Worship

[session 12, 01.02.2024]
 
Worship
 
 
Woke up this morning to everyone still asleep. I can’t sleep well here, I can’t just take my mind off the rumours, the atmosphere feels… wrong, somehow. It’s a constant celebration, and yet it feels mostly oppressive. What are we celebrating? Who are we celebrating? And clearly, the servants do all the work, and yet they’re somehow supposed to be the ones uplifted by the end of this…? I don’t trust it.
 
So instead of sleeping, I stare at the ceiling. When the sun rises, I rise with it. I do a quick workout, try to stay quiet enough to not wake up the others, and sketch a quick note to tell them where I’m going. (To pick the flowers and meet up with Belinda). I wash up quickly, throw on a ..somewhat clean shirt, and get on my way.
 
The castle is already bustling with its regular servants, those who work for the Hanivers, but talking to them hasn’t been very fruitful so I leave them to their work and hurry past them. I grab some bread from the breakfast table and head out. The gardens are my favourite place here, aside from the actual shore, but anything’s better than the creepy cellar. The kitchens thankfully grow lavender, which is blooming this time of the year, so the actual gardens are easy to locate - not just the Showroom gardens, with all the fancy topiaries and rose bushes, but the herbs and the like. Those I like much more, they remind me of Kit’s Shoal, with every little house having their own little herb garden. I pick up a bushful of lavender and pansies to match, and head over to the servants’ common quarters. She’s already waiting for me, although she looks like she’s been deep in thought. We exchange some pleasantries, and I hand her half of my bouquet. I kind of want to brush a flower in her hair, but considering she’s taken my actions as flirting before and was uncomfortable by it, I refrain from doing so. I think she feels more like a sister to me, rather than someone I’d like to kiss. There’s trust that I hope goes both ways. She hands me a scroll of disguise self, and I can feel the magic ripple from the parchment’s ink. Along with it, she hands me a pearl of sending, and tells me I can send a brief message to anyone I know with it, in case I end up needing it. We chat some more, she tells me her own getup shall be a little more blue than her usual. Blue is good.
 
The masquerade is scheduled after the dinner, and everyone is finally up - we make another brief visit to the gardens to pick up a little more lavender, and head down to dinner to freshen up. It’s peculiar how the food we’re served is distinctively different from last time, Luciano and Rusalka receiving steaks, while us servant-folk are given soup of some sort. Kazys actually takes a moment to figure out what’s in it, and stops us from eating a single spoonful as his spoon picks up little bits of roe that pings with magic. With distaste, we all set down our spoons. I steal some food from Rusalka’s plate, but in the end, she and Luciano end up sneaking all of us actual dinner steaks, even if it’s disguised as soup. A very bizarre experience, by the way, to eat something that looks like soup only for it to be solid beef in your mouth.
 
We head up to freshen up after dinner, and we all don our gay apparel - I mean, well. Rusalka and Kazys do their little makeup routine, she’s sitting on her bed focused on contouring his face or whatever. I ask Luciano if he has any clothing for me to borrow, and he pulls out a gorgeous embroidered vest to go with a neater silk shirt of roughly the same style I usually wear. The crescent wave ring tops it all off. We all wait for Eira to appear from where she’s been getting ready, and when she finally does emerge, we’re all wowed. Or at least I am, she looks… stunning, and very different, to say the least. Rusalka also disguises herself, I think we’re using the same spell - it’s disconcerting to see her lose her horns, and look so different from me, not a single black scale in sight. Instead she’s taller, more elven. I don’t feel comfortable enough to lose my horns, so instead I … think of Valerian, the rosy hue of his skin, and suddenly against the light, my hand gleams pink as a peony instead of its usual shade. I check the horns, they’re still mine. Good.
I must admit I did not pay too much attention to the party around us - so many people all dressed up, with pearls and golden filigree glinting in the candlelight, an orchestra playing somewhere. People dancing and mingling and laughing around us. It could have been nice, if we weren’t focused on stealing the heirloom ring from the Ladies of the House. I tell myself I was to distract Valerian, but who am I kidding, I genuinely just want to see the guy. He’s.. intriguing. I’ve never taken myself as someone swayed by the bookish types, but I think I could listen to him talk about his books for an entire evening.
 
Eira notices Belinda in the crowd, looking mighty dashing and a lot bluer than I’ve ever seen her before, but she’s so far away that I don’t get a chance to go say hi in the crowd. We agree to split up, and while I head towards the back of the party area where I suspect Valerian has found a nice nook, the others focus on separating the ladies to actually acquire the ring. I look at the ring in my finger, matching Valerian’s ear piece. Before I completely forget, I grab two glasses of wine from a nearby table - some type of white, I’m not really a wine person myself but it’ll do. Last time Valerian seemed to appreciate the gesture.
 
Noticing that he looks somewhat impatient is a bit of an ego boost. Maybe he did actually wait for me? Thankfully my disguise isn’t too masterful, and he seems even somewhat amused by the effort. He’s wearing a black grieving dress, with a veil over his features. We chat for a while, and if I admit I’m pretty good at following orders, no I didn’t. I scan the crowd briefly, and everyone seems to be handling their tasks more than fine, so I feel safe enough to suggest we could perhaps.. Move our own affairs someplace else. Perhaps to the gardens. The gardens seem like a better idea than our crowded room, I’d rather avoid any awkward situations, especially if my own sibling is involved. Valerian’s hand is warm in mine as he leads us out of the party and into the lantern-lit gardens.
 
I admit, I do not think of the grand heist, I do not think whether my actions help with snatching the heirloom ring from .. Letitia? The other lady? My only concern is of Valerian, and the fact that his lips are entirely too unkissed, which is something I must change immediately. And so I do. Many times, over and over again. The night around us is alight with laughter and song. Clearly we are not the only couple escaping into the gardens, but if I say so myself, I might just be the luckiest guy of them all. Valerian kisses like the ocean, hungry and all-encompassing. The tall roses and hanging wisterias are hopefully our only witnesses, but who am I kidding, it’s not like I really care if someone sees us. Or hears us.
 
After, when we’re buttoning up, Valerian asks me to join him in his quarters and who am I to say no? This could have been merely a quick tryst in the gardens but he’s inviting me to stay the night and - yeah, I tell him yes in kisses, hopeful that it is enough to convey just how eager I am to follow him.
 
A pang of my conscience tells me I’m abandoning my friends when they’re trying to find out more about the mystery of the castle, and the sound is eerily similar to Rusalka’s. I remember the pearl Belinda gave me, and as Valerian leads me up another set of winding stairs, I send Rusalka a quick message, letting them know that they should not expect me back anytime soon. Their exasperated reply carries a tone of annoyance, but it’s far too easy to tune them out in favour of watching Valerian. I like the sound of his laughter when he tells me to keep my hands to myself when he tries to find a key to open his door. We’re only caught by a servant once before he manages to manoeuvre us through the door and into his quarters.
 
A gentleman never tells, but we do not sleep much that night.
 
I wake up to sunlight shining through the open curtains. It must be quite late already, if the daylight is so bright, but I’m content in the big warm bed, with Valerian softly curled up against my chest, his breath slow and even. I take a moment just to look at him, take in all of his features - soft and lax and relaxed. The way his eyelashes cast a shadow on his high cheekbones, a small scar on his jawline. Dark bruises litter his throat, and for a moment embarrassment gets the best of me - have I truly behaved in such a manner, he should have told me not to - but I tamp it down. At no point has Valerian told me no, in fact much of the opposite is true – I probably look just as wrecked, either way. As I look at the sunlight stretch across the ceiling, the same sound of conscience that last night told me I was a bad friend urges me to look around, now that I’m here. Next to the bed, Valerian’s desk is littered with scrolls and papers and what seems to be a personal journal of some sort. I make a half-assed attempt to get up to go and see what he has written down, but I must say I’m almost thankful when Valerian pulls me back to bed, our tails curled around one another, his hold on my waist tightening. I shan’t breach his trust. The voice of Rusalka in my head is annoyed once more, I know there’s likely information that could help us find out what’s happening.
 
We wake up again a little later, to a servant knocking on the door. Valerian is still contently lounging in bed after I had woken him up with kisses a little earlier, but I do steal the covers to answer the door, only belatedly realising the servants of the house gossip like no other. I’m greeted with a cheshire cat of a grin from a servant I know I’ve seen before as I accept the breakfast tray (for two). It’s nice. I feed Valerian pieces of tangerine and he steeps us cups of tea and we talk - of the night before, of perhaps doing this again, of religion. I tell him of my devotion to the ocean itself, how seeing the sea fills me with calm and how in my heart I know my blood runs with sea salt. He shares with me his dreams, I share mine. He mentions his belief of the betrayal of the Lady of the Tides, how we must help her to return to her former glory. With a pang of guilt, I tell him of the nightmares Luciano has had, too - if I leave out they’re not mine, that’s not important. In my head, the Rusalka keeps shouting that I'm sharing too much with him, but when have I ever listened to that voice of reason? And when I don’t have anything more to share, we share kisses until we really, really should draw a bath. It’s closer to two in the afternoon when I finally emerge from his quarters, when he tells me he needs to go do work, tells me to be a good little bodyguard.
 
If people look at me funny when I walk through the corridors in last night’s (borrowed) finery, they do not say anything. Kazys whistles at me, while Rusalka ignores my presence as if my absence last night had been a personal slight against them. I already dread what the others have to say about my late return, but I only have to endure a couple of jabs about last night when the focus shifts to what others have been up to. As I change clothes to something more casual and pointedly hamper the borrowed clothes instead of merely returning them back to Luciano (who pointedly refuses to handle them).
 
They’ve been to the cellar - I try not to blush thinking about whether our paths could have crossed, all of us being in the gardens roughly around the same time. But while I was enjoying my time with Valerian, the rest of them have been trying to solve whatever is going on around here. Curiously, the cellar was not empty this time, servants hauling items to and from the hole - most of which seemed to be either medical or cleaning supplies. Curious, to say the least. Apparently, they had tried to fool the servant into thinking Luciano and Rusalka had contracted whatever disease has been plaguing the island, and the servant had looked visibly shaken, quickly rushing them to see a healer. I did not know there were several members of the clergy on the island, and for a moment I’m thankful they were not rushed to see Valerian.
 
What we can gather from this is that they do not wish the nobility to contract whatever is brewing, but if servants are under the weather, it’s more than fine. We agree to take a closer look at the cellar at a later time, but -
 
Belinda’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her tone panicked. We have to hurry to the servants’ quarters.