[Closed] What Once Was Mine [Memory]

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
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Writer: Raksha
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Tue Sep 10, 2019 9:20 am

Loshis 14th, 2718
VIENDA| EVENING
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"Beautiful, simply beautiful.” Benjamin Tolsby said with a passionate sound of delight, closing the case over his violin and clipping it shut. Charity reached for her light coat as he spoke, slipping her arms in the sleeves before reaching for the cigarette that was being offered to her by one of the other concertists and taking a deep drag.

“Yes it was quite a lovely arrangement, though that second chair on the Bastian obo could use a bit of work. How the clock she got in is beyond me.” Handing the cigarette back, the platinum blonde pianist flicked her hair out from under the coat and began to do up the buttons. The warm summer weather reminded her too much lately of days gone by, days she felt like were something between a good dream and a distant memory. A melancholy apathy had begun to settle in, as did the familiar faces of her youth. Or one, at least, that left her feeling a deep pit of regret everytime she saw it. Smirking to himself as though holding the winning cards in a game of poker, Ben stood up and looked over the short woman.

“I was talking about the first chair pianist actually. She’s quite lovely.” Charity laughed politely, reaching for her satchel of sheet music.

“Always the charmer Ben.” The young woman quipped, stepping a little away from the red haired Anaxi who forever seemed to be just a fraction inside her personal space. Ben rubbed a hand over his face, moving with her as though he’d anticipated her movement.

“Do you have to head off so soon?” He asked quietly, his tone suggestive even before anything else could be discussed. Lifting a finger, Charity waggled it at the man.

“Ah you know father, he’s got some event this evening with a spice merchant from Mugroba. Wants to parade his most prized possession, no doubt to secure some sort of wedding arrangement.” It was a blatent lie, but Gods she didn’t particularly feel like fighting off Benjamin’s pawing advances tonight. Making a noise of disappointment, the taller Anaxi took a step back and sighed.

“That’s a shame, because I got the best Crop from Basil last night. Thought you might like to stick around with me and a few others for a bit of….artistic appreciation.” From the other side of the blonde, a dark haired figure appeared, green eyes bright under a cocked eyebrow.

“What’s this now? You’re planning all this fun and you didn’t even invite me?” Curling an arm through one of the D’Arthe girls own, Diaxio Shiuni leaned against her as Charity leaned back, both entirely comfortable with each other. Best friends since third form, the two were inseparable most nights. Granted, sometimes it took the coaxing of the green eyed Hoxian, but when the pianist and the flutist got together it was messy and ever so much fun. Benjamin glanced at Diaxio and shrugged.

“I would have. Eventually. But the Captain’s daughter has prior commitments.” Diaxio pouted suddenly, looking at Charity with a squeeze on her arm.

“No Xi.” The blonde answered before the question was asked, making the other woman pout even harder and make a small pleading sound in the back of her throat. Charity shook her head with a laugh, prompting another sound from the Hoxian.

“Oh come on Charity! I’m not ready to go home yet, it’s only half way into the nineteenth hour!” As the pale creature groaned in protest, Diaxio moved to hold both her hands, bouncing on her toes before her friend.

“I’m tired Xi, and you know how father can be sometimes. And I really don’t feel like dealing with you know who.” She breathed, casting an eye at Benjamin who held out two small pressed white pills and smirked obliviously. The Hoxian turned slightly, releasing one hand to reach for the pills, before turning back to Charity with a wry smile.

“I’m sure your father is going to be fine, you’re with me, he likes me. Plus, you can’t be tired because then I’ll have to stay out on my own and what kind of a friend does that to another friend?” Holding the pianists violet gaze, Diaxio opened her mouth to place the tablet under her tongue, closing it with a grin and holding the other up between her fingertips.

“There see, now it would be dangerous to leave me all alone. You’re just going to have to take one for the team Charity. For me?” The blonde sighed, looking at the tightly pressed powder pill and chewing the inside of her lip, before glancing at Diaxio’s mischievous jade stare. It would help to ease the cloying sense of entrapment that encroached everytime she thought of what waited for her at home, it would help with the hollow ache inside that left her feeling so terribly alone.

It would just be one.

Fine. But just one, alright? I’ve got a midday sitting at the Lendonbrooke house tomorrow, and I’m fairly certain Mrs Lendonbrooke wouldn’t appreciate a clocking stoned galdori playing for her guests.” Opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out, she let Diaxio place the bitter pill down on the end before curling it into her mouth and tucking it between her cheek and her teeth. Benjamin wooped, grinning from ear to ear, before disappearing out through the backstage doors and downwards to the dressing rooms where Basil York and Lillian Lovegood waited with other like-minded galdori. The sound of music wafted up the staircase, accompanied by laughter and intoxicated singing. Diaxio held Charity’s hand tighter, before giggling delightfully and leading her friend towards the festivities.


“I swear it. I do! Two chroves, right there in the street, funniest thing I have ever clocking seen.” The too loud, too slurred voice of Benjamin Tolsby proclaimed, dragging a chorus of laughter from his captive audience and startling the pianist awake. It was hours later than Charity had planned for, and somewhere along the way she’d lost her jacket and her shoes, so utterly wrecked that she could barely sit up. Since when had she found her way to sitting in Ben’s lap, and where was Diaxio?

“Gods be kind, what clocking time is it?” The delicate blonde croaked, struggling to get to her feet, using both hands to unwrap the red heads arm from her waist.

“Twenty fifth? Twenty sixth? It’s not that late Charity. Charity wait!” Benjamin shoved himself to his own unsteady feet, stumbling after the pale creature as she weaved her way towards the exit.

“Twenty…clocking hell my father will be furious.” She muttered, holding a hand to her head as the Anaxi caught her elbow.

“Steady on there Charity. Why don’t you come home with me? Diaxio left about an hour ago, and you’ve had a fair bit of Crop.” Closing her eyes, the blonde frowned. They’d had the pill, then helped finish a bottle of Mood Elevator, and then that new way of having the drug. The vial, so tiny and quick to take that it felt like you hadn’t done anything at all. But oh Alioe, it was strong.

“No, no thankyou. I need fresh air, a walk to clear my head, before I go home.” Ben drew her closer, curling an arm around her waist and brushing the platinum locks from her face.

“You’d be better off if I escorted you.” He said quietly, tilting her chin with his fingertips as though he planned to kiss her. Charity held her hands up, pushing away from the violinist and shaking her head.

“Sorry uh…no. No Ben.” She said in a frustrated tone, shifting to get past the man and out through the side door. It was warm outside, the air think with rain that wanted to fall but had yet to make an appearance.

“Clocking nice one Diaxio. Again.” Charity muttered to herself, holding her arms across her chest and rubbing as though to ward off a chill. She was dressed in a thin cream colored dress that swept over the tops of her shoulders and flared gently around her legs with a lace overlay, long white blonde hair falling around her in a strange halo, feet dirty and bare as she staggered away from the Theatre and into Kingsway Market. It was quiet, though there were still a few stragglers getting home after late nights of entertainment or business—or both. The blonde didn’t want to head home yet, not in such a state, so she wandered Vienda at a sedate pace on unsteady feet.

“What are you doing?” She whispered as she stared down at her reflection in the Arova River, letting her intoxicated mind wander back to Brunnhold. Back to sixth form, back to that lovely day in Perceptive studies. All the lovely days before—

That was enough of that. Those lovely days were a long distant vision of a time when things could have been simpler. Before her father’s fateful force of nature had intervened with all that was good in her life. All that had brought her some small mote of control and joy in an otherwise cold grey world.

That was enough of that.

Last edited by Charity Valentin on Tue Oct 15, 2019 9:58 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Niccolette Ibutatu
Posts: 552
Joined: Thu Jul 11, 2019 11:41 pm
Topics: 38
Race: Galdor
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Writer: moralhazard
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Tue Sep 10, 2019 2:30 pm

Evening, 14th Loshis, 2718
Over the Arova, Vienda
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"What are you doing?” Niccolette shrieked with laughter, breathless and giddy, although she had not made a serious attempt to stop Uzoji, nor to pull away. “No!” She batted at his hand, feebly.

“I am,” Uzoji said, grinning broadly, “yielding to temptation,” he lunged. Niccolette shrieked, and then his arm was beneath her legs, and Uzoji lifted her off the ground, tucked between two streetlights on the quiet Vienda street, a brief moment of privacy and joy.

“Noooo!” Niccolette giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and curling her face against his shoulder. “My shoe! Uzoji – Uzoji, my shoe!” One small bare foot waved free from the hem of her ruby-red dress, toes curling in the warm air of the heavy, rainy Hamis evening.

“Flood your shoe!” Uzoji held Niccolette close to his chest, one arm beneath her legs and the other wrapping around her torso. “You don’t need it. I’ll carry you.”

Niccolette was laughing so hard she could barely breathe; she could feel Uzoji laughing too, the warm rumble of it in her chest as he held her. “You shall carry me all the way back to the Grandview?” She giggled, closing her eyes.


“And beyond,” Uzoji said, firmly, although there was no disguising the rumble of laughter in his voice. “All the way upstairs.”

“Or,” Niccolette giggled, and squirmed again, opening her eyes and raising her eyebrows up at her husband. “Or, perhaps – my shoe?”

Uzoji grinned down at her. “Fine,” he eased her down to the ground, as gently as he had lifted her.

Niccolette giggled, holding onto her husband’s shoulder with one hand, keeping her foot gently off the ground. Uzoji knelt – Niccolette did not let go - and fetched the errant shoe. He turned.

“Hold still,” Uzoji slid up the hem of her skirt, slowly, revealing her ankle. He lifted the shoe, carefully, and settled it onto her foot. “There,” he kissed the bare skin of her calf, one hand keeping the long, straight hem of her dress from falling back down, from covering her with silk petticoats and glittering ruby fabric once more. “Better, beloved?”

“Yes, quite,” Niccolette lifted her chin, her small gold slipper still resting on her husband’s pant leg. His hands slid against her bare skin, and she giggled, the rush of it a thousand times better than any champagne – although, of course, there had been quite a bit of champagne already that day.

This four had been a rare day in the rainy season – no parties, no receptions, no meetings that Uzoji might sneak into, no old friends for Niccolette to catch up with, nothing that Enofe wanted from either of them; nothing that Hawke wanted from either of them. No meetings with the bank, no letters to write to the plantation at Muluku, no repairs to the airship to oversee, no grimoires to track down, no messages to deliver.

Naturally, there had been champagne to celebrate this glorious quiet – quite a bit of it, starting with lunch, stretching through the afternoon, sipped between moments that glittered in Niccolette’s memory, a dizzying fizz of happiness in her veins. They had gone out for dinner around sunset – somewhere quiet, Uzoji had promised, where neither of them would know anyone, even with Vienda full to bursting with politicians from across the Six Kingdoms.

“I do not wish to go back yet,” Niccolette said, softly, looking down at her husband. She bit her lip, swallowing. The lobby of the Grandview was never quiet; it would be Uzoji’s brother, or his old professor, or someone Niccolette knew from Brunnhold, visiting the Mugrobi delegation. There would be letters and demands, interruptions that they could not forestall.

Uzoji’s hand stilled against her leg. He smiled, and Niccolette lowered her foot down to the ground. He rose, carefully, the long tail of his black jacket falling down his back again. “Then we won’t,” Uzoji promised. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking along it, gently. “Although surely we’ve already explored all of Vienda, mm? It’s no Thul Ka, after all. That’s a real city.”

Niccolette laughed. “Oh, no, Vienda is lovely! Someday we shall go to Florne, of course, and then you shall see a real city. But – but Vienda is well enough. I shall take you – I shall take you…” She giggled, biting her lip. Uzoji’s eyes caught on it, and she giggled, smacking him lightly with her hand. “Have you been to the Vienda Bridge?” Niccolette asked, eagerly. “We shall go there. Come on, my darling.”

A carriage hailed, Niccolette’s sharp, slightly drunk insistence that, yes, the two galdori did mean to go to the Vienda Bridge in the middle of the night. A sharp rattling ride over cobblestones, Uzoji’s hands gentle in the dark privacy of the cabin, Niccolette clenching hers tight in his coat to keep quiet -

“The Arova!” Niccolette announced, accepting her husband’s hand down the steps, and waving, grandly, at the river. “Vienda’s answer to the Turga, naturally,” Niccolette giggled. “You have seen it from the air! But have you ever seen it from – the Vienda Bridge?” Niccolette spun; her skirt was too narrow to catch in the air, but it glittered, red, beneath the soft phosphor light, sparkling bright, a dazzling array of sequins sewn up along it and across her bodice, all the way up the asymmetric lines across it and the high neck.

Uzoji was laughing. “No,” he grinned at her. “Never. Come on, Niccolette, we’ll – ”

“Ah ah!” Niccolette waved her finger at him, taking a few steps backwards, towards the railing. She pushed her hair back off her face, letting the long dark locks tumble neatly down her back. “None of that,” she said, mock-sternly, pressing bright red lips together in a playful pout. “We shall – ”

“Oh – beloved – ” Uzoji started forward, reaching for her, a sharp note of warning in his voice.

Niccolette felt the brush of a perceptive-laden field against her own sharp, bright living one, but she was already half-stumbling, and she knocked lightly into a small body behind her before she could even look back, catching herself against the railing with one ungloved hand.

Uzoji lunged forward, holding Niccolette with one hand, his other reaching for the white-clad arm of the slender blonde she had bumped into.

“Our apologies, madam,” He straightened the other woman with as little contact as he could manage, pulled back and bowed, politely. The Mugrobi’s field was heavy with physical mona and static mona both, the two mingled comfortably together. “Are you all right?” He straightened back up, and rested his hand on Niccolette’s side, checking on her as well.

“Yes,” Niccolette said, casually, turning, and brushing Uzoji’s hand away. She had meant to say something else – to make some polite excuse, perhaps to bow, but the sight of the woman against the railing caught her thoroughly off-guard. “Charity?” Niccolette blurted out, eyebrows lifting as she took in the pianist, from her dirty feet up to her halo of long blonde hair, surprise obvious in the curl of her voice. “Charity D’Arthe?”

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Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
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Sun Sep 22, 2019 6:45 pm

Loshis 14th, 2718
VIENDA| EVENING
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Is this all there is? Is this how I’ll spend the rest of my life?

The pale galdor leaned her elbows on the rail, curling her delicate hands in platinum locks, exhaling something between a sigh and a sob. She stared at the dark, deep waters under the bridge, so deceptively calm on the surface. Just under that facade they were roiling and tumultuous, a strange metaphor for her own self.

Play the part, lift your chin, smile Charity Ann, smile! Again!

She winced, her father’s voice a cold memory that made her stomach churn and her field pulse with panic. Gods, she hated him. She hated him so much.

The sounds of patrons on the bridge barely registered through her drug addled, self-pitying haze, though she heard the giggles. Sounds of a couple, clearly in love or at least lust. The pianist closed her eyes tightly, warding off the happy sounds, unwilling to be reminded of how it sounded to be unburdened and in love.

Love? Is that what she’d lost?

The brush of Living particles swept across her Perceptive, though the warning was too late. Something about the field intruding on her space was familiar, like the taste of faint copper when one bit their tongue. The blonde began to shift, but it was too slow, and quite suddenly a feminine form toppled into her. Already unstable on her feet, Charity stumbled, a small sound of surprise escaping her before a strong hand grabbed her arm.

A rush of fear flooded her field, and the galdor flinched back from the man, wincing slightly as his fingers unintentionally pressed against fading bruises contained so properly under the flowing sleeves of her dress. For a heartbeat, the young woman saw a flash of furious blue eyes and dark hair, but then the hand withdrew and it was a Mug.

Not Damen.

The gold flecks in her violet gaze caught the soft light of the street lanterns as Charity stared wide eyed at the two interlopers. Her heart stuttered against her sternum, and her chest felt tight, the adrenaline in her system slowly draining as she realized it wasn’t her father.

“I’m fine.” The slight creature breathed, running a hand over her face and through her unkempt hair.

Charity? Charity D’Arthe?

Wetting her lips, hand frozen in her hair, Charity looked at the brunette. She let her mind take in the other galdor’s Bastian features, her face so perfectly made up and everything looking so put together. The other woman and her dark skinned companion were mildly intoxicated, she could caprice the hazy edges in their aura’s, and for a moment Charity thought they might have been theater patrons.

The inebriated blonde took a breath, hesitating on the intake, absolutely unclear on what she was planning to say.

“I uh—

“There you are!” A familiar voice called from the other side of the two lovebirds, and Charity tilted her focus to the dark haired figure rapidly approaching them.

“Diaxio? I thought you went home?” She exhaled, frowning slightly as the Hoxian came towards her with a broad smile and no hint of the lethargic high she’d had earlier that evening. As the green eyed woman laced an arm in the blondes, she looked at the two bridge-folk and tittered.

“Sorry about my friend, she’s a litt—oh my Gods Nicco and Uzoji!” Diaxio exclaimed, looking over the other galdori with a smile, though her field was doetered away from them. Charity blinked, looking at the two on the bridge and back to Diaxio.

“Who?” She asked quietly, leaning heavily on her friend, confused by all the sudden activity. Too many fields and too much chatter for her current state of mind. The raven haired Hoxian looked at Charity with that same perfect smile.

“You remember, don’t you? Niccolette Villamarzana?” Diaxio looked at Nicco, still smiling, arm laced with Charity's comfortably. The pianist glanced at the couple again, frown growing deeper as she tried to think. Gods it was too hard to think, and she wasn’t in the mood for Xi’s games. Why was she so sober now, when she was such a mess before?

“Not reall—”

“Of course you do. Niccolette is the girl that Rhys Valentin forget you for. Remember, when you were in the medical wing? Remember, he didn’t come to see you, and we thought it was because of your father but really he was off with this.” She waved a hand at the red dressed brunette, her smile still on, cold and calculating. A slow dawning came over Charity, and her gaze turned towards Niccolette.

“You.” The waif said quietly, a quaver in her voice and field swelling with the red shift of rage, interlaced with deep blues and streaks of yellow. It was flooding back to her now, those weeks alone in the hospital. Xi had been the one to tell her about Rhys and Nicco in the first place. He’d never really cared about her, not really. As soon as the next pretty thing had caught his eye, the Valentin boy had jumped ship. Not that Charity could blame him, not when her father…

“And Uzoji pez Okorie. Wow, so you two are a thing still? That’s just sweet. Isn’t that sweet Charity.” Diaxio said pleasantly, her voice almost soothing in it’s tone. Beside her, the blonde blinked back the hot tears that were stinging her eyes.

Rhys Valentin. By the Circle, it had been so very long since she’d heard someone say that name out loud.

Looking away at the ground between them, Charity swallowed the lump in her throat. This wasn’t at all the right time for a reintroduction with her ex’s—nearly ex?—best friend's ex. She had too many old wounds and she was very very high.

“Xi, can we go home please?” The galdor said quietly, swaying on bare feet. Her violet gaze captured Nicco and Uzoji again, looking so perfect as they were. A perfect couple perfectly in love.

It was like a cold steel knife under her ribs.

“No, no. Let’s talk! We haven’t seen you two in ages. Not since, well probably not since Charity’s eighteenth actually! Not that you’d remember obviously.” The Hoxian continued brightly, her field still calmly held in check around her, smile still on her face.

Last edited by Charity Valentin on Tue Oct 15, 2019 9:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Niccolette Ibutatu
Posts: 552
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Topics: 38
Race: Galdor
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Mon Sep 23, 2019 12:50 pm

Evening, 14th Loshis, 2718
Over the Arova, Vienda
Niccolette blinked at Charity, surprise written across her small face; she could not think of the last time she had seen Charity D’Arthe, in truth. They had been – not quite friends, perhaps, in fifth form, but they had giggled together a few times in what few shared classes they had had, mostly over Rhys Valentin. It was strange to think back so far; Niccolette had not, of course, seen Rhys since ninth form, when he had made every reasonable effort to break Uzoji’s face apart with his fists.

Niccolette couldn’t help smiling slightly at the memory of it – not, naturally, the memory of Uzoji being hit, which had been sharp and unexpectedly painful, but the quiet moments they had shared afterwards, the way he had laughed when she had knit his nose back together, gritting his teeth through the pain but undaunted. She had, Niccolette thought with a faint flare of pride, done a good job; his nose was, even today, as smooth as if it had never been broken.

But stripe the Circle, the other woman looked a mess – she was shivering on the edge of the bridge, her long blonde hair tangled about her head, wearing a cream-colored dress that must hardly have been warm enough even during the day. Her feet were bare and filthy, and as Niccolette caprised her field, gently, she could feel the sort of disorder that indicated something more than mere drunkenness.

The wind whistling off the Arova was abruptly cold, and Niccolette pressed gently against Uzoji, feeling a faint flare of irritation at the steady intrusion of the world on their pleasant evening. She would not have guessed in a thousand lifetimes that even on the Vienda Bridge they could not escape a familiar face – or, it would seem, two familiar faces.

Niccolette blinked as well at Diaxio Shiuni as she appeared, as if from nowhere; she knew Diaxio as well from Brunnhold. Somewhat wild, Niccolette recalled, and friends with Sy’rien Palevi. It had not been a crowd that she and Uzoji had much cared for.

Niccolette opened her mouth to correct the way that Diaxio named her, but the Hoxian swept onwards before she could. Niccolette pressed her lips together, firmly, and raised an eyebrow at the introduction that Diaxio gave her, tilting her head gently to the side at the way Diaxio swept a hand over her and called her ‘this.’ In truth, Niccolette thought, she might have been offended, if it was not so clear that – whatever it was which was happening here, it had little to do with herself and Uzoji.

The pleasant golden buzz fled from Niccolette’s field at the sharp burst of anger in Charity’s field. The living conversationalist did not colorshift; there was no responding anger in the ramscott that surrounded her, stretching nearly seven feet out across the bridge. She felt Uzoji’s field intertwined with her; she felt the buzz drain from it as well. Neither sigiled, neither tensed in readiness; the wild, chaotic emotions in Charity’s field did not demand such a response. They were not a threat, so much as a thing to be pitied; imagine, Niccolette thought, to feel schoolyard memories so sharply that one could not but colorshift.

Uzoji’s left arm settled gently around her shoulders, and Niccolette sighed, reaching up and pushing her hair back off her forehead once more. She checked her field again, keeping it clear and indectal, the living mona bright and lively around her. She caprised Diaxio too – not forcing her way through the other woman’s doetoe, but a gentle nudge, as if to let the other woman know that she had not escaped the Bastian’s notice.

“Yes,” Niccolette said, looking at Diaxio, her lips pressing together once more in a sharp line. “It must have been some time, if you are not aware of our marriage,” she raised an eyebrow, and smiled, although it was not much friendlier than Diaxio’s had been. Her field pulsed, very faintly, the slightest wave of living mona echoing through the air. “It is Ibutatu now, you see. Uzoji and Niccolette Ibutatu.”

Uzoji’s arm tightened ever so slightly around her shoulders, and Niccolette felt his hand settle against her arm. “But you’re right,” he said, his words easing in gently into the moment where Niccolette’s had stopped. He smiled, and his alone looked genuinely friendly, “we are certainly a thing,” he turned the word into something light and playful, a broad, loving grin spreading over his face as he looked over at Niccolette. “I suppose there’s not much else one can call six years of marriage,” he stroked his thumb over her upper arm, gently.

Niccolette’s eyes flicked sideways at him, and despite herself she smiled as well; some of the tension in her shoulders drained away, and she relaxed a little more against her husband, comfortable and easy again – although her field remained sharp and crisp, clear of any emotions or colorshift. There was a good deal more she could have said – not least that Uzoji had not even been at Brunnhold during their eighth form, when Charity had turned eighteen; not least that she doubted very much that Rhys Valentin had ever forgotten Charity D’Arthe. She kept silent instead, trusting her husband.

“As lovely as it would be to catch up, Ms. Shiuni,” Uzoji managed to bow without quite letting go of Niccolette, deep and polite, “I am afraid my wife is getting a little cold out here on the bridge. Ms. D’Arthe,” he turned to Charity now, looking at her rather seriously for a long moment. He extended a hand, gently – his right, with faint traces of pink scars across the palm, reaching out towards her, and did not look directly at Diaxio. “May we offer you a ride home? You must be cold as well.”

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Charity Valentin
Posts: 129
Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 5:41 pm
Topics: 23
Race: Galdor
Location: Vienda
: The voices aren't real, right?
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Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
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Sun Sep 29, 2019 10:52 pm

Loshis 14th, 2718
VIENDA| EVENING
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Charity tucked her arms around herself, the chilled wind that curled over the bridge catching her loose hair and whispering it around her pale face. She felt the cold, or rather, she would feel it later when the Kings Crop wore off. For the moment her body felt warm, and her mind hazy, and her field uncontrolled. She could feel the press of their aura’s around her, Diaxio’s so harsh and unwelcoming, Niccolette’s gently probing with no ill intent and Uzoji’s warmly buzzing on the sidelines. Her violet gaze shifted between the two galdori at the mention of marriage, feeling a bitter swill of jealousy rise from the depths, mixing with her overall sense of worthlessness in this moment.

Why did Xi have to remind her of these things? Why was she sober.

The Hoxian smiled at the duo, refusing to budge her field where it held firmly, no indication of friend or foe in its unbroken barrier. A small half laugh escaped her at the pulse of Niccolette’s field, as though she found the mild threat amusing, and she turned her eyes on Uzoji as he spoke.

“Aww well isn’t that a blessed thing? Six years! Isn’t that wonderful Charity.” Finally, her jade gaze drew away from the couple to look at her friend, ensuring the intoxicated blonde looked back at her in return with a gentle touch on her chin. The pianist blinked heavily, swaying slightly as she turned her head to the brunette.

“After all this time, they found love. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing, finding love and peace and your forever in the arms of another. Imagine that. Just, imagine—oh wait you can’t. I forgot. You didn’t even get to imagine that.” Diaxio said carefully, her field shifting ever so slightly to brush against the porven swell of her friends, allowing a sense of empathetic loss to sweep through her aura. The young woman took a breath, a whisper of a sound, her heart heavy in her chest.

Imagine that.

As the man extended his hand to her, Charity slowly turned back to him, looking down at the scarred palm with a another slow blink. Her violet gaze drifted back up to his face, kindness of a stranger found there, before slipping to look at Niccolette.

“You stole my first kiss.” She said on the soft exhale of her breath, tears welling in bleary unfocused eyes. Drawing her brow together, a mixture of old hurts and intoxicated confusion on her face, the pale pianist shook her head slowly.

“Rhys might have…he could have…he would have tried. We could have tried but you were there and…and you kissed him and I didn’t. But then he didn’t try anymore, and…” Charity blinked, the tears falling from her cheeks to the ground unnoticed, the young woman struggling with her thoughts. Niccolette didn’t really do anything wrong but…did she? She did. Rhys might have tried harder but he moved on, and he left her behind.

“…and he left you for something better. Or at least, for a little while.” Diaxio finished for the blonde, moving to put an arm around the other woman and keeping her close, away from the Mugrobi’s extended hand.

“Well, this has been…cute…but as you can see I should probably get Miss D’Arthe home to her father. You know, he worries, given she’s his one and only now. So tragic.” The Hoxian continued, the mention of her father giving Charity reason to inhale sharply and look at the woman quickly, her field flaring with an uneven sweep of concern.

“Diaxio—” She began, swallowing the rest of her words when the brunette shushed her.

“It’s fine. I’ll come with you.” The jade eyed galdor said softly, before shooting the two lovers a glance.

“Say goodbye, Charity.” She prompted, refusing to release her hold on the unsteady woman. Charity looked up at them again, and for just a moment she opened her mouth and caught her breath as though she wanted to say more. She wanted to say so much more, and for the love of the Circle she wanted to shove past Diaxio and take the hand offered to her and run away from this Gods-be-damned city. From all of it.

Where could they take her though, that Damen wouldn’t find her?

Exhaling again, she nodded, looking down at the ground between them and leaning into the Hoxian.

“I…I’m sorry. I—” The slight creature mumbled, frustrated by the way her mind flittered between thoughts. She’d been rude to Niccolette just now. The woman probably barely recalled who she—or who Rhys—even was, a fling from so far past that had no consequence here. School day drama still being dragged into the present.

Good Lady, she wanted to lay down.

Last edited by Charity Valentin on Tue Oct 15, 2019 9:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Mon Sep 30, 2019 9:56 pm

Evening, 14th Loshis, 2718
Over the Arova, Vienda
Niccolette glanced at Uzoji at Diaxio’s words, at the feeling of something soft and sad sweeping through the Hoxian’s field, at the shaking breath that Charity took. Her glance was only the barest flicker of her eyes to the side; his face did not change, but she felt the faint tightening of his hand on her arm, and she turned her gaze back to Charity.

Uzoji half-lowered his hand, slowly, when Charity looked away from him, his face set. His arm was still wrapped comfortably around Niccolette when Charity spoke to her, and he did not move, did not draw away. He had, Niccolette knew, made his peace with her history with Rhys long ago, with his fists – with her choice, in front of what had felt like half the school, of Uzoji.

There was not, Niccolette thought, much she could say. She had liked Rhys; she had liked him for months. She had fancied herself in love with him, as a girl, before she had really known what the word meant. Niccolette doubted very much that she would have ever thought of him since if they had not had their time together; she had never quite pined over him, though perhaps she had watched him a little more than she might have wanted to admit.

Charity was sobbing now, and Niccolette held back the impulse to make a face; it was oddly embarrassing to watch the other woman cry so publically, tears dripping down her cheeks without the faintest effort on her part to hide them, without the faintest effort to stop them. The other woman’s odd and blatant manipulations were even harder to watch, mostly because Charity seemed so transparently affected by them.

Niccolette did not say anything; she shifted a little closer against Uzoji, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She hardly regretted anything she had done; she would not apologize. She doubted, somehow, that Charity really wanted to know anything about her angry, tempestuous relationship with Rhys; she did not know anything about Rhys today, anything about where he was or what he might be doing, and so it hardly seemed worthwhile to guess.

The rush of something painful through Charity’s field at Diaxio’s next words caught Niccolette off-guard, and she studied Charity, carefully. Her father? Niccolette wondered. Her father’s concern? Whatever tragedy Diaxio was alluding to? Niccolette might have thought the Hoxian was trying to tempt them into asking, but she seemed so utterly focused on Charity –

Charity, who was mumbling an awkward apology, staring at the ground. Diaxio’s arm wrapped around her, and Charity was leaning into it.

“A father’s worry can be a heavy burden,” Uzoji said, neutrally. Niccolette felt him begin to shift; she could feel in the set of him that he wanted to move, to leave. He did not need to speak to her, to signal to her in his field, to tell her so. She knew he wanted her to say a polite good bye, perhaps, or just to turn with the gentle press of his arm – to show Charity and Diaxio that they were going, now. He had made his offer; the hand he had extended was lowered.

It was not their business. Niccolette knew it, and if she had not, it was in every inch of the set of her husband’s body.

“I never speak with my father,” Niccolette said, casually, sweeping past Charity’s apology. “I think he is still alive.” She shrugged. She felt Uzoji’s hand tighten gently on her arm, and she ignored it as fully as she ignored all the rest of the warning signs about this utter mess of an encounter, as fully as she ignored all the lingering warmth of their lovely day, the desire to go back to the hotel, force her way through the lobby, and get back to their room as soon as possible, to preserve what they might of what had, truly, been a lovely four.

Did she feel guilty? No, Niccolette thought; she did not. She regretted nothing, and yet something about Charity – standing before her – that sweep of something like fear through her field. If this was how Diaxio behaved before witnesses, Niccolette rather shuddered to think of how she might treat Charity with the two of them alone. Niccolette rather shuddered to think of the softness in Charity’s voice when she addressed Diaxio; it was clear to Niccolette that the blonde Anaxi considered the Hoxian a friend, and she could not but fathom it. She did not feel guilty; she did feel interested.

“Why not share a carriage?” NIccolette smiled at Diaxio, and the expression did not reach her eyes; she glanced sideways at Charity, and her expression perhaps softened - perhaps. “Surely we are all headed Uptown.”

Uzoji smiled, glancing down at Niccolette, and then back up at Diaxio and Charity. “An Anaxi, a Bastian, a Hoxian and a Mugrobi get into a cab,” he said, smiling, and Niccolette felt such love for him she thought she might drown in it. “Surely I’ve heard that joke at some party.”

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Charity Valentin
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: The voices aren't real, right?
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Wed Oct 02, 2019 1:02 am

Loshis 14th, 2718
VIENDA| EVENING
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"A father’s worry can be a heavy burden,”

The blonde sucked in a ragged breath, closing her eyes against the immense fear that threatened to suffocate her at those simple words. A heavy burden for who, her disjointed mind asked itself, and Charity pressed her lips together hard to stop the words escaping. What happened behind closed doors, should stay behind closed doors. That’s what her mother would have said, its what her father would say.

She glanced at the railing of the bridge, tucked against Diaxio standing barefoot with the barest grasp of sobriety, wondering momentarily if she could make it over before they stopped her. The current would drag her under, and she could just let it.

Everyone was preparing to depart now, fields shifting and feet turning, that strange awkward moment in time where you must say the right words to end the gathering. The Hoxian began to turn her, clearly unwilling to allow Charity the help she so clearly needed. As she followed suit, the pianist heard Niccolette speak. Snapping her eyes back to the brunette, her head turning to look at her, the young woman stared for a moment.

Did she know? Gods, did she know what Damen did behind closed doors? A fresh wave of panic caught the blonde, afraid of what the blue eyed Bastian would do should he discover she’d let loose the truth of his wicked temper. Panic, and something else. Relief? Desperate hope?

“A terrible shame.” The jade eyed Hoxian said in reply to Nicco’s sudden mention of her father, her smile slipping slightly as she found Charity had stopped moving. The barest flicker of a frown flittered across her brow, before she found her composure, laughing humorlessly at Uzoji’s joke.

“I don’t imagine it would end well. Honestly I—”

“Yes.” The pianist said suddenly, still looking at Nicco and refusing to turn any further. Diaxio sighed and shook her head, looking at the duo with a roll of her eyes.

“Look, Miss D’Arthe is a little unwell this evening. Perhaps a few too many glasses of First Light after this evenings performance. It would be best if I—” Charity drew away from the Hoxian then, untangling herself from the woman and stumbling back slightly, trying to straighten herself even as she wavered again. The cool of the night brushed against her too hot skin and she shivered, closing her eyes against the tears that welled heavily, before looking again at the Bastian woman.

“I would like to share a carriage.” She said with a hint of defiance, almost shaking with the pent up feeling that had begun with those quiet words. In the privacy of the carriage, could she tell them the truth? They might be able to help her, take her beyond Vienda into Brayde County maybe? Would they though? Would Nicco care to help someone she barely knew from so long ago?

Diaxio frowned now, looking at the blonde for a moment, before reaching down to smooth her skirts and tuck straight raven locks behind her ears.

“Fine.” She said sharply, putting a thin unimpressed smile on her lips. Looking at the couple, she waved a hand.

“You’re welcome to this mess. I’ve tried.” Turning back to Charity, the Hoxian drew her field away, removing it forcibly from the petite musicians aura with a hard snap. The blonde felt weak at the knees from the sensation, gasping and reaching for the railing with one hand.

“Xi…” She began morosely, guilt sweeping through the wavering edges of her field. Diaxio shook her head, holding up one hand as she turned on her heel to storm away from the trio, leaving them standing awkwardly on the bridge. Charity ran her free hand through her hair, closing her eyes again to fend off the way the world turned slowly on it’s axis, like being dizzy without spinning. Inhaling deeply, she looked at Niccolette and Uzoji with an apologetic frown.

“I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I’m just…” The musician wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged, not at all sure what she wanted to say now she’d been left alone with the duo. Her stomach turned on itself and she shivered, hoping that they’d truly wanted to share that carriage with her.

Last edited by Charity Valentin on Tue Oct 15, 2019 9:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Wed Oct 02, 2019 11:07 am

Evening, 14th Loshis, 2718
Over the Arova, Vienda
Niccolette had not missed the snap of Charity’s gaze at the Bastian’s mention of her own father. She shrugged against Uzoji when Diaxio called it a shame, and smiled a thin smile, eyes flicking to the Hoxian before settling back on Charity. Gently, very gently, Niccolette raised an eyebrow at her.

Yes, Charity said, and Niccolette felt a faint rush of pride, of accomplishment, of - something. Diaxio was pulling away, the harsh snap of her field in the air, and Charity was clinging to the railing, and Niccolette looked more than a little smug as she watched the Hoxian go.

Even as she left, Niccolette thought, her parting shot was aimed more at Charity than at herself or Uzoji.

“Sometimes people should be upset,” Niccolette said, waving a hand dismissively.

Uzoji was grinning. “Don’t worry, Ms. D’Arthe,” he said, confident and easy. “I’ll go ahead and get us a carriage.” He slipped his jacket off and draped it around Niccolette’s shoulders, revealing the handles of small knives sticking out of either side of his expensive, well-tailored waistcoat. He kissed Niccolette’s cheek and strode off, moving through the darkness of the bridge, leaving the two women behind in the light against the railing.

Niccolette quite understood. She could hardly go and fetch a carriage, and naturally she and Uzoji could not leave Charity alone. She was perfectly capable of protecting the two of them; she had no concerns on that front. And yet she felt an unexpected awkwardness, left alone with the drug-addled galdor who, moments before, had accused her of stealing her first kiss.

But then - if Uzoji did not think she could do it, he would not have left her. The thought was like a warm fizz through her veins, better than all the champagne they had drank; better, even, than the memory of his hands against her skin.

Niccolette stepped a little closer to Charity, joining her at the railing. “He would hit me,” she said, casually. She rested red-clad forearms against the railing and looked out over the Arova. Her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and back, shining bright in the pale lamp against Uzoji’s coat. The light caught the scatter of the glimmering pattern against the front of the dress, sparking against it. “My father. I would misbehave, you see.”

Niccolette did not like to think of it, not particularly. She never had. As a girl she had wept over it, but she had always been as angry as she was sad. And never, never had she stopped what her misbehavior. Wild, they had called her, and now she could smile to think of it. If they only knew!

Niccolette would have said she did not like to discuss it; she would have said she did not discuss it. She would have said nothing, because it would not have come up. And yet it could not hurt her anymore, and strangely - it did not. It did not even hurt to think on, not so much as it once had, like a distant memory of a different time, a different Niccolette.

Niccolette shrugged; she straightened up and drew the coat around herself, and turned to the blonde galdor. “Shall we?” She asked, and offered Charity her arm. It was not how a man would have done it, but if Charity wanted she could loop her arm through Niccolette’s, to lean a little of her weight against the Bastian.

Either way, Niccolette would do her best to lead Charity down the bridge, slipping through the patches of pale city-lit darkness and soft yellow light. It was not so far; they could make it, the two of them, if they wished.

At the end of the bridge Uzoji was already returning, and he smiled at the sight. A carriage sat on the road behind him, horses stamping lightly against the cobblestones, a distant figure climbing up to the coachbox.

“Ms. D’Arthe,” the Mugrobi bowed lightly to Charity, and then to Niccolette. “Mrs. Ibutatu,” There was a warmth to his voice that he did not hide, if in fact he could have.

“Your carriage,” Uzoji would help both of them up the steps, through the small doorway; for all that he was not more than an inch taller than either of them, he had a firm, strong grip, and could easily take whatever weight they needed him to bear.

Niccolette would let Charity enter first, and then sit next to her on the narrow bench, Uzoji’s jacket still draped over her shoulders.

Uzoji settled himself inside last, close to the door and its open window, opposite to Niccolette. “Where would you like to go?” He asked Charity, leaning forward slightly, the edges of his elbows resting on his legs. His hand opened, gently, and Niccolette settled hers into it, without any need for thought.

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Charity Valentin
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: The voices aren't real, right?
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Tue Oct 15, 2019 11:51 am

Loshis 14th, 2718
VIENDA| EVENING
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Letting her gaze shift between the couple again, the not-at-all sober galdor nodded at Uzoji’s comment, left for a moment alone with the woman who had once been at the centre of so much hurt for her. It felt so stupid to have those past feelings come to the forefront, but Diaxio had been quick to remind her, just as she’d been quick to inform her back then too.
​​
​​Her violet eyes stuck on the dagger hilts, and a frown creased her brow. Why on Vita would a golly need such crude devices?
​​
​​Turning back to the railing, Charity leaned to cross her arms over the cool metal, resting her forehead on them and closing her eyes with a sigh. She should have just let Benjamin take her home, but by Alioe the man made her feel so uncomfortable.
​​
​​ He would hit me.
​​
​​The voice almost startled the pianist, lifting her head to look at the water rather than the brunette beside her, dragging her frayed field closer to try and contain the swell of surprise and panic that rose within. She did know. As Niccolette continued, the blonde couldn't look at her, focusing on the small motes of light that refracted onto the railing from her dress. She swallowed hard, blinking to clear the haze in her vision, tears falling into the dark waters beneath them.
​​
​​ “I don’t think any child misbehaves enough for…for that.” Charity said quietly, turning back to the Bastian when she offered an arm. Taking it cautiously, the blonde followed obediently, hovering on words she so desperately wanted to speak out loud. She would catch her breath to say something, only to close her lips tightly and keep her eyes on the ground. They reached the carriage in silence by the end of it, her aura a tightly wound mess of frustration and fear. As the Mugrobi presented their ride, Charity smiled.
​​
​​ “Thankyou.” The intoxicated creature said to Uzoji, nodding a half bow back before slipping into her seat, wrapping her hands around her arms again. The gold flecks in her iris’ caught the lamplight as she looked past Niccolette to her husband, a pang of jealously curled in her stomach. Not because she found Uzoji attractive—not that he wasn't—but instead for what the couple had. The love they clearly shared.
​​
​​Would she ever have that?
​​
​​Sitting back, the musician looked out the window and found her voice, tongue feeling thick in her mouth.
​​
​​ “Back towards the theatre actually. Three streets before it, on the right. It’s my fathers house, large steel gates, can’t miss it.” As the journey began, Charity stared out the window, quite aware that the privacy of the carriage meant she had a chance. A moment in time now, to say exactly what she’d been dying to say to Nicco.
​​
​​ “I displease him.” She finally said, her voice flat and low, though it wasn't free of emotion. Violet eyes brimmed and her field jittered with genuine fear. Reaching one hand, she stroked the tears from her cheeks with a small quiet hitch of breath, brushing the wetness between her fingertips and thumb.
​​
​​ “The family name is all that matters. It’s our legacy, his…legacy. I shan't entertain such ridiculous things like love, for there are none who will love a woman more than her fa—.” Quite too soon, and far too abruptly, the carriage came to a sharp stop. Outside, they would hear the driver exchanging words with someone, before a crisp stern voice spoke out.
​​
​​ “Charity D’Arthe?” The pianists eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. A chrove snorted in the background, and from somewhere a man coughed quietly. She wiped her face dry hurriedly, shifting to make for the door.
​​
​​ “I’m so sorry.” She breathed, reaching for the handle as she slipped past the cosy couple.
​​
​​Outside, there were two Seventen officers, both on chrove back. One was of average build, with well groomed reddish brown locks, whilst the other was thinner and had a Hessean look to him. Both seemed calm however, though their fields were withdrawn and steady.
​​
​​ “We are to escort you home. There was a concerned young woman that suggested you were being coerced against your will.” The average fellow said simply, drawing up beside the carriage. He shook his head.
​​
​​ “Don’t you know how dangerous it can be to get into carriages with strangers? Captain D’Arthe would have our heads if something were to happen.” Looking at Uzoji and Niccolette, the Seventen nodded once.
​​
​​ “Apologies for the inconvenience ma’am and sir.” He said without a hint of actual apology.

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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Thu Oct 17, 2019 3:11 am

Evening, 14th Loshis, 2718
The Streets of Vienda
Charity had taken her arm – had held, a long moment, as if she had wished to speak. Niccolette was not unaware of it, but she was not quite sure how to coax a confidence out of the other woman. She hardly knew Charity, Niccolette reminded herself; this was not her burden to bear, not her fight. And yet – for a moment, she wished she had Uzoji’s gift of doing such things easily. He would be know whether to speak or to stay silent, whether to look at Charity or away.

“No,” Niccolette agreed, quietly, into the silence, and glanced at Charity, then forward, down the bridge. She did the best she could; she did not see what else she might do. She could feel the steady building of tension in the other galdor’s field, like a ballonet slowly over-inflating, straining at the heavy fabric of its compartment, bulging outwards – there would be damage if it burst, naturally, and it would be quite a bit more difficult to control the altitude of the airship. But one was not so foolish as to have only one ballonet; it would not take the airship down.

But Charity did not burst, and then they were seated in the carriage, and she was giving them instructions to her home. Uzoji squeezed her hand slightly, and rose easily from his seat, leaning on the window to call the instructions up to the driver. There was a murmured assent, the sharp crack of reins in the air, and the carriage was off, away from the Arova and back along the streets of Vienda.

Uzoji settled back down into the carriage, and Niccolette held back a sigh. She had, the Bastian told herself, tried quite well. She could hardly have –

Charity began to speak then, low and flat, and Niccolette turned back to her, lips parting slightly in surprise; she had thought of a dozen things to say, and they all wished to emerge. Uzoji’s hand was on hers again, and he squeezed, lightly, and Niccolette closed her mouth instead and listened. The family name, she thought, and glanced at Uzoji.

They had chosen their own name. She had presented it to Diaxio like a shield, for all that she doubted the other woman understood what it meant to her. Ibutatu; not her name and not his either, not their family’s legacies, but a name all their own, built together on the days before their wedding, when Niccolette had not known what was to come – had not known anything but that she could not keep Villamarzana, that she could not bear to wear it against her skin any longer. And Uzoji? Did he regret the giving up of pez Okorie? Did he regret the ties he had cut to have her, the promises he had broken?

No, Niccolette knew; she did not even need to entertain the thought. She knew it in the core of her, in her bones, in her heart - in every breath she took, in the soft, faintly spicy smell of him. His hand was warm and firm in hers, for all that his gaze was focused on Charity, and she knew without knowing quite how that he was thinking of the same things; she thought perhaps she could feel it in the way his thumb stroked over the back of her hand. Together, she thought; better together. They had ripped themselves out of those legacies, but she did not think either of them could have done it alone.

The carriage ground to a halt, and the Bastian’s gaze snapped to the door. Charity seemed to know what was going on, and Uzoji – already between Niccolette and the door – shifted even more between. Chroves, though, outside, which meant Seventen - Niccolette draped the coat back over Uzoji’s shoulders and he slid his arms into it before Charity could open the door, the knife hilts covered once more by the expensive, tailored fabric.

A concerned young woman, Niccolette thought, and she raised her eyebrows. Diaxio? What a petty thing to do, Niccolette thought; petty, and quite childish.

“We’re sorry to have disturbed you,” Uzoji said, smiling at the Seventen, easy and casual, every inch of his lean body relaxed beneath his expensive, tailored suit. “We were classmates with Ms. D’Arthe at Brunnhold. We happened to come across one another, and were just returning to her home.”

Niccolette smiled as well, over her husband’s shoulder, pushing her long dark hair back up and off her forehead, and kept silent. She did not quite lean forward, but the light through the open doorway scattered over her dress, catching the sparkles of it. She, too, held herself relaxed, and both galdori kept their ramscott calm and indectal, as withdrawn as the Seventen’s were.

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