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Andras and Tristan have a little fun!

40th of Vhalar 716

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.
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Andráska Venora
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[Venora] Double Trouble

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"My two natures had memory in common."
40th of Vhalar, 716 Arc
  • If one happened to be walking down a hallway of Fort Venora, a passerby would be able to see the door, slightly ajar with a terrible rustling coming from within it. It sounded like someone was looking for something, and then silence. After a tense moment, sweet tunes were being whistled and a tall figure sat perched on a cushioned stool with a tray propped in his lap. On it was a silk drawstring bag, and a number of different items. One looked like a card of some sort, another a tiny silver spoon.

    At his feet were a few unopened bottles of amber liquid that contrasted harshly with the soft pink detailing around him. The figure himself was dressed in black, his dark hair disheveled as if he just woke, the fading sunlight filtering through the windows suggesting an evening hour. His outfit was freshly washed and pressed, but the sleeves were pushed up to the elbow, and he had the faintest outlines of a smile on his tragic face.

    Andráska Venora was the shadow of someone who belonged, noble by birth, but not quite there in other aspects. His features were handsome, expressive and striking, but he looked tired. The faint beginnings of dark circles lingered under spring green eyes, giving him a darker appearance than this vibrant youth often radiated.

    The room that he had decided to occupy was of soft pastel, adorned with extravagant detailing. The stitching of pillows and curtains were silvery white, and each surface seemed to be decorated tastefully in some fashion. A portrait of his grandfather sat above mantel, along with family swords. It used to unsettle him, as if the painting was watching him and everything he did.

    Now… Not so much, “Cheers, Karl,” Andras shifted the tray from his lap and bent to retrieve a bottle, popping the cork free. In truth, he had no idea where his grandparents were, perhaps attending a dinner with another house? It would have been more responsible to learn the whereabouts of the people when you planned to hang out in one of their rooms without permission, but more than once in his life Andras avoided responsibility. Why start now?

    He took a quick swig of the alcohol, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing. The familiar heat embraced him like an old friend and he physically felt himself relax. He turned it over in his hand, and paused, hearing footsteps sound outside the door. Uh-oh.
Last edited by Andráska Venora on Tue Oct 25, 2016 9:15 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 427
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Double Trouble

Some of the servants and slaves of House Venora were likely already wondering whether dark circles under one’s eyes, disheveled hair and a somewhat tragic air were in fashion that season for Tristan Venora’s appearance mimicked that of his cousin almost exactly (he just wore a burgundy vest with his black clothes instead of all black). His current state wasn’t due to excessive drug use though, he was just starting to panic because the premiere of his play would take place soon, and there were so many things he hadn’t thought of yet. He had barely been able to sleep these past couple of trials, and finally he had packed all of his things, climbed on Maxos’ back and ridden all the way to Venora, hoping that a change of scenery and lots of free food and alcohol would help.

The only one who was happier than in Andaris was Maxos though. For some reason the stable boys had taken a liking to the vicious stallion and pampered him and fed him apples and given him fresh water rather than forcing him to use the trough outside the stables. Tristan on the other hand was still frustrated and grumpy. The food in Venora was delicious of course, but the wine they had given him in the kitchen was the same boring wine they served in the Blacksmith Arms, and the door to Grandmother Ebony’s wine cellar was locked. It seemed as if his relatives had tried to raid it one time too many.

Perhaps, he thought as he moved down one of the castle’s numerous hallways, a copy of his precious script tucked under an arm (he was mortally afraid that somebody would steal it – or his ideas), the old woman kept a few bottles hidden in her bedroom though, whiskey or wine, anything that would help him forget his despair for a few bits.

He looked left and right to find out if somebody was watching him, and then he quickly and quietly moved around the corner, towards the door to his grandmother’s bedroom. Once he had reached it he surveyed the hallway again, and then he pressed the handle down and slipped inside – only to stop dead in his tracks. Somebody was already there!

His heart skipped a beat, and he found himself unable to breathe – until he realized, somewhat belatedly as always, that the person in front of him looked nothing like his ageing grandmother. He breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head. It was just his cousin!

“András?” he asked, somewhat confusedly and stepped across the threshold, looking around as he did so. “What are you doing here?” His gaze fell on the tray in his cousin’s lap. Although drugs were one of the few vices Tristan had not tried out yet, he immediately recognized the things for what they were. Some of the regulars at the Blacksmith Arms and the House of Roses – his favourite places in Idalos, apart from his bed - were addicts. “You know that drugs are bad for you, right?” he asked as he approached him because he had the feeling that he really ought to, a cliché, but very true statement that unfortunately rarely had the desired effect and made people give up their bad habits.

“So what kind of drugs are you using anyway?” he continued and stopped directly in front of him so that he could see what he was doing better. He knew that he really shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help himself. The situation at hand was just too unusual and unexpected. Unfortunately Tristan Venora wasn’t very good at being a responsible adult for longer than a handful of trills. “Anything new and exciting? Did you already give them a try?” he wanted to know. His eyes shimmered brightly with curiosity.

“And is that Grandmother Ebony’s secret whiskey?” He pointed at the bottles in front of his cousin.
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[Venora] Double Trouble

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"My two natures had memory in common."
40th of Vhalar, 716 Arc
  • When Andráska’s cousin entered the room, he had the bottle of liquor halfway lifted to his mouth, frozen in place as the figure came into view. At the sight of Tristan, Andras’ eyes widened and a relieved smile creeped onto his lips as his cousin inquired about his presence in the room, “Oh, you know,” he hummed, a bit excited to be reunited with one of the few family members he felt he could relate to, “A little bit of this, a little bit of that…” his eyebrows rose at Tristan’s observation at his drug use, but he found his cousin’s follow up question more curiosity than judgement. That was the best thing about Tristan, in his opinion.

    Andras gave the other Venora a level stare, debating on his next words. Retrieving a slip of crumpled paper from his back pocket, he held it out for his cousin to take. On it, in sloping handwriting that curved to the edge of the page and splotches of ink were the words, ’Granny Ebony. Good luck.’

    “I wrote that last time I was drunk. Took me a while to figure out what I was talking about,” Cryptic notes left, or simple scavenger hunts were apparently a favorite past time of Andras when he was under the influence, much to the dismay of his sober version, “Sometimes I write things down. Clues…” he trailed off for a minute to admire the room, stretching his legs out in front of the ottoman he was sitting on, “This is Granny’s famous whiskey,” a devilish grin pulled at Andráska’s face, “Don’t ask me how I got it, I don’t remember,” he chuckled, admiring whatever drunken ingenuity he had apparently partaken in. It was no secret to him that the liquor stock had been locked up, “I must have stashed it in here, wrote this, and now, I found it. Wanna drink?” he cocked an eyebrow and then motioned to the drugs, “Now, as for these…”

    Andráska rose to his full height, taking a long chug of the dark liquid before grabbing a nearby chair and dragging it closer to his original seat. He patted it to imply Tristan sit down and prepared his lesson, “These are new to me,” he admitted, “This,” he pointed to one of the bags on the tray. It was a crimson powder, “Is called Heat. It’s new, I think,” Andras shrugged, “Some of my friends in Lowtown’ve tried it. Say it’s pretty nice. And this,” The other silk bag was pushed forward, Andras’ fingers pulling at the drawstring to reveal a sparkling green powder that had a shimmering effect, “Is called Fairysnuff,” He used the little card on the silver platter to push at some of the loose powders to make sure they stayed in their respective groups, “Besides the excitement of pissing off our grandparents, this room is pretty great to do drugs in.”

    It was true. Andras’ room would have been his first choice, but it’s bay window and balcony meant risk of flying, or, more so, a fear of wanting to jump or do something equally stupid while intoxicated. When having hallucinations, it was always important to be in a safe environment. A room of pastels and soft accents was ideal for peaceful visions… or that was his opinion. They’d have to find out, “Help yourself,” he finally added, dipping the spoon into the Heat and tossing a small amount of powder in his mouth. He smacked his lips as the concoction coated his tongue and smiled at his cousin.

    He could feel the warmth spread from his lips and down his throat. Ooh, this was nice.
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[Venora] Double Trouble

“Why did you write Granny Ebony’s name when you were drunk?” Tristan asked as he took the piece of paper and raised an eyebrow because that seemed rather weird to him. From a purely objective point of view Ebony Venora was an attractive woman – for her age – but still, he hadn’t thought that Andráska would be into that. “When I’m drunk, I don’t think of old ladies. Unless you didn’t mean it that way?” He stared at the piece of paper again and furrowed his brow, but couldn’t figure out what else his cousin could have meant. “I sometimes do things when I’m drunk as well, such as sculpt. Unfortunately nobody wants to buy those sculptures”, he admitted with a sigh.

“Ohhh”, he made as Andráska confirmed that he had indeed found their grandmother’s secret stash of whiskey. His cousin’s explanation as to how he had found it didn’t make much sense to him though – did that weird little message refer to the whiskey after all? – but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the whiskey was there, and that his cousin seemed to be very willing to share it. “Sure. Give me a bottle.” He extended a hand before he plopped down on the offered chair and took a swig from the whiskey he really had no business drinking. “It’s great”, he decided as he put the bottle down again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave his cousin a huge smile.

Having said that, he eyed the different powders on the tray, figuring he might as well add ‘drug use’ to the list of inappropriate things he had done that included sex with his slave and making a naked sculpture of a tax collector with a penchant for violence. Maybe it would make him forget. Maybe he’d end up writing cryptic notes to himself as well. That, he decided, would be interesting. Maybe he would give himself ideas for a new play. The play … he sighed. For a moment he had almost forgotten his impending doom.

His hand hovered over the tray for a moment because he wasn’t quite sure which of the powders he wanted to try first, and then he decided on some of the Fairysnuff because his cousin was already trying Heat and he really didn’t want to be accused of imitating him, although imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. He put some into his mouth, and then he furrowed his brow and waited.

“Oh. Minty”, he murmured and leaned back in his chair because he suddenly felt quite relaxed and content. “What do you think will happen if I add a bit of Heat to the Fairysnuff?” he wondered before he decided, “I don’t think I should do that. If you mix red and green, you get brown and brown is a really ugly color.”

“So”,
he wondered and shook his head because he suddenly began to feel just a little weird. “What else did you find here, besides alcohol?” He glanced at their grandparent’s wardrobe and was just about to walk over to it and rummage through Ebony Venora’s old lady things that included an impressive collection of hats when he noticed something move past the window. His eyes widened until they were as big as saucers, and then he abruptly turned back to his cousin, pointed at the window and asked, “Did you see the dragon as well?”
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"My two natures had memory in common."
40th of Vhalar, 716 Arc

  • "Brown's not an ugly color," Andras defended, raising a brow at his cousin's reasoning. It made sense, but he had to disagree. Where was the sense of adventure? Long fingers reached out and scooped up a bit of the Fairysnuff, popping the silver spoon into his mouth and dropping it back on the tray. His tongue fizzed and popped and he smacked his lips together at the minty taste. Waving a finger at Tristan, he rose to his full height, stepped over the bottles of whiskey at his feet and went to retrieve what his cousin inquired about.

    Had he found anything interesting? Of course, "Brown is underappreciated," he continued, throwing open the wardrobe, his cheeks flushed and rosy from the Heat, "It's a warm color," A few drab dresses were pushed out of the way, revealing a box. It was new, with the design on it rather familiar. Some Venora designer Andras couldn't quite remember the name of, "It's dark, mysterious, penetrating," he began to pull the box free of its confines of fine lace likely only ever worn once, and held it up for Tristan to see, a teasing smile curving his lips,"You tell girls with brown eyes you think their eyes are ugly and you'll never get a date you don't pay for,". Andras was no expert on dating, but he knew insulting a fragile woman was not the way. He might have had green eyes, but plenty of others in Venora didn't, and they were lovely creatures.

    Curiosity taking over, Andraska popped open the lid and a wicked grin split his lips, "Oh, my," reaching in, he pulled out a pleated white fabric, lifting it up to be displayed. The box itself was tossed to the ground, tumbling once on the carpet as its contents were revealed. Tristan was now turned towards the window, a brave thing to do, while Andraska stripped his boots and pants with expert fluency. His body was warm and the temperature of the room was feeling stuffy. This... this would be much more comfortable.

    And funny.

    His black briefs were dark against the skirt he was slipping on and he tried not to giggle. When Tristan spoke about a dragon, he froze, one leg partially inside the outfit as he struggled to remain balanced. No wonder so many women wanted help dressing. He laughed when Tristan turned to him, no longer able to contain his humor. Granny Ebony had a piece of scandalous clothing, much too young for her. What was she going to wear it for? For who? It was so unlike her, he doubted she would be seen in it, but it would be unheard of not to have the latest fashion. Andraska slipped in the other leg and pulled the skirt up around his waist. It was looser than he would have thought, his grandmother's hips widening over the years from childbirth and age.

    "What did the dragon look like?" Andras asked, kicking his discarded clothing out of the way and moving towards the window like an excited child. He tilted his head by the pane, and looked to the sky. No dragon, "Ooh," he said, after a moment of realization, "It's the Fairysnuff!" No screams or people rushing in awe, everything was still so quiet, "What did it look-" Andras paused, blinking as he looked to the floral wallpaper. The pale pink roses were wiggling, and he lifted a hand to touched them. The contact was like a ripple effect, and the roses danced harder, shaking back and forth. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest, and he spun quickly, stripping his shirt when he caught sight of his reflection in a full length mirror across the room. The dragon was forgotten as he proudly displayed himself before his cousin.

    "Do you know how to tie a corset?"
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[Venora] Double Trouble

Tristan opened his mouth and was about to disagree because he really didn’t like brown, but then his cousin started talking about girls, and he realized that maybe Andráska did have a point. There were a lot of pretty girls with brown eyes. “Maybe you are right”, he admitted and eyed the red powder again, before he abruptly reached for it and put some in his mouth. If brown was warm and dark and mysterious and penetrating – then the combination of those two drugs would be all those things as well, right? Right?

Well, he did feel warm at least, he decided. No, hot, he amended. He was really hot. He was hot and sweaty and suddenly had the feeling that he was wearing entirely too many clothes, so he promptly took his jacket and his shirt off and threw them in a corner. It was just then that it returned. Or he. Or she. He wasn’t sure how one determined a dragon’s sex. It was hovering in front of the window now and watching them with an amused expression on his face. He smiled and waved because it looked like a really nice dragon.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s not the Fairysnuff!” he insisted and turned to his cousin who had begun to explore their grandmother’s wardrobe in the meantime. “It’s a real dragon. It’s green, but it has glowing yellow eyes, and it is smiling. It’s back! Look!” He tugged at his cousin’s arm so that he would turn around, but as he looked at the window he realized that the dragon wasn’t there anymore. “Maybe it was the Fairysnuff”, he admitted and giggled. “Do you think I’ll see another dragon if I take more?”

“Ohhhh”, he made – he really seemed to make that sound a lot that trial - as he saw the skirt that his cousin had found. “I think I need one of those as well!” He started to root around in Grandmother Ebony’s wardrobe, throwing the clothes that he did not like onto the floor until he came across a particular gem. It was not a skirt, but a silk dress that was decorated with lots of colourful flowers and that had buttons at the front. He stepped into the dress, but buttoning it seemed to be quite hard for some reason, so he just left it as it was, proudly displaying his naked and decidedly masculine chest.

“I make Faith wear a lot of corsets”, he replied, as if that was a thing to be proud of and moved to help his cousin with his corset which was quite a challenge since his fingers still didn’t obey him entirely. “You need some of those as well though!” he insisted, reached into Grandmother Ebony’s jewelry box, grabbed a handful of her most expensive necklaces and rings and tossed them towards Andráska. Having done that, he put on a bright red hat that was decorated with something that resembled a stuffed bird (a very ugly stuffed bird), put his hands on his hips and presented himself to his cousin.

“Don’t I look hot?” he asked and nearly had a laughing fit.
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[Venora] Double Trouble

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"My two natures had memory in common."
40th of Vhalar, 716 Arc
  • Andráska laughed at his cousin's promise of a dragon until his sides hurt, not quite sure why he found the prospect so amusing, "Maybe," Being unfamiliar with fairysnuff, Andra didn't want to encourage his cousin to indulge in more, least it be too much, "It might come back if you wait," The noble turned, admiring himself in the mirrror again and spinning so that the fabric around his waist swished and twirled. Something looked familiar...

    "Isn't this the skirt everyone's talking about? With the wind?" He struggled to find the right words, Tristan's fingers tugging at the newest addition to his outfit. The corset resisted his body a bit, but with one full proof tug, he grimaced, sucking in his breath as his waist was given curves. His shoulders looked unnecessarily broad, giving him a cartoonish appearance, "What's it called? A marilyn skirt, or something? We we're talking about it at the Gazette the other day." Andras fussed over the position of the bodice, finding it hard to move or even breath. What kind of outfit was this?

    "I make Faith wear a lot of corsets," Tristan said, and then a flurry of jewelry was being tossed his way. Eyes widening, when they flew through the air, the gems seemed to sprout wings and begin to flutter, leaving him to reach out and try to grab something that wasn't there. It wasn't until his bare toes brushed against a pearl necklace that he leapt back in surprise and then laughed at himself. Something about Faith rang a bell, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly distracted by the glittering items on the carpet. He scooped them up and began to drape the necklaces and pearls across his neck, slipping on gold rings and splaying his fingers for display.

    "Don't I look hot?"

    "Not as hot as me," Andras countered, flashing a smile at his cousin, "Wanna have a contest?" Dancing across the room to the elaborate vanity against the wall, he abandoned the wardrobe for a different sort of appearance, "Whoever makes the prettiest girl wins," his smile was devious, "But I'll warn you, I have an advantage, being the best looking one in the family."

    And then his fingers reached out for the boxes and jars on the table. A number of colored eyeshadows and lipsticks stared back at him, not having the slightest clue how to begin. But he always loved a game, "Think your acting can help you now? If I win, I want a favor," He unscrewed a lid and dipped his index finger into a pale pink pomade, leaning close to the mirror and dabbing it experimentally on his lips.
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[Venora] Double Trouble

Tristan pouted a little as he heard his cousin’s words, but then he agreed happily – for some reason he found it hard to be in a bad mood for long at the moment, “I’ll wait then. What do dragons eat, Andráska? Do you know? Should I get something from the kitchen for it? Or do dragons eat wood? After Elyna had killed Veljorn she escaped on a dragon, and Faith and she landed in the street in front of my house. The dragon immediately burned Mrs. Delner’s tree down!” He giggled some more. Had he been a little less high he might have realized that his involvement in the end of the civil war would better be kept a secret – especially since Veljorn had been Andráska’s brother in law - but alas, he had lost nearly all common sense, and his attention span was even shorter than it usually was.

As his cousin mentioned the skirt with the wind, he immediately forgot his new imaginary friend again and nodded enthusiastically. “The Marilyn skirt”, he informed him. He was proud that he still remembered the name. For some reason his memory did not work as well as it once had. “I make Faith wear a lot of those as well. And Victory curls. I ordered her to always wear her hair in Victory curls this season because my slave needs to be fashionable. Do you think I’d look good with Victory curls as well?” He grabbed a fistful of his rather messy hair abruptly and looked at it as if he were seriously considering a new hairstyle.

“I’m the prettiest”, he insisted as Andráska informed him that he was not as hot and glared at his cousin, but then he agreed, “Fine. Let’s have a contest. I’ve always wanted to have a Venora beauty contest. Do you think we could invite Alistair and Teddy as well? Alistair would look sooo good in a Marilyn skirt and Victory curls!”

“I love owing people favours!”
he informed his cousin brightly. “I’ll do whatever you want! What shall I do for you?” He looked at Andráska questioningly, and then he grabbed a few necklaces as well and draped them around his neck. Having done that, he put another necklace on that ridiculous hat he was wearing because the bird on it needed to look pretty as well.

While Andráska painted his lips, Tristan took some of Grandmother Ebony’s eyeliner and eyeshadow and tried to apply those, stabbing himself in the eyes a couple of times in the process. The end result was not too bad in his opinion though. It was just very … black.

His cheeks needed a bit more colour as well though, he decided, so he put some red stuff that he didn’t know the name of on them and then tried to push his cousin away from the mirror because he wanted to take a closer look at his reflection. “Wow”, he only said.
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"My two natures had memory in common."
40th of Vhalar, 716 Arc
  • "You might," Andras replied to his cousin's inquiry about the sucess of victory curls in his hair, "I prefer to keep my hair down," his voice had taken on a snooty, entitled tone; not unlike his mother when she flaunted around at her fancy parties, "I prefer to keep my hair down. I don't follow trends, trends follow me." He acted out an imaginary hair flip, and had to fight the grin that was tugging at his now pink mouth. He rubbed his lips together, wiping away some of the smudges around the edges. His reflection started to shimmer in the mirror, glitter sparkling in his hair - no doubt due to how pretty he was.

    Tristan stood no chance! "Alis and Teddy wouldn't be able to hold a flame. Look at us! Alis is an old man, and Teddy's a child. We're in our prime, cousin. Even ol' Gran would have to compliment us." Andras reached for a stick of kohl that rolled itself across the vanity towards him. It was begging to be used.

    No, really. Andras could hear its high, animated voice, - "Pick me! Pick me!" Eyebrows raising in interest as his attention pointed to the dark make up stick, Andras couldn't deny the request. He picked it up and, not quite sure what to do, brought it to his eye and tried to trace his water line. Black began to line his eye, and he leaned forward to get a closer look in the mirror. With concentration, he worked hard not to stab his eye, but failed when he thought he saw a reflection of himself trapped within his iris. Andraska held his breath, looking closer. In the dark circle of his eyes was a figure - himself, pounding against his pupil to be set free. He jerked back, and gasped, and dropped the pencil.

    He hastily reached for some blush, scared to finish his other eye. Maybe later.

    "What shall I do for you?" Tristan asked, and Andras leapt from his seat, dusting the pink powder on his already tinted face.

    "I want to play music!" he declared, patting down his hair. Then, an idea occurred to the male, who always found solace in his cello. If there was a piece of himself trying to come out, perhaps it would in a different form, "Let me play some music for you play," he requested, "I can write something for the cello. What's the play about?" He had saw it mentioned in the Gazette... or at least he thought he did. The reporters down there were always rambling about something.

    "Who's going to be in it?"
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[Venora] Double Trouble

“You look pretty!” Tristan remarked and stared at his cousin’s pink lips fascinatedly. “Almost like one of the girls at the House of Roses! I go there quite frequently. But sometimes I just draw the girls. Can you believe that? I visit a brothel to draw!” He shook his head incredulously. “But once I won a fake slave auction, and then Faith, Lucille and I …” He broke off abruptly as his gaze fell on an intensely red lipstick. Who would have thought that Granny Ebony did not only own corsets, but also that? He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his grandparents did when they were alone because he had certainly never seen the dignified old duchess wear bright red lipstick in public.

He put it on, smearing it a little because he wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to putting on lipstick although he had watched Faith do her makeup a couple of times. So he grabbed one of his grandmother’s lacy handkerchiefs and removed the superfluous lipstick from his face before he admired his reflection in the mirror, pursing his lips as if he wanted to kiss himself – or Andráska!

He hadn’t expected his cousin to call in his favour quite so soon, so he just stared at him for a moment before he clapped his hands excitedly. “You really should! You could play a solo! The king will be there! It will be awesome!” He was so high and drunk that he had forgotten that he had been nervous and the play would probably be a terrible disaster. Instead he was quite enthusiastic about it. Being enthusiastic was nice.

“Sex and violence”, he proudly informed Andráska as he asked him what the play was about. “There’s a king who is married to a woman that he doesn’t love. And then there’s this guy who looks like Peake, but really isn’t him and who loves the king. He betrays the king because the king doesn’t return his love. And then there’s this skyrider who the king is in love with. It’s a bit of a mess, but in the end the king gets his girl, and the bad guys die. Although I actually considered letting the bad guys win. The bad guys never win!” For a moment Tristan felt like crying. The bad guys needed some love as well!

“Daliane Andaris!” he replied as his cousin wanted to know who would be in it. He was smiling again. “He’s my friend, so I offered him the leading role. Nepotism is great! He’s also a good actor though … I think.” He furrowed his brow a little as he wondered whether Daliane really was a good actor. “And Daliane’s relative Jane is in it as well, and he has to kiss her even though she’s like thirty, and Daliane’s gay. She’s really pretty though. Valeria Macerys is playing the skyrider and …” He spent the next several bits rattling off the names of all his actors, occasionally stumbling over a name because being high didn’t exactly make you better at pronouncing complicated words.
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