The Carousal Gambit-28/08/2024/-Beets Sunwater

The Carousal Gambit-28/08/2024/-Beets Sunwater Sept 1, 2024 19:16:41 GMT Andy D, Marto Copperkettle, and 4 more like this

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Post by Beets The Beetle (Feenix) on Sept 1, 2024 19:16:41 GMT

Co-written with Zaspar for extra awkward recollection and accuracy.😬

“Yeah, great Party Zaspar.” Beets said bitterly.

The bite of muffin she had grabbed from the huge elaborate gift basket she’d presented from Paradise frost tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She knew what sawdust tasted like too, having curiously tried a mouthful once in her Pa’s carpentry barn when she was small. She could recall it having tasted better than this.

Beets placed down the bitter treat on the small table and then without even a second thought also set the small square wooden box she’d be holding limply in her other hand beside it.

Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Beets made her way to one of the large curtained windows, undid the latch and flitted out into the night.

——

She had arrived late at The Party, awaking late in the afternoon after a restless night of flittin’over things.

‘I do like him.’ She’d thought for the countless time, drumming her fingers on the knee her dark exoskeleton legs as she’d sat up on her favourite rooftop, The Three-Headed Dragon. She’d spent a large chunk of her time whilst staying there sleeping up on top of it despite paying for a perfectly fine comfortable room. But she’d always preferred it up there than compared to a bed. She’d felt..safer seeing the sky, unconfined, free…

It was there she’d decided to be the place to teach Zaspar Draconic, it was there she’d started to fall for him….

——

Zaspar hadn’t been mad at her late arrival to the Party, letting slip a wink through the facade he’d worn as he’d greeted her, before calling over a smartly elf gentleman whose own composed face couldn’t disguise the look of shock as Zaspar bade they take the enormous muffin basket she’d specially ordered from Paradise Frost to a nearby “Hors d'œuvres table.” What the flit was an ‘Hors d'œuvre? And what with Zaspar? Usually he couldn’t resist helping himself to a muffin or three.

She figured it must be the nerves of The Party, he was hosting after all. With her final arrival Zaspar had pulled her, Dee’arna and a ‘dashing’-or at least he had that air about him-moustached, caped and sword wielding fellow named Luxemforth into a hasty gathering to set out his plans for this evening.

Beets had already been a little nervous when Zaspar had asked her to attend a couple weeks ago during their weekly Draconic lesson. The last party she’s gone to hadn’t started very well for her, and had in fact ended in a chaotic-albeit liberating-rush that had landed her point buggin’blank on King Ulorian’s ‘hit-list’. But Zaspar had insisted it would be fun and that as it was his very first time hosting it would be so good to know she was there to help him impress his father. Well, she supposed it could be fun, and Zaspar really did seem to want her to come.

——

“Okay then sure,” She’d responded to him, before almost instantly finding him resting a soft hand on her shoulder and smiling dazzlingly at her as he proclaimed what a marvellous time she would have. Zaspar’s words had muffled into the background though as he’d gone off on one of his enthusiastic tangents, as Beets could think of nothing but the warmth spreading along her ears to their tips and and the feel of Zaspar’s skin against hers. It was..nice. And it wasn’t the only time. Sometimes when they were studying Beets would find Zaspar’s hand rest gently on the small of her back, as he’d lean in to point out a particular phrase or word in the book they were reading. Or suddenly he’d just be holding her hand as they recited draconic together, his face not changing at all from that smile of his. Happy, confident..handsome even…

Oh flit.

——

Zaspar whipped around the gathered group and assigned them all ‘duties’ for the evening, “Luxemforth talk to the rich folk, Dee’arna, merchants, politicians and civil services, Beets entertain the adventurers.”

Honestly Beets was a little put out, this wasn’t how she’d imagined the evening at all. She thought she and Zaspar would be able to spend some time together. Perhaps she could be called on to assist with fetching a fresh keg of ale or two from a cellar or help livening up the party with an acrobatic fly followed by performing a song or two. But it seemed all the ‘Staff’ as Zaspar had kept referring to the many ‘waiters’ at his beck and call, or the collection of musicians playing elegant yet rather mute backing to the evening’s proceedings, had it all in hand or cello. Zaspar it seemed just wanted them to keep the majority of the guests occupied.

Well okay, sure. Beets loved meeting new folks, especially fellow adventurers, and perhaps once the party really got going and everybody eased up a flit in she’d be able to spend some time with Zaspar afterall, and talk.

But as she’d walked in amongst her ‘assigned’ group, a sense of doubt had crept in over her, some of its members had already given her a few disparaging glances. Made worse by the fact without flittin’-a ‘no no’ she had already been reprimanded on by her Zaspar’s assigned ‘etiquette-coach’ for the evening, left her a good feet below the eye level of most of them.

It wasn’t just the stares though, flit she’d performed for countless groups of people in her strong-bug days and even a whole buggin’theatre of folk just recently. Looks and mutters she was used to and could handle. It was the whole atmosphere of the place: the muted restrained tones of so-called polite conversation, the clip-clopping orderly manner of the musicians putting not a stroke nor note out of place, the cloying smell of so many different perfumes and colognes clogging her throat. It was too much.

It immediately brought back bad memories from that awful visit to King Ulorian’s Party, the itch of her scalp under the lacquered layers of that goblin market ‘hair-oil' she’d applied to tame her wild windswept mane, the almost audible screams of protest from her feet from the tightly laced leather boots she’d confined them in.

It hadn’t been her.

Beet had almost bumped into her etiquette coach as she’d hastily mumbled her excuses before she’d exited the group and made a bug-line straight for Dee’arna, asking to..‘Steal her away for a second’ before leading her over to a secluded part of the hall.

——

Beet hadn’t overdone it this time, she remembered Zanathir's words far too well, her look of disappointment and hurt at her..ugh, ‘Beetlina’ party-persona. “My daughter would be sad to see you like this Beets. She did not give her life for you to not live yours as you truly are.”

So had Beets chosen carefully, enlisting Diana’s help in the prep, after all she’d spent hours with Beets freeing her hair from the tar-like mass it had congealed into as the result of that market sludge.

This time Di had gently brushed a comb through her tangled windswept locks, before Beets had slipped on the comfortable yet formal looking leotard that had been specially altered for her ‘Beets: The Musical performance at the Feylight Garden Theatre. Then to add a little bit of swish to her look she’d tied on two loose pieces of leftover cloth around her waist that Lolli had given her, left over from her second Lolli-original outfit as a makeshift skirt. Finally Di had added some black mascara with wings to her face, “To bring out your eyes.” Examining herself in the mirror, Beets had smiled at her reflection. Yes, it felt right, she felt her. There was no sound of that voice of doubt that had emerged last time. She was-

OH FLIT!
SHE WAS LATE!

——

Dee’arna had listened as Beets re-shared her concerns of attending the party that she’d tried to impress upon Zaspar, and that buggin’honestly she had no flittin’idea what she was supposed to do. How did one ‘converse’ at a social gathering, especially one as stiff as this? Dees’ calm demeanour though, along with her relaxed almost-casual appearance in her loose fitting robes, seemed to help loosen the tightness that had built up in her chest. Dee told Beets to just talk with them, most of the guests in her opinion were ‘quite boring’ really and given the chance that they’d probably love to hear about someone who lived such a varied and exciting lifestyle as Beets. Or at the very least they would surely just like someone to boast about their own status and many notable achievements too. Just smile and nod occasionally, and she would be just fine.

And so she had been, smiling and nodding as the guests in her gathering spoke about matters of money and the state of affairs that Beets did not properly understand nor actually wished to. But an appreciative nod or polite ‘So true,’ seemed to be getting her by just fine.

There had been a little ‘tension’ at one flit, in a little aside with the audacious Lady Gertrude Güntershclauffen. But as Beets had all so elegantly put to the stuck-up cow, “It was pleasure to get to know some new folks at times, and then at others not so much.” After a nice chat and drink shared with the Sergeant-at-Arms Cloyer though, Beets was feeling much more at ease, and in fact seeing Zaspar’s folks Cassius and Celeste Arthiar were now both looking free, she decided to move over to ‘engage’ with them.

——

Engagement, proposal, marriage. Those were words that came up often when Beets spent time with Zaspar. Not that she knew much on their matters, flit she didn’t even know if her Pa and Mama had been engaged and then even married. It wasn’t something that had ever come up.

But it was important to Zaspar, and to his father. Zaspar had told her how he wished to find someone on his own terms, and how he’d been rejecting every single arranged marriage his father had orchestrated. Admittedly though, proposing to an Archwyrm had been..ambitious, both in age and scale-wise-at least in dragon-form.

Zaspar had also said about trying to take initiative in finding a ‘politically-important’ spouse. Beets was ‘aware’ of politics, or at least more so following her work for the Council and The Duchess, decision making and initiative taking to ultimately would create the best ‘outcome’ for all involved.

But was that for Zaspar, was that what he actually wanted? He’d be so enthusiastic when he’d hurried up to Beets after the mentorship programme, so open, if admittedly a little awkwardly with the many admiration and compliments he’d paid her. “Father has very different ideas than I…” Zaspar has said. He’d seemed so happy when she’d accepted his mentorship. She had been too.

‘Being true to yourself.’ She thought again, as she sat on the rooftop the night before.

——

Cassius Arthiar, Zaspar’s..father was..difficult..to talk with.

He walked around with his words quite a lot, as if almost dodging giving any definitive answers. Yes he was Zaspar’s father, he had been for one hundred years. Was he proud of him, did he know how good a person he was? Did he know what Zaspar’s ambitions were in life? Never a straight answer he gave to any of them. But then to her surprise, he turned the tables on her. ‘How had she come to be invited? Was she actually guest of Zaspar’s? How did she know him?’

“I’m his…” She’d started, but the words had caught in her mouth.

She was going to say, ‘I’m his mentor,’ but something about the scrutinising look Cassius gave her made her feel uncomfortable to say it, she felt as if he wouldn’t like her answer. Before she was able to find her courage to say it though, Cassius dropped his line of questioning, stating that they should end return to the other guests, almost brushing the whole interaction away as if it had not mattered at all.

Zaspar’s mother had been far worse. Celeste Arthiar had looked straight down her nose at Beets. She’d had to of course, with their difference in height. But it was that attitude she did it with of a person who often held their nose higher in air than it was on her face, quite literally ‘stuck-up’ in both posture and nature. She’d immediately quizzed Beets on her connection to Zaspar, reacting with a manner of surprise, or shock to Beets stating she was his teacher. “But he already has tutors. He has the very best tutors money can buy, tutors which we have hired for him,” Celeste had expressed theatrically before she pressed Beets further on the revelation, her eyes narrowing. “You are a ‘teacher’ in ‘what’, exactly?”

“Urrh..Draconic!” Beets had responded rather awkwardly, feeling she'd rather have been facing down a dragon than being pinned by that withering stare Celeste has given her. “You don’t look much like a teacher to me.”

“Well no, only once a week,” Beets confirmed, “when I can fit it between doing deliveries and adve-”

“Delieveries…?” Celeste breathed.

“Yes, aerial acrobatics and so forth.”

“Ac-crobatics…” Celeste said, her eyes examinng Beets as she repeated the word as thought it left a bad taste in her month. “So you are..a circus fre-..performer?”

“Well I have performed in a circus, in Neverwinter” Beets confirmed “But I’ve also performed at The Feylight Garden theatre…I was in a musical-but only once.’

Beets felt as if she’d dug herself into a chasm almost as deep as the one outside Daring Heights-she considered perhaps how being dissolved by one of its previous occupants, JUDGE RED, would probably be less painful than being subjected to any more scathing from Zaspar’s Mother.

But like her partner Celeste seemed to suddenly decide ‘conversing’ with Beets had displeased her enough, “I shall speak to Zaspar further about this.” she announced, her composure changing to that of a closed-off expressionless manner before she left Beets standing alone in her wake.

——

“Gold.” Confirmed the petit female gnome, Goldlord Marrie Ambersmith, as she examined the ring in the small wooden box Beets had produced from a pouch at her belt through the lens of her large jeweller's loupe. Beets had been glad to almost bump into her after the cold departure of Zaspar’s mother, and upon her announcing she was one of the members of the newly constructed House of Creation, with her specialities lying in Gold and fine jewellery Beets had seized on the opportunity to show her the ring she had picked up in the Dawn Market.

“Gold, wood and sealed emerald” Marrie stated finishing her observations. “A pretty thing but an odd combination.”

“Thats why I picked it,” said Beets taking it back with an approving nod from Marrie.

At least she had been alright.

——

As Beets flew out of Castleside, flashes of the events that had happened mere minutes before cut through her thoughts.

Zaspar's face wet with tears as his father walked way from him. “He was proud of me.” Beets hands ripping off part of her skirt without a second thought and offering to him to wipe his face. Zaspar’s nod of thanks for her help tonight. Beets' admission of speaking to Zaspar’s parents. Her nervous glance over in their direction before asking Zaspar if perhaps they could speak in private. His casual disregard of her request, “No Beets I’m still hosting, just do it here okay.”

Her deep intake of breath, and then ‘the verbal stumbling.’ “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these last few weeks Zaspar…I’ve realised how much I enjoy spending time with you…sharing pastries…doing deliveries…Bugkour…Draconic lessons…talking.”

Zaspar’s puzzled look back towards her as she’d spoke.

Then, the gesture, right.

She relives the moment, the bending of her knee, the audible ‘click’ as her lowered leg touched down on the tiled floor, the few gasps and whispered murmurings as a couple of the guests start to notice what's happening.

Her hands pulling out the ring box from its pouch, holding up towards Zaspar, opening it to show the burnished ring inside, the ring she had picked out especially for him.

——

Beets had realised the night before the party that if she didn’t do it soon, didn’t tell him how she felt. Didn’t make a serious declaration that Zaspar and his family clearly deemed necessary to form an official bond between another and one of his stature, she could…She would..lose him. Beets couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person she cared about.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy, she’d had a wonderful new life in the Dawnlands, she had a ‘family’, friend. People she could count on, and who could rely on her in turn. But then came Zaspar, and well…

——

“Zaspar I think I really like you, and um I don’t really think there’s a way to say it in Draconic but…” She’d gulped nervously, her hands shaking as she looked up with a smile.
“Be mine.”

Zaspar hadn’t responded, he’d just stared back, not moving.

She’d persevered.

“Zaspar The Holy Fist, will you…Flit, this is hard. Will…Will you..marry me?”

She’d waited, realising the whole room had gone suddenly silent, even the musicians had stopped playing.

Silence.

Then Zaspar had spoken.

“W-What?”

Then.

“Sorry Beets but, no."

Numbness.

Then he’d started rambling, “Beets my father is watching…Look, you are really good at proposing, I could learn a lot from you...But you would hate being a noble consort….You hate parties and you'd have to throw two of these a week…”

“I-I don’t..h-hate them…” She heard herself say quietly.

And then.

“Besides, I’ve already got two girlfriends from this party so I wouldn’t have time for a third. Sorry"

Pain.

“Oh.” Beets' hand holding out the ring had fallen to her side, as if she had just been struck. That..had hurt.

But Zaspar had just continued, rambling on with as much charm and wit as if they were merely discussing a batch of experimental muffins on a rooftop.

“It is a nice ring though Beets, nice job choosing it, and your proposal was wonderful, you did very well-I shall have to remember that.”

“Oh thank you!” She’d said tersely, flitting to her feet, “Thank you so much Zaspar!

I'm so glad my 'performance' pleased you. This whole party really was an act then wasn’t it? One big flittin’ performance of.. 'fakery!'” She’d turned away, unable to look at him.

✨There was a strong scent growing in the air, lavender?✨

But then Zaspar kept going, he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.

“It’s hard for me too Beets, I’ve proposed so many times and been rejected so many times too.”

“Oh poor you!” She’d found herself snapping back, the ring box creaking as she clenched her first around it. “I’m so-so sorry!”

“We live completely different lives, Beets…And normally courting is done before proposing…”

She had then felt him, trying to put his arms around her in a hug. She’d put up her arm to stop him.

“Don’t pity me!” She’d said sourly. “That's almost worse than people hating me.”

“Hating you?” Zaspar had started. “Why should people-?”

That had flittin’done it.

“Oh I don’t know Zaspar.” She’d said, flitting up into the air in front of him.

“Maybe because I’m a horrible ~~‘beheading’~~ insectoid monster with razor sharp fangs, and insect legs. A creepy buggy little freak!” She’d spat, pulling the corner of her mouth up to give him a flash of her teeth, sticking out one leg to wiggle a three clawed talon at him.

Amongst the roar of blood in her head she could hear herself, shouting months back ago in that forest clearing in New Hillborrow:

“I’m a monster Marto, and there’s no good trying to deny it! I’M A FUCKING MONSTER!”

Marto had been right then, she had needed to change, but these were parts of her that could never change.

She’d flitted right up to Zaspar, looking him dead in the eyes. “You wanna know why I’ve never got that close with anyone else before? You wanna know why Zaspar? Because I’ve been scared, scared that I’d have woken up one morning beside them, and-they’d-be-dead. That ‘I', would have killed them.”

She carried on, unable to stop now she has started.

“B-But I let myself believe that maybe, maybe with you, things could be different, because you came to me. You heard about my monstrous side Zaspar, and you accepted it, accepted without issue. And so I thought, ‘Maybe, maybe I could keep it together, keep things under control.’”

Zaspar just blinked back at her, finally at a loss for words Beets thought, till he’d then said. “I do really like you Beets, that’s why I chose you to be my mentor, You were my first choice. After Ronkk I…”

“What was that?”

“What?”

‘What you just said there?”

“That I choose you to be my mentor?”

"No the other bit.”

“You were my ‘first’ choice?”

“What was that bit you said about about Ronkk.” Beets asked, staring squaring at Zaspar’s face.

His expression didn’t change.

“That I chose you, out of and over everyone, Ronk, Calla, Felix.

Zaspar wasn’t lying..but still.

“Well it doesn’t flittin’ well feel like it" Beets said, before flitting away from him towards the Hors’..whatever table.

“I need a muffin.”

——

It was then that a peculiar masked figure-from amongst the party guests-had appeared from a shrouding cloud of darkness along with Dee’arna, revealing himself to be the cause of the pungent lavender odour which now permeated the room, and had caused the party occupants, bar her friends-and Zaspar-to fall into a sudden sleep.

“To give you some privacy.” The figure explained, before then elaborating.

They were ‘a fiend’ and stated were willing to give her and Zaspar an offer, that was merely out of the goodness of their heart for all those present.

They would make everyone bar ‘them’ forget this ‘awkward-ending’ of the night’s ‘social-activities’, to prevent any scandals that surely would arrive.

But he was also feeling generous. Should they so desire, he could extend the invitation to allow them also to ‘forget the painful memories’ of the night should they so desire-no strings attached.

“No.” Beets had said without a second thought, and Zaspar had done the same, not that it would really make much difference Beets thought.

The masked figure had then simply bowed and made their departure, the passing of footsteps beyond the threshold seemingly rousing the sleeping guests who didn’t even seem to register that they had even been asleep as they picked themselves up from their slumped positions.

The booming Luxemforth had then come bounding over enthusiastically, clearly completely oblivious to the events that had just passed, loudly congratulating Zapar a “Very well done” on such a splendid evening…

“Yeah, great Party Zaspar.” Beets said bitterly before he'd turned away and left.

——

Beets had just kept flying, passing out above the city walls and then over the last rooftops of the outer suburbs into the darkness of the night.

It was a long time before she felt ready to turn back for home.

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell, I told secrets I shouldn't tell
I stumbled over all my words, I made it weird, I made it worse
Each time I step outside, it's social suicide
It's social suicide, wanna curl up and die
It's social suicide, yeah, when I'm alone, I'm fine
But don't let me out at night, it's social suicide, it's social suicide...
🪲