If you ever wondered what the vibe of the Devil and Maiden story is like, behold a legit canon scene:
Feat the maiden (Marguerite) who actually hasn't had any art posted yet!
This is the vibe of their friendship before it becomes a relationship, just being absolute goofs without meaning to be. She knows Markus is hiding something and is trying to weasel it out of him - he knows they like each other and delights in making her blush, especially when she tries to keep to the rules of propriety.
To also make it perfectly clear - she didn't actually break into his house. She came to visit while he was on an errand, he left the door unlocked, and she thought it would be really, really funny to ambush him on the couch. Marguerite should've expected his response to be flirting, though!
Here's an ask game for you! ELEGANCE - How do they feel about being posh or fancy? Do they find it dumb and boring, or do they genuinely feel as though it is the proper way to go about the world?
Thanks for the ask! Here’s what the characters from TDATM think:
Krystal-
She finds it fun from time to time, but thinks it unnecessary to go about life this way. Its a lot of work to keep up. If she had the means she might be fancy more often, but thats hard on a barista’s pay, and even more so when you find yourself stuck in another realm with no way of making money.
Draqa-
Oh gods he hates it. He thinks being posh and fancy is a waste of time and it reminds him too much of when he was a kid and his parents would force him and his brother to dress up in stuffy clothing for important occasions. He has no time for it now (too busy killing and threatening people for his boss) and hes perfectly happy with that.
Javis-
Absolutely loves it, always has, and dresses to impress on any occasion. Being an ambassador, its already important he put on a good image, especially in an effort to be taken seriously by the circles he operates in. In fact, he might care about it a little too much sometimes.
“Krystal’s fingers itched toward her camera bag hiding under the counter. How she’d love to stop working right then and take photos of them all. Sometimes, on slow days she had the time for a break and would ask a particularly interesting customer for their photo, but not mornings. Besides, photos never had the same charm to them when people were aware of it, something unavoidable inside Dahlia’s. People tended to become tense or overplay their smiles and actions. They made their lives look scripted. After work, however, Krystal would have her choice of all the life in the world.”
“To those in Arai, he was only Draqa, the strange man who did the Governor’s bidding. He didn’t know when he’d taken the name Draqa, but it had seemed fitting when people began to refer to him as such, so he kept it. Who he was before was a person who no longer existed, and Draqa couldn’t be trusted. But people in the Other Realm didn’t know who Draqa was. It was a small freedom, but it was freedom, nonetheless.”
“It didn’t matter to the others that he spoke Yrlun with the accent of a naolen language, or that his light brown skin glittered just like a naol’s. Javis was sure he could have looked fully naolen and that still wouldn’t have mattered to the others. His father had been a human, and because Javis had the red blood of the Betrayers to prove it, his presence among his fellow ambassadors was only just tolerated.”
An excerpt of the The Arai Chronicles short story my newsletter subscribers will soon be able to read:
The drone of the airship rumbled in Isaias’ ears, its lull having long since tempted his eyes closed. Though as much as he wished, he couldn’t quite find sleep, not with the young child across from him kicking his seat every so often.
“Javis, stop that, dear. Your father’s trying to rest. I already told you once,” Ianda muttered, a stern edge in her voice.
“But I’m bored,” protested Javis.
Isaias could imagine the defiant look in his blue eyes. What they lacked in opalescence like his mother’s, they retained in their intensity. Always the stubborn one, he was. Always one to question authority.
“You’re bothering him,” Ianda explained.
“He hasn’t said so,” Javis said.
“That doesn’t matter. Enough is enough. Read your book like I told you.”
Javis groaned. “I want to draw.”
“Then draw.”
Finally, the kicking stopped. Isaias sighed and whispered a thanks to his wife. Dream-sleep crept into the edges of his consciousness. It had been several days since he’d last had a good night’s rest. The waking world around him began to fade and he was entirely ready to let it slip away.
Then he felt Javis’ foot hit his seat again. It bounced once, and dug right into his shin. Isaias’ eyes shot open and he doubled over his knees in pain.
Javis squeaked. “Sorry father…”
Isaias eyed him dangerously. “Enough of that, boy.” He glanced to the side, and noticed now that Jair was no longer beside him. “Where is your brother?”
Javis shrugged sheepishly.
“I let him sit back there,” Ianda said, gesturing.
“Go sit with him until we arrive,” Isaias said.
Javis frantically nodded and scurried away. A moment later Isaias could hear the quiet mingling of Javis’ and his brother’s voices. Isaias massaged his shin and leaned back. Ianda watched him with faint amusement in her eyes.
“What?” he asked in annoyance.
“You can hardly blame him. This is a long ride for anyone.”
Isaias scoffed. “He’s impatient.”
“And where do you think he gets that from, hm?” Ianda looked at him pointedly.
He relaxed a little, knowing she was right. “It still hurt,” he grumbled.
“Do I need to kiss it to make it better?” Ianda teased.
Isaias smiled. “It could help.”
Ianda rolled her eyes, but leaned down and brushed her lips over his knee. Not quite where their boy had kicked him, but good enough given their close quarters.
“I think I need one more. My cheek still aches from when I bit it this morning,” Isaias said, smiling a little wider.
“That’s your own fault for speaking with your mouth full of granat berries,” Ianda chided. Still, she leaned in and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. He turned slightly and returned the kiss before she slid back to her seat.
Her brown hair was done into many tiny braids that ended in tight curls, all pulled back to hang over one shoulder. She ran a few of them through her fingers—a habit of hers when she was thinking.
“What is it?” Isaias asked.
“I’m just glad that we’ll be getting away for a few days,” Ianda said, “And it’ll be nice to spend some proper time with the Monarains again. It feels like ages since we’ve seen them.”
Isaias nodded. It /had/ been ages since he’d seen Sal. As the Minister of Erothel, his partner had been preoccupied with the Board, the rest of the High Council and countless naysayers and detractors. Isaias himself had been dealing with his own problems in his position as the governor of the Southern province, and it seemed the two men more and more frequently were ships passing in the night. At this point Isaias ached to see him.
It was Sal who had reached out a month earlier, inviting Isaias and his family to his summer home on the coast - one would think that with both of them living in the Southern province and Sal spending at least half his time in Arkaven, the two would see more of each other. It was not so. The last several months had been extraordinarily busy for them both.
“Avira Varinin Liir told me she’s been planting a new garden. I’m excited to see it, she’s always had a magnificent hand with plants,” Ianda said. She paused, and after observing Isaias, smirked and added, “You and Sal should have plenty of time to yourselves.”
Isaias laughed. “You both are always welcome, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know. But I have more in common with Avira Varinin Liir. And /someone/ has to watch the children.”
At that, Isaias smiled sheepishly and averted his gaze. From behind them, a boy started to cry. Isaias sighed and moved to get up but Ianda put a hand on his arm and stood.
“I’ll check on them. I’m sure they’re teasing each other again. Get some rest,” she said. She squeezed past him and disappeared down the isle, her hooves lightly tapping the floor as she went.
Isaias shook his head as he heard her scold the boys. The long ride was getting to them. One day, they would be mature enough to tolerate it.
Isaias crossed his legs and laid his head back. Finally, sleep took him.
