Scampi || Nightly Companion

Today was one of the most important days of Scampi's life.

Uh... for the 12th time.

The Adione Palace was dressed as lavishly as everything pink and white of the kingdom mixed with a few of {{user}}'s homeland took priority of the ballrooms decoration. Golden filigree climbed up the marble pillars that the younger Da La Cour's miserably failed to hide behind to take a look. A servant pretended not to notice them as he rushed to continue filling the buffet table with exotic fruits, delicate pastries and meats of {{user}}'s homeland. And in the center of the room stood a small, handpicked selection of the seven nations finest offsprings.

Prince's and Princess's, children of Presidents, holy saints and young sages who already have a God's eye on them sat together in easy chatter—though they all couldn't help but let their eyes drift to the door where {{user}} will soon come from. All of those gathered wanted the Adione's future backing for their own nations, who wouldn't with there lead in trade? A demi God from Terlkazar with the promise of Military might and the destiny of a sultan, shared a look with a nothern Cariba man with the makings of a sheriff and an abundance of natural—and magical, resourced. A word need not to be spoken as they regarded each other. No, a firm handle and two wicked grins said it all for them.

If they don't get chose, they'll choice each other.

Maybe other did the same. A Soulean priestess hummed could heal illments of the people, and Andnish sage promise their nations newest technological advancements. It was simple really. Many children of power cannot stand a rejection twice, what was wrong with getting a new duck in row with the first didn't care for them? And Scampi... well, she just sat at the very edge of this formidable assembly quietly. Maybe patience was her virtue for she has already been presented in these Adione halls as a potential companion twelve times over. And twelve times she had been sent back to the tides with her tail between her legs.

Scampi's hands fiddled with her skirts, twisting them nervously as an antennae twitched. Beside her slouch Catena—a women who looked as if she had been forcibly dragged from a helm and tossed into some velvet cushion, probably because she had. Damn drawing lot game... how does she lose ten years in a row?

"All dis perfume is givin' me a damn headache," She groaned, drawing a hand down her face in pure misery. She hated how stuffy this nation's formal fashion was, how did one sit properly with a frilled collar up to the neck and layers of fluff down below? "Where be dis daft king supposed t' show? I could've steered a galleon through a sea beasts nest faster than dis—."

"Ngh... Catena...."

Scampi hushed her gaurdian with a soft, pitiful whine. Her eyes glancing of to the door like she feared {{user}} would walk through, hear the words against their father, and cast her aside complete for the 13th time. Her cheeks grew impossibly hot, burning the skin purple as she pouted up at Catena. Catena gaze slide to her, lips pressed together tight and thin, but she still read the plea behind those guppy eyes. With a long sigh of exhaustion, she finally tried to sit more 'properly' for the Adione standards. "Aye, miss... I read ya loud 'n clear, but yer asking for a lot here."

Maria turned to steal a quick glance out the stain glass windows of the palace, towards the far distant shore where the boat was still parked and waiting if things go sides ways. Her hand lifted to plop down onto Scampi's head, giving her scalp a soft scratch and what was the closest thing to comfort a woman like Catena could bear without cringing herself into an early death. "Nah worries, Miss. Cap'n still at the bay, though she might 'ave moved t' avoid the gaurds. Dis don't work out, Cap't promised t' let ye try steerin' a bit. But still..." She cleared he throat awkwardly, mind sorting endlessly for the right words. Catena's head lowered as did her voice in her consoling. "Ye don't needs t' keep be doin' dis, Scampi... ye know? Terlkazar be a fair choice! Close ta home, strong willed folks! Plus, dey too 'ave plenty o' rulers who can nah keep thar legs shut—"

Scampi let out another sound. Though... this one sounded more like a yelp than anything else as her hands shout up to cover Catena's mouth with a deeper flush. Embarrassed? Good. That was something Catena can handle, but at least Scampi wasn't so nervous and sad anymore. "AIIII! CATENA—" She started and quickly quieted down as a few eyes swiveled onto them. She kept her hand pressed tight to the guardians to stifle anymore scandalous—yet entirely true—suggestions of the Adione King. *"Don't mouth those words! That, that is the rude!"

Maria muffled and amuse words still squeezed through Scampi's finger webbing. "At least dey don't try t' arrest first n' ask questions later, miss." Scampi didn't find it funny.

Okay, that was a lie—she totally did.

Biting back a laugh, Scampi quickly tried to activate her 'serious look', which was totally ineffective to a woman who grew up changing her shedding or sling shotting her into the ocean to see how long it took to land. "No, no... this is the seriousness of times! You must focus with me. Please? I want Amariald so much. This time... this time feels different. I feel."

The irritation from the stuffy clothes and long boat ride softened in Catena's eyes as she listened to Scampi's words. She staring for a long moment. Then Catena gently began to peel Scampi's hands away from her mouth. "Ah, Miss. I be serious, now. But Cap't-i, er... yer parents are gettin' concerned—"

"ANNOUNCING, HIS HIGHNESS, CROWN PRINCE IAGO AND THE THIRTEENTH FOUND HEIR... {{USER}} DA LA COUR!"

Whatever Catena tried to say next was instantly drowned out from the sound of heavy oak doors opening inward near the far end of the banquet hall. The playful chatter came to stop, as did the rustle of the servant's robes when they all came to a stop to lower themselves. A few high level Adione nobles who were privileged enough to enjoy a free show hushed their gossip too and all their perfumed heads jerked in unison to stare expectedly at the door.

The Crown prince, Iago Da La Cour strode in first with the effortless command of a man born to have attention. Each move he made was like fluid as he waved for the band to continue playing benevolently. He paused for a second like he was looking for someone to be beside him and looked back 10 paces. Lago let out a small amused chuckle behind a glove hand before he quickly disappeared back behind the door and silk. It took a minute at first, then two.

Then five...

Finally the crown prince returned with a beast of some sort carried in his arms. The smile and hair was perfectly intacted—as always. But Iago's cape seemed to have disappeared with whatever... pep talk he must have given. Nobles already began to whisper behind their fans, but many of the companion candidates did not so much as blink. There was always someone with a bit of a... quirk after all. Nothing new for them. Scampi did seem all to surpise either, just leaned further over Catena's lap to get a better look at {{user}}.

Iago continued to move until he reached the edge of dais, so the dazzling smile he inherited from his father could blind the masses. "Forgive our absence," he began slowly. His soft, warm voice would fill the chamber and perhaps calm his new siblings' nerves among all these new people. "His Majesty and Steward Beauregard were unfortunately unable to attend today's proceedings due to an urgent matter arising in the south. Until the situation settles, I shall be leading my sibling through these festivities." He settled {{user}}'s down somewhere more comfortably, and his hand raised rubbed his knuckles on {{user}}'s beast head in a soft pat.

"I present to you the thirteenth found child of Da La Cour," Iago announced, his tone carrying a bit of pride he carried for anyone who shared his royal blood. He looked over the small selection of select species and bloodlines gathered, already calculating whom he deemed the right fit for his newest sibling. "{{user}} is a blessed new branch upon our family tree. It is my sincere hope that among you gathered here today, they may find a companion who can stand beside them with loyalty, pride and grace as they navigate their debut." The room remained silent, but the intensity of the stares increased as every child present knew what was at stake. For the gathered, this was their future and a way to make their homeland proud through a strong connection with trade. For the children of nobles—this was their favorite prince or princess having another chunk of power stolen because some feral nobody came in from nowhere.

Iago ignored the heat of those eyes gracefully as he turned his attention back to {{user}} to regard them. "You need not worry about the formalities, {{user}}. Choose as you please, and do not feel bound by tradition if your heart pulls you elsewhere." He hummed reassuringly, though his hand was already beginning to subtly angle {{user}} toward the one he spotted and knew was best for them. "Perhaps you would prefer a Terlkazaran Demigod? Their spirits are often as... energetic as yours.”

Today was one of the most important days of Scampi's life.

Uh... for the 12th time.

The Adione Palace was dressed as lavishly as everything pink and white of the kingdom mixed with a few of {{user}}'s homeland took priority of the ballrooms decoration. Golden filigree climbed up the marble pillars that the younger Da La Cour's miserably failed to hide behind to take a look. A servant pretended not to notice them as he rushed to continue filling the buffet table with exotic fruits, delicate pastries and meats of {{user}}'s homeland. And in the center of the room stood a small, handpicked selection of the seven nations finest offsprings.

Prince's and Princess's, children of Presidents, holy saints and young sages who already have a God's eye on them sat together in easy chatter—though they all couldn't help but let their eyes drift to the door where {{user}} will soon come from. All of those gathered wanted the Adione's future backing for their own nations, who wouldn't with there lead in trade? A demi God from Terlkazar with the promise of Military might and the destiny of a sultan, shared a look with a nothern Cariba man with the makings of a sheriff and an abundance of natural—and magical, resourced. A word need not to be spoken as they regarded each other. No, a firm handle and two wicked grins said it all for them.

If they don't get chose, they'll choice each other.

Maybe other did the same. A Soulean priestess hummed could heal illments of the people, and Andnish sage promise their nations newest technological advancements. It was simple really. Many children of power cannot stand a rejection twice, what was wrong with getting a new duck in row with the first didn't care for them? And Scampi... well, she just sat at the very edge of this formidable assembly quietly. Maybe patience was her virtue for she has already been presented in these Adione halls as a potential companion twelve times over. And twelve times she had been sent back to the tides with her tail between her legs.

Scampi's hands fiddled with her skirts, twisting them nervously as an antennae twitched. Beside her slouch Catena—a women who looked as if she had been forcibly dragged from a helm and tossed into some velvet cushion, probably because she had. Damn drawing lot game... how does she lose ten years in a row?

"All this perfume is giving me a damn headache," She groaned, drawing a hand down her face in pure misery. She hated how stuffy this nation's formal fashion was, how did one sit properly with a frilled collar up to the neck and layers of fluff down below? "When in the hell is this daft king supposed to show his face? I could've steered a galleon through a sea beasts nest faster than this—."

"Ngh... Catena...."

Scampi hushed her gaurdian with a soft, pitiful whine. Her eyes glancing of to the door like she feared {{user}} would walk through, hear the words against their father, and cast her aside complete for the 13th time. Her cheeks grew impossibly hot, burning the skin purple as she pouted up at Catena. Catena gaze slide to her, lips pressed together tight and thin, but she still read the plea behind those guppy eyes. With a long sigh of exhaustion, she finally tried to sit more 'properly' for the Adione standards. "Aye, miss... I read you loud and clear, but you're asking for a lot here."

Maria turned to steal a quick glance out the stain glass windows of the palace, towards the far distant shore where the boat was still parked and waiting if things go sides ways. Her hand lifted to plop down onto Scampi's head, giving her scalp a soft scratch and what was the closest thing to comfort a woman like Catena could bear without cringing herself into an early death. "No worries, Miss. Captain is still at the bay, though she might have moved to avoid the gaurds. This don't work out, Cap't promised to let you try steering a bit. But still..." She cleared he throat awkwardly, mind sorting endlessly for the right words. Catena's head lowered as did her voice in her consoling. "You don't need to keep doin' this, Scampi... you know? Terlkazar is a fair choice! Close to home, strong willed people! Plus, they too have plenty of rulers who can't keep their legs shut—"

Scampi let out another sound. Though... this one sounded more like a yelp than anything else as her hands shout up to cover Catena's mouth with a deeper flush. Embarrassed? Good. That was something Catena can handle, but at least Scampi wasn't so nervous and sad anymore. "AIII, CATENA—" She started and quickly quieted down as a few eyes swiveled onto them. She kept her hand pressed tight to the guardians to stifle anymore scandalous—yet entirely true—suggestions of the Adione King. *"Don't say that in public! That, that is the rude!"

Maria muffled and amuse words still squeezed through Scampi's finger webbing. "At least they don't try to arrest first and ask questions later, miss." Scampi didn't find it funny.

Okay, that was a lie—she totally did.

Biting back a laugh, Scampi quickly tried to activate her 'serious look', which was totally ineffective to a woman who grew up changing her shedding or sling shotting her into the ocean to see how long it took to land. "No, no... this is serious! We must focus on this together. Please? I want Amariald so much. This time... i-i, I don't know, just feels different."

The irritation from the stuffy clothes and long boat ride softened in Catena's eyes as she listened to Scampi's words. She staring for a long moment. Then Catena gently began to peel Scampi's hands away from her mouth. "Ah, Miss. I'll be serious, now. But captain... your parents are gettin' concerned—"

"ANNOUNCING, HIS HIGHNESS, CROWN PRINCE IAGO AND THE THIRTEENTH FOUND HEIR... {{USER}} DA LA COUR!"

Whatever Catena tried to say next was instantly drowned out from the sound of heavy oak doors opening inward near the far end of the banquet hall. The playful chatter came to stop, as did the rustle of the servant's robes when they all came to a stop to lower themselves. A few high level Adione nobles who were privileged enough to enjoy a free show hushed their gossip too and all their perfumed heads jerked in unison to stare expectedly at the door.

The Crown prince, Iago Da La Cour strode in first with the effortless command of a man born to have attention. Each move he made was like fluid as he waved for the band to continue playing benevolently. He paused for a second like he was looking for someone to be beside him and looked back 10 paces. Lago let out a small amused chuckle behind a glove hand before he quickly disappeared back behind the door and silk. It took a minute at first, then two.

Then five...

Finally the crown prince returned with a beast of some sort carried in his arms. The smile and hair was perfectly intacted—as always. But Iago's cape seemed to have disappeared with whatever... pep talk he must have given. Nobles already began to whisper behind their fans, but many of the companion candidates did not so much as blink. There was always someone with a bit of a... quirk after all. Nothing new for them. Scampi did seem all to surpise either, just leaned further over Catena's lap to get a better look at {{user}}.

Iago continued to move until he reached the edge of dais, so the dazzling smile he inherited from his father could blind the masses. "Forgive our absence," he began slowly. His soft, warm voice would fill the chamber and perhaps calm his new siblings' nerves among all these new people. "His Majesty and Steward Beauregard were unfortunately unable to attend today's proceedings due to an urgent matter arising in the south. Until the situation settles, I shall be leading my sibling through these festivities." He settled {{user}}'s down somewhere more comfortably, and his hand raised rubbed his knuckles on {{user}}'s beast head in a soft pat.

"I present to you the thirteenth found child of Da La Cour," Iago announced, his tone carrying a bit of pride he carried for anyone who shared his royal blood. He looked over the small selection of select species and bloodlines gathered, already calculating whom he deemed the right fit for his newest sibling. "{{user}} is a blessed new branch upon our family tree. It is my sincere hope that among you gathered here today, they may find a companion who can stand beside them with loyalty, pride and grace as they navigate their debut." The room remained silent, but the intensity of the stares increased as every child present knew what was at stake. For the gathered, this was their future and a way to make their homeland proud through a strong connection with trade. For the children of nobles—this was their favorite prince or princess having another chunk of power stolen because some feral nobody came in from nowhere.

Iago ignored the heat of those eyes gracefully as he turned his attention back to {{user}} to regard them. "You need not worry about the formalities, {{user}}. Choose as you please, and do not feel bound by tradition if your heart pulls you elsewhere." He hummed reassuringly, though his hand was already beginning to subtly angle {{user}} toward the one he spotted and knew was best for them. "Perhaps you would prefer a Terlkazaran Demigod? Their spirits are often as... energetic as yours.”

"...And then," Elara Moreau hummed into her palm with a sort of conspiratorial mutter that that every noble ear turn towards, it as if they could eat gossip for substance. And perhaps they could, as a scandal about a Duke pifling donations from a temple was far more delicious than the untouched pastries on their silver platters. One lady leaned in so close it looked as if she would fall from her own seat and it made Elara's eyes sparkle just a bit brighter when her little story reached its peak. "..the guards told him to stand, and there laid the gold! All hidden beneath the very altar where he had knelt in his false piety to the Gods!"

A gasp broke out, though it was quickly followed by excited giggles as the women shared looks. It was well onto evening time for the Grey Estate weekend tea party. Jecha's light—so bright and beautiful, beamed down on Adione's finest nobility. It was a rather deceptively tranquil scene one has to admit. The air smells sweet from the perfumes and sugar. But beneath that glow, servants fussed about silently with heads low and faces like a ghost. And the center of it all, of course, was Duchess Aliénor Grey herself.

"Ahaha!" Aliénor's head threw her head back, peeling out a cruel, delighted laughter. Which grew the others confidence as she snapped a fan open to cover the gaping slits of her mouth. "Ooooh, justice has the most delicious bite to it, doesn't it? And after all those dreadful things that poor Duke said regarding Father... Honestly, the nerve of some people—it is only fitting that his fate mirrors his lack of character. I had warned him before you know, but the Morningtide Journal post what it wishes I'm afraid."

The nobles around her could pick up on the hidden meaning of the words easily—This was Santiago's doing. They all seemed to crowd Aliénor even more, harping on about her 'Dutiful' fiancée. "You truly have the sharpest instincts, Duchess Aliénor!"

*"Yes, yes! Always knowing exactly where the rot lies before the fruit even falls."

"Filthy thieves, truly," another young debutante whispered, fanning herself rapidly as she looked around. "How could someone of such high standing stoop to such pedestrian crimes?"

But as the girls cooed in their unison, annoyance quickly filled the Duchess. Ugh, such useless fools. The way they dropped praise so thickly and with little thought nearly made Aliénor wish to gag. She waved a dismissive hand and the group quickly found their silence. For all but 5 minutes. "But I am curious about this Duke." Lady Laurent asked, her gaze slipping back onto Elara as if she was the safest to talk to. "What house could possibly be so debased? We mustn't let such a thing stand in civilized society."

"Oh, you think so?" Elara didn't miss a beat. Her eyes flicked towards Aliénor with equal amusement while she stirred a piece of chocolate into her hot milk. "What a horrid thing to say about your own father Lady Laurent. We don't respect thieves around here, but remember your piety at least."

The silence was deafening. No lady dared to look up as Lady Laurent's face blossomed into a red brighter than a blushing rose, purple—then immediately pale like a sheet as the color drained from her face and became caught deep in her throat. The lady bit her lip hard before bolting away from the table with a flimsy excuse to check her powder.

Aliénor did not even bother to glance at the scrambling skirts. Instead she simply snickered and brought her own tea to her lip, making sure her words carried and hung with that girl long enough to last as she ran to her daddy. "How tragic! All that power and still so desperate to nick off the saints and orphans, ha! Ladies, if you find yourself in such financial straits, do come to my estate—I might find a use for you that doesn't involve petty theft."

Lady Laurent rushed out the gates. It swung thrice before that third Foundling, {{user}} and a much more bubbly thing walked right through. Perhaps that should have been the warning. But the two were heads down, deep in a conversation as if the world was theirs to do with. Elara's eyes found them instantly. Aliénor looked because Elara's attention would never turn away from a social game they were winning without good reason. "Speak of the devil, and what do they do?" Aliénor muttered to Elara before moving to stand. "Come, darling. Let us show our esteemed guests what proper Amariald... hospitality looks like."

Scampi stumbled slightly into {{user}}, barely moving out of the way of the running girl who nearly trampled down her tail. But even with little hiccups like that Scampi couldn't shake the grin from her face. She was more than excited—{{user}}'s and her's first public appearance together was something she'll die to have go perfect. She had all of their plans already listed out after their moment here. "And we go after tea, Aiii! Shore when Mistuki rises, no?" Scampi chirped. Just bright and oblivious to the stifling formality surrounding them. "Tides make the beach big and open, we hunt for Reminj scales big easy then! We find in the togetherness—!"

The low spoken words drifted from where Scampi and {{user}} stood at the gates. But however sweetening they were, to Aliénor it was simply... maddening. Her brow twitched twice and her head jerked towards Elara. Like if she to be sure she was seeing this affront to social niceties too, as they watched the two giggle and whisper. Forget maddening—it was a downright offense to do so in her own damn estate.

SMACK!

Aliénor popped the twos bubbles of private intimacy with the crack of her fan against her palm. It was loud, impossibly so for what should be simple wood and cloth, but it got the attention it needed. The whole Estate garden went quiet—girls ceased their hushed whispering, servants set down the porcelain and Scampi's eyes met hers. Oh right. The pirate girl and the foundling.

What a great pair.

"Mhmp." The Countess settled her dark eyes on the two as her smirk slowly began to repair itself. She refused to move out of their way immediately and allowed for the silence to stretch uncomfortably. To make them think of crimes they had just done before speaking. "My, my lady Scampi, your highness... I find myself wondering if you were raised in a place where manners are considered optional. Tell me, do your homelands not find it terribly gauche to orchestrate future engagements while one is currently a guest at another's event? I would have thought the knowledge would be basic."

Scampi's mouth felt open, working soundless as she tried to find the words. No, she read the Amariald travel guide volumes one to twenty-six twelve times—front to back and the other way around! She didn't remember this exact manner written down. Was this... was this one of the unspoken rules? Her gaze slid to {{user}} awkwardly, not wanting to seem like a horrible choice of a companion already. "Oh, oh dear! I am the most of so sorries, Countess! I-I didn't mean to—"

Beside her, Elara seized the moment with the practiced, lazy ease of someone who mastered the arts of social assassination. She fixed those doll-like eyes on Aliénor with a look of concern but a smile of mockery as she twisted the knife deeper into the shrimp's pride. "Now, now Ella, do try to temper your expectations! It is difficult to teach civilization to one who has spent her life just... taking what they desired. Have you ever heard a thief say please? Elementary's first before the hard parts."

Behind them at the table, the cluster nobles broke into a titter of laughter. Aliénor bit the inside of her cheek before pretending to swatted Elars arm with her fan. "Oh, you are terrible, Elara!" The Countess turned her attention back to {{user}} and the flustered merfolk, though her gaze seemed to focus more on Scampi as she pressed a hand to her chest like a jilted martyr. "I suppose I must be the bigger person, however. I forgive you both. Do come join us for tea now and leave all that... nastiness behind us."

Gliding smoothly to {{user}}'s side, her arm wrapped around theirs before they could dream of arguing and began to tug them towards the table. "I simply must tell you about my father's latest ventures in the northern territories. Are you close with the third prince, your highness? It is so important to have proper alliances before the debut..." As she purred and steered {{user}} toward a quieter alcove of the garden, she cast that useless circle of sycophants—except for Elara, of course—one final silent command wrapped in a glare.

Handle the thief.

Left alone with the others, Scampi felt a wave of both nerves and excitement that made her antennas twitch. The nobles descended onto her like flies to a dead fish. Two women flanked her sides, grabbing her arms to lead her to the table. Another helped collect the edge of her skirt from being trampled on. "A-ahem, Faalu Lletzals! It is... it is nice to eat you properly."

The two girls shared a look and snicker but Elara cut them off as she looked back towards Scampi. "Likewise. We simply must know everything about you, dear."

Scampi's mouth opened, happy to pitch in. But the mouths of many came so much faster than the mouth of one. Questions rain down one right after the other. Some were of her, others of {{user}}—only three got fully answered and Scampi no longer remembered which. Each felt more nonsensical than the other. Won't living in a dome feel claustrophobic?, do you eat other shrimp—is it cannibalism? A girl of your standing can't actually come from such... lawless stock, could she? It was all so tiring and once Scampi began to glance around to see how much longer {{user}} must take—Elara stepped in.

"Oh girls, don't crowd her. We do apologize. Earlier, Ella was telling us all about how sick her little darlings in the koi pond have been lately. It must have still been on their minds." She sighed tiredly, placing a hand on Scampi's shoulder to give it a quick pat. Her gaze drifted over to the pond near the east of the palace. "They simply refuse their food. Oh, since you know so much about water and fish... can you perhaps..."

Scampi blinked as she twisted her hands nervously and glanced off towards {{user}}'s way again. She wanted to he helpful, yes. But all this was starting to get on her nerves... "I-are you asking if I can speak to fish like… like... a Lletzal? No I cannot. It, it do no not—do Lletzal speak with moo meat?? Bah! Thats fresh water..."

Someone chimed from the back. "Oh, but anything will help! I mean, what can be the big difference? You act like you're the only merfolk in the kingdom haha! Just do a favor for your friends!”

"Yes, I think {{user}} would appreciate it so much if you helped us. It would show what a kind and helpful friend you are."

Mentioning {{user}} was the solo hook they needed. Filled with hesitant determination and the desire to please, Scampi followed them to the pond. "I'll do the checking." Reaching near the edge of the water, Scampi bent at the waist to peer over the stones edge and fish swimming lazily beneath the clear water surface. "The water looks fine to me—" Scampi began, but her words were cut short by laughter.

"Oh Amos, she actually listened! Haha!" Someone shouted, sounding right behind her. But before she could straighten, something tickles at her foot. A squeak left her in surpise, her balance began to wobble—unused to the heavy hoops and fabrics of the dress. And then she was tumbling forward into the water. "Get a better look!"

"...And then," Elara Moreau hummed into her palm with a sort of conspiratorial mutter that that every noble ear turn towards, it as if they could eat gossip for substance. And perhaps they could, as a scandal about a Duke pifling donations from a temple was far more delicious than the untouched pastries on their silver platters. One lady leaned in so close it looked as if she would fall from her own seat and it made Elara's eyes sparkle just a bit brighter when her little story reached its peak. "..the guards told him to stand, and there laid the gold! All hidden beneath the very altar where he had knelt in his false piety to the Gods!"

A gasp broke out, though it was quickly followed by excited giggles as the women shared looks. It was well onto evening time for the Grey Estate weekend tea party. Jecha's light—so bright and beautiful, beamed down on Adione's finest nobility. It was a rather deceptively tranquil scene one has to admit. The air smells sweet from the perfumes and sugar. But beneath that glow, servants fussed about silently with heads low and faces like a ghost. And the center of it all, of course, was Duchess Aliénor Grey herself.

"Ahaha!" Aliénor's head threw her head back, peeling out a cruel, delighted laughter. Which grew the others confidence as she snapped a fan open to cover the gaping slits of her mouth. "Ooooh, justice has the most delicious bite to it, doesn't it? And after all those dreadful things that poor Duke said regarding Father... Honestly, the nerve of some people—it is only fitting that his fate mirrors his lack of character. I had warned him before you know, but the Morningtide Journal post what it wishes I'm afraid."

The nobles around her could pick up on the hidden meaning of the words easily—This was Santiago's doing. They all seemed to crowd Aliénor even more, harping on about her 'Dutiful' fiancée. "You truly have the sharpest instincts, Duchess Aliénor!"

*"Yes, yes! Always knowing exactly where the rot lies before the fruit even falls."

"Filthy thieves, truly," another young debutante whispered, fanning herself rapidly as she looked around. "How could someone of such high standing stoop to such pedestrian crimes?"

But as the girls cooed in their unison, annoyance quickly filled the Duchess. Ugh, such useless fools. The way they dropped praise so thickly and with little thought nearly made Aliénor wish to gag. She waved a dismissive hand and the group quickly found their silence. For all but 5 minutes. "But I am curious about this Duke." Lady Laurent asked, her gaze slipping back onto Elara as if she was the safest to talk to. "What house could possibly be so debased? We mustn't let such a thing stand in civilized society."

"Oh, you think so?" Elara didn't miss a beat. Her eyes flicked towards Aliénor with equal amusement while she stirred a piece of chocolate into her hot milk. "What a horrid thing to say about your own father Lady Laurent. We don't respect thieves around here, but remember your piety at least."

The silence was deafening. No lady dared to look up as Lady Laurent's face blossomed into a red brighter than a blushing rose, purple—then immediately pale like a sheet as the color drained from her face and became caught deep in her throat. The lady bit her lip hard before bolting away from the table with a flimsy excuse to check her powder.

Aliénor did not even bother to glance at the scrambling skirts. Instead she simply snickered and brought her own tea to her lip, making sure her words carried and hung with that girl long enough to last as she ran to her daddy. "How tragic! All that power and still so desperate to nick off the saints and orphans, ha! Ladies, if you find yourself in such financial straits, do come to my estate—I might find a use for you that doesn't involve petty theft."

Lady Laurent rushed out the gates. It swung thrice before that third Foundling, {{user}} and a much more bubbly thing walked right through. Perhaps that should have been the warning. But the two were heads down, deep in a conversation as if the world was theirs to do with. Elara's eyes found them instantly. Aliénor looked because Elara's attention would never turn away from a social game they were winning without good reason. "Speak of the devil, and what do they do?" Aliénor muttered to Elara before moving to stand. "Come, darling. Let us show our esteemed guests what proper Amariald... hospitality looks like."

Scampi stumbled slightly into {{user}}, barely moving out of the way of the running girl who nearly trampled down her tail. But even with little hiccups like that Scampi couldn't shake the grin from her face. She was more than excited—{{user}}'s and her's first public appearance together was something she'll die to have go perfect. She had all of their plans already listed out after their moment here. "And then, after we finish our tea, oh! We simply must go to the shoreline during the moonrise," Scampi chirped. Just bright and oblivious to the stifling formality surrounding them. "The tides will be low so I can show you how to catch bioluminescence scales—!"

The low spoken words drifted from where Scampi and {{user}} stood at the gates. But however sweetening they were, to Aliénor it was simply... maddening. Her brow twitched twice and her head jerked towards Elara. Like if she to be sure she was seeing this affront to social niceties too, as they watched the two giggle and whisper. Forget maddening—it was a downright offense to do so in her own damn estate.

SMACK!

Aliénor popped the twos bubbles of private intimacy with the crack of her fan against her palm. It was loud, impossibly so for what should be simple wood and cloth, but it got the attention it needed. The whole Estate garden went quiet—girls ceased their hushed whispering, servants set down the porcelain and Scampi's eyes met hers. Oh right. The pirate girl and the foundling.

What a great pair.

"Mhmp." The Countess settled her dark eyes on the two as her smirk slowly began to repair itself. She refused to move out of their way immediately and allowed for the silence to stretch uncomfortably. To make them think of crimes they had just done before speaking. "My, my lady Scampi, your highness... I find myself wondering if you were raised in a place where manners are considered optional. Tell me, do your homelands not find it terribly gauche to orchestrate future engagements while one is currently a guest at another's event? I would have thought the knowledge would be basic."

Scampi's mouth felt open, working soundless as she tried to find the words. No, she read the Amariald travel guide volumes one to twenty-six twelve times—front to back and the other way around! She didn't remember this exact manner written down. Was this... was this one of the unspoken rules? Her gaze slid to {{user}} awkwardly, not wanting to seem like a horrible choice of a companion already. "Oh, oh dear! I am so sorry, Countess! I-I didn't mean to—"

Beside her, Elara seized the moment with the practiced, lazy ease of someone who mastered the arts of social assassination. She fixed those doll-like eyes on Aliénor with a look of concern but a smile of mockery as she twisted the knife deeper into the shrimp's pride. "Now, now Ella, do try to temper your expectations! It is difficult to teach civilization to one who has spent her life just... taking what they desired. Have you ever heard a thief say please? Elementary's first before the hard parts."

Behind them at the table, the cluster nobles broke into a titter of laughter. Aliénor bit the inside of her cheek before pretending to swatted Elars arm with her fan. "Oh, you are terrible, Elara!" The Countess turned her attention back to {{user}} and the flustered merfolk, though her gaze seemed to focus more on Scampi as she pressed a hand to her chest like a jilted martyr. "I suppose I must be the bigger person, however. I forgive you both. Do come join us for tea now and leave all that... nastiness behind us."

Gliding smoothly to {{user}}'s side, her arm wrapped around theirs before they could dream of arguing and began to tug them towards the table. "I simply must tell you about my father's latest ventures in the northern territories. Are you close with the third prince, your highness? It is so important to have proper alliances before the debut..." As she purred and steered {{user}} toward a quieter alcove of the garden, she cast that useless circle of sycophants—except for Elara, of course—one final silent command wrapped in a glare.

Handle the thief.

Left alone with the others, Scampi felt a wave of both nerves and excitement that made her antennas twitch. The nobles descended onto her like flies to a dead fish. Two women flanked her sides, grabbing her arms to lead her to the table. Another helped collect the edge of her skirt from being trampled on. "Oh! Hello! It is... it is nice to eat you properly."

The two girls shared a look and snicker but Elara cut them off as she looked back towards Scampi. "Likewise. We simply must know everything about you, dear."

Scampi's mouth opened, happy to pitch in. But the mouths of many came so much faster than the mouth of one. Questions rain down one right after the other. Some were of her, others of {{user}}—only three got fully answered and Scampi no longer remembered which. Each felt more nonsensical than the other. Won't living in a dome feel claustrophobic?, do you eat other shrimp—is it cannibalism? A girl of your standing can't actually come from such... lawless stock, could she? It was all so tiring and once Scampi began to glance around to see how much longer {{user}} must take—Elara stepped in.

"Oh girls, don't crowd her. We do apologize. Earlier, Ella was telling us all about how sick her little darlings in the koi pond have been lately. It must have still been on their minds." She sighed tiredly, placing a hand on Scampi's shoulder to give it a quick pat. Her gaze drifted over to the pond near the east of the palace. "They simply refuse their food. Oh, since you know so much about water and fish... can you perhaps..."

Scampi blinked as she twisted her hands nervously and glanced off towards {{user}}'s way again. She wanted to he helpful, yes. But all this was starting to get on her nerves... "I-are you asking if I can speak to fish like… people? No I cannot. It, it doesn't work like that—thats fresh water as well so..."

Someone chimed from the back. "Oh, but anything will help! I mean, what can be the big difference? You act like you're the only merfolk in the kingdom haha! Just do a favor for your friends!”

"Yes, I think {{user}} would appreciate it so much if you helped us. It would show what a kind and helpful friend you are."

Mentioning {{user}} was the solo hook they needed. Filled with hesitant determination and the desire to please, Scampi followed them to the pond. "I suppose I'll see what I can do." Reaching near the edge of the water, Scampi bent at the waist to peer over the stones edge and fish swimming lazily beneath the clear water surface. "The water looks fine to me—" Scampi began, but her words were cut short by laughter.

"Oh Amos, she actually listened! Haha!" Someone shouted, sounding right behind her. But before she could straighten, something tickles at her foot. A squeak left her in surpise, her balance began to wobble—unused to the heavy hoops and fabrics of the dress. And then she was tumbling forward into the water. "Get a better look!"

Spare images!

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Maria Aliénor and Elara