he awoke painfully from his lengthy dreams, sweat streaming down his forehead and into his eyes, burning them with a raw fury that he knew all too well. his dreams had shaken him, ravaged his mind in the many days spent unconscious in his bedchambers, utterly isolated from his redheaded beast. of course, she wouldn’t understand that this was all a huge understanding, because at this point, he wasn’t even sure of it himself. his head ached, his slumber providing him with insufficient refreshment. he knew not what the day was--he knew little of this sinful ball that was to take place and was presently going on without his knowledge.

he sits up weakly, his muscles tense and tender, attempting to untangle himself from the satin sheets. what had gone on when last he was awake? what sickening endeavours had he pursued? the jigsaw pieces of memory lay scattered in his mind, he remembers very little of that dark night when he and Lamia last met. his stomach ached and head spun, informing him of the amount of intoxicants involved. a mental picture of Lamia above him, her fists pounding down on him in a fatal fury, surfaced in his mind. he is aware of a significant secret surfacing, although he is unsure of what it was.

he pulls on his cloak, weary and confused and makes for the ball room in high hopes of answers. his head pounded in rhythm with his bare feet as they slapped against the stone floor, his steps uneven, his breath hoarse. as he neared the ball room, a sickening sting shot through him. the ball room was busy with guests, draped in colourfully deviant attire, all bustling around, drinks in hand, faces beaming with contentment. in he came in a bewildered fury and stumbled through the crowd in search of Lamia, in search of answers. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- he peers through the crowd of sinners for that was the conclusion he was brought to by their eerie adornments. he spots Lamia, sitting placidly, a snake in her arms and smirk on her face. her head turns and his eyes meet with hers momentarily, the large serpent in her arms barely half as threatening as her eyes. it was apparent to him now that he had wronged his sister deeply, and once again, the mental image of her infuriated features looming over him as her menacing wrath pounded down on him.

there was something else in that crept upon her features in an irritated agony, an forced hesitation. he saw her shoot an angered glance in Ophelia’s direction and knew at once that the dark-haired monarch was the only thing stopping his redheaded sister from thrashing him once more. he was not under any influence of a drug, but his head swam and his mind reeled. he was even more vulnerable now in his astonished perplexity than he was in his earlier drunkenness. he knew his sister far to well to let her threatening glance escape the impression of threat, and indeed, once becoming a caged animal, Lamia’s power lacked any form of innocence and made up for it ferocity. it wasn‘t necessarily that Lamia overpowered him in strength, surely he was always a fervent fighter in any state. he cared too much for Lamia to hurt her any more than he already had. he knew when push came to shove, he would allow his sister to defeat him.

he brushed away confusion, it making him even more susceptible to another harsh thrashing. Ophelia would do what she could, but at some point or another, he would have to face her fury. he folded his hands in his lap, plastering a composed look across his features. kaleign has learned from his eastern tribe that the best way to conceive others was to conceive yourself. he did this now, convincing himself that he was just another character at this delightful ball. he stands up and walks placidly towards the refreshments, towards Ophelia, and safety as he can narrowly perceive it in his boggled state. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- he catches glimpse of the cat-like dispute going on not far from him before lifting a glass of blood-wine to his parched lips. the crimson liquid rolling over his tongue and spilling down his throat. he chokes, slightly, his edginess revealed as the snake brushes past his care foot, it’s scales grazing his bare skin. his back tenses, his spine arching backwards at her cold touch. he fights off paranoia and forces a docile smile, his head cocking over his shoulder to meet her formal eyes.

her prim tone is somewhat uncanny, her speech lacking the affectionate feeling that it once possessed. he warily matches her tone, stepping backward slightly, distancing himself from her cautiously. he glances to the floor to see the serpent slither underneath the refreshment table, causing him to eye the table suspiciously at sharp intervals. he matches her decorum, raising the crystal glass to his lips once more--doubtlessly an unwise decision. he sighs after a lengthy gulp, returning his attention to his sister. " . . Perhaps." the word comes out not coldly, but absent-mindedly, and his attention seems gathered by something behind her, although nothing of large interest lingers there.

he is dazzled with his own behaviour, treating his own sister like a stranger. this unpleasant shield he has taken up to protect himself will likely end up enraging her further. unquestionably, the two would get on much more pleasantly if kaleign would act kindly on his predictions of his sister’s outrage, rather than ignoring it and pushing her temper. of course, he delighted in this game they played, although he wouldn’t admit it. although, she in all probability felt the same way, memories of their childhood competitions bringing to his face a light grin. at once his face darkened. they weren’t children any longer, and this was one sick game. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- his lips tighten as she draws near to him, her rich scent so close to him, her breath, with that slight tinge of staleness--alcohol, no doubt. he grows uneasy with her so near to him, her anxiousness to pick his brain, to eavesdrop on his frightful thoughts. he was near to breaking when the slap ensued and Lamia left him to tend to the quarrel. he let out a quiet sigh of relief as she withdrew and took a large gulp of blood-wine to ease his guardedness. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- he quirks a brow at Josephina and the stranger--Vito, his name was. he had not time enough to shake the immortal’s hand before he departed, this, he shrugged off. Josephina had also disappeared now, not uncommon for her. he shakes his head, lips returning to his glass to empty it of the crimson liquid. he sets it down on the table and picks up another, gaze searching for Lamia. when only her red mane was seen, in the hall, distorted by the panes of glass in the ballroom door, he turned his attention to Ophelia.

the raven-haired monarch seemed distant, her . . . --------------------CUT OFF-------------------