Write a loving letter, boy, that swoops and sweeps and curls.

Duchess of Ashmoor
The matriarch of the winter family had the honor to welcome a very special guest today. It was none other than her future stepson. Faolan Pyrrhos. Perhaps not the most obvious choice as husband for her only daughter. But Cassiopeia had insisted on the match. Since in her eyes he would be perfect for the role. He was quiet and unassuming. And if Allison would ever take over her father's place, she needed a husband just like that. Someone who wouldn't take the spotlight away from her. No, that simply wouldn't do. Allison was the star of the show. And whoever she would happen to marry had to take a backseat. It was the only way she could rule effectively someday.

Cassiopeia took a sip of her chardonnay as she noticed a servant slip silently into the room."Lord Pyrrhos is here, my lady, must I bring him back here?" The woman didn't answer right away. Not because the question was especially hard, but because she hadt yet decided on a course of action. Yes, letting a servant lead him back to her apartments would be the most common thing to do. But she would be lying if she didn't gain just a little bit of pleasure in taking the boy by surprise every now and then. "No, I shall go to him myself, thank you Marial." She said dissmissing the maid. And with that she stood up from her chair and with a graceful stride made way out of her chambers down the long spiral stairs, across the long hall. And into the guest room. Where he was. The woman almost didn't seem him. Faolan did always have a knack for blending into the background of every setting he happened to find himself in so she noticed. Though Cassiopeia supposed, it was an unintentional habit of his. The woman smiled at the young man. "How good of you to come," She declared with a voice laced with honey. As she moved forward to greet him properly.

But when she did so, she entirely accidentally lost her grip over the white feathered fan she was holding on to. Causing it to fall to the ground right before her feet. The mature looking woman placed her hand over her chest, faking a shocked reaction. "Oh, how clumsy of me." She looked down at the object on the floor for a few moments before moved her eyes to look at Faolan instead. "Be a dear will you, and hand me back my fan."

there is a rabid beast in me

I am a bruise — the soft rot of a peach

Small and split open. The seam of me screams.

First, he met Matthew Winter, then his satan spawn of a daughter showed up outside his house and now he was meeting with the woman that arranged this all. He couldn't say he wasn't grateful that he was the one they chose for their daughter, but he also knew that there was something else to their decision. Now, he had met her before, but that was together with other people.

"How good of you to come." The youngest boy of the Pyrrhos family moved one arm beind his back and the other in front of his stomach as he bowed his head in her direction. "Thank you for having me, your grace." He replied with his voice buisness like and polite as always when he met the family of his fiancée. The arm behind his back held a bouquet of flowers that he had bought that morning. There was not much more to say, because the qoman had dropped her fan. On accident of course. "Be a dear will you, and hand me back my fan."

"Of course," Faolan replied instantly, but then looked down at the flowers in his hand. "If you would be so kind to hold this, your grace.. I don't want to break the stems." If there was any trace of amusement in his body visible it disappeared as quickly as snow on a sunny day. Now, it was sort of known that the woman in front of him disliked flowers, but who was Faolan to believe the rumours that spread around like wildfire in Alderrath? If he had to believe every single one of them there would be a lot of wrong information about people stored in every nook and cranny of his brain.

The bouquet he handed to the duchess of Ashmoor was a rather big one. There were different kinds of flowers that would give the room a gentle floral scent, but nothing that felt suffocating in the way that flowers sometimes did. Some of the flowers, however, were known to discard their pollen whenever they liked, leaving a yellowy powder on clothing and tables. It just so happened to be the duchess of Ashmoor that was holding the flowers maybe a bit too close to her clothing. But Faolan knew nothing about flowers of course. He was a man. That thought was absurd. Faolan picked the white feathered fan from the floor and offered it back to her.

Two could play this game, after all.

There’s no good or evil only power

And those who are too weak to seek it

He brought flowers with him, because naturally he did. Surely in an attempt to appear as an equal, in this little game. It was rather amusing, really. Though, she was rather surprised that he knew to bring a bouquet to level the playing field. Was her disdain for it so wildly recognized? That was-annoying. Since it meant that others would try to use it against her as well. In fact, she wouldnt at all be surprised if she were to wake up one day only to find the entire winter estate covered in all sorts of flowers. Even though her contempt for the plants, were mostly exaggerated. As many things concerning her often were. Yes, she didn't like blossoms. But really, it wasn't as if she was allergic to them. And thus couldn't stand them at all.

Faolan approached her, with the rather large bouquet in hand. He asked if she were to hold it for him, while he would retrieve her fan from the floor. But really, she didn't have a choice in the matter. Because before she knew it, the damned things were shoved in her hands. And if that wasn't bad enough, when they touched her all to expensive clothing, they released a sort of pollen like powder. That seemed to stick to her garments. All but ruining it. That was rather clever, she would admit. The stakes were definitely raised after this little stunt. Before the young man could straighten himself to offer back her feathered fan. She met him half way. Almost engulfing him with her body. Her face was just inches apart for him. But she wasn't close enough to touch. She managed to balance the bundle of flowers on one arm. Having the other one freed. She grabbed Faolan's wrist. Tightly. And she stared at him with a dangerous, yet playful spark in her eyes. "My my, do you see what your little gift has done to my dress?" She mused softly. Almost like a serpent would. Cassiopeia stayed like that for an uncomfortable amount of time. Before she finally moved away from the man. She walked across the room and placed the bouquet on a table standing right before a large window. "You aren't the only engagement I have for today you know?" She turned to him again. "In fact, my schedule is quite tight." She attempted to brush away the powder from the gown. Though she knew it wouldn't come off. "And I simply don't have the time to change into something else. Since that usually takes me awhile." What she fed the boy now was a lie followed up by a line of truth. She had a rather open day, so if she wanted to, she could easily change into something else. Even if it would take her an hour or two. "I'd almost say that it's easier to just-" Cassiopeia wrapped her fingers around the piece of cloth that was covering her appendage. "Take it all off." With a good amount of force. She ripped it apart. Exposing part of her upper arm. And just the tiniest bit of her shoulder. She shot her eyes back at the young lord before her. She could rip her entire gown apart if she so pleased. The man wouldn't really see anything of interest. She always wore a multitude of layers. Though she wouldn't know that from this stage.

@NIEMAND HELEMAAL NIEMAND

thunder
struck

there is a rabid beast in me

I am a bruise — the soft rot of a peach

Small and split open. The seam of me screams.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist tightly and Faolan slowly raised one eyebrow in a questioning manner. The fan fell back on the ground, but the sound was drowned out by the mother of his fiancée being way too close to him. His mother and Cassiopeia Winter weren’t that different in some aspects, he supposed. His mother preferred to settle things like this in a more.. physical manner though. So no, the way she held his wrist with her nails digging in to his pale skin didn’t hurt him in the way she might have hoped it would. ”It’s not appropriate to stare, your grace.” Faolan replied, holding eye contact with her until one of them would break it first. Now, whether the comment was meant to be about them staring or her mentioning the pollen on her expensive dress was to be decided, but that was for another time. If he survived this.

When she finally moved away Faolan straightened his back and left the fan where it was on the floor. ”If you didn’t like the flowers, your grace, you could have just told me.” Yes, he was definitely asking for his funeral today. ”There is no need to undress.” Faolan had his eyes averted, staring out of the window instead of in her direction. You never knew with the Winters. They had a knack for going for the extremes. In almost every situation imaginable. ”After all I am engaged to your daughter,”he added with a matter of fact tone.

There’s no good or evil only power

And those who are too weak to seek it

Oh, he didn't like that-he didn't like it at all, it seemed. What a child, wanting to play with the big boys. Only to back out when it became too much for him to handle. It was entirely foreseen by her, of course, and yet she found herself to be a little disappointed. In a way, she wanted the dance to last just a little longer. Cassiopeia remained silent for a while, mulling his words over in her head. Before finally responding. "Indeed you are." She confirmed. The duchess of Ashmoor once again moved herself. Though not far from where she originally stood. For next to the counter she had placed the bundle of flowers on stood a chair. A rather large and imposing one. In fact, Cassiopeia had ordered it herself. She had a love for king-sized chairs. It was just another way for her to appear like a true royal. "Though, don't forget that you two are still a long way off from actually being married." Betrothals are often broken, especially in higher circles. Surely Faolan was aware of that fact. And even though this match had been her idea, it still wasn't set in stone. And if the young Pyrrhos boy continued to act up this way towards her. She could well change her mind. "So it would be in your best interest to keep me as your friend." She leaned back in the chair. She wrapped her long slender fingers around the beautifully wood carved handles. "And you won't achieve that by trying to challenge me." Before he could answer, defend himself, perhaps. She raised her hand to silence him. "Don't deny it." Her tone, just like her gaze, was a lot harder now. Like stone, the playful spark was nowhere to be seen. She was serious now. "You know as well as I that the flowers you brought wasn't just a thoughtful gift." Her nails now dug into the wood, almost digging holes into it. "You thought you could outplay me in my own game, didn't you?" It wasn't a question, more a fact. She had seen it countless times before. Sniffing out someone's true intention, was something Cassiopeia had become an expert in. "But you can't, I'm a lot older than you, I played this game a lot harder than you, and I always win."

@ur mom

thunder
struck