✿ 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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[Oh, but look at him, he's blushing.]
So you're...dating someone?
[Oh, that's cute.]
Who's the lucky guy?
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[ At this party. In their general vicinity. He just needs to look for her. ]
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She's invisible?
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[ Caren didn't seem like the type who would believe him regardless of how this went. ]
Do you even know Adra?
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(His nose scrunches when he's in a huff).]
Adrateius? Oh yes. He was one of the first people that I met when I arrived at Blanc. We speak together often. We often overview magic together.
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Mm, figures... [ Nerds gotta nerd. ] So you're a Queen?
[ He remembers someone from the Hall of Glory telling him that Queens are the ones who cast spells. Like the mage of the party. Given Caren's personality, (he can't imagine her healing as much as he can blowing people into bits) it would make a lot of sense. ]
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Not at all. I'm a rook.
[Surprise. She's not blowing anyone up, she's right in front and savin their butts.]
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[ That doesn't even make sense! What the fuck!! ]
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[She raises her eyebrows.]
You squeaked a little. Is there a problem?
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You've never seen me fight. Think I'm more of a torturer?
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... No. You tease me a lot, but you don't call me anything too mean and you help me with sometimes.
[ Caren's somewhat mischievous, but means well. That's his headcanon of her. ]
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[She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.]
But there's no point in calling you something too cruel. But that aside-I use whatever tools I must...to ensure the survival of my team.
Isn't that what the rook is about?
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Yeah. Rooks protect their team to the end. There's no point in using their powers without a cause.
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The best way to know how best to serve your team is to know how to save them.
Which makes me wonder-what are your weapons, exactly?
[It's something weird, isn't it.]
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I'll show you.
[ For someone so shy around women, he eagerly unbuttons his shirt in front of her to see. She'll notice a golden chain hanging from his neck, but it's his collar he reaches for and pulls aside. What it reveals is a tattoo that resembles a flame the width of his palm, but the neck and wings attached suggest otherwise. ]
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A tattoo?
[How odd.]
I've never heard of the like. How does it work?
[Seems useful for always being armed, at least?]
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It casts fire that burns what I want it to. Not fireballs or anything like that. More like... um, an aura.
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Aura fire? I don't understand.
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[ He's not good with words, so he'll just show her. His tattoo pulses with a warm glow once, then soft, red flames begin to engulf his body. ]
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[He's all over flame. Don't mind Caren she's just going to reach with one finger to poke at the fire. How else is she going to tell that he's now pyro man?]
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Surprisingly, the flames don't burn. She'll only feel a comforting warmth from the flames. He steps back regardless. Doesn't she know she shouldn't play with fire?]
I toldja; they only hurt when I want them to.
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But she drops her hand, head tilted in interest. Huh. (She knows not to play with fire, but that hasn't stopped her before).]
And you didn't want to hurt me.
[Which makes her mouth quirk for a moment.]
Can you limit it to parts of your body? Your feet, or your arms perhaps?
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