Invisible Ink on Blank Pages

Private RP Blog Do Not Follow

[of-fire-and-death]

Inkthief

Continued from Discord; @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

“I do,” Rosanna insists, giving a few, quick nods of her head. Dark eyes fix on her father, her determination and faith shining in that gaze like fire.

“I know. It can’t be any worse than what’s happening right now though and I’m handling that just fine. I can handle anything.”

She wasn’t just fine. Not really. But to admit that would be to sow more doubt into her father’s heart and she didn’t even want to entertain the idea of him resolving to leave her behind.

In truth, she was terrified - of the Black Jackets, of the guns, of the prospect of her father’s death. It was so overwhelmingly large in her mind - terrifying and dangerous - but she couldn’t allow it to weed out her determination. She had to stay with him no matter what, or she would lose everything didn’t know and couldn’t remember forever. She would forever be strange little Rosanna from another world entirely, never quite fitting in here.

The was perhaps one of the most unbearable thoughts of all.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Dustfinger studied her for a moment longer, gaze searching her own, before finally giving a nod.

“Alright,” he said softly. “I believe you can, too.” 

He opened his arms, offering himself comfort just as much as he was offering it to her. While he still despised the idea of putting her in any sort of danger, he had to admit that perhaps she was right. Perhaps he had too little faith in what she could handle based simply on his own fears. She was a child, but she was a strong one. She was surely strong enough for their world. 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Inklife: The Hanging

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

As Farid’s touch travels, Katerina finds herself leaning into the sensation, focusing on only him and her daughter who is now tucked safely in her arms as her way of comprehending all that had occurred since the day she had sacrificed herself for Dustfinger’s daughter. She still isn’t sure what exactly has happened, but one glance towards the body of Orpheus surrounded by blood, and she believes that she has an idea. 

Her hands move to make certain that Nixie will be protected from the sight as they walk up the stairs towards freedom once again, heart beating rapidly at the thought of being back in the castle that had taken nearly everything from her. Ironically, the only thing it hadn’t taken from her had been her life, and yet it was also now the place where her life and been returned to her. 

She pushes away the thoughts as she follows Dustfinger, sticking as close to Farid as she can in the narrow stairway. She isn’t sure how they managed to make it past the guards before, but she can’t help fearing that they will not be nearly so lucky this time. 

[of-fire-and-death]

A Cry On The Wind

Continued from x; @blankpagesinvisibleink

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia watches Noah, analyzing what she can of his response before seeming to come to a decision. She shifts the little girl to her other hip, making sure she’s still securely held with one arm before freeing her other hand. 

She quickens her pace until she’s walking by his side, continuing on in silence for a moment before sneaking one more glance as she reaches out her fingers, lacing them with his own and giving them a gentle squeeze. She doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside him hoping that he won’t push her away. They don’t know what lies ahead for them, but she hopes this is at least a reminder to him that he isn’t alone in figuring out what comes next. 

[sirens-lullaby]

Orenda

@pages-and-words @of-fire-and-death

[sirens-lullaby]

In-eo slowly blinked, trying to shake away the blur in his eyes. He let out an embarrassingly high whine of confusion and panic, completely disoriented. He remembered getting into the carriage but couldn’t recall much after that. He tried to calm his growing panic as he thought about the possibility of being kidnapped by the royal assassins, sitting up clumsily and scanning his surroundings.

He relaxed once he realized he was in a train, with two others, and not tied up so that means not kidnapped. They must have drugged his water to knock him out while they transported him to the carriage. He sighed and leaned back against the back of the seat, closing his eyes for a moment before looking out the window to try and calm down.

[of-fire-and-death]

Mairead woke slowly to the low rumble of the train cars moving across the tracks. Even before she opened her eyes, she was acutely aware of the weight of her fur coat laying across her. With the comfort of her coat, Mairead almost went back to sleep until she remembered that she had never been on a train before to begin with.

She suddenly starts and flips herself up to sitting, her fingers clutching at her fur. Wide eyes frantically take in the compartment, attempting to orient herself to her surroundings.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

At first, Aran doesn’t realize that anything is different. Bundled up in his jacket, he could imagine himself propped against the trunk of a tree, near his house, surrounded by the silence that he was now mostly accustomed to. But it was only the length of a single deep inhale before he realized the differences between his home and where he was now. 

While there was the obvious soft movement of the seat beneath him, there was also the fact that it was somehow far more uncomfortable than the ground ever was. A barrage of unfamiliar scents accosted him as he straightened, his eyes searching his surroundings for any sign of where he was. He was halfway out of his seat before he remembered: Orenda. This had to have something to do with that, right? As he calmed down enough to take in the other two figures who shared the small space with him, he realized that while they didn’t exactly seem comfortable, they didn’t have the look of someone who believed themselves to be trapped on the way to an unknown location. 

It takes another moment, but eventually, he eases back into his seat, reaching to tug his jacket tighter around his torso as he examines the others. He presses himself against the corner where the seat meets the wall, eyes flickering once more between the two strangers before falling to where his fingers clench and release the rough fabric of his sleeves. 

@sirens-lullaby​ 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Crossover

Continued from x; @of-fire-and-death

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

A stream of curse words flies to Madison’s tongue, but she bites them back, hard enough to taste blood as she turns to face the soldiers at her back. There’s no way out of this - that much is obvious. Even if she did have her gun on her rather than tucked under the seat where she had placed it before climbing into the truck that morning, it would be nothing when faced with the group of men standing before her now, or, more so, the guns all aimed directly at her head. 

When Zaria’s cry reaches her ears, she instinctively holds the child tighter despite the soldier’s orders. She knows ignoring them is a one-way ticket to getting shot, but at this point, she can’t imagine the outcome being much different if she does put the little girl down, and if she can give Zaria even an ounce of comfort in the face of danger, then she will. 

She backs up slowly until her back is pressed against the dirty dumpster, the smell nearly overwhelming enough to make her step towards the soldiers, but she doesn’t. She holds her ground, not following their orders, but not replying with anything more than the clench of her jaw as she stares back at them. 

[of-fire-and-death]

Home

Continued from x; @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

One of the soldiers is quick to leave the old farmhouse and quick to return, a woman in tow.

Her gaze moves across the two, seeming almost like the scanning gaze of the androids, except that she is definitely not. It falls on Scarlet first but she seems entirely unimpressed until she looks to Wolf. She knows immediately who - or rather what - he is.

“Yes,” she says, answering a question they had not heard her be asked. “They will be useful.”

Emrys gives a crooked smirk from where he stands, gun still aimed at Wolf.

“They’re all yours then,” he says. “I’ve already got what I need from them.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Wolf could feel Scarlet stiffen in the seat beside him, the tension rolling off of her in waves heightening his instinct to attack the first thing that moved in order to keep her safe. He didn’t like how she looked at him; she knew who he was, what he could do. They could make him do anything, and he would be forced to do it. Not because they could control him physically, though they could, but because they had Scarlet. It wasn’t hard to see that she was all he cared about in this moment. 

But what could he do? There could be another way for them to escape later, but now? No, now they couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t put Scarlet’s life at risk when the odds were so against them. 

[of-fire-and-death]

Myha’s gaze fixes perhaps a bit more intently on Wolf’s, her mind reaching out for control of his. Lunar.

“This one will definitely be able to find her,” she says. “He already knows her scent. The woman is less useful but she can perhaps be used to win the child’s trust if need be.”

Emrys nods. “Then I’ll leave him in your hands,” he says before turning to the soldiers next to him. “Take the woman back. Keep her restrained until further notice.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

The tension only rises as Wolf watches the man and woman speak, but it isn’t until he registers their intent that he reacts. A hand falls to Scarlet’s shoulder, holding dangerously tight as his gaze from Emrys to his soldiers. He barely registers when Scarlet’s hand moves to rest on top of his, nails digging into his hand the only thing keeping him from launching himself forward, guns be damned. 

“No one’s going near her,” he finally speaks up, voice a low growl as he eyes Emrys with newfound hatred. “There’s not even any point in looking for Enya. She’s long gone.” 

He doesn’t know if it’s true, but if it’ll keep them away from Enya for at least a little while longer and keep them from separating him and Scarlet - a fear he’s held since the last time he had been separated from her - then he will gladly say whatever he has to. 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-silver-spoons-and-eternity]

Noah fixes her with a look that is half amusement and half exasperation.

“No, but I do know how to taste,” he answers. “That’s really all that’s needed to critique, isn’t it?”

Despite his admittedly limited knowledge, he stands at her challenge all the same and makes his way to the pantry. For a moment, he rumages around, safe from her irritated, judgemental gaze behind its doors.

“Aha!” rings his voice as he straightens, appearing once again. He kicks the door shut with his foot as he turns and makes his way back to the table.

“Here we go. Try a little of this.”

He places a small glass bottle on the table in front of her, looking quite proud of himself despite there being no real victory yet.

“I guarantee you, you’ll like it.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia’s gaze drops to the bottle before her before flickering back up to his face, an eyebrow lifting ever higher as she stares at him unimpressed. She reaches for the bottle, picking it up with two fingers as she holds it up for the light to illuminate. 

“Hot sauce?” she asks, her eyes leaving the label to once again look up at him. “That’s what you think would make it better?” 

She shakes her head, highly doubting that something like this could possibly have as much of an effect as he implied, but after everything he had already done to help her, she supposes she should at least try his suggestion. 

She twists open the bottle, placing the lid carefully on the counter before cautiously tilting the bottle until a drop of fiery red liquid lands on the edge of her sandwich. She sets the bottle back down, eyeing the sandwich once more before lifting it to her mouth. She takes a small bite, making sure to get the entirety of the sauce-covered area, and sets the sandwich back down as she chews, head tilting consideringly. 

It isn’t... Bad. But it’s certainly not what she expects as heat travels across her tongue. She can’t help the cough that escapes, her hand moving to cover her mouth out of habit until the burning subsides. 

“It’s certainly something,” she says finally, eyeing the sauce much more cautiously now as she reaches to screw the top back on. 

[of-fire-and-death]

Through The Pages of a Book

Starter for @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

This world, this village, is entirely unfamiliar to Roxane but Dustfinger seems to navigate it easily and Roxane finds she easily falls back into that same place of trust and perhaps even reliance as she had before he had left that day, one they shared when they were young, traipsing the Wayless Wood in search of fairies or work. She follows him without worry or doubt, which allows her focus to stay on her daughter.

Rosanna continues to sleep on in her arms and Roxane can’t help but wonder if she’ll ever wake again. They were so close to a remedy, so very close. Could they make it back before the worst happened? She’d lost her horse but she did have Dustfinger now and he knew where all the fairy nests were, and they loved him! He was sure to be able to convince them to help.

She doesn’t speak these thoughts yet though. Not while the world is so quiet and there are so many listening ears straining to hear the slightest sound.

Or - she thinks as she glances at the sleeping men - they’re supposed to be.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

His heart is beating so hard that he is certain the will be found out simply from the sound that seems to echo in his ears. But miraculously, they manage to exit the cathedral with no problems. He makes sure to send up a prayer of thanks to whoever will listen that Capricorn’s men are such fools. They’ll regret their mistakes in the morning and he can’t help the rush of satisfaction that he feels at the thought of Capricorn’s rage being directed at someone truly deserving for once. 

Being outside is a bit more difficult. Capricorn posts the men that he knows will take the job seriously as his sentries, and even from the dark archway, he can see them patrolling the streets and the corners of the highest roofs. But after two years, he has a great knowledge of where all of their blind spots are, and he leads Roxane through each of them. It’s close at times; sometimes the sentries are not where they should be. But eventually, they reach the edge where the woods begin to overtake the more rundown areas of village. It’s the same copse of trees where Capricorn’s men had attempted to leave Rosanna, but he doesn’t tell Roxane that. He doesn’t even speak until they are well away from the village, leaving only a few flickering lights in the distance as indication that it exists. 

Finally, he allows them to stop, turning to take in his wife’s features once more before his gaze drops to the little girl held securely in her arms. He reaches out carefully to brush a finger along her cheek, frowning at the heat that still radiates from her skin. They need a healer - or a doctor, as they’re called here. He doesn’t even know if anyone will help them, not without money, but he has to at least try to save his daughter when she wouldn’t even be in this position if he had been home. 

“I know you’re probably tired,” he says softly, lifting his gaze back up to Roxane. “But there’s another village not far from here. They may be able to help.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-fire-and-death]

Another crooked smile spreads across his thin lips. When was the last time he had smiled this much?

The last time a woman was brought through those doors really but this felt different. Less like an act used for seduction and more like something genuine but that wasn’t a thought he let his mind linger on.

She was lower class. She was disgusting. Useless. Meant for nothing more than the common chores no one else had the time and energy for.

Except she wasn’t.

He didn’t know why he felt that way, all she’d proved was that she could cook egg sandwiches and make him smile, but he couldn’t help but feel the words that described so many others of her status did not apply to her.

“I always do,” he quipped before picking up the sandwhich and sinking his teeth into soft bread and gooey egg yolk.

It wasn’t much. It could use some actual flavor - all he tasted was egg yolk and perhaps a hint of the cheese? - but he didn’t hate it.

“It’s missing something,” he says after he swallows. His gaze shifts as he contemplates it. “Have you thought about seasoning the egg? Or adding a sauce of some sort? Something a little spicy maybe?”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia watches him from the corner of her eye as he takes his first bite, a swell of irritation with herself growing at the relief she feels when he doesn’t immediately spit it back out. Why does she care what he thinks of her food? It shouldn’t matter at all, and yet it does. 

She lifts a brow at his words, shifting slightly so that she can face him as she folds her arms over her chest. 

“Oh, so now you know how to cook?” she asks, though there’s no real offense behind her words. She doesn’t mention the fact that this is usually all that they have back home, nor does she outwardly muse whether she’s even had anything that could properly be described as spicy. Instead, she waves a hand back towards the pantry, tilting her head mockingly as she speaks. “By all means, head chef Noah; enlighten us with your ideas.” 

[of-fire-and-death]

Inkthief

Continued from Discord; @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

Protect her?

Had he not seen everything that she had already gone through for him, because of him? In the past few days alone, she’d been kidnapped, held prisoner, lied to, betrayed, made to walk for hours and hours hungry and exhausted, and hurt by someone she thought would protect her too. There was nothing in that world more dangerous than what she had faced here already, or so she easily believed.

The bruise on her cheek, she thought, said enough about the matter too.

She knew Mo didn’t mean to hurt her, but it was all she could think about now when she looked at him.

“No one’s going to die,” she insists and while her voice has dropped in volume, it does not lose it’s fiery passion. “Everything is different now. My story’s in that book too and I doubt it’s very much the same now, is it?”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Dustfinger opens his mouth to respond, but he pauses as her words register. When the author had first spoken, Dustfinger had assumed that the story would just continue on its intended path whenever he returned. But Rosanna is no longer the infant who has only experienced a single winter that the book once knew. Now she has experienced more than anyone regardless of age should. That would change her story, would it not? And if her story can change, then why can his not do the same? 

“You may be right, little one,” he replies finally, his voice as soft as the breeze that moves the grass at their feet. “But tell me… What happens if the story does continue? Will you be content to be alone in that world if our home is not what I remember it to be?” 

These questions are too much for a child to have to answer to, he knows. But what else can he do but ask them? He needs to know that Rosanna understands the seriousness of what she is insisting of him before he allows her to follow him into the unknown. 

[of-fire-and-death]

Rosanna shakes her head, the movement sending long black curls flying.

Of course she wouldn’t be content alone! Rosanna had always hated being alone but she hated being with people and feeling alone too. She hated the feeling of being…different.

She hasn’t given much thought to the fact that she would be different either way, though. If she stays here, she’ll be a child of another world raised like the people surrounding her but if she goes back, she’ll be a child of that world, raised in another.

But that won’t happen. She’s confident her mother and her sister are alive in that world, safe and sound with all the terrible things here with them instead. And even if something terrible had happened, surely the Prince, Cloud-Dancer, and the Barn Owl would be alive. That would be a lot of deaths otherwise and that many deaths never happened without a war or something, not even in stories - and this was a story.

“That’s not going to happen. You’re not going to die and neither will they. All the bad people are here now, remember? We’ll just go home and everything will be okay and we’ll be happy. Why don’t you believe that?”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Dustfinger breathes out a sigh as he sees the determination in his daughter’s eyes. It seems that his wife has passed on that trait not only to Brianna, but to Rosanna as well. 

“Perhaps I just haven’t read enough stories, little one,” he replies quietly. 

He reaches out to tuck away a stray curl that has flown out of place in all of her head-shaking, pausing to brush his thumb over her cheek before pulling away. 

“Please don’t misunderstand me,” he pleads. “I want nothing more than for you to come back home with me. I just need you to be sure that you know what you’re getting yourself into.” 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-fire-and-death]

Noah isn’t blind and so he catches the longing that suddenly enters her expression but he surpresses the laughter that sudden wants to bubble up. Her new expression says all he needs to know about how well that would be perceived. So, he turns and guides her wordlessly into the kitchen.

The kitchen is larger than the bedroom, if that’s possible and stocked with everything an industrial kitchen might require. The refrigerator is massive enough itself to feed Arillia’s whole apartment complex and that isn’t even comparable to the pantry.

“I’d offer you something cooked but I made the cook go home and I can’t do it myself. You’re free to eat whatever you find though. I’m sure they’ve got something edible stocked in here.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia looks at him incredulously for a second, mouth opening to ask how on earth does he not know how to cook for himself, but then she pauses, realizing her mistake. Of course he wouldn’t know how to do such a simple task; he’s been raised with servants waiting on him hand and foot since the day he was born. 

Instead she nods and moves to examine what she has to work with. The answer being a lot. Some of the appliances in this kitchen are things that she’s never even heard of before, but she feels a wave of relief that she recognizes enough to make herself something, at least. 

Her eyes widen as she finds the pantry, taking in each shelf filled with more food than she can imagine anyone being able to eat. She doesn’t need much, just something more filling than the rotting scraps she’s been living on in recent days. She comes across bread, sliced cheese, and a carton of eggs and suddenly she wants nothing more than the first thing her mother ever taught her to make. 

She moves to the stove and begins to lay everything out, preparing all that she needs for an egg sandwich. It’s simple, probably nothing at all in the eyes of this upperclassman, but it’s filling and comforting. 

“Do you want one?” she asks anyway, lifting her gaze to Noah as she cracked an egg into a pan. “Or are you too good for lowerclass food?” 

[of-fire-and-death]

Eggs. Cheese. Bread.

What is she making?

Noah watches curiously as she moves about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and kitchenware alike. He can’t fathom what it is she’s decided to make for dinner, not with these three simple ingredients in the mix.

When she speaks, a crooked smile spreads across his lips, effectively ridding his face of its previous curiosity.

“No, no,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Lower class food is fine.”

He’s already dismissed the cook so it’s either that or he starve lest he attempt to make his own food.

Plus, he’s curious to see what she does with just eggs, bread, and cheese.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

She snorts before she turns back to her work, though she needs hardly any concentration to make the simple food that she’s spent nearly every morning eating. It is a good way to avoid thinking of the funny feeling in her chest at the sight of his smile. It’s exactly the reaction that a man like him would expect, and she’s sure that if he had given it to any other girl, she would be falling at his feet. But she won’t be one of those girls; she won’t. So she focuses on finishing her sandwiches instead. 

The ingredients are such a higher quality that Arillia knows it won’t be the exact same that she’s used to, but she can’t help being excited to try it. She toasts the bread before spreading it with a light layer of mayonnaise that she’d found upon a second trip through the pantry, then add a slice of a cheese that she can’t pronounce the name of but that most closely resembles the cheese her family gets from the markets. Finally, a fried egg, cooked so that a little bit of the yolk still runs, is place on top before the other slice of bread is placed on top. 

“Have you ever had an egg sandwich, Mr. Upperclassman?” she asks, setting a plate in front of him with a tilt of her head. She finishes her own before picking it up and adding before she takes a bite, “It may not look like much, but it’s damn good.”

[of-fire-and-death]

Noah glances from her to the sandwhich before him. Is this what they eat in the lower class? It’s just bread with eggs and cheese on it…

Still, he maintains a polite aire, though he cannot seem to shake the way his manners come off as something condescending. He doesn’t even notice it.

“Can’t say that I have,” he answers.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia shoots him an amused look as she takes another bite before shaking her head as she turned away. Even though he may not have said anything, she could see in the way he looked at the food she’d put before him what he thought of the food she had been raised on. 

“Think what you want, pretty boy,” she said as she finished another bite. “I’d like to see you do better.” 

[of-fire-and-death]

Through The Pages of a Book

Starter for @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

Roxane looks up from her daughter only briefly to give a nod in response to his statement. He was right. They had to get out. Everything else would have to wait until they had managed to regain their freedom, even Rosanna’s failing health.

She cradles the child close to her chest, both arms wrapping tightly around her. Under any other circumstance, she might have been concerned about the noise children were liable to make, but even with being moved so much, Rosanna slept on.

“Let’s go,” she says, glancing up at her husband once more.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Dustfinger nods, his gaze falling back to their daughter for a moment before he steps back, gesturing for Roxane to step out of the cell. He reaches into his jacket as he turns away, fingers playing along the handle of the knife that he has tucked away there despite knowing he will never use it. He likes to believe that he would, though, should his family be at risk. 

He finds himself reaching back to rest a hand gently on the sleeve of Roxane’s dress as he heads towards the stairs, the rough fabric of her dress sending a thrill from his fingertips to his spine at yet another reassurance that she was here, that the world he remembered truly did still exist. 

It doesn’t take long to reach the top of the stairs, but Dustfinger hesitates before he steps out. Just because the guards had been distracted minutes ago does not mean that they are similarly occupied now. As he examines the space, he notes the sleeping ones are still trapped in slumber, albeit in different positions, and that most of the drunken ones have now claimed a few of the maids as their playthings for the evening. He looks at them in disgust before leading Roxane forward, sticking as close to the wall as possible. 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-fire-and-death]

Noah isn’t blind and so he catches the longing that suddenly enters her expression but he surpresses the laughter that sudden wants to bubble up. Her new expression says all he needs to know about how well that would be perceived. So, he turns and guides her wordlessly into the kitchen.

The kitchen is larger than the bedroom, if that’s possible and stocked with everything an industrial kitchen might require. The refrigerator is massive enough itself to feed Arillia’s whole apartment complex and that isn’t even comparable to the pantry.

“I’d offer you something cooked but I made the cook go home and I can’t do it myself. You’re free to eat whatever you find though. I’m sure they’ve got something edible stocked in here.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia looks at him incredulously for a second, mouth opening to ask how on earth does he not know how to cook for himself, but then she pauses, realizing her mistake. Of course he wouldn’t know how to do such a simple task; he’s been raised with servants waiting on him hand and foot since the day he was born. 

Instead she nods and moves to examine what she has to work with. The answer being a lot. Some of the appliances in this kitchen are things that she’s never even heard of before, but she feels a wave of relief that she recognizes enough to make herself something, at least. 

Her eyes widen as she finds the pantry, taking in each shelf filled with more food than she can imagine anyone being able to eat. She doesn’t need much, just something more filling than the rotting scraps she’s been living on in recent days. She comes across bread, sliced cheese, and a carton of eggs and suddenly she wants nothing more than the first thing her mother ever taught her to make. 

She moves to the stove and begins to lay everything out, preparing all that she needs for an egg sandwich. It’s simple, probably nothing at all in the eyes of this upperclassman, but it’s filling and comforting. 

“Do you want one?” she asks anyway, lifting her gaze to Noah as she cracked an egg into a pan. “Or are you too good for lowerclass food?” 

[of-fire-and-death]

Eggs. Cheese. Bread.

What is she making?

Noah watches curiously as she moves about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and kitchenware alike. He can’t fathom what it is she’s decided to make for dinner, not with these three simple ingredients in the mix.

When she speaks, a crooked smile spreads across his lips, effectively ridding his face of its previous curiosity.

“No, no,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Lower class food is fine.”

He’s already dismissed the cook so it’s either that or he starve lest he attempt to make his own food.

Plus, he’s curious to see what she does with just eggs, bread, and cheese.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

She snorts before she turns back to her work, though she needs hardly any concentration to make the simple food that she’s spent nearly every morning eating. It is a good way to avoid thinking of the funny feeling in her chest at the sight of his smile. It’s exactly the reaction that a man like him would expect, and she’s sure that if he had given it to any other girl, she would be falling at his feet. But she won’t be one of those girls; she won’t. So she focuses on finishing her sandwiches instead. 

The ingredients are such a higher quality that Arillia knows it won’t be the exact same that she’s used to, but she can’t help being excited to try it. She toasts the bread before spreading it with a light layer of mayonnaise that she’d found upon a second trip through the pantry, then add a slice of a cheese that she can’t pronounce the name of but that most closely resembles the cheese her family gets from the markets. Finally, a fried egg, cooked so that a little bit of the yolk still runs, is place on top before the other slice of bread is placed on top. 

“Have you ever had an egg sandwich, Mr. Upperclassman?” she asks, setting a plate in front of him with a tilt of her head. She finishes her own before picking it up and adding before she takes a bite, “It may not look like much, but it’s damn good.”

[of-fire-and-death]

Through The Pages of a Book

Starter for @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

Roxane has been here less than a day and every minute feels like she is experiencing it through some dizzying haze. Try as she might, she cannot comprehend it.

The way the forest had suddenly turned into the blood red walls of the church; the reappearance of Capricorn, Basta, and the rest of his lackeys; and now the miraculous return of the husband she had previously believed to be dead…

It feels like some strange sort of fever dream and she has contemplated more than once in her few hours of capture inside the crypt whether she hit her head or something when the horse reared but no…it all felt far too real.

Roxane was just about to give a half-thought out reply, two quick words, when her gaze found something far more pressing, something that immediately banished all other thoughts from her mind. Dustfinger had not come alone. In his arms was their daughter, the one she had just begun to believe she would never see again, at least not alive.

“Rosanna…” she breathes instead, closing the space between them only to scoop the child into her arms.

She was still breathing, she was still alive, but the fever burned ever present under her skin and those breaths came far too quickly.

Worry wormed its way through her heart and her mind with a new fervor, but not for the first time. Worry for Rosanna had all but distracted her from everything else.

Where was she? Was she still alive? Did they hurt her? Did they kill her? Was she scared? Was she still calling for her mother only to get nothing in return?

“Where did you find her? What did they do to her?” she says as she cradles the sleeping child close. “Did they hurt her?”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

In any other instance, Dustfinger would be disappointed with her lack of response. But as he hands their daughter over to her mother, he can’t bring himself to feel anything but love for his family and relief that they’re alive, even with Rosanna’s health being the way that it is. 

“I followed them when they took her away and waited for them to leave,” he replied quietly, glancing over his shoulder towards the only way in or out of the crypt. He didn’t mention the fact that Capricorn’s men had tried to desert their child in the woods. He didn’t want to make her more upset than she already was. “No, they didn’t hurt her. I had my eye on them the whole time.” 

He reached out a hand to tuck a curl away from Rosanna’s face before looking over his shoulder once more. 

“We need to go soon, Roxane,” he urged, turning back to meet her gaze. “Just because I was able to get in without difficulties doesn’t mean we’ll have the same luck getting out.” 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-fire-and-death]

Noah isn’t blind and so he catches the longing that suddenly enters her expression but he surpresses the laughter that sudden wants to bubble up. Her new expression says all he needs to know about how well that would be perceived. So, he turns and guides her wordlessly into the kitchen.

The kitchen is larger than the bedroom, if that’s possible and stocked with everything an industrial kitchen might require. The refrigerator is massive enough itself to feed Arillia’s whole apartment complex and that isn’t even comparable to the pantry.

“I’d offer you something cooked but I made the cook go home and I can’t do it myself. You’re free to eat whatever you find though. I’m sure they’ve got something edible stocked in here.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia looks at him incredulously for a second, mouth opening to ask how on earth does he not know how to cook for himself, but then she pauses, realizing her mistake. Of course he wouldn’t know how to do such a simple task; he’s been raised with servants waiting on him hand and foot since the day he was born. 

Instead she nods and moves to examine what she has to work with. The answer being a lot. Some of the appliances in this kitchen are things that she’s never even heard of before, but she feels a wave of relief that she recognizes enough to make herself something, at least. 

Her eyes widen as she finds the pantry, taking in each shelf filled with more food than she can imagine anyone being able to eat. She doesn’t need much, just something more filling than the rotting scraps she’s been living on in recent days. She comes across bread, sliced cheese, and a carton of eggs and suddenly she wants nothing more than the first thing her mother ever taught her to make. 

She moves to the stove and begins to lay everything out, preparing all that she needs for an egg sandwich. It’s simple, probably nothing at all in the eyes of this upperclassman, but it’s filling and comforting. 

“Do you want one?” she asks anyway, lifting her gaze to Noah as she cracked an egg into a pan. “Or are you too good for lowerclass food?” 

[of-fire-and-death]

Through The Pages of a Book

Starter for @blankpagesinvisibleink

[of-fire-and-death]

Roxane has had visitors already, though none she would have voluntarily entertained, so when the door opens again with a sorrowful groan, she is quick to raise her head, dark eyes searching the darkness.

She expects Basta, a thought that makes her blood run cold, but the voice that echoes off the stone walls is not the purring voice of her expected visitor, but one that still comes off as familiar, even after these last few years without the sound of it.

Dustfinger.

He steps close enough then for her eyes to make out the silhouette of his tall form but the details are still lost to the darkness - the red of his hair, the pale scars that line his face. Just as she begins to doubt, though, he speaks again.

Her heart picks up speed, bounding in her chest, but for what, she can not tell in this moment. Is it excitement? Longing? The promise of escape? Just the shock itself?

“Dustfinger?” she breathes.

It has been too long since their names passed each other’s lips.

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Dustfinger breathes out a sigh of relief as their eyes meet, his heart doubling in speed at the sound of her voice as it calls his name. It has been so long since he has heard her voice that until today he had not even been able to hear it in his dreams anymore. And now here she is, alive, standing before him. He is filled with both elation and despair as he realizes that while she is now here with him, she has also been torn from the world she has always known, and their eldest daughter along with it. 

“Oh, my love,” he says softly, fumbling to push the key into the lock as quickly and quietly as possible with only one free hand. 

It takes longer than he would like, his impatience only making the task more difficult, but finally, the lock grinds open and he is able to tug the cell door aside. He cringes at the sound that it makes, but the feeling vanishes as he steps into the cell, one hand reaching out for his wife. 

“Are you alright?” He asks urgently, gaze taking in every detail of her form. “Did they hurt you?” 

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Looking For Something?

Continued from Discord; @of-fire-and-death

[of-fire-and-death]

“Please, have you seen that closet?” Noah answers.

Even he has to admit it’s a little much but as lavish as their home is, his mother strives to outshine even it.

“Does it look like she wears the same outfit twice?”

He glances up and down the modest outfit Arillia has picked and shakes his head.

“She’s definitely not going to miss that. Jeans haven’t be in style in what…two hundred years? At least since the silk factories started going up in the south-eastern quadrants. It’s a wonder she even kept that.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia glanced down at her own clothing as he spoke, brows lifted as she examined what she had grown up wearing her whole life. She couldn’t see why people didn’t like them anymore; she preferred how the soft cotton rested against her skin, even if the more expensive fabrics were fun to touch. They reminded her of home, of why she had chosen to do all that she had done in the first place. Anything else would have made her feel like she was in the body of a stranger. 

“I guess we’re just not very up to date on the latest fashions in the lower class,” she replied, glancing back up so he could see the sarcasm in her expression. 

[of-fire-and-death]

“I guess not,” Noah agrees with a small shrug.

He turns then, heading towards the door again. After a few steps, however, he turns back.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you something besides spoiled apples to eat.”

[blankpagesinvisibleink]

Arillia’s eyes light up at the mention of food, lips parting in anticipation before she catches herself and her expression falls back into an irritated frown. This time, however, the irritation isn’t with Noah, but with herself. She isn’t helping his view of the lower class if she acts like a child who’s just been offered candy. 

She shoves her hands into her back pockets after a moment of debating what to do with them before nodding and moving to follow him. As she moves, she looks around the room a bit closer, taking in the intricate details that she’s only heard of until now. She can’t imagine living in a place like this and not knowing how good she has it like Noah seems to.