Tongues wagged like the tails of hounds. Inquisitive and snarky guests stopping her with half painted lies to confirm or deny the rumors that had begun to float along the venue. She had no knowledge that her supposed betrothed was involved with other women. She had no inkling if he was to sire a bastard child. She barely knew his gods forsaken name, let alone anything else. This display was a piss poor introduction as well. She wanted this no more than he, probably far less, and she did not create such a scene.  Especially not so openly. So it was that she had begun to somewhat seek him out, alas. Her nerves were already frayed, having taken all she could from those smirking stares and venomous words. Just one day. That's all she would ask. He could go back to whatever charades he had afterwards, a thing she much preferred if the truth would be known. None here would. None here knew the true her. All present were just there to leech and devour the show of wealth or to simply feed the family that starved while this grotesque show was paraded before their very eyes. They were all, each and every one of them, vile and abhorrent.  "Good evening, Ser." She would offer the guard a polite curtsy and he would bow his head in turn. "I'm looking for Ser August." She would merely smile gently at the almost nervous look the man offered her. It told her that there was probably truth to the latest waggle of serpent hissing she'd endured. Yes that's right. The groom took yet another woman from the ballroom floor! Though he did finally motion down the hallway. "He went towards the library. Third door. To the left." She would offer him another bow before making her way down the hall, abandoning the veiling simper and the elevation her tiptoes belied as still wearing her heels. Her footfalls coming faster, though she did not run. She would stop outside of the door indicated, her glance back revealing the knight to quickly avert his stare from her.  A rough sigh fled her as she collected herself before twisting the gilded handle and allowing herself in. She found it partially open already. The small study she'd found previously with Ekosha paled in comparison to what she laid eyes on now. Within the multitude of sprawling cases was quiet comfort, or it would if it wasn't for the confirmation right before her very eyes.  Her head tilted slightly, drawing her chin slightly upwards, trying not to allow the tense tick within her jaw she struggled to keep from clenching. She stood there, silently for one, two. Three. Four. Beats of her heart. It drummed within her ears, a white hot humiliation burning her face. Was it not enough already that she did not want this? Why did he feel the need to rub salt in the wound? "A word, Mr. Lyon?" She spoke slowly, the words grating upon her ears.

Jahi

Grasp upon this realm seemed wavering at best, concentration upon the very woman before him becoming a much more difficult feat as time ticked by. It was an unusual sensation yet no matter the growing unease which festered beneath the surface he would not speak of it lest he was asked. Even then it may be brushed aside under assumption that it would all come to pass. However, one could not help but to begin worrying over the underlying cause. Two glasses hardly enough to bring about all this. He’d never felt both body and mind betray him so readily from drinks alone, thought which brought fingers to curl ever tighter against plush fabrics in forceful steadying of shaken limbs.

Lips parting in hopes of capturing Helayne’s attentions once more only to find pause as the creak of a door sounded. Bleary gaze flickering yet barely able to make out the familiarity of the figure that stood upon the threshold. She wasn’t exactly a face he’d hoped to see so soon though neither would he deny her company, after all, he supposed they did need to talk. Unknowing of just what she may have heard. The lies so easily spread upon the tongue of gossips, the assumptions each crafted to feed the rumor mills so many clung to as a source of entertainment.

Many of the tales they’d spun before were those he cared not to deny. Why care for an image already tarnished? For something so unimportant? No matter what was done it would only add fuel to those fires.

Swallowing back whatever he’d wished to say to Helayne alone those phrases shift, hushed in his staggered address, “Give us a mo-moment? You’re free to look at what… whatever you wish. I only ask that you not leave the study.” He didn’t want her to especially when another conversation would - hopefully - bring only temporary interruption to the plans they attempted to make, “Find me again after bit?” Augustus waited for her answer, allowed the distraction of all the decorated room had to offer before sights would once more settle upon a supposed bride.

Rosen gaze unfocused in the ways it hoped to hover, to fixate upon the features that apparently sought him out. “Let me guess… Cas-Castiel sent you this way,” lyrics rose in a struggle to remain clear. A tongue feeling heavy as if it may twist in ways unexpected. Forcefully slowed pace compared to all which had greeted her mere nights before, “You made it… v-very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.” Something he was still certain held to these very moments for even if neither she nor the expression worn could be seen crystal clear, the way those eyes bore into him could be felt. The swirl of emotion upon the air tangled with all else that battered dulling senses.

Symptoms: dilated pupils, blurred vision, lack of coordination, loss of balance, tremors, slowed/slurring speech
startin to feel that breathing difficulty creepin on, very close to hallucination stage

“Give us a mo-moment? You’re free to look at what… whatever you wish. I only ask that you not leave the study.” Her gaze narrowed sharply on the barely known visage before her. Peripherals cut to the woman he was currently in the company of. “Find me again after bit?” Had he told her of the difficulty his intended had speaking? Was he already embarrassed by such a thing? Just like her glorified abductor? It seemed as much, as he was already set upon mocking her obvious shortcoming. Her cheeks would only further smolder as moisture gathered in her eyes. Humiliation at a fault she could not help with the unfamiliar way they spoke here in conjunction with an accent that waged war against it as a whole. One that they had tried to train her tongue to abandon. The very same that Aethelos had tried to tear her down for. Now he too? Her eyes would scan him, unable to disguise the sickened feeling rising within her chest. Already, he seemed drunk, barely able to stand on his own. Another glass clenched tightly within his hand as the other rested desperately on the sitting furniture he currently posed as a crutch to hold him up. Her sight fell to the floor before her, nails twisting, digging at the gown as she tried to blink away the hurt. What would he do when it was time for the actual ceremony? What would he lean on then? The alter? The damned priest? She heard, rather than witnessed the unknown woman leaving, her ears burning and filled with the too loud beat of her heart as it threatened to make her countenance swim with blood to avoid hearing anything the woman may have chided in compliment to his cruelty. “Let me guess… Cas-Castiel sent you this way,” Unable to hold them back any longer, the first tear would fall and her writhing hand would dislodge gnarled fingers to run briskly under her eyes. She couldn't look at him, not yet. Lithe shoulders quaked, a mixture of anguish, resentment, and embarrassment. “You made it… v-very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.” Unable to help herself any longer, the same hand that had cleared her face would raise, a chaste, quick slap marking his cheek, mild as she half caught herself partially through the motion. "And even l-less now!" The words were low as she struggled vehemently not to sob, not to scream her unadulterated, pure fury at him. "I-I-I can't help that I speak like th-this!" Alas, she nearly choked on the words. "I came to a-ask you not to further make a m-mockery of me. Already p-plagued by rumors and the d-damn looks while you just run around and do wh-whatever you want." The last words were spoken through grit teeth, barely able to restrain herself from firmly planting hands upon his chest and shoving him. "O-one day. Give me o-one day. Then do whatever the hell y-you want."

Jahi

It was beyond difficult to focus, to truly behold all which twisted and colored her features behind the ever growing haze yet sight alone wasn’t needed to witness what radiated from her. A venom similar to what had tainted the air upon their first meeting to chase away enjoyment, shatter the easy going nature of their exchange once it’d been spoilt by a mere name. The truth of a bond neither desired but what brought her ire to fester so brightly now? The hauntings of her mind not known. She’d made it clear within the tavern and winter’s icy embrace… perhaps now would be no different.

Let her distaste be known to all who could hear of it while his lay drowned in schemes and the harshened taste of alcohol, apparently more than he had intended. Though one could not dwell on possibilities for bleary as sights may be they still captured the way a hand rubbed at her eyes. How a frame seemed to shake, though the latter could easily have been within his own head. A quiver of shaky vision, however, lips would part as features turned toward concern.

Droopy ears slowly swiveling before seeming to give up and fall back into place. “What’s wro-,” lyrics swiftly silenced by the sharp sting that greeted him in turn. Action senses had not registered until the connecting strike. Shaken grip finding partial release from the couch as fingers trailed over reddening mark. Wide eyes staring at none but she, or rather, where it was assumed she stood. Focus drawn by the anger, the sorrow which emanated from her very being and reflected upon wavering tones.

Confusion hardly an unknown notion in the muddlement of his mind and yet the words she spoke were piercing, injected through the fog. Enough to seek interruption despite how lungs may protest, “What are you t-talking about? I don’t care… about how you sp-speak.” Phrases jostled as the goat struggled to keep breath behind them. Rasping phrase as a hand unsteadily returned to the cushion before him in hopes of keeping balance, though he could not deny the temptation to keep it risen in hopes of blocking any other slap or jab she may hope to inflict. It wouldn’t be worth it. Reactions weren’t at their best right now.

“I’m not trying to sh-shame… you. I d-don't know what you heard… but there were rumors b-before you came along,” those whispered fascinations few could find acceptance with. Dalliances primarily held with men regardless of their social standing, perturbed behaviors according to the tongues which chastised. Tales woven over just what manner of work one engaged in, the tasks a goat may accept coin for despite the normalcy of a hired sword. Such things certainly wouldn’t be going away any time soon if the gossipers had anything to say about it. More no doubt added to their arsenal tonight after the witch had gone in a rather unexpected direction with her so called attempts at foiling an arrangement.

Maybe it would’ve been better if Eva had stabbed him. At least then it would have gotten him the hell out of here for some sort of treatment, put a pause on the whole affair until he’d been deemed ‘fit’ and steps were shooed back to the very altar he hoped to avoid. “You said you want-wanted out of this,” just as he did, “I’m sure… th-that hasn’t changed.” So what was with this request for a single day? Already she’d denied a chance to help her flee, to guide steps into the seclusion of Sanctuary or even the golden fields of Anderstel’s monstrous realm. All of it pushed aside because it was he who offered it, one sharing an intertwined fate. Destiny set in motion by another’s hand. Even now there was hope to pull away from what had been decided for them, however, she only brought further bewilderment. “So why swear to a day neither of us want? I don’t make pr-promises… I can’t keep.”

Symptoms: dilated pupils, blurred vision, lack of coordination, loss of balance, tremors, slowed/slurring speech
startin to feel that breathing difficulty creepin on, very close to hallucination stage

Regret lingered upon her thoughts for a pulse of her heart, thumb rubbing almost numbly over the tips of her lightly stinging fingers. Smoothing to her palm, one that used to be calloused from use and work like any other in her tribe. One that now almost resembled the softness of the women here. She'd have never imagined such a thing as this. Even as a matriarch, she had been just as hard working, if not more so than when she was merely a provider and guard for those around her. How she loved them. Missed them. She both cursed and sung praises of her memory's slow return. Those happy faces that haunted them like the words on pages she didn't quite understand. Her. Khalila. You. The true Arabella had been heavy upon her thoughts recently. She'd begged to dream of her, to remember more of the soft spoken lady she had befriended. The one she had shared sweets at the pier with and showed her how to carve and whittle little animals from the driftwood that the tide brought to linger upon the shore. She was always so proper, so gentle, demure. Things that the feral princess had lacked through and through. Daesn'yri had always been loud, boisterous, tomboyish. Far more like what these people viewed as a man than lady. She had acted as the young woman's guard in her time in the desert. Before she got even more sick. Before they left back aboard the large body of the wooden vessel that would carry the twins out of her life. They had promised they would come back. Aethelos especially. But neither of them had ever returned. No one had come to save her, in the end. "I'm sorry." The words were nearly immediate, hushed as she recalled that she was to be that image of proper-ness. She was supposed to pass as the young woman she had once admired in the quiet of her mind. Just as she silently wished to be more like Avarice. So effortlessly graceful, that imagery of perfection that she could not attain. Teeth would grit slightly as she was forced to swallow the knife and the heart upon her sleeve. “What are you t-talking about? I don’t care… about how you sp-speak.” It was akin to if he had struck her back, though she could not sense the hint of a lie. She also knew that he did not stammer and sputter so when he spoke. Not unless he'd inhaled something utterly vile. That recollection would have been enough to bring a warm simper and a lofty giggle from her lips under different circumstances. Instead, it made her narrow her eyes on him, a sharper observation. Surprisingly, the smell of alcohol wasn't overwhelming on his person, and yet he could barely stand upon his own two feet. "Then why do you... stammer like that? You don't smell l-like a drunkard." Her lip would curl lightly, not quite a sneer, closer to the image of a grimace, uncertainty. “I’m not trying to sh-shame… you. I d-don't know what you heard… but there were rumors b-before you came along,” this, once again brought her lips to draw downwards along the corners. "I-I heard the woman earlier. Ab-bout you being the father of her unborn. Now, you've already r-run off with someone else." “You said you want-wanted out of this,” she would nod, though her head lowered. Her arms wrapped tightly over her aching chest, her heart hammering painfully against the prison of her ribs. “I’m sure… th-that hasn’t changed.” "It hasn't." The words would leave her almost immediately, leaving no pause between his stammered word. A clarity of ringing truth behind them. No one could know that she wasn't Arabella, though. That was a secret strictly between she and her... family. A word she could barely manage to choke out through the evening. Her mother must be elated. Her father must be so proud. She wouldn't know. She wouldn't know how her parents would feel. Because they were dead. “So why swear to a day neither of us want? I don’t make pr-promises… I can’t keep.” She would shake her head, a sharp sigh fleeing her lips. "N-neither do I, and I p-promised to do this. Because if I don't..." The true Arabella would die, a decrepit truth she had only learned on the breath of Aethelos's confession. It wasn't something she could have on her conscious. Her own selfishness and want for freedom could not compare to the guilt she would feel if the girl died. For whatever reason, the Beleverons could not afford whatever treatment she needed to continue to survive. Questions she would get answers to as soon as this affair was done and over with. "I j-just don't want embarrassed anymore. N-not tonight." This bitterness was already too hard to swallow.

Jahi

Hitching breath slowly pushed free as those softened lyrics reached him in rushed apology which only sparked his own to mutter more to himself than any other, “Don’t be.” While it had hardly been a pleasant sensation it did not hold the force he’d come to expect over time. It did not mirror Valerius’ far heavier hand. “I’m sure I d-deserved it,” but for what he did not know though such details had never truly mattered before, so why start worrying over reasons now. As long as she didn’t make a habit of smacking him it could be tolerated once or twice. For now what could be mustered of focus lay upon her fluctuating emotions, a cacophony of her anger and sorrow twisting into their own beast.

Only for her query to draw him away from fixing on what could not be seen, however, it made the presence of it all no less suffocating. A question weighing heavily. One he nearly thought to brush aside, play off as something none needed to worry over. He knew he was no drunkard. While the goat enjoyed a drink now and then he hardly ever let it steal away the mind and never to the point where motor functions themselves grew so faulty. He couldn’t. Not when another relied on him, would take example from the behaviors allowed to witness. And fumbling around like a delirious fool was hardly something Juliet needed to behold.

So why did he trip over words now?

Maybe because it was getting harder to breath as if a panic attempted to seize his chest and squeeze at his throat, that the drum of a heart was unsettling… if only one was able to grasp its faulty rhythm in full. Everything felt hot, that bleary vision threatening to dizzy an already struggling mind; an unfelt numbness only making the goat less aware of the way limbs trembled against their grip upon upholstery. However, such admittance was hard to find his tongue. Unsure of just how to grasp the words without stirring concern or even vextation from either who chould hear. It would pass. Whether it truly was alcohol running its course or creeping anxieties, it would pass. It always had.

“I don’t know… it’s just a bit di-diff-,” a frown tugged at his lips before lyrics shifted from the word entirely, “A b-bit hard to talk ri-right now.” To catch the very breath which wished to flee and dared to rasp at each pause where it refused to return to him, to halt the way a tongue slurred. Nerves? The strongest wine he’d never tasted? He could think of nothing else yet a mind teetered toward the potential veil of alcoholic content in the drinks. Surely any supposed ‘jitters’ would have hit long before now and he’d taken nothing else in.

It must have only just decided to sink in. A conversation with Helayne unmarred by this growing struggle, only the blurr of vision and teetered step. Nothing that twisted the very phrases he attempted to speak. Though he could not let that halt explanation, no matter what the woman before him may do - she deserved an answer. Something to potentially stave off the whispered rumors she had heard. They weren’t good but certaintly not the worst of them. “That was Lady Eva’s r-rather… p-poor attempt at st-stopping this. Sh-she’s not expecting any child.”

Okay, now he really wished she had chosen to stab him. Though even if the witch had been carrying his or any other’s young, it would not have been kept. A burden of life he knew she was not fond of, it would only put a damper on the lifestyle she currently held. “And Hel… Helayne and I were only t-talking,” though the prospect of ‘running off’ with her could hardly be denied yet not in the sense other’s tales my forge. However, whether his words were something she believed or not didn’t matter. In the end it would not change the truth.

“It hasn’t,” she would echo his sentiment, then why had she apparently promised to go through with an arrangement. Rosen gaze would narrow lightly at her pause, sense of unease plaguing what rose next, “If you d-don’t?” Was she in some sort of distress? “You know th-that if some…thing is wr-wrong you can t-tell me, right?” Even if she despised him it would not halt the silent offerance of help should she have need of it. He wouldn’t tell a soul. Just as he hadn’t ratted out her attempts of fleeing all those nights before. Whatever plagued the mind now would be no different.

Though whether anything more would flee her lips he could at least make one promise to her. “Miss… I cannot control wh-what others say of me or the c-company I keep. N-nor you for that m-matter,” whatever the public chose to believe that is what they would spread whether it held true or not, they would forge their own reality upon rumors. “But I will t-try not to feed the vul-vultures tonight.” More than they already feasted on anyways.

Symptoms: dilated pupils, blurred vision, lack of coordination, loss of balance, tremors, slowed/slurring speech, difficulty breathing
still very close to hallucination stage

“Don’t be.” The quiet murmur of acceptance only made her fidget further. Regret seared her, number her to the fierce bite of her lip, to the tear of teeth to the tender inside edges of her cheek. “I’m sure I d-deserved it,” No. No, he didn't. The objection would flood her mind, a rebelling scream against her brash action, and yet it didn't roll beyond her lips. It didn't pour out of her mouth beyond the simple apology that did little to shed the weight of her guilt. He didn't deserve it, she knew it, and yet she couldn't accept it. Refused to. Her head would tilt lightly upon its axis as his breathing murmured laboriously within her ears. It echoed in the quiet that lingered between them, disruptive. Corrupted. Had she not been feigning civility, she'd had smelled at him like an animal, like the wild creature she truly was beneath the captive mask of a city's noble. She did, however, draw in a deep inhale, searching for any other unfamiliar perfumes while she masked the action in the form of a drawn sigh. Nothing, save for the same hint of underlying spirits, though nothing compared to what he had consumed at the tavern with her. No, it was little more than the decadent wine they served here, something that was barely enough to affect her own sense with her weak, if present at all, tolerance. “I don’t know… it’s just a bit di-diff-,” her gaze would return to those disoriented, flared pupils, stare narrowing upon his features, searching for some hint of what was truly crawling beneath the surface. Most often, she did not bother with trying to tell half truths and lies: she was bad at it, and she was often times incredibly accurate at picking honesty from the bones of deceit. “A b-bit hard to talk ri-right now.” Her fingers would outstretch, though they bore a slight gentleness that was lacking earlier. Should he not pull away, she would lightly grasp his chin, trying to force him to focus upon her, something she could all too easily see swimming. Her brow knit softly in contemplation, another inhale, curious. There was something on the air that she was partial to, one that tugged at the thin threads of her recollections but refusing to surface in full. "Mmm." The sound was dismissive, reconciled with the plight of consideration. Something was certainly amiss with his demeanor, even one blind could pick up on such a thing. She knew that her life was under the blade of assassin's scrutiny, but she felt it was counter productive to also try to assassinate the groom that was so apparently in demand among the nobles. Unless that was yet another lie, something that would hold no surprise to her. “That was Lady Eva’s r-rather… p-poor attempt at st-stopping this. Sh-she’s not expecting any child.” Her eyes would roll, her grasp releasing him if it ever found purchase, the motion gruff. Once again conclusive, ending. Her stare fell from his features to the grip he maintained to keep himself steady upon the furniture. “And Hel… Helayne and I were only t-talking.” She held little patience for the stammered excuses, but the evening was dragging along at a snail's pace and the longer it seemed to stretch, the more frayed her nerves were becoming. “If you d-don’t?” Once again, her attention was on him, lips drawn into a thin, bitter line. “You know th-that if some…thing is wr-wrong you can t-tell me, right?” She opened her mouth, a slight gasp of exasperation accompanying the action, but she would only snap her teeth together once more. Yes, of course, the fundamentals of a "happy marriage". Trust. Confiding in one another. Laughable, in this display, in her opinion. Then again, from their prior meeting, there was a less cynical part of her that dared whisper that perhaps he truly did wish to merely help. She couldn't bare to swallow her rage, however, because anger was so much easier to wield against her woes. It provided a better aegis to stabilize the shoulders that wanted to shrink and wither, a brace to keep her head high and reinforce the dam that threatened to burst with tears. Her fingers would once more coil around her arms, trying to keep her frame from crumbling in upon itself as Aethelos's words swarmed her cerebral prison like a blight of locusts. Devouring from the inside out. "Mother said the money from the marriage will go to her cure.  If anyone found out you weren't her...  that's why I didn't tell you more until we were alone and far away from the estate.  I couldn't risk Arabella... dying." "I made a promise." She would whisper, the words sounding hoarse, clawing out of her throat in a sound she despised. "I promised I w-would go through with it. I'm.... I...." She would search herself briefly to see how much of her true self she was willing to give away on a tenuous web of silver. "I've started remembering... some things. I-I have a brother and a sister. My brother told me she's extremely ill. O-our.... parents-" the hardest word she had to force herself not to spit out, "- say they need money to t-treat her. Money your father w-will pay." Despite it, she had to admit she felt somewhat better as the admittance left her. Words that were not lies. Arabella had once been like a sister to her. She had embraced her as one. Though she would merely abandon the truth of her identity, a person who had to die so that the girl could live. “Miss… I cannot control wh-what others say of me or the c-company I keep. N-nor you for that m-matter,” the words didn't sting. Not exactly, it was a sensation she wasn't wholly familiar with. A pettiness that gnawed at her skin. She had no intentions of trying to keep him on a leash after this, in fact, she wanted to have nothing to do with him, already planning any matter of distance she could place between them. All that mattered to her in the end was to ensure that the true Bella got the money she needed to survive. A promise she would see fulfilled by the Beleverons. “But I will t-try not to feed the vul-vultures tonight.” She would bow her head, accepting. "Very well, thank you."

Jahi

Assurance was all one could offer, an acceptance of the act committed despite the initial uncertainty held behind it. There had been no cruel intent harbored upon insult, no want to pressure nerves until they may snap and yet it seemed he had done just that with the ways she now shifted. How those eyes seemed to turn away whenever a passing moment of clarity lay granted beyond the haze. Stolen away with each unsteady motion, the slightest dance of his vision bringing back that curse of unsteadiness and an ability to find true focus no matter how he may crave it. With Helayne he’d felt fine if he ignored the wavering instability of his steps. Breath had come easy, a tongue did not grow heavy and twist in a fight for cleared phrase.

Now it did. Now it seemed as if his body wished for nothing more but to collapse in on itself. To give in to whatever sickness apparently seized hold. Yet there remained enough control to issue broken phrases, to snare rasping breath enough to speak. A throat not closed, lungs struggling yet still able to expand with each rise of his chest. It would be enough. Grant a way to slur out reasons to be twisted into assumed excuse if the woman’s temperament was anything to go off of and senses had hardly steered him wrong before. So he clung to them now even in their faltering state. Despite for some sense of understanding to remain over what transpired around him.

Only to find breath halting anew, fingers nearly releasing their hold upon the furniture in attempts to draw back despite knowing such would be a foolish decision. It would likely only end with him on the ground or clutching to the shelves behind him. Instead those digits coiled tighter as a sharp flinch echoed over his frame, bracing, half expecting that hand to find him in the same manner as before but as that touch landed the twinge etching over his features began to soften and fade. Daring to relax as a far gentler grasp beckoned a crown to turn fully toward her. Allowing one to behold that off kilter gaze. Wild eyes fighting for focus yet such was a hard thing to find - and ever harder to keep - as vibrant hues wavered. Rosen sights unsure of where to find fixation even when chasing the very presence of her touch.

What was she doing? Or, more importantly, what exactly did she want of him?

That hum a resounding note of disapproval in his ears, however, whatever she desired remained unclear in those moments. Lyrics choosing to rise in address of all else she’d asked of him rather than question intent. Try to avoid striking yet another nerve that would twist the grip upon him into something harsher. While violence had not risen until now it had set the idea of it in his mind, she was just as capable of lashing out of turn. Just like his father. Any budding seeds of trust uprooted in an instant, clinging on by nothing but a thread for there would still be chances given. Wrongs not always righted if it affected no other but he. Yet nearly as swiftly as she’d seized hold those fingers found release with a huff.

Bitterness radiating into the air around them. The click of teeth, annoyance. Well she certainly couldn’t make her disgust any clearly. She didn’t want his help: not then, not now, not ever. Though as much as one may wish to find acceptance in the matter he knew an offer would fall again in time. It was ingrained into the goat’s very nature, something which had yet to fade over his years as it only become further cemented. This alone would not be enough to twist his entire being.

So he clung to every word that pierced the fog of his mind. A promise made, remembrance of pieces she’d forgotten. Those which revolved around entire family members… and yet deceit did not twist such phrases. None that senses could grasp anyways, so August chose to believe her. It was far easier than casting unneeded doubt. However, features would scrunch upon the mention of money. A dowry needed to pay for treatment? Were they not already nobility? Creatures with wealth to spare, enough to keep their pockets and bellies full despite the famine that sought to strange more unfortunate souls. It just didn’t make sense. Unsurprising, for nothing truly did in these moments.

Perhaps they held hidden debts, sunk their gold into matters deemed more important, or perhaps they simply held an unwillingness to save their own flesh and blood. The woman before him had been sick before too, she’s said so herself all those nights ago in the tavern. It’s what had prevented her from knowing of the very lands she tread upon, what was likely a cause to the blockade within her mind… at least that is what lyrics had claimed. Now it was another who lay afflicted though whether her illness was of the same nature remained a mystery. Yet one thing was certain. Augustus knew his father was not so generous. There had to be something more to gain other than putting on a farce of what Valerius saw as normalcy. Something other than merely acquiring a wife for a son who did not want one.

August didn’t believe it was so simple. He couldn’t.
Yet like before, parts are not pressed. Nothing more than a slow breath escaping in strained sigh.

“Th-that is why you chose n-not to run,” even when she’d seemed so set on it before, going as far as to inquire over ideal destinations. Yet here she was caught in the whirlwind of another’s plan just as he was. Preventing another - preventing family - from meeting their demise a nobler reason for acceptance than the stakes others held in such arrangements. Though doubts are kept silent, locked within his mind as a different tune laces upon garbled tone, “If there is n-no wedding, no f-finalized ceremony… would they r-really just let your sister d-die? S-surely they have coin t-to spare,” or else Valerius would have never agreed to join them in name.

The pleas of saving another would have fallen on deaf ears, they would not have swayed the man in full for he cared only about getting what he wanted. Nothing else mattered. Whatever their price it would have been a small dent into a pile of dirty money.

Slowly horned crown would shake, motion regretted the moment it began as it brought a head to pound. Eyes squeezing shut, hidden behind the veil of dark lashes in hopes to stop his world from spinning. He had thought of fleeing, talked of it mere minutes ago with Helayne despite the internal conflict over it. Reasons to go, even more bidding him to stay… this was just another to add to ever growing categories. Another shaken breath as the goat reluctantly resigns to fate. He would not leave this night. No matter how he wished to. After a tick of silence rosen sights flickered open, attempting to find her own gaze in silent warning, “My f-father,” the word bitter upon his tongue, “Will pay their f-fee but will not ensure it g-goes to treat-treatment. That p-promise is for your f-family to keep.”

Symptoms: dilated pupils, blurred vision, lack of coordination, loss of balance, tremors, slowed/slurring speech, difficulty breathing
even closer to hallucination stage

“Th-that is why you chose n-not to run,” she would release a soft breath, one that felt like a ton weight leaving her shoulders, albeit it did little to ease the one sorely pressed to her heart. Each inhale only lowered the deadly pendulum against that vulnerable softness within, a growing threat to the vitality of the rabbit trapped within her chest. Though with each hour that dwindled away, its struggle lessened. She would merely nod, a brief moment to compose herself. Collect and fortify. Another lengthy flood of air into lungs that felt as though they would burst the biting metal bones of the corset. She was too full. Of emotion. Of blood. Of air. Yet she simultaneously felt so empty, eviscerated. "I wanted to." She would blink, turning her eyes away, upwards, where she hoped the light of the candelabra would shoo her tears away. Gods knew she wanted nothing but to flee this place, to leave it behind. To go to a home which no longer existed to her. To people that she desperately sought, but now realized with the returning tide of her memoirs: that they were no longer there. She had escaped - if one could call it that - the fate she had so hard fought against only to be dealt one just as demeaning and meaningless. A hand for money in place of a simple slave. In the end, her hide had only seen value to another. The seers had once warned her that whatever fate's threads had in store for her would come to pass, no matter how valiantly she had pushed against it. They had proclaimed that she was not above the grand tapestry that the weaver's delivered. She supposed this was it. This was her very own personal noose. She smiled. Sweet poison. Another breath, willing, rushing the ponderous, poignant guillotine to end her growing misery. It was a tension rushing like malicious electricity beneath her skin. It was the adrenaline before the fight, the circling with weapons drawn just to see who would make the first move. Only to know in the end she had no opponent, that she was currently her own enemy since he wouldn't give her something to snap at like the savage animal she truly was. The only thing he offered was a kind hand, one she yearned for nothing more than to bite. To rend and tear, all she needed was a reason. Why couldn't he just say something like Aethelos? Make it easy to justify this hatred that simmered like lava in her veins. “If there is n-no wedding, no f-finalized ceremony… would they r-really just let your sister d-die? S-surely they have coin t-to spare,” she would glimpse at him, the beginnings of a small frown pulling apart the seams of her simper. "I... don't even know that she isn't alr-ready dead." While her intonation was quiet, it was just another fray to the threads that held the crushing demise over her. Ones she was beginning to pry apart with her own nervously writing fingertips as they worked tirelessly at the embroidery of the gown. "A-Aethelos wasn't allowed to see her." The waves of her displeasure deepened. "I haven't seen her... since I can remember, but... I-I don't know how long it's been since..... s-since my mind was broken." Another admittance. Again, she would steal a peek at him, his growing unsteadiness. The way he couldn't focus on her. The disoriented way he attempted to glean the world around him as he shook his head. “My f-father,” he would begin and she could taste his disdain in the word, just as she had envenomed her own family. “Will pay their f-fee but will not ensure it g-goes to treat-treatment. That p-promise is for your f-family to keep.” It was certainly a possibility that she had entertained in woeful detail. That she may have agreed to this for naught. It was something that made her skin crawl, prickle like the loom of heavy thunderheads and their noisy static. "I... I don't think they will." It was little more than a dark whisper, this one not low to alleviate the threat of her tears, but one that reverberated with the purity of distrusting ire. "I would have liked insurance, or I would like n-nothing."

Jahi

“I wanted to.” That much had always been clear to him, no efforts made of hiding such a desire even now despite all she gave way to in a steadied rush of lyrics. Reason as to why she had stayed. A sole purpose behind her agreement to this whole ordeal. To keep her sister from meeting her end and yet such a fate could not be guaranteed. There could be no promise of survival. No sworn word that whatever funds his father had agreed upon would truly go towards alleviating a sickness. There were countless medicines in this world, magic that could purify and mend if one merely knew where to look. Rather who to seek out, even if one held reluctance or disdain toward the idea of dealing with the damned they’d proven useful.

A number held close amongst the goat’s most trusted, creatures he held no fear towards. Those willingly indulged in yet upon the same breath there were those which terrified. Beasts he wanted nothing more than to tear away at… though such sentiments could easily be placed on any species that prowled this realm. Ever easier to lay upon himself whenever an accursed moon sank the glimmering puncture of wolven fangs to his skull. The mere thought of it twisted ears back. That haze only further enhancing the desire to sink within his own mind, to give up on holding focus to the room around him. Decoration he could not see in their usual clarity, faces blurred and figures shifting as if they had not been there to begin with.

Yet each sigh - breath tainted in another’s exasperation, sorrow, her anger - every emotion beckoning a rush of air kept a mind grounded just as it brought a heart to sink. Daring a mind to drift toward far darker outcomes. Spurred ever deeper when her own suspicions lay voiced. A sister may already be dead. Neither she or an assumed brother, Aethelos, had been allowed to see her. Risk of contagion? Or to keep a secret? Answers one may never have, answers she may never gain. “H-has anyone been allowed t-to?” Even if it were to behold a corpse. Surely her parents entered the room, visited her sickbed if they bothered to care for their own. If not they then doctors? Someone had to hold access if this girl was truly so ill.

He wanted to offer comfort, something more than words alone could grant, yet touch was something he knew was hardly desired. Even if it was there was no reliable way of closing the distance held between them. Little trust held in his own footing as the tremor of limbs implored him to sit, to release the vice still held to remain upright. Protests he did not wish to heed despite knowing something had to be wrong. It strayed from the twists of alcohol alone though neither was it like the divulgence of the moon. No blood coated his tongue, drowsiness did not hope to overtake him. Just a confusion, the jumbling of motor function, a twist to the very realm he attempted to exist in.

Shapes creeping at the edge of bleary vision, only to vanish should one attempt to glimpse into the mist. There was nothing. None but he, Helayne, and the very woman before him stood in this room. Writhing shadows forcefully ignored, placed upon whatever sickness sought to plague him tonight of all nights. Fragmented hiss tainted the sigh which fled next, “Is t-there any in the ho-house that could secure the f-funds?” Before a dowry exchanged hands at the very ceremony or arrived into her parents hands within the comforts of a home “Any k-keepers or attendants? Your b-brother even? If I know Val-Valerius,” and regrettably he knew the man very well, “He will n-not give a t-thing until getting… what he wants f-from all this.” Nothing until his stake in the bargain was claimed, whatever the truth of that may be in this case. There would be a short window to intercept all another granted in way of coin.

Symptoms: dilated pupils, blurred vision, lack of coordination, loss of balance, tremors, slowed/slurring speech, difficulty breathing
smol start of hallucination stage