#((I'm sorry abt length :sob: I always overwrite))

[aglaean]

The dance had come apart, as all must. And yet, there was an inexorable pull to that evening - like an arm interlaced into knots that bind - which kept the good Princess in mind of choreography. Some vestiges of the flow, the careful extension of a hand, or the incline of a neck in graceful sweep had infected her step. It was a phenomenom noted with really far too much joy by her downstairs neighbours that for a moment, upon return, she did not stomp quite so heavily up the stairs.

Such grace, why it was almost more than the mortal frame could bear! So insupportable was their step across the ballroom that she was almost certain it had could never find a replicant. It truly was a shame they had been the only witnesses to their combined magnificence.

Now, grasping her former dance partner by the lapels, shoes crumpling on a floor glazed with spirits and hasty lashings of soap, she knew that the moment had passed into the ether of memory quite thoroughly.

A firm shake, that was no doubt what was required here. ‘HELLO?’ She yells.

Not that one so innoculated into asetic deprivation as she would know, but such drinking houses as these were uniquely suited for shouting. Her voice should be carrying over the buzzing background noise of what she would blanket over with the term ‘depravity’ - insulting jabs and wooing and the like. And yet, the bar was entirely isolated. Her voice sang with singularity.

The isolation had been that which snared the high attentions of the Princess intially. A walk back from the market had revealed what was usually a bustling den of iniquity to be suspiciously silent.

It was one thing for wrong-doing to be loud about its folly. But this, this silence was far more incriminating.

Inside: none but the slumped form of General Umber, as if the urge to nap had taken him unawares. He looked almost peaceful, but the Princess, with her full powers of observation immediately knew something was amiss.

Leaping to his aid, she now found herself shaking him upwards into a sort of awkward half-upright position. He kept slumping forward, as if the floor contained some essential palliative he was lurching for. Good heavens, had he fallen into a stupour of intoxication?

Her eyes land on a half emptied glass of Latona knew what on the bar-surface. They proceeded to narrow with an accusation. Still, even if he had over-indulged, she was a merciful holy woman. ‘WAKE UP.’ Her voice continues, undisturbed by the silence that sends it echoing around the establishment. ‘GENERAL UMBER?? IT DOES NOT SUIT YOUR STATION TO BE RECLINING SO.’

He was truly lucky that the Gods had sent one so dainty as she to his aid.

[@lionheartsoath]

hey, there are better places to a nap than on the ground, you know

A popular castletown tavern adds trendy fruit-based drinks to its menu in order to appeal to the denizens of Garreg Mach. The ploy is successful and the place has become absolutely packed, but there’s one problem. Word travels far. Too far. Seemingly anticipating a wealthy onslaught of students and faculty, a watchful thief has spiked your drink with a sleeping potion and slunk away with your possessions. Wake up, find the criminal, and recover your pilfered belongings…by force if necessary. [Grants Authority +1]