Author's note: I am sorry for the long delay. I was both overwhelmed with university and in a deep crisis of motivation since I was not sure whether people are still reading this or not. So like, I would be grateful for some sort of headsup if anyone here is still on board! I hope I will be able to return to a normal posting schedule soon
Aris I – South Korea, 16th November, 21:00
Cheeky Cherry. Lovedrunk. Cruel Crimson. Frenemy. Lady Danger. Backstab. Bubblegum Queen. Aris remembered watching a movie. A woman is more likely to buy a lipstick named after food or sex. Food or sex? Aris reached for Lady Danger. Nothing mattered anymore, but she could still try to look cute. She put on her make-up for no one. Sometimes she wanted to go out and wander the streets forever and never come back. She wanted to carve out whatever Crombel had planted in her and come free from the grasp he held on her. He was truly despicable. If he had any decency, he would have left nothing of her. Or maybe he just did not know how to brainwash better. Maybe he half-assed this intentionally. Maybe she was not good enough, or maybe he was just cruel enough to leave her half a brain. Let her wither and simmer in the knowledge that she was no longer herself.
She was going to die. Aris wanted to cry, but her eyeliner was perfect, and her lipstick was cute too, and she hated it, and she hated Crombel, and she hated everything, but oh she did not want everything to end, not the way Master wanted to. No. Not master. Yes Master. Anger and rage turned into sickness, an overwhelming nausea that made her disgusted to the point of breathlessness. She could not stand the taste and smell of bile. Quickly, she reached out for her peach-flavoured iced tea and emptied almost the entire glass. She no longer felt sick, just bloated, and disgusting, and too full.
An hour later, she felt empty, and another thirty-five minutes passed before a grumble in her stomach made her aware of her hunger. Her bare feet tapped softly against the cold floor as she headed for the kitchen. A light, and the smell of coffee. Why was she not surprised to find Yuri making coffee at this time of the evening?
"Can't sleep either?", he asked and Aris shook her head. The fridge was almost empty, and she glanced at the six strawberry yogurts. She hated strawberries.
"Yuri, there is nothing to eat. Get me something."
"I am not your assistant anymore," he pointed out dryly and got up. Aris pouted when he walked past her to grab a mug from the cupboard. Had she been this bad to him? While she knew that he was not loyal to her... she never thought he would go as far as he had done. Seized by wave of an emotion she barely understood, Aris let out a dry sob, and she feared for her life and her eyeliner. Yuri shifted uncomfortably. Most men were uneasy when women started crying.
"I can go with you to get something," he offered, and Aris stopped sobbing. Some fresh air would be good anyway. Ten minutes later, they were outside, strolling down the street. Cities like Seoul rarely slept. They ended up entering a small shop off high street, and Aris handed him her coat. A gentleman should take care of a girl's jacket, even when he was a horrible traitor who was now stuck in the same depressing situation.
Aris sat down on one of the bright green plastic chairs near the back of the coffee shop and she hoped that they were still serving food. The young woman was wiping the counter with a sponge while Yuri talked to her, though Aris found herself unable to actually pick up on the words spoken. They went in and out, and she heard just noise.
Yuri returned with a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. Quietly, he placed the tea in front of her and, without even trying it, Aris dropped in the three sugar cubes that have been placed on the edge of her saucer. It was undrinkable now.
"What do you want to eat?", he asked and she answered with a shrug. She was not even hungry anymore. Yuri gave an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Aris stirred the sugar in her tea while he got up to order food.
He returned and sat back down. "I ordered a bowl of japchae for you. Vegetarian, No onions."
Aris thought for a moment and nodded. Not that she was a vegetarian, but most meats disgusted her.
Idly, she ran her index finger along the rim of the cup and almost lamented the state of her nails. Why did she paint them black? That was so tacky, so overly dramatic. Anyone would get depressed with black nails like that. Maybe she should paint them pink when they got back.
The waitress arrived with two bowls of steaming hot food, fresh, and Aris briefly felt a flight of nausea at the intensity of the smell. She wanted to push the plate away, and leaned back instead. Yuri paid no attention to her and reached for the chopsticks.
"What do you think about?", she asked. Maybe she would just have the food packed and take it back with her and eat it in the privacy of her own room. She didn't like eating around other people.
Yuri shrugged. "... I think about..."
For a brief moment, Aris wondered whether she would receive another of his suave lies. He never let anyone close, did he? Even now, when everything was sort of over anyway. What did he try to hide even now that everything was pretty much going down the gutter? She wanted to see just a glimpse of the real Yuri. Just once.
"... Miss Seira. The noble clan leader. She haunts my thoughts and my dreams like a ghost."
Aris felt an awful jealousy stir inside of her as he went on about the beauty and grace of this noble woman. Not because she wanted Yuri, but because she wanted him to want her. After a few minutes, she picked up her chopsticks. The noodles were good.
Yuri finished his coffee and Aris bit her lower lip. Were they friends? She had no idea what they were anymore, but maybe it did not matter. "You know, you should ask her out."
He perked up, caught off-guard by her suggestion. It was simple though, wasn't it? Crombel would destroy everything, and most importantly, them. Aris leaned forward slightly. "You know Crombel is going to kill everyone. You might as well go ahead and ask her. What's the worst that can happen? She kills you? So what. Then at least you get done in by a cute girl. That's low-key romantic."
He laughed nervously and pushed up his glasses. His demeanour changed when talking about Seira and Aris did not like it. Still, his laugh made her smile. He really was a bastard for selling her out like that. But maybe it was okay. Not because everything would be okay, but because nothing would. They were as good as done for anyway.
"Alright. I will ask her... soon."
Raskreia V – Werewolf Island, 24th November, 10:00
Ignes visited her almost daily and her plea was always the same one. Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Sanctuary. Did she not understand that she was asking for things no one could give her? Not after everything that had happened. Not when the fate of Lukedonia was all down to how long the clan leaders had to come up with a plan that would allow them to turn everything around. If she were to escape now, with or without Ignes... then the werewolves would strike at once, no matter whether the nobles were ready or not.
Raskreia could see the traitor noble slip into despair more and more and she could guess what the werewolf Lord did to knock Ignes off her usual cocky attitude. Seeing her like that made Raskreia feel something very unpleasant: pity. Did murderous traitors deserve pity? What about mercy? What about forgiveness? Could one good deed wash away the blood of so many innocents? Even if escape would not put the entirety of Lukedonia at even greater risk... could she call herself a good, just and reasonable Lord if she allowed Ignes to buy forgiveness like that?
Once more, steps approached down the seemingly endless flight of stairs. Once more, Ignes would come to trample whatever was left of her own pride in vain hopes. She wanted to ask her to stop just so she would not have to see it anymore.
Ignes carried a torch, as usual, and she looked somber, face colorless. Raskreia waited for Ignes to replace the burnt-out stump of yesterday's torch. She did appreciate the hours of light. Hesitation lingered in the air. This time, Ignes did not kneel before her. In fact, she didn't even manage to look her in the eye. Shame. While this was not something she got to see often, Raskreia did recognize it. Good. However, she was afraid that Ignes was probably ashamed for the wrong reasons. Not for the many crimes she was guilty of, but for whatever happened here. She could tell what kind of a man the Lord was, after all. Unfortunately, Raskreia also knew what kind of a person Ignes was.
"Raskreia, please." Ignes' tone had changed over the course of her past visits. "What point is there in refusing to help me? As if you staying here will help anyone! I can help. Let me help."
Raskreia swallowed and forced herself to maintain eye contact, even though the hopeless despair in Ignes' eyes made her want to look away. She didn't want to see any of this, lest her decision might be clouded by emotion and sentimentality. Not even the Lord was immune to poor judgement.
Ignes' lower lip quivered – and, for the first time, she started to cry. Within moments, her dry sobs turn into heart-wrenching sobs as her shoulders slumped. The tension and anger of these weeks all came undone at once before her, and Ignes fell apart and spilled all she had tried to keep in. Despite everything, Raskreia wish she could leave behind these chains and this cell and offer even a tiny bit of comfort. No one should be brought to this point of despair.
"... Anything is better than this!" A shaky breath, cut short by a barely stifled sob. "Save me You. Anyone. Anyone just.. save me. Lord! Raskreia! Help me!" Slowly, Ignes' forehead sank forward as her fingers coiled around the cold metal bars.
Raskreia was taken aback by the intensity of the plea, and for the first time, Ignes no longer tried to frame it as an attempt at helping her and the nobles of Lukedonia. She was out for herself – and once more, she found herself torn between justice and compassion. Raskreia chose compassion.
"Ignes Kravei." Raskreia raised her voice just slightly, enough to make sure that it would break through Ignes' breathless, helpless sobs. "I cannot grant you sanctuary. No one can. No one is safe from the tyrant who sits on the throne of the werewolves. As long as he is their Lord, no one will be able to protect you."
Ignes exhaled shakily. Surely she must know. Why did she come here, day after day, as though she had not seen Raskreia lose to the werewolf Lord? What was she hoping for? Maybe these were the lies people must tell themselves to keep going. If Ignes had nothing else to hope for, maybe she chose to hope for help from Lukedonia instead.
"However," the Lord continued, and the scientist looked up at once, and though her breath still trembled and shook with soft sobs, she no longer wailed like a helpless child waiting for rescue. "... You always have been resourceful, Ignes. Does Maduke still trust you?"
"... He... he doesn't trust anyone. Maybe to an extent."
"If you can still move freely, freely enough to think you can free me from here.. You can think of something. These sigils hold me here. Even if we passed them, my escape would do nothing but provoke an immediate counter attack."
"... then it is hopeless?"
"No. You are resourceful. As your Lord, Ignes Kravei, I order you: find a way to neutralize the threat. If you are able to contact Lukedonia, I want you to do so."
Raskreia drew upon what little power she could use with the magic sigils and shackles binding her, and summoned forth a scroll. Those mythic scrolls meant for the eyes of acknowledged clan leaders, carrying her orders.
"Maybe this will help." The scroll floated in the air and towards Ignes who picked it up with a shaking hand. Tears of relief welled up in her eyes as she clutched the magic scroll to her chest. "This is a confirmation that you are our ally, for the time being, and will be pardoned when your task is complete."
Ignes was right. Vile as she may be, she was the lesser evil. What good would come from sitting here and waiting? Besides... in these moments... She felt as though the younger woman was not a lost case. With a loud sob that sounded like a laugh, Ignes sank to her knees, still clutching the scroll as though her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
"Thank you," she whispered, and despite her tears, her smile was genuine now. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I... I will find a way. I swear, I will find a way."
Raskreia couldn't help but return the smile. "Either you find a way, or you make one."