✿ THE HOUSE ✿
Adra's house is a cozy stone cottage on the outskirts of Caissa, close enough to the sea that one can hear the breaking waves throughout the day.
This afternoon, there's light, cool rain falling intermittently, tapping in a rhythm at the windows and roof. Fortunately, the kitchen is warm, bright, and welcoming. Its counters and tables are covered with freshly prepared foods of all kinds, and there are plenty of chairs for visitors who might like to sit and relax.
A door from the kitchen leads out into the garden, which is not quite yet fully landscaped, but which boasts a promising array of flowers (orchids, roses, lilies, tulips, etc) and herbs. Adra's also cultivating strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, and so on; the strawberries and cherries in particular are ripe for picking. Adra has strung enchanted, floating fairy lights all over the garden; they cast a soft, ethereal glow over the paths and carefully tended patches of greenery. At the garden's center, there's a clear pond filled with red and pink lotus blossoms.
Back inside, a visitor might like to rest in the den. There's a roaring fire in the hearth, and sitting near it for a short while offers a boost to the weary spirit. Soft, plush chairs and couches fill this room, making it ideal for lounging. The tables are covered with books borrowed somewhat indiscreetly from the library; they deal largely with the magic and history of Enprise.
Adjacent to the den is Adra's study. In here are half-empty bookshelves and antique rolling desk covered with neat stacks of papers, boxes of quills, and numerous pots of ink, each one in different, brilliant colors. His journal is somewhere here, too ...
Finally, down the hall one will find a half bathroom and, across from that, the door to the second bedroom--belonging to one Gilgamesh. The master bedroom, belonging to Adrasteius, is at the end of the hall. There's a full bath in there, but this room is definitively locked.
✿ THE SPREAD ✿
As usual, Adra's gone over the top in his preparations. For drinks, there's a sweet, refreshing punch; delicately pink and decorated with sprigs of flowers. There are pitchers of sparkling ice water, jugs of wine and spiced mead, and plenty of glasses to share.
Though Adra does not eat meat himself, he prepares it ably; there's a honey-glazed, roasted turkey in the center of the table, right beside a carving board heavy with seasoned, hand-carved slices of fresh beef. Red potatoes, bright with paprika and salt and glistening with pats of melting butter, are arranged in wedges around the turkey. There are woven baskets of steaming rolls, flaky and soft; platters of carrots and broccoli and asparagus; enormous bowls of belly-warming soup filled with thick wheat noodles, sliced egg, and shredded cabbage. At one end of the table, there's a plate of burgers, along with small dishes to fix them--bacon, crispy onions, sauteed mushrooms, and all the necessary condiments. He has plates of savory pies, filled with beef or pork or chicken; steamed and fried dumplings stuffed with meat and spring vegetables, plump and perfectly shaped.
The desserts are similarly extravagant: he has a plate of meticulously crafted flower and fruit cakes; some look like ripe, blushing peaches, others, he shaped into red orchids, lotus blossoms, or golden roses. He's made a chocolate tart so dark that its smooth, sugar-dusted surface shimmers reflectively in the overhead light. Cupcakes of all kinds are scattered here and there, as well as an extravagant, multi-tiered confection dripping with fudge sauce, encrusted with sliced strawberries and vibrantly colorful, fondant flower petals. There are loaves of warm banana bread; fruit tarts glittery with rainbow sugar crystals; and, under glass, an assortment of flavorful macarons baked to look like something plucked right from the starry sky.
But the most important thing about Adra's lavish banquet is this: all of the food is enchanted, laced with magic meant to inspire feelings of comfort and security. Eating it may conjure up familiar, welcome sensations or memories--nothing sorrowful or painful, and only as specific as you'd like. It could be something as simple as the feeling of a fuzzy blanket on a cold day, or as complex as a particular soothing memory. In all cases, the intended effect is meant to inspire calm and ease.
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Eaten? Where did they come from? What do they want?
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That's the big mystery, isn't it. I'm part of a group who studies them—and conducts reconnaissance for human expansion. But we don't know very much.
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How does life here compare?
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Everyone... [ the government workers included ] is far too lax.
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I'll bet. You had to be on red alert all the time, didn't you?
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[ ...So his lack of direct answer is a "yes." ]
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Adra once knew a similar life, albeit not for such a long span of time. The war against the Scourge was swift, brutal, and all-consuming. ]
My people were lax with their defenses for a long time. We thought ourselves invincible. We were lazy, lousy with peace. But an army of the dead, of unstoppable force and malice swept over us, and cut our numbers to the bone. Nearly the whole of my people died in just a few short months.
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We can't always be so lucky that our mistakes end up as only lessons.
[ That is, sometimes a much bigger loss has to take place. Then again, he's not the kind to act like it's so blameless—so when he follows up, looking into the fireplace, the experience hardens his tone. ]
That's because the majority of us on the outside never get to see all the mistakes being made by our leaders. I can't say Blanc is so different.
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[ He pauses, frowning. ]
Rather ... in my case, even once the mistakes were clear, people did their best to ignore them. And those who didn't were dealt with--mercilessly.
[ But that was Silvermoon, not Enprise. ]
Blanc's government is not malicious, near as I can tell. They are overwhelmed, incompetent, desperate. We're the ones to pay the price--and if we don't, then their civilians will.
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You're right. Their ineptitude will be the destruction of more cities if we don't step in. [ Although it's hardly their job, so he can't help but sound scornful. ] It's a shame their Parliament won't better heed our advice. If these were my own people, I wouldn't be so easily placated by gifts from that bootless Prime Minister.
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He is a milquetoast, and his aides are no better. I tried to speak with Verdoni, and he cared more for protecting his personal business than sharing anything relevant to this war, this war that we are expected to blindly fight.
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No kidding. I've got half a mind to think we'll need to hone our magic just for the sake of digging up their dirt. [ He doesn't know enough about other ranks to call the Bishop class to mind yet... but that's in the vein of this digging. ] Did anybody else give you any better ideas?