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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |

It had been Brocades idea to deliver the gifts to the newly mated couple. He had explained to her the many traditions that came with being a member of the Kingdom - and gift giving was one of them. Brocade believed in tradition - an ode to his gypsy upbringing and the life he had been born into - and the rules of Salsola spoke to the part of him that revelled in being a Soldier. This place had been made for him, and to some degree Etoile could understand why he had risen here. She saw great ambition in him, and he spoke of how one day he hoped to train new recruits to defend the throne.
The ambition fuelled her too.
She thought of her plan each night before she slept, and she would tap her four fingered hand against her chest to the rhythm of his heart beat. He spoke in his sleep sometimes - of deep dark things that she did not remember - of fights and blood and magic and dust. Sometimes he rumbled deeply in his chest and it brought her to wakefulness, the slivers of his golden eyes lost and unseeing. He was tortured, somewhere deep down... and it gave her some sort of peace.
He felt pain too.
The gift in her hands felt heavy and awkward - a forced motion to make her fit in.
He had nudged her out the door like a child while that infernal cat had lingered in the window with its eyes filled with judgement.
"You will be fine," he said with that gleam in his eyes, "Make new friends."
And she literally felt like a child.
When she came to the new lovers door she hesitated, though she could not say why.
Later she would recognize that uncertainty for what it was, a warning - for she had grabbed the wrong gift, for the wrong person.
The poisoned bottle gleamed in her hands.
<3