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The rules of engagement. (Syhera)

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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A dumb smile manifested on Peake’s bearded face as he walked behind mother and daughter. Gwynthera was a very pleasing woman, perhaps due to her humility and the sass gained throughout her life. The lord couldn’t help but think of her attitude being similar to those women his mother used to surround herself with, the kind that tore wounds in his cheeks by pinching them before saying just how much taller he had grown. It felt nice to be so relaxed around someone else, without expecting second meanings or threats coated in honey. Now that he was bare of his cloak’s protection, the cold of the day attacked him mercilessly, occasional shivers running through his spine like lightning. Thankfully, his beard acted like a scarf, and his chest hair as a layer of wool to keep him warm. Despite the occasional scoff or low chuckle that escaped him, Peake’s eyes inevitably wondered into the bag of groceries to try to guess the lunch they’d be having.

“You flatter me, Missus Ki’hadi.”
The words were directed to Gwynthera, but his eyes drifted to Syhera, whose explanation was stuffed right into Peake’s ego, even further reason to mentally thump at his chest to demonstrate his power like an ape. His dumb smile was all he let through.

Soon enough, the three of them found themselves within the unsuccessful shop that barely yielded profit, climbing up stairs that threatened to collapse under their weight. Peake’s eyes looked here and there, at old portraits and the various imperfections of the stairwell. The apartment in question was approximately the same size of his own private cottage in which he resided. However, theirs was far cleaner. Peake’s cottage was a mess in every possible way, as he didn’t usually bother to tidy the place up. His fireplace was filled with shattered glass, target practice for the multiple empty bottles of consumed alcoholic beverages. Stains from various bodily fluids decorated floor, walls and sheets as he had never cleaned a thing in his life. Weapons, both functional and ruined, along with various pieces of a diverse array of armors that stacked up and gathered dust as they were mostly unused. Another corner was occupied by those clothes Peake and his women for hire had left behind for one reason or another, reason why his choice of attire stayed mostly the same. Buying new clothes was easier than cleaning others, especially when those disposed of clothes needed to be shoveled out of that corner. Most mornings, a whore or whores were found sleeping on that pile of clothes, and most mornings, those same whores were alive. Most mornings.

The Ki’hadi residence was quaint and warm in contrast to Peake’s cave. It had a personality despite the simplicity, and so he couldn’t offer no judgement, or at least not a severe one. Despite his cottage’s most characteristic features being the two buckets, one for water and the other for vomit and other human waste that in his drunkest nights he had accidentally mistaken more than once, he still had a room in the Andaris Manor. Dozens of servants to cook for him, clean for him, and pamper him awaited, yet discarded due to Benji Andaris’ presence within that household.

“Lovely residence.” After he was commanded, the groceries were left on the recently cleared table and his overgrown hands began extracting the multiple items purchased. Just as he had thought, the vegetables were partially stale and with defects, the bread was a bit hard, and the meat didn’t seem as anything otherworldly. Just by looking at the purchases, it could be known that the household was suffering from a low income. Gwynthera had chosen the ‘second selection’ or the ‘other market stalls’, in which not so fresh products were sold in bulk for much lower prices, as they were about to be discarded and a last coin could be made from them. Nonetheless, they were still edible, and it was a good way to save money. He didn’t say anything about it, as he was a guest that needed to respect their hosts.

However, once Syhera and the nobleman were left alone, and her words came forth with a detail he had missed, Peake felt the need to say something. Perhaps it was the tone of her voice or her choice of words, but a small needle of rage bit Peake on the back of his neck. For a moment, all he could think was that Syhera felt ashamed of him, of Peake being her fiancé even if it was all a scam. A bit of that rage and disgust manifested on his face as the curses clouded his brain. Why wouldn’t she tell her mother about it? Peake was the first heir of the Baron, the oldest grandson of his grandfather, the Duke. It was very likely that in twenty arcs Peake would be the Duke of Andaris. Was that not something to be proud of for these underprivileged low-towners? Even if it was never going to happen, a chance to marry into nobility, no matter how small it was, could at least keep their heads up high by having some hope instead of gaping at the floor in search of a stray coin. The Ki’hadi were only rich in hard bread, junk hanging from laces, and Syhera’s breast size. Take that out and they’d be nothing but thin corpses begging on a corner or selling their rears for the fishermen.

It was the small details that spoiled his mood, and Peake tried to overlook it as he had been enjoying this day so far. If he wanted stress and moodiness, he would’ve gone to work on this day or went to listen to his father. “No, I won’t tell her. It’s your problem, not mine.”

Returning his eyes onto the ingredients, now all placed on the table, Peake folded the bag as best as he could in case they wanted to save it, and afterwards went to kindle the fireplace, bringing his frown with him, hoping the heat from the fire would melt it away.
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  • 16th of Ashan, 716 Arc
    She sighed deeply, pulling out a chair for Peake. When she spoke, her voice was soft, "Please listen to me," Where should she start? "A few years ago, I... A man came into town. He was fairly well off financially. Well, not a lord like you, but he could afford half of the street if he wanted. Nevertheless, he proposed and I agreed. I didn't love him, but I thought if I married, I could save my mother. She's my best friend. I would die for her," Hera snapped her fingers, her face as serious as the grave, "I wouldn't think twice about it."

    "When we told my mother and sought her blessing... she cried. She wouldn't look at me for days." The memory of it still haunted Syhera and her eyes drifted to the table, "I know I have nothing, and I know you will have everything. Mama does not see the world like you or I do. Marriage isn't just a financial agreement, it means love. There is no other way for her. If she knows I'm engaged to the son of the baron, even if she knew the truth, I'm afraid she would think I was ashamed of her and... this," Hera looked around the bare room. "It's a long story. She's just never even seen you before, she would know."

    The Biqaj leaned forward, trying to look at Peake's eyes, to give her word, "She likes you, and I will tell her, I promise. I just need some time to convince her I love you, as much as you said you loved me last night." She smiled at him, "I will follow your lead on everything else, this is just very important to me."

    Footsteps pattered downstairs, and Hera moved to grab a bowl and chef's knife, returning to the table and sitting down. Brice's contract sat on next to her. She reached out for the garlic and began to peel it. Then, she carefully laid the flat end of her blade along a clove and hit it with her palm, crushing it. She used her knife to scrape it into the bowl and set it down just as her mother was walking back into the room.
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The nobleman accepted the offered chair as the embers burned brightly, the heat spreading through the room like a blanket, fighting the cold slowly but steadily. Unfortunately, the previous surge of fury had already spoiled his mood, seen in the apathetic and somewhat displeased bearded face of his, indifferent eyes facing the female as she spoke. What began as a tale Peake didn’t care about quickly shifted into a nightmare that was to befall upon the Ki’hadi household just because of his actions. With every word his fiancé spoke, it became clearer just how much they’d have to pay because of Peake’s will to escape a serious relationship.

Many of the Ki’hadi ideals Peake agreed with. Marrying for financial matters was stupid, as wealth could always be achieved no matter how ugly your blood was. In that sense, Gwynthera was right, and according to Syhera’s words, Syhera was the one whose mentality didn’t fit. Doesn’t see the world like you nor I. If Peake saw it that way, he would’ve married Gojira and drowned either in her bed or in her wealth, or the dozens of previous candidates for that matter. Stacking titles and stacking coins was irrelevant to him, as after a while money lost significance. Alas, despite the popular belief that the bearded man was not capable of said emotions, Peake couldn’t help but feel sympathy towards the Ki’hadi

“And how long do you think you have? My father already knows about the engagement, as does half the Kingdom. If I know your financial history by looking at the city records, don’t you think he knows everything there is to know about you and your mother?” It was shameful to speak about it, because his words were stakes that wounded him, reminding him of how inconsiderate he was with his reckless actions. His words were meant to be rabid yells, now reduced to eager whispers due to his self-moderation. “How long do you think it will take him to send his goons over here and try to extort you out of it? Gojira offered him three thousand golden nels for me, and a business empire to profit from. How much do you think he’ll ask from you? Twenty onyx nel that you’ll never be able to pay, especially not when you can’t even buy soft bread. Unlike your mother, my father only sees me as an investment. Everything I’ve done or achieved is just another chest of gold added onto my price-tag. You think he’ll let me marry some lowlife?”

In spite of it all, Peake didn’t intend to be mean. However, the price of the low volume of his voice was the removal of the filter his words ran through. “If I love you or not doesn’t mean a thing to him.” Pause. “Even if you carry my child you can be disposed of.” It had happened before, after all. His father had already gotten rid of the two women that Peake had loved in his life, and the fear of the situation repeating itself was too much to even think about. If it happened again, Peake wouldn’t just objectify women or sink inside a bottle. Standing up, his hands reached out to Syhera’s wrists, pressing on them until he disarmed her of both knife and garlic. Leaning his head over her shoulder in case she wanted to look back at him, he still had her ear “Listen to me. I don’t care how many rich brats you’ve met or you’ve fucked. You’ve never met my father, and if you knew the best for you or your mother, you wouldn’t want to lay eyes on him. He will destroy all three of us with a snap of his fingers, and he won’t even blink. Do you understand me?”

Another pause, eyes locked with the Biqaj's frame. “You need to tell her, right now, or I will. I like your mother. She seems like a good woman. I’d rather see her heart break than seeing her suffer under my father.” A third pause. “He’ll kill her. She’ll try to bribe her, to pressure her, to make her break. And he will be successful if she’s ignorant about just what man the Baron is. Let her be prepared, and even if she hates you and me at first, we can try to convince her with time. I—“

That same moment, Gwynthera pushed the door open behind them, sound that made Peake snap out of his train of thought. The position he was in was obviously compromising, looming over the woman’s daughter like many perverts have surely tried before. This called for some last moment improvisation. “… I won’t allow you to cut the garlic, not when I’m a guest in your home!” His hands let go of Syhera and instead reached for both onion and knife with haste, raising his arms and performing a sideway spin to distance himself away from the female. Faking a chuckle, he pointed at the extracted chair with the knife, trying his best to sound as joyous as he was before they reached the apartment. “If I’m going to eat, I’m going to help. It’s the least I can do. So sit and tell me what to do.”

He was nervous. Gwynthera didn’t seem stupid, but Peake hoped it had worked.
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  • 16th of Ashan, 716 Arc


    "Convince who of what?" Gwynthera came into the room with a bucketful of water and set it down by the fire. She looked at the two with a steady gaze. Peake's hands on her daughter had not gone unnoticed. Hera's own mind was processing everything Peake had told her, and she smiled at her mother.

    "We wanted to convince you to give me a day off sometime. So that... we could spend some time together."

    Gwynthera chuckled and shrugged, "I suppose I could allow that. This is my shop after all. I should look after it more." She poured water into a pot, and dried her hands on her skirts. Moving to where the two were, she reached out for the contract and began to read it over.

    Hera carefully handed the knife to her fiance, and held out a clove. She peeled it and set it down on the table, "Turn the blade like this," she reached out to take his hand, showing him, "then smash it. Straight down." Then, to her mother, "You wanted to talk about something, mama?"

    "Yes," Gwynthera leaned back, looking up at her daughter, "I went to see Brice this morning, before I came here. I wanted to see how your meeting had gone."

    "It went well. We had an understanding, I think. He did sign, after all."

    "When I asked him about the trade agreement, he didn't know what I was talking about. Why doesn't he know if he agreed to it, Syhera?" Her mother's voice had taken a tone that was dangerous. Hera was about to fall into a trap.

    "Maybe he's not as smart as he thinks he is."

    "Hera!"

    "What?"

    "You cannot take advantage of him. He could be a good partner to have."

    "Oh, please." Hera rolled her eyes, shooting a look once at Peake. Why was her mother saying all this in front of guests? It was unlike her, "Brice wants me to take advantage of him." He was practically begging.

    Gwynthera's expression hardened, "When were you going to tell me?"

    Syhera crumbled the thin skin of garlic between her fingers, "Soon, when I found a good time."

    "Before or after you told me you were engaged?"

    There it was. The trap.

    Hera's fingers stopped working and she felt her breath catch. "How long have you known?" But when? Who told her?

    Gwynthera shook her head, throwing the contract away from her. She looked to Peake as if she were about to scold him, but Hera jumped in, "Peake wanted to tell you. I asked him not to."

    A moment of silence and the older Biqaj nodded, "Leave us. Stand outside the door and close it, please."

    She hesitated, heart pounding. She felt sick. This wasn't a good sign, was it?

    Hera nodded solemnly and turned away. She moved to the door and slowly closed it, watching to two until it closed and the blue of her dress was no longer in sight. Gwynthera cleared her throat, straightening up in her chair.

    "The papers seem ill-informed about my daughter, but you are not. Will you tell me why you want her, before I am expected to give her away?"
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The initial nervousness and tension did nothing but escalate further, even starting to affect Peake. His endurance for these kinds of situations was very low, reason why he relied on alcohol as much as he did. Well, one of the hundreds of reasons. The nobleman went mute, as he felt his voice would quiver if he tried to weave a lie at Gwynthera. Fortunately, Syhera came to the rescue, and she had no trouble lying. Doing as instructed by Syhera, Peake tried to focus on his poor culinary skills, his ears picking up the conversation even if he didn’t want to. Peake was ignorant about Syhera’s doing the previous nights, as while she was apparently taking care of business, Peake tried to slither away without success. For that reason he found himself somewhat lost in their conversation, which was a good sign as he was automatically excused and partially safe.

Until Gwynthera mentioned the engagement ordeal, that is. Peake froze in his position, staring at the partially ruined clove like a bad dog stared at his owner’s feet. Peake wasn’t a dog, once again denying the popular claims, but Gwynthera seemed perfectly capable of teaching him a lesson with words rather than with a slipper. There was no more chance to ignore the mother and her daughter, and after leaving the knife and the clove, Peake turned around to face them both. Visibly nervous and feeling slightly out of place, Gwynthera’s attitude was of no help whatsoever. The scene was violently tense, and it grew out of control as soon as Syhera was sent out the door. As safety always came first, Peake sat in the chair opposite of Gwynthera, prepared to flip the table and make a run if she was to take a hold of the knife during some point of the conversation. It had happened before.

Now, the nobleman was in a cross-road with endless exits. He could try to lie his way through this, try to reason with the visibly unreceptive and protecting mother, or assume his usual indifference to intimidate her. Those were the three main solutions he found, after all.

“The papers know just as much about your daughter as I do.”

Taking a deep breath and sighing, Peake leaned back against the chair rest as he faced the female. It seemed as his whole ploy to escape marriage by faking an engagement was going to fall into rubble, destroyed quickly after being improvised. Usually prepared for the worst, he already imagined his father’s reaction and his fury. Maybe he’d sent his son to apologize to Gojira, to work for her, or try to sell his son to her the way a pimp sold one of his whores. Strange turn of events, really. Now that his expectations of success were low enough, he lost some of that nervousness previously felt and regained some of his cocky attitude. Growing bolder by the moment, he shrugged before speaking.

“I’ve spoken more to her this morning than I did yesterday. I know little more than her name… Well, that’s not true. I know quite a bit of her because I looked at her file in the city records. She’s just another stranger to me.”

His hands were below the table, ready to flip it, ready to rush towards the door as his mind now realized just how reckless his words have been. More explanations were needed.

“I don’t want your daughter. I don’t want you to give her to me, so I’m not going to beg you, or try to bribe you or anything. What I want is to not marry, ironically enough.” A scoff escaped him, as he stared at the growingly furious mother. “Last night I encountered your daughter for the first time of my life. We struck a conversation by accident, before our respective dates. Bits later I discovered that my father had basically sold me to some woman, so I panicked.”

“Lord Peake Maxos Andaris is my name, son of Benji Andaris, the Baron that oversees this port area. I’m 28 arcs old, I’m single and I have no heirs. It’s safe to say that my father wants me to marry as soon as possible and stack more titles, lands or relationships before providing him with grandchildren.” Gwynthera seemed like a smart woman, and Peake didn’t feel like doing more exposition about the world of nobility. So he skipped it.

“Your daughter came to my aid last night, but instead of taking the offered hand I took her by the arm by proposing to her. I’m not just exchanging a woman for the other, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have no interest in marrying your daughter, or the woman from last night. What I want is the constant pressure to marry to be gone and marry whenever I feel ready for that. So that’s what I did. I took your daughter as a fiancé to have her by my arm in all those posh events so that nobody can look at me and see a mine of gold, titles, and relationships I mentioned. The negotiations will never come through, as my father will never agree for me to marry against his interests, the same way you’ll refuse to ever give your daughter away to the taxman. “

Perhaps Peake could’ve added all the benefits Syhera and Gynthera herself would enjoy with these negotiations, but they were voided. Not only because they didn’t cross his mind or because his negotiation skills were almost null, but because he didn’t care. He had done this for himself and his own selfishness.
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  • 16th of Ashan, 716 Arc

    Peake's tense posture did not go unnoticed. He was nervous, and Gwynthera watched with patience and a stern expression that did little to give away her thoughts. Her daughter's fiance rattled on about his own intended, and how he had swiped Hera up at the last minute. Selfish reasons, but not wholly bad. When he was done, the older woman hummed in thought.

    "I do not care if you are the taxman. I would give her away to the crypt keeper, if she truly wanted him. You know little about Hera, so I will tell you..." Gwyn laced her fingers and placed them in her lap, watching Peake, "Easy, child. You seem to have quite the number of enemies, but I am not one."

    Giving him a chance to relax if he wished, she continued, "My daughter is, and always has been careful. It is one of the reasons I do not fear for her. She is smarter than I ever imagined, and just as challenging. She does as she wills. If you two have an arrangement, it is already done."

    The mother sighed, gathering the groceries and reaching for the bread, "This engagement is to buy time for yourself. I can respect a business move, even a selfish one. I have made them myself. What I do not like," her voice was hard, "is wasting my daughter's time. If you two do not love one another, very well. But she has men that do. As a mother, I only fear what this will do for her future after you have moved on. It is something to think of."

    "As you said, this engagement will be called off one way or the other. But what will happen to you?" Gwynthera's voice softened, back to a more amiable tone and as she thought of Peake's words about his father, she seemed to become more like she had been before, "You are still to be my son in law as far as I am concerned. As long as you are engaged, you are family. Who did your father have in mind for you? "

    A faint response came from the other room, specifically the other side of the door. Gwyn turned her head, and stared at it for a moment, "Do you have something to add, Hera, or will you have your ear pressed against the door until I am done?"

    A silent pause and then the door cracked. The red head poked her head in, a sheepish smile making her look even younger than she was, "Sorry," Hera muttered, sliding back into the room, "I just... didn't want you to be mad at him. He had no choice. His date was... pretty awful."

    Gwynthera groaned, pushed back her chair and shook her head again. She went to the water that was now boiling and poured in some rice she had bought. She stirred it and covered the pot, using her apron to pull it from the fire and have it sit. Her mother had not started yelling in Rakahi or crying, so this was all good signs. The older woman seemed deep in thought, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

    In a bad attempt to change the subject away from their engagement, Hera spoke up, stepping between the line of fire, "Peake, " she said, carefully watching her mother from the corner of her eyes, "If Gojira comes to you, will you tell me? I think I know what to do, but I need to look into some things."
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Peake’s paranoia soon ceased to exist, all thanks to Gwynthera’s soothing attitude and partially sympathetic words. He had barely spoken to her, and their interactions had been almost as brief as those with Syhera. Syhera was still a mystery for him, as she wasn’t as easy to read as her mother. However, in those brief interactions, and even now that the truth had been exposed, Peake felt the goodwill of the woman before him. She had a good heart, a rarity in this trial and age, impossible to find in the bowels that was this city. Perhaps it was only rare in Mid-town and the court, where the snakes shed their satin and silk and hide their intentions behind their words. Gwynthera, in the other hand, wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, or at least part of it, with an open heart. In that sense, Peake was reminded of his own mother, and the more he listened the more Gwynthera looked like her. If he was correct, flipping the table wouldn’t be necessary.

As the conversation continued, the tension started to fade away, yet part of Peake’s guilt remained within him. Last night he had acted so selfishly that he had forgotten just how much his actions could affect Syhera’s life. Despite her joyous presence before her mother, Syhera was confirmed to be rather intelligent. Maybe she’d realize she had no loyalty to pledge to him, or maybe she wouldn’t. Once again she had come to his rescue, and once again he thanked her for it, at least mentally. Nodding as he sighed, he glanced up to face his fiancé. “Sure, I’ll tell you. I don’t think she’ll me again, anyway. And if she does, I’ll just treat her like I treat my marriage proposals: ignore them, and let them disappear…”

Peake chuckled, amused by his own peculiar way of seeing the world, shifting his gaze to Gwynthera and returning to the pondering produced by her words. “Missus Ki’hadi. I’m sorry I’ve done what I’ve done. I’ll admit I didn’t think much about what that would mean for Syhera, especially the drawbacks of this falsehood.” A small pause, in which Peake thought of his next words. “I want you to know that I’ll treat your daughter like she deserves. She’ll get the advantage of meeting businessmen, noblemen and all sorts of powerful men and women that I imagine she can benefit from in the future. She will most definitely not waste her time. Furthermore, if she wants to date someone else, I’m in no position to complain.” He was, in truth. If she was openly dating someone else and she was recognized, Peake’s scam would crumble in a matter of breaks. There would never be a chance to do the same move again. "With discretion, preferably. Like you said, she’s intelligent and careful. I got a similar impression last night, reason why I kidnapped her into this engagement.”

Peake stood now, lips tense as he glanced between mother and daughter with an expression proper of a child. “Just like you, Missus Ki’hadi, said that I was family, I’d say you are my family too. If you ever need anything, you just have to ask. No conditions, no small case letter, no nothing. The port may be protected, but its residents aren’t as much. Not with my father’s administration, at least.” Taking the knife once again with the intention to resume his culinary attempt, which even a child could do better as that hypothetical child would be less dangerous to himself than Peake was, he added once again. “If this falls through, Syhera will be free to do as she pleases once more, and I’ll never bother you again. Surely because I’ll be tied to Gojira’s bedpost, like she told me.”

A nervous chuckle escaped him, the noble giant looking over his shoulder towards the duo once more. “… Can I still stay for lunch?”
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  • 16th of Ashan, 716 Arc

    Peake's innocent question had Hera turning her head and Gwynthera smiling softly, "Of course, child." The tension in the room seemed to noticeably ease as both Ki'hadi women processed all the information they had been given. Hera glanced between her mother and fiance a number of times, going to retrieve the garlic she had showed Peake how to handle. The knife on the table was replaced with bread and softened butter, and the youngest woman began to cut off a slice, breaking off any hard parts, and spreading the sweetened mixture. She retrieved some plates and placed one in front of the enormous male in front of her. Lords and mothers served first, then herself.

    "I will re-vist Brice soon," Hera finally spoke, as her mother fauned over the rice, sizzling meat and adding spices in another pan, "To ease your mind, mama."

    Her mother hummed in response and continued cooking, while Hera placed the garlic beside the woman. She wiped her hands on a towel that was hanging up and sat across from her intended, thinking over what she should say. Straightening her back, she sat in the chair and rested her chin in her palm, looking at him. He looked... different than the night before. Certainly... noble. Proud. Arrogant.

    But softer?

    No.

    "Seeing you here is strange," Hera commented to Peake casually, relaxing with the mood. She wasn't sure if he fit the setting. His shoulders were broad, and his body strong from training and proper meals. Even his facial hair was trimmed nicely, and his handsome face looked clean. It was like looking at a fine portrait with the background sketched by a child. It was in this moment she realized just how vastly different their upbringings compared to one another. This was just who he was, whereas she was an actress, playing the part to convince the world.

    She wondered how she appeared to him. Was she too skinny? Did she look like a pauper lucky enough to score a blue dress? "Do you think we can pull this off?" The engagement ruse. The falsified "love".

    Gwynthera leaned back from the cooking pots and glanced over her shoulder, "We will find out, no?" Meat sizzled and crackled, the room smelling quickly of spiced beef and vegetables. Steam was building beneath the lid that covered the rice and Hera reached to take a bite from her buttered bread.

    The older Biqaj stood and meandered over to where the couple sat. She began to gather glasses and poured a modest drink for each of them. Then, sighing with nod at the two children, smiled. "To love and well kept secrets."

    "To love and well kept secrets," Hera repeated, taking a drink and watching her betrothed. She clinked her glass with his, "Welcome to the family."
word count: 476
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Vluharqih
Approved Character
Posts: 604
Joined: Sat Apr 09, 2016 10:56 pm
Race: Yludih
Profession: Apothecary
Renown: 278
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
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Wealth Tier: Tier 5

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Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

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Events

Forest of Masts

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Rewards
Peake Andaris

Skills
Collaboration 5/5
Structure 5/5
Story 5/5
Basic Knowledge
Gwynthera: Syhera’s Mother
Gwynthera: Pragmatic and Practical
Syhera: Aware of her Poverty
Syhera: Climbing the Ladder of Success
Syhera: Navigator
Location: Gwynthera’s Shop
Specific Knowledge
Cooking: How to Press Garlic
Persuasion: Blunt Truth Can Work
Business Management: Beauty Sells Product
Persuasion: Posture and Bearing can be Enough
Rewards/Injuries
N/A
Fame
-1 For Intimidating Vendor



Syhera Ki’hadi

Skills
Collaboration 5/5
Structure 5/5
Story 5/5
Basic Knowledge
Peake’s Father: Dangerous
Specific Knowledge
Peake: Manipulative and Cunning
Peake: Enjoys Power
Acting: Hiding the truth from a Mother is Impossible
Business Management: Willing to sell your Time
Persuasion: Highborn and Dressed Helps
Rewards/Injuries
N/A
Fame
N/A



Remarks
:

Whew!

That was one hell of a long thread. Now onto the next Peake/Syhera one…

But actually, that was an enjoyable thread to read and grade. I liked the mother’s reaction to their engagement, and found it funny how she knew Syhera would be eavesdropping. The mother/daughter interaction there seemed organic and realistic.

Peake:
► Show Spoiler
Syhera:
► Show Spoiler
If you have any question, comments or concerns feel free to shoot me a PM and we can talk about it!
word count: 412
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