Crow

The ballroom gleams under crystal chandeliers, guests murmuring and moving like a river of silk and jewels. The 7th Prince, host of the evening, smiles and gestures with practiced warmth, drawing attention without effort. You stand near a marble pillar, a cup of coffee in hand — alcohol makes you ill — wearing a bunny‑maid outfit you made. The ears are stiff but elegant, the frills subtle; your handiwork extends to the Guild’s costumes as well.

Crow is at your side, plague‑doctor mask obscuring much of his face, hand resting lightly on your back. His voice, low and measured, cuts through the ambient chatter.

“I see you… in that outfit.” He tilts his head. “Do not let anyone near you. If they try, I will not forgive them.”

The curse undertone lingers — a whispered threat invisible to others.

Jade, in his angelic robes, moves toward you, smiling. “Crow, you wear the doctor well. Too formal for a party, perhaps, but it suits you. And you,” he gestures at you, “have outdone yourself. The prince would do well to employ you as a tailor.”

Ren, dressed as Poison Ivy, steps close to Crow. “I could poison them if they touch your wife… but your mask does enough intimidation.”

Talia, in a harlequin outfit, tinkles her bells softly. “If anyone is foolish tonight, I’ll make sure they regret it. Crow, you won’t need to lift a finger.”

Galilea, in spider-themed attire, adjusts his metallic threads. “Webs ready, exits mapped. Nothing reaches her without my notice.”

Babylon stretches his arm in a dramatic Elastigirl pose. “I’ve got every angle covered. Coffee stays safe, and no one bothers your wife.”

The 7th Prince approaches, bowing politely. “Your costume is most arresting, and your handiwork for my guests, generous. The plague doctor here seems devoted to silence.”

Crow’s shoulders tighten. “If the prince wishes it, I will consider removing the mask. But know that drawing attention is dangerous.”

Jade smiles, indulgent. “Very well. Consider it a favor to the host.”

Ren glances at the prince, whispering, “Keep your cup close. Coffee is less tempting than wine.”

Talia grins faintly. “Let anyone leer — they’ll regret it.”

Galilea nods. “Positions and roles remain. We stay close, seen but not suspected.”

Babylon adds, “And if that fails, I’ll bend the room itself. No one will touch her.”

Crow’s hand slides to your hip, possessive but quiet. “Stay by me,” he whispers. “If the night shifts, I will anchor you. If it breaks, I will be the steel that keeps you whole.”

Around you, the Guild laughs, teases, and watches, a silent wall of protection as the prince keeps his stage. You sip coffee, safe, and at the center of devotion.

You stand near the pillar, cup of coffee in hand, the bunny‑maid outfit perfect, ears stiff but elegant. Your handiwork extends to the Guild’s costumes — Crow in a plague‑doctor mask, Jade as an angel, Ren as Poison Ivy, Talia in a harlequin outfit, Galilea as a spider, and Babylon as Elastigirl. Each holds a drink; even Ren, at twelve, balances her cup carefully, mimicking adult poise.

You tilt your cup toward Crow. “Do you like it? I made it just for tonight.”

Crow leans closer, eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “…It suits you. Too well. Is it supposed to show that much cleavage..?” His voice drops. “Stay within reach. I don’t like strangers looking at what’s mine.”

His gaze flicks across the room, tracking glances, the curse‑speech undertone threading through his words — lethal even in jest.

Jade smiles from nearby, angel robes catching the light. He sips his drink before speaking. “Crow, ever the vigilant. But you look… restrained. Very fitting. And you,” he gestures at you, “have done a remarkable job with us all. The prince would do well to notice.”

Ren, small and poised despite being twelve, twirls her cup lightly. “I can handle anyone who stares,” she says, eyes on the crowd. “But you, Crow… your mask does most of the talking anyway.”

Talia jingles her bells with a grin. “If anyone tries to get close, I’ll make them regret it before Crow has to lift a finger.”

Galilea adjusts the threads on his spider costume. “Exits mapped, crowd monitored. Nothing reaches her unnoticed.”

Babylon stretches an arm across the space, his Elastigirl movements fluid. “Coverage complete. Coffee safe, wife protected, room secured. Crow, I’ve got you.”

Across the room, the 7th Prince, Prince Amadeo, the same age as Ren, steps forward, holding a small glass. He grins politely, eyes glittering with mischief. “Your costumes are… impressive,” he says, nodding at the group. “Crow, I hope the mask doesn’t hide all your charm tonight.”

Crow’s shoulders stiffen slightly but he does not answer aloud. Instead, his hand slides lightly to your hip, possessive and quiet. His eyes flick toward anyone daring to linger.

“Stay by me,” he murmurs, voice low. “If the night shifts, I anchor you. If it breaks, I will be the steel that keeps you whole.”

Jade chuckles softly. “Order is maintained. We remain a wall around you.”

Ren tilts her cup in agreement. “Distance is a lesson they’ll learn quickly.”

Talia jingles her bells again. “Let anyone overstep, they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

Galilea’s hand flicks across his webbed threads. “All paths secured. None may reach her without our knowledge.”

Babylon stretches again, grinning. “I cover every angle. Nothing will touch her.”

The group’s presence is quiet but absolute, a circle of protection and devotion around you. You sip your coffee, safe and observed, in the center of attention, love, and lethal care.