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Amarantha Whitmore
The Achaemenes | Interactions: @cry Oleander, @MissyMay Felix, @The Lotus Archives Amir

"Mmm," Amarantha settled in with a pleased smile. Amir was a good host, nosiness or not. She waited until the man brought the day's special blend, then started on her baklava. She ate delicately, breaking of tiny pieces with her fork. She ate nearly without leaving a speck of sugar on her lips. Despite the meticulous care, she seemed to be doing it by habit, and was clearly enjoying herself if the slight smile was anything to go by. Amarantha sipped at the hot tea in between the baklava, preferring her drink at a warmth that was just shy of scalding. To his last question, she responded with an intrigued glint in her eye, "Any new literature? A recommendation for our group here?"

At Felix's answer, she leaned closer in his direction. "Oh? You travel for work? How fascinating. I have never been outside this town, but I enjoy listening to travelers' stories. Would you mind telling me one? It can be work related. Who knows, perhaps your patron would like to establish new connections and avenues for his mercantile business." There was a subtle eagerness to Amarantha's questioning, almost a thirst for new information and adventurous tales.



 
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Myron Whitmore
The Silver Hart | Interactions: Horace (@The Lotus Archives)
He couldn't help but notice how Horace's smile seemed to dim the smallest amount at his apology though he couldn't understand why. Myron tried not to let it weigh on him - he hated making his brother sad. He would simply have to bring a bit of happiness back to his twin though he could hardly do it behind the counter of his inn. He glanced around for one of his employees but they were all likely busy at this time. The inn could keep itself running for a bit.

He couldn't help the smile when he heard his brother tell him his day got better. It was the same for him whenever Horace was around. "You have nothing to make up for. Even if you did, I'd probably let you get away with it." Myron offered in good humor, but there was truth to that statement. He couldn't imagine anything his twin could do that he wouldn't forgive. "I'll try, but you know how my mind works, brother dearest. Thankfully, it'll probably be so busy for me that nothing but this inn will trouble me for the next four days."

Well, the inn and the ill fated night soon to come. Myron knew that he will have to make a sacrifice - that or his brother or father will. It weighed so heavily on his consciousness, but could he place even more blood on his twins hands? On his fathers or uncles? Sometimes he wishes he had been born to any other family in this town, but he couldn't imagine not having his brother or father at his side. Realizing his mind had drifted into darker thoughts, he nearly jolted and quickly met the mismatched eyes of Horace.

He offered his twin a smile hoping to hide that he was somewhere else for a moment. "Ah," Myron sighed. "Not you too. Brother dearest, there is no one in this town that would go out of their way to hurt me. And even if there was, the Sheriff and the Constables will be there sooner than we can blink." That might actually be true since the Delagney's are all vampires that live and breathe their jobs - kind of sad, actually, now that he thought about it. Really, the only time Myron could see himself getting hurt is after the Masquerade. As much as he wanted to argue, he would never go against both Horace and Waverly.

"I'll be safe and go home right after, I promise," He offered reluctantly. For as little as his brother and his father got along, it seemed they both agreed he needed to be coddled. You'd think he was some fair maiden from those fairytales just from the way his closest family treats him. "I don't know why father acts like I can't protect myself or that you can't keep me safe." Myron muttered, pouting for a short while before a smile took its place. Truthfully, he couldn't stay mad - if you could call that 'mad' - for long when he knew he would be able to spend time with his twin soon.







Felix Fletcher
The Achaemenes | Interactions: Oleander (@cry), Amarantha (@SilverPaw), and Amir (@The Lotus Archives)
He watched their host subtly though he found no hints of the… oddness that lingered in parts of the town. Felix felt himself relax slightly having found a place to rest for a moment without that darkness. He may very well spend his night here if that was an option as even the inn seemed to have that lingering presence.

The faerie glanced down at the baklava with curiosity. Frankly, Felix had never been one for sweets or, at least, he rarely indulged. His knowledge of pastries really only went as far as… Well, he actually doesn't know anything about pastries. Glancing up at Amarantha he noticed that she seemed to enjoy the sweet treat well enough that he decided to give it a try. Taking a bite he was pleasantly surprised and found it to be sweeter than he expected.

He blinked as he finally registered that the noblewoman in front of him spoke to him. He turned his gaze from his pastry to her before taking a sip of the tea. "You've really never been outside of this town?" Felix couldn't imagine that - he had been a nomad for years. "What are you in the mood for story wise? I've made dealings all across Europe and even parts of Africa and the Middle East. I've never been to the Americas or Asia unfortunately. I can't imagine you'll want to hear about me arguing with old men over trade goods."

He leaned back to think, wondering if he could share one of his more… adventurous tales. He'd have to cut out the thieving parts, but he had a whole bunch he could share. Maybe that time in Madrid would make a good story?




 
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Chapter Two.
The First Night
As the morning sun rose overhead, the streets began to quiet from the hustle and bustle of morning errands and opening stores and stalls. Many shops have begun to close for the day as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. The cool air began to take on a distinct chill to it that had most people put on more warm attire. The streets now begin to glow with the distinct light of hung lanterns and candles that rest on windowsill. The small town of Arkley grows calm.

Or as calm as it can be during this time of the year. The streets, though far less crowded, still have groups of people in festival attire roaming about. Many travelers have begun to make their way to the Fleming residence to prepare for the night's story which will happen in only a matter of hours. The family welcomes all those who are curious into the public area of the house to view artifacts and portraits of previous members of the family. The Fleming gardens, renowned for their beauty, are now open for travelers and citizens alike to walk.

The market is still open but be wary of the coming night. Who knows what may lurk in the dark alleyways or just beyond Arkley's borders. Even the citizens can tell that something is off about this night. It feels like something is watching and waiting.

Clear Skies
Dusk
Waxing Gibbous
 
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Myron Whitmore
Outside the Silver Hart | Interactions: None
A feeling of calm came over the blonde as he glanced around the Silver Hart. The crowds died down sometime around mid afternoon and most of his patrons now either rest in their rooms or wander the streets outside. He feels like he can finally rest. Myron lets out a deep sigh of relief and turns towards the employee who would watch over the inn and its guests until he arrived back in the morning - an older looking vampire woman by the name of Marie.

"Everything should be sorted for the rest of the night," The Whitmore offered to his employee. "I doubt we'll get any late comers needing a place to stay, but if we do we still have one room available on the ground floor. After that, I'm afraid they will have to seek shelter elsewhere." Marie said nothing - quiet and stern as she always was - but offered him a small smile before she turned around. She would do the job well as she always had. She may appear unapproachable, but he knew she cared as much for the Silver Hart as he did.

He glanced around the empty tea room one last time with a fondness in his eyes. Sometimes he felt more at home here than he did at home, especially with his brother gone so often. His expression fell briefly at the thought, before a smile rose to take its place. He was meant to spend tonight with Horace so he should be happy. He wouldn't - couldn't - have his younger twin thinking he was in one of his moods. Horace might send him home if he did. He didn't want to go home.

Myron strode through the double doors of his inn and paused to glance around. The crowds had died down quite a bit since this morning but he could still see and hear groups of laughing travelers. Some sported masks and veils while others walked around in normal attire. He could see that a few carried bags of goods that they purchased from the market or shops. The blonde could even see the Sheriff in the distance talking to one of the locals - Dacey, from the looks of it. The doctor was never one to raise trouble so he could only imagine why the stern woman would be talking to him.

It wasn't any of his business really. When you live in a place like Arkley, you learn that some things are not worth knowing. Myron fully believes that this is one of those things. He nearly jolts as the doctor meets his eyes across the distance and the Whitmore quickly turns to look somewhere else. He moves over to one of the tables he keeps outside the inn and takes a seat.



 
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