@aeternaemorte
Continued from here
The woman seemed a bit too young to be invited as a personal VIP guest to the bride-to-be, but nobody questioned her as soon as she mentioned the name Apostolou. They all knew the seamstress and it was perfectly understandable that the old woman would send her young apprentice to do the work instead of herself. What they did not know was that she had another agenda, far more ominous than finishing an embroidery for the wedding dress.
The vial was barely the size of her little finger but it felt as if it weighed a ton inside her dress pocket. The cloth she was embroidering had lain forgotten on her lap for the past half an hour at least, while she gazed unseeingly at the perfectly trimmed trees in the garden, trying to reason with her wildly beating heart. It is only a slight change of surroundings, a bit of modification to the plan, you can still do this well. Three days until the wedding, which means three days until the murder would take place. Most of the guests had arrived, but not her target. She was sewing slower than her usual speed, making sure she had a reason to stay inside the gates until the big day. It would not be her first murder, she had tipped poison into drink from the age of thirteen, after all, and learned to make one before her first milk tooth fell out. But it would be the first time she had to do it inside of a secured perimeter, with guards standing every ten feet apart, and likely a thorough searching and lock down after, should she succeed. Medea was, undeniably, distressed.
Preoccupied with thoughts as she was, she had only noticed the newcomer when he greeted her. Now this could very well get you killed, Medea. Always stay vigilant. Hazel eyes snapped right, catching none other than the Prince of Persia himself. What a peculiar proposition. Perhaps that was usual from where he came from. And even if it wasn’t, she supposed, surely a royal could afford to be lenient with formalities when they felt like it. She made a move to stand up, remembered the pristine cloth on her lap, and stopped to set it aside first next to her on the stone bench.
“Your Highness.” She stood and gave a slight bow to the prince. When she looked back up, a smile was ready on her lips, apologetic and sweet and courteous. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid it is hardly appropriate should I accept it.”
@ask-cerus
Why his father had even agreed to host this wedding in the royal palace of Babylon was beyond Cerus, the prince thought, more than a little miffed at the fact- and he was willing to bet it would take this affair to be over for his mood to improve, too.
The palace, always busy regardless,was literally bursting with people these days, with more arriving every day. Every neighbouring sovereign and his entourage had been invited and, of course, none had really declined. The prince of Persia was under the suspicion that his father’s decision may have, in part, been with the notion of using the occasion to establish a suitable bride for his only son. The son, however, wasn’t all too pleased with that prospect, or the fact he’d already been enlisted to play chaperone to royal guests as requested; he’d much rather be roaming the city beyond the palace walls, but he also knew his duties.
He’d been sent to check on a seamstress now-because apparently, no one else could’ve done that and the bride-the daughter of one of their closest allies- had been getting agitated. Cerus had paused outside the room the seamstress was working in for a few moments; the girl, apparently daughter to a famous Greek seamstress, certainly seemed...somewhat distressed. Given who her patron was,and more importantly what the bride was like, he couldn’t say he didn’t sympathize, he thought as he finally spoke up, clearly startling her.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you,” he smiled when she got to her feet, mindful to set her work aside before doing so. “and by all means, do not stop your work on my account, I figure the sooner you’re done with...” he glanced at the embroidered piece of fabric, trying to figure out what it was for and failing, “whatever that is, the sooner you can enjoy the festivities,” he shrugged. “As for the offered hug, I figured you needed it for one thing and for another, it is actually a traditional custom for greeting newcomers to Babylon,” he grinned, “so not that inappropriate,” he shrugged airily.
She was rather striking, he just noticed, having a hard time looking away from her eyes. luminous hazel like burnished gold.
