✿ 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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[ He's not terrifically surprised that they know each other. He behaved like his fame was widespread, and perhaps it wasn't unfounded. To the rest, he shrugs again. ]
I know that.
[ Tonight, more than ever. Still, he pauses. As upset as he is ... ]
But I still believe in him.
[ And he believes in Caren, too. ]
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But...still. She comes back to Adra, where he crouches on the ground, hands on her thighs.
Is this what a hero looks like? Maybe so.]
We don't deserve you.
[Her and Gilgamesh, the other blackhearts. Her voice is surprisingly tender. She's not sure what to do about him. Not really. Prove him wrong? That will come with time. Hurt him? Already done.]
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Fortunately, I don't feel that anybody particularly deserves anything.
[ A quiet sigh. ]
Thus I will be here for the lot of you, regardless.
[ Such is the nature of grace. ]
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He would adore someone like you.
[The words are half murmured, before her eyes open again.]
Let me at least offer a quick mana exchange before I leave. Something that would ensure you can stand strong and ensure your secret does not become public.
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As to her offer ... he considers it for a moment, thinking of how drained he feels; how his limbs resonate with ache. How his throat is dry, no matter what he drinks.
And then he reaches for her hand. ]
All right. Quick.
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Instead, she reaches for his hand, and makes to intertwine his fingers. Her mana-a greater pool of it now, that she's advanced-comes forth, feeling much like a clinging fog.]
A kiss would be quicker.
[She's just teasing him, a bit. She knows he won't allow it. Not from her.]
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[ But he doesn't want anyone to kiss him right now. Not after tonight.
He accepts the open channel of mana; his own is, as always, burning, both with holy fire and with an undercurrent of smoky, too-sweet demonic magic. ]
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...how many secrets did he have? Far too many.]
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He maintains the the channel for just a short while, though his eyes are fixed on her all the while. The flush doesn't escape his notice. But as light as Caren's mana was, it was still potent magic, and it still sang in his veins, still made him want to take and take and take. He breathes deeply, steadying himself, and breaks it off. Lets go of her. ]
Thank you.
[ He watches her still, his own expression forcefully impassive. His thoughts already feel loose, slippery, porous. His skin burns. ]
Are you all right?
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Caren nodded, taking in a slow, deep breath, and moved to straighten herself, as if this action made her dishevelled.]
I think my body still remembers certain things, even if it can no longer have the visible reactions.
[Her voice was quiet.]
I'm fine. It's what I was born for.
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Born for? What do you mean?
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I cannot do it the same way, but the body remembers.
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[ He remembers them discussing demons, way back during their first meeting. ]
I hope it--doesn't trouble you.
[ Because he won't deny that demonic presence. The fel corruption that he'll never quite be able to shake. ]
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[She shrugs. It's true. She's used to the pain and the way her body dealt with it.]
It doesn't bother me. I'm curious, but I've intruded enough on your hospitality for one night.
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[ He folds his hands in his lap, exhaling tiredly. ]
Goodnight, Caren.
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Good night Adrasteius. Remember.
[She lifts a hand.]
At any time. No questions, full discretion.