☼ ISHAK ☼اسحاق
"suddenly we're fallin' through the twilight zone / watch the party playing out in slow motion / so tie a ribbon 'round my arm and throw me in"
"suddenly we're fallin' through the twilight zone / watch the party playing out in slow motion / so tie a ribbon 'round my arm and throw me in"
The party is in full swing; music drifts through the house, lively and bright. The house itself is festooned in silks and guests, and you’ve narrowly avoided colliding with three different drunken idiots already. Out in the courtyard, you hear laughter. From the sounds of it, one of Hagar’s little games has spilled over and involved the artists. You fully expect some rather vindictive designs.
Ruth curves around a corner, eyes searching. You don’t meet them, turning your head to meet your conversation partner’s instead. Najwa widens her bright eyes at you, and swats you with a dishrag when you stay on topic. She doesn’t push any further.
You wouldn’t say that you’re avoiding Ruth. You tail her often enough; you’re allowed to spend time unattached from her side. It’s not like you’re neglecting your duties as guard. You keep track of where she is, who she’s talked to, whose eyes trail her around the room. You eavesdrop on conversations to ensure patients alone with her aren’t faking.
You wouldn’t say that you’re avoiding Ruth, but it wouldn’t be untruthful, either.
You are still displeased over the island, in a lingering way. You’re almost over it, and though it was rude of you to say it, it’s also true that you have better things to do than look for Ruth’s lost bauble. Let someone else earn a reward. You’re already living off the Ieshans, anyway.
You wrap your conversation with Najwa up, as another one of her coworkers starts calling for her. She’s long moved up from simple errand girl but remains, as ever, your favorite source of gossip among the servants. So far it’s all the usual commentary, debutantes with designs on Corradh, pretty boys with designs on Pilate, speculation on Adonai’s health…
She does give you an interesting tidbit about one of the social climbers, one prone to a looser tongue when drunk and even more prone to accepting drinks from strangers. He’s from the Dusk Court, apparently, and a minor noble there. There’s a freshly scabbed slash on his chestnut flank, and all the servants are in agreement that there’s scandal there. You’re not sure if it will pan out, but you’re interested in being one of those strangers. You memorize the crescent on his face and the hoop in his nose for later.
The dining hall turned bar (and isn’t that perfectly Ieshan of them to expect the servants to keep a whole buffet style banquet fully stocked) is crowded. It had been the subject of much gossip over the past few days. You have been wondering what makes a “special” drink in House Ieshan, and you suspect it to be something you’d disapprove of.
Seeing Pilate himself manning the bar, you start to regret the decision. You watch him pour and wince. You still don’t know what’s making them special, but you’re certain that it’s a waste of perfectly good liquor.
Regardless, if you want to go the ply with drinks route, you’ll have to sidle up to the bar.
Someone you don’t recognize drifts away from the bar, drink trailing after them. They stumble and ice sloshes out of the glass. You wonder, absently, if you’ve spotted Ruth’s first case of alcohol poisoning. They change direction at the last second, staring at you head on. You swerve, keeping your left side out of sight. You wouldn’t want to show off any markings that could jog their memory. It’s been a long time, and you wouldn’t want to drag an unpaid tab out like this.
“One drink please, Prince. Bartender’s choice,” you flash a smile, “Not for me.”
(If you were ordering for yourself anywhere else, you’d get a mule. A Horsefeather, probably or a Terrastella mule. Maybe an Old Fashioned. As it stands, you’re likely to go pulling from your special occasion stash.)
You’ve seen several guests linger at the bar already, but you expect to be drawn into conversation about as much as you expect him to remember your name.
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