kassandra,
we were born in the shadow
of the crimes of our fathers
The torches are crowned with dancing flames that send shadows skipping and hopping across the bartops. Strings of magical twinkling lights, meant to mimic Caligo’s precious stars, extend from pillar to pillar, interwoven with the canopy supports; they are so faint they provide little more than mood lighting. Around them, the darkness is encroaching, it’s encompassing hold shattered and splintered by the flame. The bonfires are both beacon and storm, swirling hot in the summer air, a whirling vortex that seems to churn the black night as fuel.
Kassandra is starting to feel floaty. Like there is a vibration in her head that stops her eyes from looking straight forward. It is with half-hearted recognition that she realizes she has consumed much of her drink. She is not, and has never been, observant. She does not care that Rivane seems to be standing in the wash of her words, letting them roll over her sangria-hued skin instead of soaking them in. She simply enjoys the companionship of a most pleasant warm body to stand next to, especially given the fact she had more than likely crashed Rivane’s party of one.
There is a small disturbance close to them at the bar and Kassandra frowns. Why can’t these people simply have a good night, like she is? Belatedly, she realizes Rivane is talking to her again. “That sounds exhausting. Aren’t you tired?” The nutmeg-flavored swill has taken any barriers to her speech and shattered them like glass. She gives Rivane an empathetic look; in her less-than-rational mind, she literally images a constantly moving figure. As though Rivane is walking around the outside of the planet and the globe is really small.
Kassandra frowns then. What does she do with herself? “I… I don’t know. I walk around. I see things.” She shifts the weight over her front legs. “I spent the first four years of my life locked in a tower. The servants were forbidden to speak to me. Sometimes the queen stopped by to tell me how worthless I was. I have only Oculos. So, there is a lot left for me to see.” She does not realize she is waxing pathetic. At least she retains the dignity not to slur.
She watches with unhidden glee as the little rat clambers himself over the hound in question’s long nose, slips over a finely carved head between perked ears-- one of which does not stand up all the way, but flops over at the end-- and scales down thick, silky, star-spattered curls to rest between at the base of his long neck. In his natural confirmation, Oculos’ back hunches a bit and comes to valley here between his shoulder blades. Here, Barley is safe, and Oculos shimmies down a bit to make a bigger cradle.
(“I saunter up, all unassuming like,”) Oculos explained in response to Rivane’s admonishment, (“lil’ bud sneaks off my back, does the do, and then we escape like lightning with the prize.”)
“He says the plan is to sneak up looking like a starving dog, then run away with Barley in tow once the theft is complete,” Kassandra translated, unable to fight the smile which came to her face.
There is a moment of peace, then, before the chaos. Something wet splatters across the bar in front of her and there is a sound of breaking glass. Kassandra is dulled enough that she doesn’t shift out of the way in time; Rivane tries to dodge the body hurling at her and bumps into Kas, who does little more than sway to the side. Oculos has jumped away, crossing behind the mares, stuck between trying to keep Barley safe and his honed and practiced instinct to protect Kassandra.
Kassandra steps back and swings her head over the lowpoint in Rivane’s croup. “Excuse me,” she says, angrier than she’s probably ever been in her life-- and even then not truly angry, just peeved-- and her tongue untemper’d on by the fuzziness in her veins, “my friend and I are having a good time, and I would thank you to take your nonsense elsewhere.” Her tone is an amalgam of shaming, insult, and protectiveness. Her throat brushes gently against Rivane’s back as she is slightly dizzied by the alcohol.
Kassandra is starting to feel floaty. Like there is a vibration in her head that stops her eyes from looking straight forward. It is with half-hearted recognition that she realizes she has consumed much of her drink. She is not, and has never been, observant. She does not care that Rivane seems to be standing in the wash of her words, letting them roll over her sangria-hued skin instead of soaking them in. She simply enjoys the companionship of a most pleasant warm body to stand next to, especially given the fact she had more than likely crashed Rivane’s party of one.
There is a small disturbance close to them at the bar and Kassandra frowns. Why can’t these people simply have a good night, like she is? Belatedly, she realizes Rivane is talking to her again. “That sounds exhausting. Aren’t you tired?” The nutmeg-flavored swill has taken any barriers to her speech and shattered them like glass. She gives Rivane an empathetic look; in her less-than-rational mind, she literally images a constantly moving figure. As though Rivane is walking around the outside of the planet and the globe is really small.
Kassandra frowns then. What does she do with herself? “I… I don’t know. I walk around. I see things.” She shifts the weight over her front legs. “I spent the first four years of my life locked in a tower. The servants were forbidden to speak to me. Sometimes the queen stopped by to tell me how worthless I was. I have only Oculos. So, there is a lot left for me to see.” She does not realize she is waxing pathetic. At least she retains the dignity not to slur.
She watches with unhidden glee as the little rat clambers himself over the hound in question’s long nose, slips over a finely carved head between perked ears-- one of which does not stand up all the way, but flops over at the end-- and scales down thick, silky, star-spattered curls to rest between at the base of his long neck. In his natural confirmation, Oculos’ back hunches a bit and comes to valley here between his shoulder blades. Here, Barley is safe, and Oculos shimmies down a bit to make a bigger cradle.
(“I saunter up, all unassuming like,”) Oculos explained in response to Rivane’s admonishment, (“lil’ bud sneaks off my back, does the do, and then we escape like lightning with the prize.”)
“He says the plan is to sneak up looking like a starving dog, then run away with Barley in tow once the theft is complete,” Kassandra translated, unable to fight the smile which came to her face.
There is a moment of peace, then, before the chaos. Something wet splatters across the bar in front of her and there is a sound of breaking glass. Kassandra is dulled enough that she doesn’t shift out of the way in time; Rivane tries to dodge the body hurling at her and bumps into Kas, who does little more than sway to the side. Oculos has jumped away, crossing behind the mares, stuck between trying to keep Barley safe and his honed and practiced instinct to protect Kassandra.
Kassandra steps back and swings her head over the lowpoint in Rivane’s croup. “Excuse me,” she says, angrier than she’s probably ever been in her life-- and even then not truly angry, just peeved-- and her tongue untemper’d on by the fuzziness in her veins, “my friend and I are having a good time, and I would thank you to take your nonsense elsewhere.” Her tone is an amalgam of shaming, insult, and protectiveness. Her throat brushes gently against Rivane’s back as she is slightly dizzied by the alcohol.
@Rivane | You good homie. take all the time u need. we just here 2 have a good time. <3
