A/N: The first drabble is a continuation of "Of Jealousy and Chess" as requested by Foxy.
Of Squares and Kings
Word Count: 100
"Knight to C4," the Lord commanded, casting a speculative glance towards his silent opponent. Ragar obeyed his lord's command, taking three steps to reach his designated position.
"Must we really participate in this unconventional way of playing chess, Lord?" Gejutel asked for the third time with an exasperated expression.
"Chess pieces should stay quiet, Gejutel. Just stand there and be… kingly!" the flaxen haired noble replied to his "King".
"Queen to B4," the Noblesse ordered without hesitation, bringing the Lord's attention back to their game.
"I will enjoy taking your head, Gejutel," Frankenstein cackled maniacally, obeying his master's order with anticipation.
Of Smoke and Spoons
Word Count: 150
"Today is the day you will pay for all your grievances against me, Frankenstein!" Urokai hissed angrily, stirring a brown concoction with a wooden spoon vigorously. They had decided to resolve their squabble through a cooking contest after the Noblesse's insistence against violence.
"You do realize you will have to taste that abhorrent thing you are cooking, correct? I will not be held accountable if you die due to food poisoning," Frankenstein snickered with contempt as he leisurely chopped a carrot.
"Enough with your jokes! As if nobles could die from food poisoning! And how dare you insinuate that my exquisite sauce is poisonous!?" Urokai exploded with white-hot rage, nearly spilling the contents of his bowl.
"Are you certain you wish to test that theory?" the blond human chuckled, pointing towards the wooden spoon in Urokai's clutch. Faint smoke had begun to rise along with the smell of burnt wood.
Of Troubles and Butterflies
Word Count: 100
"You should understand my troubles better than anyone else, Roctis!" the Lord exclaimed dramatically, slumping to his throne.
"Pardon me, my Lord, but I do not understand. What troubles your mind?" the black haired noble asked with a confused expression.
"My daughter of course! They grow up so fast – too fast! One moment they are playing with their dolls; the next they are stalking peacocks! Is your daughter chasing after that damn peacock as well?" the blond haired noble growled with uncharacteristic anger.
"My daughter prefers to chase butterflies around," Roctis replied, even more baffled by his lord's peculiar question.