M tiptoed into the grand hall, a relut wito the fallout from Burn's noal extravaganza. The once lively room was now a tableau of debauchery's leftovers, a sprawl of Burn's mewined in a dance of drunken slumber.
The air, thick with the aroma of stale ale, sweat, and the ghost of perfumes past, seemed to hold its breath, as if trying tet the sins of the night before. The first light of day, unapologetically harsh, s way through the dirt-streaked windows, casting a judgemental glow over the remnants of the night's excesses.
Burn, the puppet master of the night's revelries, was an isnd of satisfaidst a sea of unscious bodies. His men’s snores provided the baselio a symphony of occasional groans, muffled snorts, and the rhythmic drip-drip of an unclosed keg that someone had left as a moo their inebriation.
The women, strewn across him were as motionless as discarded marioheir stillness broken only by an occasional twitch h. The quiet alpable entity, a sileament to the headaches-in-waiting and the memories that would be better off drowned in a sea of fetfulness.
Marissa's eyelids fluttered open, her body wedged between a noblewoman and the man himself, Burn. They were draped over him like a pair of well-worn shawls, the terpiece of this tableau of debauched dece.
It was a familiar se, the kind of m-after that could only occur after nights fuelled by Burn's legendary hospitality.
Occasionally, a particurly adventurous—or perhaps fortunate—damsel would mao weave her way into Burn's bed, being his paramour for the night. Yes, Burn was nothing if not a generous host.
Bured his women with a courteous detat. He would ehey were well pensated for their time, allow them to bask ierglow of his attention until they wearied of the game... mostly because the game held little appeal for him.
To Burn, they were like butterflies—beautiful to behold, but ultimately, fleeting distras. His i in them was as temporary as their presen his bed, a mutual uanding that suited everyone involved.
Marissa remembered what he told her st night.
“Be her servant.”
The man told Marissa to bee that woman’s servant.
At times, Marissa found herself p a great "what if". Would Burn ever find a reason to settle down? Would there ever be a womareat differently? Not some fleeting bedfellow, but someone he would want to keep by his side for more than an intoxicated night or two.
Or at least, someone he would utilize differently?
It was then that she noticed a small locket led against Burn's chest. With nothier to do—and perhaps a dash of curiosity stoked by the m's revetions—she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the locket befently prying it open.
What she saw inside made her eyes widen.
It was that woman. Not just any woman, but a woman whose portrait seemed to be painted with a warmth and affe wholly uncharacteristic of Burn. This wasn't just another fa the crowd; this was a face that held a pce of honor in a locket close to Burn's heart.
It ainful to aowledge, like a punch to the gut, that there might be more to Burn's retionships than she had thought.
Who the hell was this Miss Momo? Who was this celestial beauty that had seemingly captured the i of the untamed Emperor Burn? Was she the ohe one who had cultivated a seed of love in Burn's otherwise barre? The one who had brought light into his life?
And then, the light entered.
No, not that self-righteous ball of gas one call the sun, who'd already passed its hungover judgment on the se—it was the ht, Man Le Fay.
She slipped through the protesting hall door, a box cradled in her arms. It was filled with bottles, each radiating a glout even the gaudiest of disco balls to shame. The liquid within each bottle swirled and glittered like magic.
Her steps silent, she navigated the battlefield of inebriated warriors, arriving at the side of young Yvain.
The only child present, Yvain had been part of the night's festivities, surrounded by Bure. The boy had been staying up past his bedtime, a rare treat, and was now lost in a sleep as deep as the o.
As his guardian, Man couldn't help but feel a twinge of , but then again, what's childhood without a little rule-breaking?
The boy, Yvain, had remained on the safer shores of non-alcoholic beverages st night, so he wouldn't need anything more rejuvenating than a warm bath, a hearty breakfast, and a few more hours of sleep.
His greatest challenge would probably be scrubbing off the sticky residue of sugary drinks and the odd wayward streamer tangled in his hair.
Burn, oher hand, well... Burn might require a dash more attention—
Navigating the post-party debris with the grace of a gazelle in a a shop, Man finally arrived at her destination.
She deposited her box of miracles on the low table in front of Burn, pushing aside the empty soldiers of a war waged on sobriety to make room. With a sigh of stnation, she perched herself oable, taking a moment to assess the se before her.
There, in the eye of the Hurrie Burn, was the man himself. Caliburn, the monarch, sprawled out in slumber amongst a bouquet of noblewomen who framed his young and robust form like a cssical painting—albeit ohat would make a nun blush.
They y in tangled repose, seemingly undisturbed sihe night's shenanigans, their peaceful slumber a testament to the hedonistic merriment that had unfolded. Quite the party, indeed.
Man's gaze drifted down to Burn's knees, and she gave his funny bone a light knock, elig a small jolt.
"Ugh, what?" Burn grumbled, rousing from his alcohol-den slumber. His words froze in his throat as he found himself face-to-face with ahereal beauty, her smile radiant against the room's m light. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had crossed over to the other side—heaven.
But it was just Man.
"Here," she said, her voice as smooth as the potiorieved from her box. Unc the bottle, she ha to him. "Mana potion."
"Why?" His voice was a gravelly echo of its usual self, but he accepted the bottle heless.
"You don’t share your liquor as a precaution against poisht?" Man sifted through the empty witles, fishing out ohat was pletely drained. She held it up, sniffing its hollow interior. "Hmm, you even fi."
"I'm not footing the bill if some fool decided to steal a swig and died," Bured, his eyes narrowing at the potion Man had offered him.
She knew a run-of-the-mill antidote wouldn't do him any good, so she had procured mana potions instead. And not just any mana potion, but one of the rarest and most costly on the market...
Burn dowhe potion in a single gulp, not giving it a moment's thought.
"So this is your secret?" He asked, wiping a trace of the potion from his lips. "You don't need my kisses anymore now that you have these?"
With a sigh, Man reached into her box and brought out another potion. "I mao acquire these wheuro Edensor. Yvain brought even more for me whe here—" but Burn cut her off, pg a hand over hers.
"I'm fine. You should drink these yourself. Recover quickly," he said.
"Hey, you just ied a fair amount of poison st night. I easily produce more of these," Man tered, her brows furrowing in . "ossessed you to drink them in the first pce?"
"Standard liquor barely makes me tipsy, okay? These poisoned o least add a dash of... excitement," Bured, his words elig a stifled ugh from Man.
"You coct high-grade mana potions?" Burn asked.
"Who do you think I am?" Man replied.
"Point taken."
"Here."
"Fine," Burn ceded, reag out to take the proffered potion. In the end, he drank more, despite his initial resistance. But right after that, he became a bit suspicious, so he asked, “What's with this random kindness in the m? What do you want?”
Man blinked, a subtle spark of mischief glimmering in her eyes.
“What did you do?” Burn prodded, pulling her jaw to face him when she looked elsewhere, feigning ignorance.
“I read through your library,” Momo muttered with her moist, red lips.
“Huh?”
“The library near your chamber,” Man fessed, her words barely more than a whisper, her eyes closed in anticipation of his rea.
Burn narrowed his eyes again in fusion. “And?”
"I read all of it, okay! Your books, the ones you collected from outsiders... they were so fasating, I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry!" Man's voice was a mix of excitement and apprehensioone rising even if her volume didn't.
Burn blinked. “Okay?”
“You’re not angry? You’re not hiding them?” Man meekly asked, her regretful expression so beautiful and adorable Burn wao squeeze it.
“You think I o hide something? Silly, they’re just normal cultural material—”
“Even the weird ones?”
“What do you mean, weird ones? I don’t have weird taste—pfft—”
Man burst into a fit of giggles as Burn attempted to stifle his own ughter. "It's okay, on sed thought, they weren't that weird," she teased, her whispers punctuated by bouts of ughter.
“They’re not weird at all, Miss Momo,” Burn tered, feigning indignation.
“Yeah, they’re not,” she teased.
“You said they’re exg, so you’re just as weird as me.”
"It's not about prefere's research. I love learning about hings."
“Sure. So, did you sneak out st night and read until m?"
“Yup.”
“Pffft—”
Maybe it was because he was in a great mood. Whether it was the lingering effects of the wine, or perhaps the poison, Burn found himself surprisingly ined to ughter that m.
Oh, absolutely. Because what better way to keep the rumor mill quiet than to engage in flirtatious banter amidst a crowd of people who, at some point, had regained sciousness?
It was a fwless pn, truly. After all, who would possibly want to spoil such a delightful moment of shared amusement with the minor invenience of spreading sdalous whispers? No, not a soul. Bravo, you two. Bravo.
Augh, you know, not that they cared.
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Today, oh of July, is my birthday. No, no, my name is not America. It wasn't my fault that my parents had sex one day, 24 years ago, in the middle of the fall season, and that I was bht on Ameri Independence Day.
At least there are people celebrating with me today, right? Haha... :''''v
As I write this, my father came in and gave me a bread and a donut. Perhaps that will be as far as we go today. But I promise to buy a dle, blow it out, and make a wish today, food luck, you know?
Let's wish for success in writing!
ht, here's a mass release.
