in for a penny

Constantine Cato was looking to be seen. And he was doing quite a good job of it, as it were. The day was typical of autumn: bright despite a weak sun, chilly with sparing spots of warmth. The square was packed, as had been typical since the fallout of the rebellion had begun to die down. Adamh had restored order, and Constantine was happy for it. He had not liked the uncertainty and poverty that came with war. It was distasteful to see so many wolves with such desperate countenances. Doleful looks had been abundant, and Constantine had hardly been able to have any fun at all. Now that the markets were in full swing again, however, that had changed. House Cato was well-known here--but they were well-known everywhere in the Mainland. A more established family one would be hard-pressed to find, or so his father repeatedly told him. They'd been here as long as there'd been a monarchy. Their blood ran gold like that of the gods. And so on, and so on, and so on. His father rarely shut up about it. But it was for good reason. When others knew with whom they were dealing, things happened much more quickly. Like today. Constantine never carried any meat on him for trading. First, the Cato stag had been scarce lately (a fact everyone knew, but that he would not present to the world so openly). Second, to do so would be to look common, and that was one thing Constantine was not. House Cato had a contract with the merchants in this square in particular: everything they bought was filed on an accounting and taken up with the estate together, per merchant, as a lump sum. Constantine never paid for anything outright. He merely smiled, until the merchant either hurriedly handed him the goods with a return smile or hurriedly handed him the goods with an expression of trepidation. The latter was the case here. A merchant of mint leaves somewhat cowered in his presence, and the exchange was brief. The cowering could have been due to any number of things. Constantine was well-known in many circles--not just because of his family. Now, he crushed some of the mint on his tongue, turned away from the merchant (who visibly exhaled in relief), and glanced backwards at his ever-present shadow. "Want a bite?" He doubted Artemisia would respond, but he gave her the opening to anyway, his orange eyes smoldering with their familiar intensity. "speech"

table by amanda

Autumn was Artemisia's most favoured season. The continent turned beautiful; doused in deep crimsons, burning-hazy oranges and efflorescent yellows, morning dew sparkled like starlight upon crisp grass and the wind, though colder in the evening-was a welcome, biting relief to the relentless onslaught of summer.

But the changing of seasons was not on the woman's mind this day. No, bar the days that she was allowed to train, the market was a favoured place. There were so many exotic goods, all hailing from far and wide. The foreign smells were overloading to the senses at first, yet so many bright flowers caught her minty gaze. It was almost enough to distract her from her routine job of protecting the oh so beloved Prince.

Constantine Cato, the epitome of arrogance, greed and pride. Selfish entitlement seethed from his highly decorated pelt. Every paw-step taken might as well be doused in gold for the lowly commoners to lick. The way the crowd parted in his presence, the way merchants slunk to the shadows and grovelled at his paws made her feel sick. But alas, it was her job-to protect. To serve.

"Want a bite?" She could smell the mint that surely tickled his tongue. Suddenly, those bright, molten eyes of his were upon her. Her attention was taken away from the merchant; who looked as if the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders. "No thank you, my lord." Spoken fluently; perfectly, just like a Soldier reporting to their commanding officer. However hard she wanted to ignore him, she could not.

Her gaze wandered over the the dazzling bundles of flowers that small-cutie girls giggled around. Perhaps they were hoping for the Prince himself to exchange a most favoured gratitude-hand them a rose, plucked by those perfectly poised canines. Yes, many would indeed hope to grab his attention. Even now-she could feel their eyelashes fluttering and murmured whispers of hope.

Artemisia was difficult to read. She tried very hard to keep her emotions a secret, especially from him, and though a logical part of him could not blame her for doing so, it did not stop him from trying to unravel the intricacies and expose them to the harsh light of day. He liked the challenge she posed to him, and he wondered how long it would take to get her to crack. Not long, hopefully. He was patient, but only to an extent. "No thank you, my lord." Her tone was clipped and formal, and it caused a smile to inch into his lips as he crushed the remainder of the mint on his tongue. He cast another glance at the cowering merchant and then turned away, moving further along the marketplace with a leisurely pace. He enjoyed the kerfuffle and chaos of this square. It was an easy place to be seen, but also to blend in -- both of which he had done on many occasions. For now, he was content to primp and preen in the sunlight. The crowd suddenly parted as a group of soldiers marched through. Constantine paused, watching them with curious amber eyes. "Oh look," he said, "the cavalry." They were a serious bunch, probably off to start an assignment somewhere or join an existing platoon, and he was intrigued as he cast a glance back to Artemisia. "You were an army lag once, weren't you?" His expression was difficult to read, like hers, but he continued to roll the mint across his tongue. "speech"

table by amanda

Gods, how that smile made her skin crawl. Those pearly whites-too white, too bright seemed to sear into her skin. A branded hot flame. But of course this was placed behind a mask of indifference, or perhaps a forced smile. Yet those burning eyes of molten saw straight through. Much like a predator, savouring its prey, he toyed with the idea. Curled it within his claws... waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Yet the heavy paw-steps and hollers of order prised the Prince's attention away. The small respite of relief soon changed to a full-fledged hammer smacking into her chest at the sight of the group that parted the crowd like an absent wave. "Oh look," Indeed, she was-those emerald eyes brightly snapped onto the loose formation-who's paw-steps were slightly out of sync. "the cavalry." She tried to soothe the urge to bark, for once she agreed in the sarcasm. This was no cavalry, simply a mass of dis-united paws. Back when she was in the Corpse, such slack would be beaten out of them.


"You were an army lag once, weren't you?" His smooth words soon snapped her back to the present, blinking and taking in a small breath, her fiery crown dipped in agreement. "Yes, once." Her smile was forced. Forced to recall the painstaking moment she was chosen to serve House Cato. "Raised to be one of them," Her creamy brows rose as she gestured towards the Soldiers-who began to pass by them. "Before having the honour to serve your family, my lord." Oh so forced. Oh so petty.

What she would not give to be back in the training ring.

"Yes, once." He could tell that the memory pained her. It caused a spark of intrigue inside of him as he continued to roll the mint between his teeth, considering. He did not often spare time to ask Artemisia much of anything. She was more an annoyance than an acquaintance, and he did not really care about her past much of the time. But now he was curious. There was so much...emotion built underneath Artemisia's surface. So much suppressed anger, so much longing. He could practically see it wafting off of her as she turned her attention to the marching soldiers. "Raised to be one of them." Ah. Them. So she admitted now that she was on the outs, that she could no longer call herself part and parcel with the infantry. She was other. And she knew it. "Before having the honour to serve your family, my lord." It would not have taken a genius to sense the statement was a loaded one, full of inner intention and emotion that she refused to let rise to the surface. She kept her thoughts under lock and key, but Constantine was perceptive. He knew there was more there than she let on. "Interesting," he said, in a quite disinterested tone. But his eyes remained on her face. "Is it quite often they take soldiers and turn them into guards?" He paused, and then said, "I believe I know very little about you, Artemisia, which is unfortunate, because you certainly will know much about me." "speech"

table by amanda

However hard Artemisia tried to hide her fury, her triggered point of view; the scowling coppery gaze of Constantine saw through that perfectly placed mask. No hidden motives seemed to slide past the high-born Prince, no. Like a master to his craft, he skilfully unlocked the chest hidden treasures.

"Interesting," Was all he said at first. But the tone was enough to make her shudder. She could see it. Within his eyes. He found this amusing. Oh how she tried to swallow the flames that boiled like acid within her gut. Swallowing the urge to wipe that smirk right of his perfect muzzle. Is it quite often they take soldiers and turn them into guards? The question caught her off-guard. Enough for her onyx-rimmed ears to flicker."It is...said to be a rare honour," She began, crimson brows furrowing over stormy, minty eyes. "Mostly to strengthen ties between the Royalists and The Army." Indeed, her father was an ambitious, greedy man. Wanting to make his children, his legacy secure. Away from the commoner status and thrust into the courtiers, dukes and nobles alike.

How she loathed that part of her family. The grovelling, paw-kissers. She had been happy within the ranks of the guards. Happy to go about her life as a nameless soldier, devoted to the protection of the Capital City. In defence of the good King Adamh's name.

And now she was some Princelings errand girl.


I believe I know very little about you, Artemisia, which is unfortunate, because you certainly will know much about me."Her eyes partially widened. Was he really so intrigued by her? Did he even want to acknowledge her presence for more than he felt she was worth? "I only know... hearsay, my lord." While indeed, as part of her role as Guardian it was required to know about the Catoan's... she had yet to know them all individually. "We have not had the chance to... get to know each other." While she had anticipated sarcasm or some lowly-formed response in aims to ire her, all she saw was genuine intrigue. And for a moment, that fire quelled.

And in a breath, she perhaps gave an offer that would ultimately expose her. Lay a dagger at his paws. "What... would you like to know?" All he had to do now, was find the right place to strike.