Zarya shook her head, only moving to head back up to Amara's quarters once the Prince was well gone and out of sight. Once there, she didn't even get the chance to knock before she was being dragged into the room and roped into helping her friend get ready and presentable. While she helped with that, she talked.
"-and then I stole a rock from his pocket, this morning." Zarya finished, her tongue poking out slightly in focus as she twisted the Princess's hair into a fancy-ish up do.
"There is a lot to unpack there, but real quick, you do realize stealing from people isn't a good way to initiate conversation, meet people, or psychoanalyze them, right?" Amara asked, tilting her head back and letting out an 'oof' as Zarya tilted it back down.
"Of course it is. People tend to be attached to the things in their pockets that are not literal trash. You can gauge just how much by pretending to have found it after them dropping it."
While he walked around the castle, doubt in the siren’s intentions swam to the surface of his thoughts. She struck too many perfectly vulnerable vulnerable chords with him. She touched too many secret feelings. She was starting to know too much, and she was no circus fool. She was highly skilled. If she was learning, it was intentional. He needed eyes on her.
He called over a guard. “I require you to keep a most discrete eye on our guests. No one, and I mean no one, should see you, hear you, or know you are there. I want information, what do the princess, but most importantly her sorceress, Zarya, do, what do they talk about, what do they know. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sire,” the young guard replied. He then left the prince’s side to begin his new assignment. This was his chance to prove himself, he thought. He could get a promotion, should he succeed. And he would. He would not settle for failure.
Mishal continued walking, one hand in his pocket. He kept the smooth stone in his hand, flipping it over in his pocket. It warmed quickly, soon becoming uncomfortably hot. Mishal did not notice.
“That doesn’t make it okay, Zee!” Amara insisted, staying still instead of looking up at Zarya this time. She was right, of course. But whether something was right or not wasn’t exactly what Zarya was concerned with. Her own principles and moral compass worked just fine, even if it wasn’t the same as everyone else’s.
“I am a thief, Amara. I have been a thief since I was young, and nothing will change that. I would be a fool to think I could ever leave that behind.” Zarya said simply, her brows furrowed in focus. “But there are good thing that come with that. I can read people well, for instance. And I’ve put some time into that prince.” She paused, thinking about how best to put it in the common tongue. They were in private, so they could very easily revert to their native tongue, but this was good practice.
“He is angry. Very angry. The anger summers under the surface of his skin like water about to reach a boil. I do not know why he is so angry, but he is. That layer of anger is thick, but not enough to cover another layer, buried deep, of pain. And I might know the source of that pain, at least somewhat.” She finished up with her friend’s hair, moving on to her makeup. The stylist of the two, for sure. “He is quite an enigma, that boy. Angry and hurt. A volatile combination.”
(Do you love this rp as much as I do? It’s literally my favorite thing)
((Grsesfds it’s one of my favorites yeah, and thamku!!!! That means a lot, and I gotta say, you’re really good at writing too!))
Mishal dressed himself. He hated being babied like he couldn’t put on his own damn clothes. He dressed in black today. Very little gold offset the solid black wash he put himself in. This color ratio was completely unintentional. He transferred the stone to the special pocket that exists in every piece of clothing he has. His clothes were specially enchanted to have a higher resistance to heat, an addition made after occasional spontaneous combustion in his youth.
He had no mirrors in his room. He had no desire to know what he truly looked like. He got plenty of information from glimpses in ponds and glass. That was more than enough.
Mishal went to the garden. He sat at the edge of the fountain. Why wasn’t he born with water-based magic? Why was he cursed with this destructive power? It served no greater purpose. It was simply a burden and nothing more. A part of envied Zarya in this way; how she could gently guide calming waters, gently influence the mind. Her magic had no need to be harsh. She had power in grace. He had power in force.
Reaching his hand, he went for a beautiful, full-bloomed rose. Once he touched the delicate petals, it didn’t take long at all for them to shrivel and crackle and decay. He was a killer. A demon. Worthless.
(Mmmm thank you!!!!! I just feel Mishal’s consciousness when I write him. I just get him, I know him. And Zarya and Amara have really nice depth and their interactions feel so organic!! This rp is just really inspiring!)
((I can absolutely see that! I'm not sure if it's that he seems well fleshed out or if it just seems like it's easy to tap into those veins of inner thoughts and backstory, but it's there! Also, I'm glad their interactions seem organic, that's always something I'm worried about. Oooo, you know what? You mentioned it there, Zarya's power being gentler and graceful, but we should absolutely throw in some event or happening that allows her to bring out the violent storm-like side of her abilities))
"Angry?" Amara asked, her tone sounding more like she was musing about that, thinking and curious at the same time. She stayed still as she let Zarya do her makeup, knowing her friend would stick to the more neutral makeup she preferred, instead of the Sorceress's usual bolder makeup. "You know, I think I know what you mean. He's polite, but….it's there, under the surface? I'm not as empathetic as you are, but now that you point it out…"
"See? Empathetic or not, it is a noticeable enough thing." Zarya finished up with Amara's makeup rather quickly, her experience working in her favor as it normally did. They continued to discuss the prince, Amara at some point commenting on how he was fairly good looking, which eventually spawned a conversation about courting and things along the lines.
They left the room soon after, Ahban back on the Sorceress's shoulders as she and Amara walked arm in arm, discussing the possibility of going out later in the day to see the city. Wherever they went, they liked to gain some knowledge about the area, mainly because Amara knew it eased Zarya's thieve's anxiety.
(Yes!! That would be really cool, but it would only really work if it was a super serious event.)
((We’d have to do a bit of planning. Ideas in a pm?))
(Okay, I’ll come up with something, I’m just really busy rn lol)
A guard notices the women walking. He walks up to them asking, “Excuse me your Highness,” he bows before continuing, “It’s policy for us to accompany all guests when they leave the grounds.”
(I’m really sorry this took so long and it’s short. I was stuck and I’ve been really busy.)
Something flickered across Zarya's expression, almost like offense, but was quickly replaced by a sort of polite indignance. Amira cut her off before she could speak though.
"Are you sure?" The Princess asked sweetly, tilting her head slightly as she blinked a few times. "My companion is quite capable of escorting me, and defending herself, should something go wrong. We really don't want to bother anyone."
The guard tried to hide his surprise. He had never been turned down before. “Er, it’s simply policy, Your Highness. I’m sure your companion is very capable. It’s just my job.” He was frightened that he would lose his job if he upset the guests, but also if he broke policy. In conclusion, he found himself in a quite unpleasant circumstance.
“It’s policy? Are you sure it wouldn’t be any sort of trouble?” Amira asked, an adorably sweet furrow appearing between her brows as she frowned slightly. “I’m guessing you are all incredibly busy, and we would hate to bother you.”
Zarya didn’t speak, just stood there looking slightly imposing but not too unfriendly as she watched her friend. She’s getting better at the flirting and manipulation, for sure. The sleeves of her Jetta shifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of the swirling black markings in her arms that marked her status as a magic user, and more particularly, a High Sorceress, and skilled at that.
Caught off by the princess’s sugary demeanor, the guard hesitated.
“It’s quite all right, Your Highness. It is my solemn duty. It’s not trouble at all.” With that he smiled, the princess having an infectious charm.
So close, my friend, so close. Zarya shook her head mentally, lips twitching slightly with amusement. She was getting better, but Amira still had a bit to learn.
"Well, in that case. We were going to go do some shopping." Amira chirped happily, batting her eyelashes. "Will you be the guard accompanying us? I would most certainly enjoy your company, and it would be much preferable, over an entirely new guard."
“Of course, Your Highness. You won’t even know I’m there, unless we run into trouble.”
With that he stepped aside, arm outstretched to let them lead the way, bowing almost a whole ninety degrees.
From behind a pillar in the foyer, Mishal watched the pair. Perhaps he should mind his own business, but he was curious. This was the guard he instructed to watch their guests.
The ball was the next day and preparations would begin soon. He should go to his fitting, though the tailor could wait. He was the prince, after all. He could really do whatever he wanted. He’d just watch until they were out of sight, then he’d leave.
As Amira and the guard started ahead, the former pulling the latter into cheerful conversation as she linked her arm through his to keep him with, Zarya lingered behind. She spoke softly to Abhan, who was once again looped around her shoulders loosely. "Too bad we need the guard, is it not? Like ears following us around. We will have to watch what we say, then. Some people love to take anything suspiciously." Lifting her head, the gold lining her ears and neck caught the light, glinting as her ocean blue eyes glanced around. The stopped on the pillar Mishal was behind, staying there for a beat too long to be nothing, before she was following after her friend and the guard.
Mishal was increasingly suspicious of the sorceress. Maybe it was his paranoia speaking, but he was nearly convinced that she was up to something.
“Father, I have reason to believe our guests, perhaps one guest in particular, may be her under a malicious false pretense.”
Staring at his son with the intensity his eyes seemed to hold perpetually. It never failed to make Mishal uncomfortable.
“What, pray tell, gave you such an idea?” The king’s words spit like acid on the hearts of his victims. Mishal swallowed in an attempt to quell his nerves.
“Well, that…sorceress…she…she…well, she is a siren, most notably.”
The King only stared. “A siren? You have some gall to disrespect the guests of a country we already have tension with. When will you learn to get out of your head and be a real man? Dismissed.”
And that was that.
Mishal turned, leaving the chambers as heat rose from his soul “anger” could not begin to describe. Somehow he’d find a way to prove himself. No matter what.
