TBATE | Twisted Ethos [Hiatus]

A Game of Shadows II

||Bairon Wykes||

"I hope you all have enjoyed the evening thus far..." Alexander breaks the sea of murmurs between the nobles, steering all the attention towards him and his partner. 

The man's outline was traced by the moonlight, a sliver of a radiating line contouring his edges. His golden eyes were ornamented with an enigmatic presence.

Unwavering, mysterious, yet radiating a charismatic aura that you can't help but try to strike up a conversation with him.

Moments ago, maids began to pour into the ballroom, fetching a handful of his "esteemed guests" into what appears as a little private lounging area. The place was ornamented with a hint of rusticity. The laminated redwood stood proud as various heads of animals were hung up. The carpet was a carcass of a Silver Coat Bear laid flat on its stomach. Its lustrous fur glowing as the moonlight pierced through the black French doors. It was soft, my heels feeling like they were walking on a cloud with every step I took before sinking into the embrace of the sofa leather seat that stood idly on the edge of the room.

The unmistakable smell of cedar lingers in the air. It was probably the firewood used as its orange embers crackled as it ate more and more of the fuel. If anything, it felt more of a trophy room. Made obvious with the pair of crossbows mounted, forming an "X" shape as they were displayed on the left end.

"I didn't expect the celebration to be as grand as this, to be honest," My father was the first to compliment, his head subtly nodding as after he takes a sip of wine from his glass, "I mean no offense of course."

However, I paid no mind after that. Their words became slurred as if I was drunk, muddier than water in a puddle. My senses were concentrated as I was focused on one man and one man only.

Not the merchants

Nor the nobles

A single servant who stood idly on the corner.

He felt odd, like a sore thumb sticking out. Between the well-kept auburn hair and stylized crimson garment was a stern gaze, aimed solely at the bottle before him, kept in a bucket on a parked tray. His poise was straight, his hands tucked on his pockets. His lips seemed to jitter with such subtlety that only a careful observation can spot it.

Can't he just be nervous?

What reason do I have to act?

Why would I even accuse him?

A flurry of questions enters my mind as the weight of the situation drops on my shoulders. I felt a sense of unease that I so desperately kept to myself. I can hear every tick. My eyes notice every small motion. My stomach felt sick, like it had been pronged and spun around together with my guts.

One wrong move, and every person in this room ends up dead.

'What kind of twisted game have I gotten myself into.' I scorned, crossing my arms and legs, my clicking tongue muted under the blanket of the laughs and conversations. A bead of sweat channels down my cheek as drips past my jaw. My heart keeps pounding against my chest and before I knew it, my left leg began to frantically tap its heels, my right perched on the knee.

If only Kaspian were here... that damned airhead.

||Varay Aurae||

An odd foul smell crept through the already thick air. It made me repulse. It was sharp. It reeked like the sulfur used by alchemists, a hint of metal stinging my nostrils.

Were they produced by whatever weapons hailed down on us?

I shook my head violently, my mind installed yanked from dwelling as I processed how we're gonna get out of this situation.