid of you, who possess no superior magic talent or exhaustive resources, is surely the insight you have acquired regarding the activities of his thralls.

Your question seems to startle Malachite, and his thin face quirks into a sharp grin. "Indeed, this is turning into an interesting day. My word. A most interesting day indeed." You sense, however, that his heart is racing, if demons have hearts.

Malachite appears to have made up his mind. In a sound that raises the hair on the back of your neck, he chuckles. "Let's break some rules, shall we? You are most welcome to call upon me later, if you dare," Malachite says. "It is so rare that I am treated to such distinguished company, and I should very much like to show you our world."

- Accept, with no intention of going.
- Accept in earnest: it could be interesting.
- Accept eagerly: you want to learn more about the demons.
- Refuse outright.
- Run away without speaking.

 

[Ezri]

Beyond what she perceived as some level of animosity, Vivian didn’t quite know what relationship the fae had to the demons. But her missteps were finally paying off. She could sense, a little, what Malachite was thinking, and
being feared filled her with an surge of confidence— she was someone worth fearing, then.

“Oh, my.” She replied, bringing one hand to her cheek. There was no way that accepting this invitation would be an advisable thing to do. But she had to do it. How could she refuse? If she wanted to figure out what the demons were all about, she couldn’t ask for anything more than this. Meeting Malachites gaze, despite how it made her blood run a little colder to do so, she smiled. “Thank you very much. I might take you up on that offer. It would be a privilege.”

 

[ArcticFox]

This genuine interest seems to flatter the demon; he smiles in surprise.

"Then you shall be invited."

--

Relations with demons are a thing wholly different to the cool entanglement of the Wood, or the manners and bustle of town - the demons have rules that are all their own, it is clear.

However difficult they may be for the human mind to comprehend, there is a logic there, however strange.

A high, thin chime rings out in your home, coming from the door below.

The sound of Bruno opening the door reaches your ears. He says something, and a man's voice responds in a low murmur. You can't quite make out who it is.

Bruno meets you in the hallways.

"Young Mr. Grufford is here," Bruno says, eyeing you curiously. "I put him in the drawing room."

- You don't want to see him.
- You are eager to see him.
- You are interested to see what he wants.

 

[Ezri]

Vivian was mulling over her latest series of probable mistakes, both eager and anxious for what she might discover about the demons, when the doorbell interrupted her. She certainly was popular these days, but she hadn’t expected Danaer of all people.

“Oh— I see.” She said, her surprise probably showing on her face. What could he want? She couldn’t imagine that he’s come by for just a social visit... perhaps he’d learned something he wanted to share? She nodded. “Thank you, Bruno. I’ll go see him now.”

 

[ArcticFox]

"Surely young sir is not here merely for the pleasure of your company, Madam?" Bruno bows and turns away before you can see his face, difficult to tell whether the comment was intended as a rebuke or a jest.

You go in to greet Danaer.

Danaer's cheeks go pink as you enter, and he rises hastily from the seat by the window. "Miss Price," he says. "I am so sorry to barge in like this," he seems troubled, gaze moving around the imported oak and weave furnishings, which, truth be told, are a trifle dustier than you would like.

You go through the necessary niceties for about a quarter of an hour, but it is soon evident that this is more than just a simple social visit. Danaer has a particular purpose in coming here today.

- Ask him outright.
- Allude to it, but let him say.
- Pretend not to notice.

 

[Ezri]

As predicted, Danaer didn’t have the air of someone who was here for leisure. “Oh, it’s quite all right.” She assured him— maybe some meaningless small talk for a little while would put him more at ease.

But she couldn’t keep it up for long. The suspense was too much.

“... I hope you’ll excuse me for asking,” she began during a lull. He seemed to appreciate straightforwardness, and they both knew he must have a real motive for coming. There was no point in beating around the bush. “But is there a particular reason you stopped by?”

 

[ArcticFox]

He appears at first surprised, and then hurt by your tone of voice. Danaer bites his lip and draws a deep breath before speaking again.

"In truth, there is something particular I wished to ask you about, if I may." Your silence is invitation enough. He looks around, presses his lips together, and continues. "I would like your advice on a particular matter. It is a matter of utmost discretion."

He glances around and edges closer. "My father-" he stops. "Wishes to engage me to a woman I do not wish to marry. In fact, I am already engaged, I could not prevent it from happening. It all came together so quickly, and without my knowledge, but-" he stops. "I am sorry, I am not explaining it well at all. I have just found out that this is intended, and, in truth, I do not know what to do." He shakes his head vehemently. "I do not love her, I hate her, I cannot stand the sight of her. But it is complicated, due to family politics. So I must ask for your help. Perhaps if you would speak to my father, and explain - that which it is not wholly proper for me to explain - I should be forever grateful."

- Who is this person?
- Why has this been kept a secret?
- Ask nothing.

 

[Ezri]

Ah— perhaps in her haste she sounded a bit insensitive. Vivian should have guessed that it might be something personal, although luckily he wasn’t hurt enough to change his mind about asking.

“They hid the whole thing from you? That’s horrible...” She whispered back; not that she expected Bruno to go around telling anyone, if he happened to overhear, but a little extra discretion never hurt.

It seemed very strange that such an agreement would be made without Danaer’s presence, let alone his knowledge of it at all, but if he hated his new fiancée that much then they might have thought this was a safer route. Danaer even said he couldn’t protest on his own; they probably thought he’d go along with it if he felt sufficiently trapped.

“Can I ask who she is?” she said, making pains to sound a little softer. He did seem pretty distraught about the whole thing. She didn’t exactly want to seek out Roland Grufford again, but if she was going to then she’d feel better armed with a few more facts. “You don’t have to explain everything, of course...”

 

[ArcticFox]

His face grows still, and it is clear that a colossal struggle is happening beneath the surface. "It is a daughter of a business associate of my father, a Miss Tunbridge." He closes her eyes for a moment, as if overwhelmed by all of it. "I cannot say anything strong enough that will convince you of her unsuitability for me. Both Mr. Tunbridge and his daughter are generally well-respected, among certain circles in the city. Not among genteel circles, to be sure. I have met them both not above four or five times, and they...",

He takes a deep breath. though the intensity of his words belies his careful expression. "I have no evidence, but I do believe her to be vicious, in a certain way. One cannot slander a man or a woman for a certain aspect in the eyes, a certain coldness and cruelty in her behaviour towards her servants and those lacking her respect - I cannot say anything at all, for there is no proof. There is no proof. Just a feeling, that I cannot, cannot marry her."

He exhales deeply and meets your gaze again. "I know that usually young women are the ones that find themselves in these predicaments, but it seems that it can go both ways. Please, say that you will help me."

- Ask something else.
- Decide what to do.

 

[Ezri]

“I haven’t met her myself, but think I understand what you mean.” Vivian nodded. Sometimes one gets feelings about people that seem unfounded, but are intense and persistent— she probably shouldn’t tell Danaer that it was his father that made her feel that way, however... “... I find that those sorts of feelings are usually not to be ignored.”

“Don’t worry— I’ll help however I can.” she agreed; it might not be the most socially gracious thing to involve herself in, but she couldn’t deny such an earnest request for help. And it would certainly be a horrid existence to be married to someone you despised. “I hope it’s as simple as speaking with Mr. Grufford, but even if not I’m sure we can think of something...”

 

[ArcticFox]

It will take some care, and planning, but there must be a way to free him from this antiquated practice.

He smiles at you, "Thank you. You are very good."

It is as though a dark cloud has been lifted from you both. However much good your help will effect, he, evidently, seems to feel much better knowing that you are on his side.

You slip into easy conversation, and spend a very pleasant half hour discussing the various habits peculiar to Cinders that Danaer found diverting upon first arriving. Indeed, now that you are better acquainted with each other, it is quite easy to talk to him. When he leaves, it is with real regret. In fact, he lingers a moment too long and holds your hand in his, watching you with a spark that was not there before.

--

Danaer Grufford's visit, such as it was, has led you to thinking. If you are to succeed at all in Society, you must host some event here at home, rather than just constantly visiting others' events. And, if the other Gentry know something about the demons' bizarre behaviour, only special circumstances could induce them to reveal it.

It need not be an elaborate affair, but something that will be diverting, and gather your potential friends and allies - and perhaps some enemies - together in one place.

A small gathering will be just the thing. But what is one thing, how is quite another. This event must show off your best skills and accomplishments, as well as make you shine as host. First of all, you must decide whom you will invite. Certainly, at least one or two of the Council members, it is only appropriate, after all. But who else?

- The Philosophers and intellectual elite of Cinders.
- The most popular members of the Assembly set.
- The most artistic persons in Cinders.

 

[Ezri]

It was good to see Danaer looking in better spirits. Maybe he had more faith in her than she expected, but as intimidating as the task may be Vivian felt better about agreeing to it now, too.

Speaking of her reputation, she ought to get ahead of things while she had the chance, and a little party would be a good opportunity. It was difficult to decide what to do— the people she felt she could engage with the most easily were those in the Philosophy Club, and they could be a bit... much, at times. Their reach might not go as far as some of the more popular candidates. Still, they all seemed to like her well enough already, so that was a start.

But if she also invited others among the more scholarly gentry, along with a few people from the Council, perhaps everyone would get along just fine. And she was an educated woman, after all; surely she would do well hosting such an event. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was of her own idea.

 

[ArcticFox]

You have not seen them in quite some time, not since that first Meet. Armitage, Esterling, Miss Joram. And Wren, how could you forget him.

Whatever else you accomplish, this event will certainly make everyone, at least, pretend to be conciliatory.

You spend some days dusting and making preparations, with Bruno for company. The house is in passable condition, but still has a forlorn air. "It will be the first airing since the funeral," Bruno says mournfully.

Bruno advises to hire some servants and thankfully he takes charge of organising the whole thing, planning the evening to be a genteel dinner party. When the time for it arrives, you are ready to greet your guests.

- Dressed sensibly.
- Dressed lavishly.
- Dressed enticingly.
- Something else.