99th of Ashan, 717
“Haven't you been to the gardens?”
He never thought much about where the roses came from. He had seen the bushes growing all around the duchy, almost everyone had a personal garden. His own estate had a grand one, however, there was probably actual greenhouses on the outskirts of town. Andráska wouldn't be have been surprised if his family had fresh flowers brought in every morning, given how extravagant they believed themselves to be.
He listened quietly as Freya opened up a bit more about her past, and watched her close herself off from him. He decided to change the topic, and lead her to his bedroom, which was well received.
Andras was surprised to find out how much Freya enjoyed his space, eyebrows lifting as he smiled and shrugged sheepishly, “My decorating style is a bit different than the rest of my family, I guess.” Truly, Andras did enjoy his wing of the estate more than others. It had a flair of whimsicality and color, but it didn't choke you with the floral theme of Venora. It had natural light that bounced around and created the ultimate experience for those... well, under the influence.
It didn't take long before he gravitated towards the bed, sitting down at the edge of the mattress and watching the way Freya's emotions played on her face. She seemed more focused on looking around the room, Andras almost losing the purpose of their exploration until she honed in on a specific bottle, reaching skywards and struggling to pull it down. He couldn't help but grin, rising back to his feet and ready to assist, but before he could offer his height advantage, she pulled it down and retrieved a little package from the neck.
“My, my,” he purred, suddenly very pleased as he was handed the small pouch, “You're quite the sleuth, Freya Darling.” It looked like drunk Andráska was feeling generous the night before, allowing for actual reward and not the occasional trickery, “What has my alter ego left as our reward?”
With deft fingers he unwrapped the package carefully and looked into the pink eyes of his companion when two smaller bags were tied off, with a tiny scrap of paper rolled into a scroll. He opened it up, and read the sloppy note, straining to make the letters out now, “Pick... Pick your poison.” Tucking the paper into his pocket, he handed a bag to his friend.
His own held a pale red dust that looked familiar, but something in his stomach clenched when he saw it. But... He couldn't remember what it was. He dipped his finger in it, trying to smell the powder without inhaling it, and then... with a small shrug, poured the small dose into his mouth. It settled on his tongue, where he let it sit and absorb, immediately noticing the tingling sensation. This... was definitely familiar...
“Don't worry,” he finally said, “It's probably harmless.”
'Probably.'
When she opened hers, he craned his neck to get a glimpse, and tried to identify hers. “What's it taste like?”
[/align]He never thought much about where the roses came from. He had seen the bushes growing all around the duchy, almost everyone had a personal garden. His own estate had a grand one, however, there was probably actual greenhouses on the outskirts of town. Andráska wouldn't be have been surprised if his family had fresh flowers brought in every morning, given how extravagant they believed themselves to be.
He listened quietly as Freya opened up a bit more about her past, and watched her close herself off from him. He decided to change the topic, and lead her to his bedroom, which was well received.
Andras was surprised to find out how much Freya enjoyed his space, eyebrows lifting as he smiled and shrugged sheepishly, “My decorating style is a bit different than the rest of my family, I guess.” Truly, Andras did enjoy his wing of the estate more than others. It had a flair of whimsicality and color, but it didn't choke you with the floral theme of Venora. It had natural light that bounced around and created the ultimate experience for those... well, under the influence.
It didn't take long before he gravitated towards the bed, sitting down at the edge of the mattress and watching the way Freya's emotions played on her face. She seemed more focused on looking around the room, Andras almost losing the purpose of their exploration until she honed in on a specific bottle, reaching skywards and struggling to pull it down. He couldn't help but grin, rising back to his feet and ready to assist, but before he could offer his height advantage, she pulled it down and retrieved a little package from the neck.
“My, my,” he purred, suddenly very pleased as he was handed the small pouch, “You're quite the sleuth, Freya Darling.” It looked like drunk Andráska was feeling generous the night before, allowing for actual reward and not the occasional trickery, “What has my alter ego left as our reward?”
With deft fingers he unwrapped the package carefully and looked into the pink eyes of his companion when two smaller bags were tied off, with a tiny scrap of paper rolled into a scroll. He opened it up, and read the sloppy note, straining to make the letters out now, “Pick... Pick your poison.” Tucking the paper into his pocket, he handed a bag to his friend.
His own held a pale red dust that looked familiar, but something in his stomach clenched when he saw it. But... He couldn't remember what it was. He dipped his finger in it, trying to smell the powder without inhaling it, and then... with a small shrug, poured the small dose into his mouth. It settled on his tongue, where he let it sit and absorb, immediately noticing the tingling sensation. This... was definitely familiar...
“Don't worry,” he finally said, “It's probably harmless.”
'Probably.'
When she opened hers, he craned his neck to get a glimpse, and tried to identify hers. “What's it taste like?”
