"Mm." He nodded, taking another bite of his cookie. "The front door's practically frozen shut."

"Ugh, I hate the cold." she turned towards the fire. "At least we restocked yesterday."

"I still don't love the idea," he replied. "It feels claustrophobic."

"It's weird being in a five-floor house. It's like, as big as the palace foyer..." she agreed, rubbing her index finger against her dry bottom lip. Altair was so starved for moisture, it pulled every drop out of her skin.

"Five floors or not," he perched on the sofa. "It's unsettling to know you can't leave."

"That's not entirely true, you could." she said mildly. "You'd just freeze your ass off. And then the demons would eat you. I love your hometown, Feofil."

"It's pretty on par with my childhood." He said dryly, tugging his sleeves down to cover his fingers. "This house is so draughty."

"We should get some blankets and camp out here," she decided, tilting her head back and chugging down the rest of her coffee like a shot. It was too hot and burned her throat, but at least it warmed her belly. With an exhale, Pari placed the mug on the table and hopped up. "Pillows, too. And paperwork."

"Paperwork?" He frowned. "I was with you until the paperwork."

"There's a lot we have to document in order to get all your property back." she reminded him.

"It's like five in the morning, what's the rush?"

"We have to start bright and early so we can make good progress." she said insistently, them blanched. "I mean -- if you want to."
Goddammit. Making sure that she wasn't issuing orders was fucking difficult when it was her second nature. The reminder of her stupid Tyrneamitore curse brought her mood crashing down and she exhaled forcefully, tipping her head down. Damn it. Damn it. She was better off taking a vow of silence for the rest of her life, but talking was also in her second nature.

He recognized her thought process and moved to snap her out of it. "Hey. You're fine. Will you grab the papers? I'll bring some blankets."

"Yeah," she muttered, jogging up the stairs.
Snow continued to drift down outside. The lights flickered briefly, but then continued shining warmly. Feo had been scrutinizing them when a scream echoed down from somewhere above him, piercing. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

He leapt off the couch, climbing the stairs two at a time and calling urgently, "What happened?"

Pari just shouted something wordlessly, her yell punctuated by a thump. Feo threw open the door to the office and found that she'd clambered on top of the desk and currently stood there, staring at a corner. "Oh my god, close the door! -- I mean, can you-- shit, just get in here!"

"What?" He stepped forward, closing the door and scouring the corner, though it was empty. "What?"

"A mouse!" Pari shoved her finger in the direction of the corner, where a sheath of papers were scattered about haphazardly. "It's under the bookshelf!"

"That's what you're yelling about?" He turned, exasperated. "It's not going to hurt you, you know."

"It's fucking disgusting, Feofil. You're a cat! You deal with it!"

It was evident in his deadpan gaze that he was unamused. "The fact that you'd just assume..." he shook his head.

"Assume what? It's your house, catboy." she fumed. A skittering sound started up, and then a small gray blur came shooting out of the corner, hurtling towards Feo.

His hands shot up to block the mouse, as if that would do any good. He danced around it as it weaved in between his feet and lodged itself in the safety of the crevice under the desk. "Shit, it's gone."

"Go cat mode, Feo!" she insisted, then groaned in frustration. "If you want to."

"That'll just scare it off god knows where," he countered, crouching down to peer underneath the table. "Bang on the desk or something to get it out of there."

She stomped on the desk as he asked, and moments later, the mouse came creeping out once more. "Euughhh," she said, "It's so gross!"

His hands closed around it in a flash of movement, pouncing on sight. "I got it, I got it!"

"Oh my god! Don't let it bite you, what if you get rabies?"

"You're the one who told me to grab it!" He yelled. "Get-- I don't know, get a box or something, he's trying to get out!"

"Oh my goooodddd," she wailed, hopping off the desk and hurrying around the room. "What do I--? What is this, a cigar box? Do you care?"

"No, just--" he stood with carefully cupped hands, positioning them over the opening of the box. "You ready?"

She shuddered, but nodded and opened the box. As soon as he dumped the mouse inside Pari yelped and slammed it shut, her eyes wide. "Christ."
It rattled around in her hands. She looked queasy.

"You didn't get his tail, did you?" Feo leaned, peered around the perimeter of the box.

"No, I don't think so..." but she hadn't been very careful. "What do we do with it?"

"Uh," his brain seemed to blank. Was this preferable to paperwork? They were suddenly responsible for a tiny life form. That was a lot of pressure. "Put it outside..?"

Pari looked down at the box, then turned to glance at the frost-covered window. She certainly didn't want it in the house, but... it would freeze outside.

"I mean, what's our other option? Keeping it?"

"Absolutely not." she replied, but she didn't look very convinced. "... but maybe... temporarily."

"Where?" He asked, looking down at the little box. "He can't stay in that tiny thing."

"So you're volunteering to play dad," she checked, dropping the box into his hands. "Cool, good luck."

"Hey, excuse me?" Feo held the box out. "No? This is an equal custody arrangement, if anything. You're the one who found him."

She laced her hands behind her back, walking backwards through the door as he followed. "Found him? He found me and it was totally against my will."

"Still, that's first contact. Finders keepers." He kept pace with her, not keen on letting her slip out of this.

"I don't know about that. It's so childish." Pari said. "We're adults here, right? Who's the more responsible one?"

"That question's a trap." He said, rightly so.

"Not to anyone clever."

"Oh, watch out--" his cried-out warning came too late as her foot came down just past the threshold of the sweeping spiral staircase, throwing her balance into complete disarray. He dove forward to catch any part of her he could, the box careening down the stairs as it slipped out of his hands, forgotten.

Pari gasped as she lost her footing, reaching out to grab his shoulder as his arms slid around her waist, holding her tight. She vaguely heard the box thump down the stairs, clattering open, and then the skitter of small paws. She was too distracted by the rush of adrenaline that came from almost cracking her head against one of the steps and joining the other ghosts that haunted Feo's house. She was also distracted by how close he suddenly was, her satin nightgown too thin of a barrier between him and his downy sweater and his warm skin. She could feel individual fingers brush against the plane of her stomach, tufts of his golden hair brushing the top of her head, her hands pressed against his firm chest. He wasn't as bulky as Kyros. He smelled clean and crisp, like winter. Her eyes latched on his, startled.

He'd pulled her back onto the top of the landing, eyes wide and breath just returning to his lungs as he processed the fate they'd narrowly avoided. He met her gaze and some part of his mind recognized the heat rising to his cheeks as he became acutely aware of his hands tucked tight in the curves of her waist and the fact that her face was mere inches away.

Pari stared at him for a moment longer and realized that his eyes weren't just blue, they were... all sorts of blues. Aegean, cerulean, dusty sky, all threaded with white that seemed almost silver in the morning light - cat's eyes. She was close enough to see each freckle on his flaxen skin, flooded now with pink and warmer than ever, and to notice the shadows beneath his dark lashes that had never been so prominent before. The years had taken their toll on Feo, but he was still beautiful. And it was that goddamn thought that broke her out of whatever spell he'd put her under, because she remembered the first time she'd noticed him - really noticed him. She'd looked at him once, long ago, and though she couldn't remember the context, that feeling would never escape her because here it was again, an echo that reverberated over and over despite every attempt to tamp it down. It was breathlessness. It was something that put her at a loss for words, and it was something that she reached out and throttled with two clawed hands, because she would never be put in that fucking position ever again. Parisa tightened her jaw and neatly stepped out of his grip, mustering up one of those laughs that she used in interviews and at galas when she needed a moment to recompose. "Thanks, I... almost got blood all over your nice new house."

Feo was surprised at the measure of disappointment that stirred within him at the sound of that laugh. He knew it well-- the mirthless customer service laugh. "I'm more concerned about your skull than my house."

"My skull costs a lot, so... yeah." she agreed, turning around and exhaling slowly. "Um, the mouse got out."

"We can try to lure him back out." He said, grateful for the change in topic. "If we leave just one fireplace on, he'll probably come towards the heat."

"That's a good idea," she was careful to hold the rail as she began to make her way down the stairs. Then she paused, tipped her head back and sighed. "I forgot the papers. And pillows and blankets. Back up, let's go. Not a command."

"Toss them down," he said. "I'll go stoke the fire."

A short while later, Pari had thrown a number of pillows and downy blankets over the railing and armed herself with paperwork. She and Feo had set themselves up in the living room, pushing the couch close to the fireplace to sequester themselves off and spreading a blanket on the floor. Pari had one around her waist and was propped up against a pillow as she perused one of the many property documents, twirling a fountain pen in her hand. "These are so shoddy. Our lawyers could lay claim to like, half the land in this nation because of some of the stuff written in here."

"These people are actively getting hunted by demons." He pointed out. "It's probably not their top priority."

"Yeah, I guess we wouldn't want demon infested lands either."

"Nope," he agreed. "I can barely tolerate the little crack demon as it is."

"That stupid thing." she muttered. "Have you fed him today or is he whining in the kitchen right now?"

"I haven't given it anything."

"I'll go feed him some of your shortbread cookies later." She decided. "Or the mouse."

"Not the cookies," he protested. "Give it bread crusts or something."

"He likes sweets. It makes him shut up for longer, didn't you notice?"

"Now we're catering to its tastes?"

"Hey, the Altirians said 'compromise'." She countered, when the lights flickered. Pari looked up, squinting. "Is that a demon thing or an old house thing?"

"The snow could be bringing down power lines." He theorized, feeling an unsettled twinge in the pit of his stomach.

She bit back a sigh, tucking her hair behind her ears. "We should get some torches and candles to be safe."

"There's a whole box of tea lights down in the basement, but I'm not going down there on my own." He glanced out the window, met with nothing but the blinding white snow.

"I'll come with you, scaredy cat."

He didn't miss the pun in her wording. "You're the one who was debilitated at the sight of a mouse."

"I'm a princess," she replied by way of explanation. "I have a delicate constitution. Besides, you're supposed to eat mice."

"I'm not a savage," he replied. "You'd be surprised how much better things taste when you actually cook them."

"I know. You stick me with all the cooking." she grumbled good-naturedly, flicking on the lights above the steep staircase into the basement depths.

"I thought you liked it," he argued, beginning the descent down the questionably aged staircase. Even with the lights on, the shadows at the corners of the room stretched into the center, reaching for their feet with their inky black fingers. Who knew how many strange little demons skittered within.

"If something bites my toes, I'm going to burn this place to the ground."

"Please don't, I literally just inherited it." He strode across the room, deeming it better to just not think about those dark corners, and pulled a box off a shelf. "Anything else while we're down here?"

Pari had been snooping around while he grabbed the box and said suddenly, "Hey. Isn't this your... Kitri?"

He turned to look, the unease in his stomach deepening. "What is it?"

"It's photos," she lifted the album, thick and heady with the smell of leather, out of the dusty case it had been in. "Ugh, I don't think anyone's touched this in decades."

"Nobody's been down here in decades." He held the box to his chest, eyeing the album.

She blew some dust off the book and then wrinkled her nose at the subsequent cloud of muck. "Let's look at it upstairs."

He said nothing, though that was enough to count as acquiescence in Pari's eyes. Instead he led the charge back upstairs, keen on getting out of the basement as soon as possible.

Pari followed him up, opening the album slowly. It creaked in response and revealed a faded picture of several men, women, and children. "Damn, this is an album."

"What did you think it was?" He didn't look at the thing, instead closing the basement back up and heading towards the living room.

"I don't know. A grimoire or something." she looked up at him with a spark in her eye, some glimmer of the old, teasing Pari that had vanished years ago. "The OG Necronomicon, maybe?"

"I was frozen in time, not reanimated," he reminded her, attempting to match her tone though the whole thing still felt very foreign to him, like it was a part he was playing and not his real, actual life. As if any day the curtain would come down and everyone would remember that that wasn't him at all, he was just a scruffy cat who'd been plucked from a jungle and raised in a castle. That was odd enough as it was.

"Same difference," Pari shrugged, giving the knob a second tug to check. "Where do you think that damn mouse is?"

"It's a big place. Could be anywhere."

"What I'm hearing is that we're not gonna know where it is till it crawls up my dress."

"That is a very real possibility." He confirmed as they trailed back into the living room. "Maybe he'll become the crack demon's snack."

"The last thing I want is crack demon developing a taste for flesh."

"You're the one who fed him the skin off our salmon dinner last week," he pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"Very different. If he starts eating mermaids, that's not my problem." she replied lightly, settling back in her seat as Feo began to place the tealights around their enclosure.

"It would be Sparrow's problem." He lit one of the tea lights on the mantle. The sun would rise shortly, but in the meantime at least they had little flickers here and there to ward off the feeling of demons watching.

"Sparrow's shacked up with Kyros. She's fine." she waved him off, though her ease faded a little with mention of her cousin. They were on speaking terms. Sort of. Her last conversation with Kyros had been four turns long and pertained to some document he'd sent her way. They hadn't talked again in nearly two weeks. She sure as hell wouldn't be the first to reach out, though.

"You think he ranks higher than crack demon on the tier list?"

"Kyros?" She scoffed. "No. I think he'd piss his pants if he bumped into crack demon."

Feo chuckled, plopping the last tea light down and giving it a light. "He'd probably give it a kick in the face as soon as it tried to nibble at his foot."

A small smile lit her expression as she shook her head, looking down at the album she'd placed on the floor beside her seat. "I wonder if you have more of your mom's family's features or your dad's."

"You can open it if you want to," he encouraged. She'd been hovering around it-- she was clearly curious.

With that approval, Pari flipped the cover open, her eyes bright.
Inside the front flap was a row of several people. The picture was grainy and brown with age, and clearly contained several generations of the family. The next page yielded a similar picture, but... with fewer people, and one of the somber-faced children were gone. Beneath it was something written in Altirian. "Can you read this?"

He held the empty box tucked in front of him, hesitating, his eyes on the page from afar. "Um..."

Jüris disappeared in the night. the words beneath said. Tellura walked into the woods and never returned. Hilde was caught by the hound.

His eyes flickered away, down to the box. "Fill in the blanks. It'll be more fun."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking note of his tension. When Feo was stressed, he had a groove that cut the space beneath his eye in a line all the way down to his jaw. She turned the page. A group of little girls were dressed for the spring, their hair twined with flowers, and the little boys had funny looking shoes on. Bastien's birthday celebration.
"Come sit down."

Feo noted with apprehension the tightening knot in stomach. He kept his distance, reaching out for any excuse to avoid that little portal to the past. "Maybe I should set some traps out or something, for the mouse."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Pari's eyes met his. "Maybe this will help you get some closure."

He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled shortly. "I don't know if I can look at her face."

"Do you wanna try?"

He didn't respond right away, feeling his heart rate quicken at the idea. Although he was slowly settling into the concept of his birth mother, there existed still that small but loudly wounded part of himself that struggled to differentiate the face of his mother from the horrid, shifting, rotten visage of the monster that plagued his dreams. Confronting it, thought it might've been good for him in the long run, did not seem at all appealing.

Pari flipped the page, her eyes on the paper. She was incongruous to memories of his mother, which were full of slow, creeping dread. Especially in her satiny gown and the blankets tucked around her waist, Pari was warm - even more so, because she so rarely was to anyone else. "I won't make you." She said.

"I'm working on it," he said quietly, lowering the box onto the ground beside the fireplace. He stood straight before her for a moment, wiping his slick palms off on his sweatpants and shoving down a shudder. "Should I reheat your coffee?"

She waved her hand dismissively and instead closed the album, pressing her hands on either side, gazing at it unseeingly. "You know," she pursed her lips pensively, "... I wish I knew more about my parents."

"More? Like what?"

"They had a whole life before me." she admitted. "... one they liked better. Being normal. Living in New York. I guess I wish I knew more about my whole family. Luce was old, Fiz was gone, my parents... were busy. Sometimes..." most of the time. "It was very outside looking in."

"They did have you pretty late... your upbringing was way different than theirs." He agreed. "That feeling makes sense to me."

"And then they have the gall to be upset that I'm a bitchy princess." she rolled her eyes, looking away. "... whatever."

"Where'd this come from all of a sudden?" He wondered, perching beside her.

"Nowhere," she sighed, opening the album again. "Am I snooping by myself or are you helping?"

He rested his hands on his knees, sighing. "This was a trick, wasn't it?"

She leaned over and, in a rare move, rested her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes were heady, her lips were were right at the lobe of his ear, and her chest lay lightly against his arm. "Everything's a trick with me, Feo. You should know that by now."

He couldn't stop his pulse from racing at her warmth pressed against him and the whisper of her breath on his neck. "I-I--"

It would be so easy to lean forward and meet his lips... to move into his lap, pull his head down, and succumb to every burning desire that made itself known whenever he was in proximity.
And he would let her. Or, at least, she could convince him to. Even without her damned power, she was flush with heat and her satin slip was but a thin barrier between them. All she had to do was say his name softly, scoop her long locks over one creamy shoulder, and touch her hand to his chest. She'd look into his eyes, blue and icy, and she'd see...
Pity. Because he knew her, and he liked her, but he didn't love her. He'd told her as much. He didn't want her, and if she did any more than this, she'd ruin one of the only friendships she had left.

Parisa leaned back and knocked her shoulder against his instead of kissing him because it was the only thing she could do. Shame, embarrassment, frustration, familiar as her own name, coursed through her veins and with a jolt of misplaced anger, she flipped the book open, right to the full page portrait of Kitri that she'd bookmarked down in the basement.

Feo visibly flinched, drawing in a breath and pressing his outspread hand to the page. God, she was going to give him a fucking heart attack-- he could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing. "Pari--" His voice dropped to a whisper, "Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?"

Guilt needled at her but she shoved it aside. "There are scarier things in Altair than the portrait of your dead mother Feofil. Make your peace and move on."

His fingers dragged inwards, crumpling the page slightly. His hand had frozen in place, his heart ice cold as it palpated with fear. "I can't. I'm sorry." His eyes flickered to her, though they didn't linger long, casting aside in shame. "I couldn't explain."

Pari gazed at him, then down at his trembling hand, resting against the portrait to cover Kitri's face. Her heart dipped into her stomach and she exhaled, closing the book and setting it aside.

"I'm sorry, Pari. I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid." she said finally, drawing one knee to her chest. "It's not something you need to apologize for."

"It's a nuisance," he posited. "I should be able to look at my own mother's face."

"Why can't you explain?" she asked. "Is it me?"

He drew his hands into his lap, fidgeting with clammy palms. Even the thought of verbalizing an explanation felt like certain death gripping his soul. "Not at all... I just couldn't get the words out if I tried." Even that took some forcing past the knot that had lodged itself in his throat. And he hated it.

Pari pressed her lips together, taking stock of him. She could reach out and take his hand. If she were Sparrow, he'd already be in her arms. But she wasn't Sparrow, and nowadays, she rarely even felt like Pari. "Forget the picture." She said. "Forget the album. It's your turn. Ask me something, anything, and I'll be honest."

"What?" He seemed bewildered at the unexpected request.

She didn't know why she would offer such a thing; it was stupid and vulnerable, two things that she, under absolutely no circumstances, in any situation, ever was. That was the thing with Feo though, wasn't it? She'd strip down to her core for him. She was a fucking disaster. "Last chance."

"Okay," he thought for a moment as he pulled himself out of his own head. "Anything?"

"One question." she said reluctantly.

"Why'd you do it? When you ran away and got engaged?"

Somehow, she hadn't been expecting that question. Pari faltered, gripping her knees more tightly. "Because I didn't have anything else."

"What do you mean?" He asked. "...I was right there."

"I had that minor psychotic break and dumped it all on you." she forced a laugh though his words stirred the resentment in her chest. "We were not on good terms, Feo. I wasn't on good terms with anyone. And everything I had worked for was gone: my reputation. Any semblance of power. And when I was alone, I realized that none of it mattered in Atherdale, because even if I built myself back up, Kyros could tear it down in a heartbeat."

"So you put yourself at the whim of another king? Of Medeiros, no less?" He followed the line of thinking, and his tone wasn't accusatory though his words could come off that way. He mostly just wanted to understand. It had been so out of the blue, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel a little personal. He'd seen Parisa in the most vulnerable state she'd even been, confessing that she loved him, and then suddenly she'd been just gone. Cold. Meeting his reciprocity with anger because he hadn't met her exact expectations. And then an engagement of all things? Jumping into a relationship, regardless of the political motivations, seemed pointedly on the nose. He hadn't necessarily been surprised-- it was Pari, after all-- but he had been wounded. And they just hadn't acknowledged it since. "What was that meant to solve?"

"Orsino was a numbskull, but his kingdom had a good foundation. I always knew my marriage was going to be political," though for a brief and delusional period of time she'd hoped otherwise. "... but instead of primarily benefitting Atherdale, this move was for me. He was my best bet at having something Kyros couldn't take."

He looked at her, clear eyes betraying more wary heartache than he would have liked. "...So it had absolutely nothing to do with us?"

Pari's breath stilled in her chest but she put her shoulders back and forced herself to inhale. Anyone else might have taken her neutrality at face-value, but Feo knew her better. Her fortress would have to be impenetrable, her mask flawless. "By then we'd both made it clear that there was nothing between us. I was spiraling and you were my only friend at the time. It was a mistake. Medeiros was a calculation."

"Really?" He responded. "What happened between us was a mistake, but Medeiros was a calculation?"

"He would have been a damn good one too if my bloodline hadn't fucked everything up, like it always does." she leaned against the couch and exhaled, looking at her hands instead of at him.

"A good one for what? For who? What kind of life would that have been?" He challenged. "He'd been annoyingly persistent and he's twice your age. Since when did you want that?"

"Since I looked at the politico-economic benefits." she shot back. "I'm a princess, Feo, what do you want me to say?"

"Just that you regretted it at all." He said with an ounce of defeat. Of course. She was always right and he'd never understand. She was a princess, much too classy and important to concern herself with his petty affections. Affections she'd initiated.

"I regret that it turned out the way it did." Pari said finally, refusing to let her voice waver.

What was he hoping for? That she'd renounce her decision to marry the king? He had been the best choice of her suitors. He had wealth, a kingdom, a party of loyal followers, but he hadn't had stability. He'd needed her skills and she'd needed his strength. But then they'd found out what she could do, and suddenly Medeiros could no longer afford her - not that he'd let her get away. He was still raving about how Atherdale had kidnapped his wife to anyone who would listen, though both Kyros and Parisa denied that the marriage had ever gone through.

Pari had spent exactly one month at the Medeiros palace before it had all gone to shit. She hadn't even kissed him, despite all his flirtations, and had managed to secure herself a room in the other wing "until the wedding". Their marriage was a transaction, and she hadn't been willing to pretend it was anything more. She'd seen Medeiros's mask slip once or twice - his frustration and his anger - but what did it matter? He was like a child chasing after a new toy. The only reason she entertained it was because it was better than being... vulnerable.

And that was the core of the truth, wasn't it? She regretted all of it. Of course she'd been after a seat of power, but Feo had everything to do with it too. He had seen her at her lowest point: her hope laid on a platter, her naivety highlighted by infatuation. She'd put her throat on a guillotine for Feo and she would never do it again. Even if he reciprocated - and she suspected, from the tremor in his voice and the ghost of his expression, that he'd gotten just as entangled as she had - she would not hand him that leverage.

She had been looking for more than just power in a political sense. She'd been trying to protect herself from him - the one person who could make her undone.

"So you'd rather be shacked up with a politically motivated old skeeve right now." He said, trying not to fall completely to the frustration that bubbled up at her desperately trying to keep him at arm's length.

"I did that out of necessity, Feofil, not because I wanted to." Pari replied, her voice just as terse as his.

"How does that change what you just said to me?" He asked.

"You're acting like I was some naive fucking idiot getting married for love." she said accusatorially, "I wouldn't rather be shacked up with him; I wanted my kingdom and my seat at the table!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth." He said. "I didn't for a minute think that's what you were doing. I'm not stupid."

"So why do you keep asking me stupid questions?" she asked, right as the lights flickered; then the house groaned and the power died entirely, leaving both Feo and Pari amidst the blankets, lit only by the tea lights around them.

He sighed. "Great. Now we die to demons."

"Christ," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "You can do that. I'm not letting some stupid demon take me out."

"As if you'd have a choice." He remarked. He felt the urge to get up, to do something, but he knew there was nothing to be done but wait. And truly hope that nothing found them sitting here, hapless, in the dark. His anger had fizzled, as it always did, because their entire friendship hinged on his anger fizzling or not rearing its head at all. It was Kyros's fatal flaw and the reason he just couldn't seem to win his cousin back over-- he didn't know how to shut up and stew. Instead of anger, an exhausted desperation overtook him instead. Every time he felt he'd gained an inch with her, she got spooked and shoved him back a mile. If he didn't care, it wouldn't matter, but the problem came in the fact that he cared so much about it for some reason. Cared so much about her. And she had so much practice in steeling herself against not only her own emotions but other people's as well that it left him feeling like the crazy loser who cared. "Just forget it, Pari. You promised me honesty, so I guess... I wouldn't be a good friend if I badgered you into another answer. If I thought there was anything else going on, I can assume I was just..." Stupid. Being an idiot. Expecting too much of you. "... misinformed."

"What else did you think was going on?" she asked the dark. It was easier, not seeing him, even though he was only an inch away. She could still feel his heat; if she reached out, she would touch his hand. She didn't have to look into his endlessly blue eyes and lie.

"Well, if I tell you, you're just going to call me stupid, so I won't." He decided. "I can tell you something else, though."

"Okay..." she said, a little put out. "What?"

"I, for one, am really glad you're sitting here with me and not with some noble sequestered off in a castle where I'd never get to see you."

Parisa scoffed softly and leaned her head back against the couch, contemplating his words. Would she have seen him again if she'd married Orsino?
In all truth, no. Not likely. It was supposed to have been a clean break, a new beginning. It had utterly failed, but somehow... sitting here with no power and the cold pressing in, despite all their blankets and candles, despite the demons and the darkness, she couldn't find it in herself to wish for something else. "Me too."

That was really all he'd needed. He tucked his arms across his chest to stave off some of the cold, suddenly awash with a sense of contented validation. "Could do without this darkness, though."

"Yeah, it's not great..." Pari sighed, drawing her robe tight. The house was cooling down without power, which made the air smell like cold. They wouldn't freeze, but it was uncomfortable.

It almost felt like the world had stilled around them, without any hum of electricity, the only movement stemming from the quiet snow that drifted down outside. "Pari," he intoned, somewhere between a statement and a question. As if he was checking for her presence or attention, though he knew logically he had both.

"Yeah?" she opened her eyes, peering in his direction. The light ebbed gently against his blonde curls, turning them as snowy as the world outside.

"About my mom," He said quietly. "There's more to it than you think."

She pressed her lips together, letting silence settle between them before asking again, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he admitted truthfully. "But I want you to know, and there's only one way to do that."

"Which is?"

"To tell you." He exhaled. "There's no sane-sounding way to say this."

"Sanity went out the window like five years ago," she said. "If you're going to tell me, tell me now."

Her insistence helped in that it pushed him to get it out there, to keep it short. They're just words, he reminded himself. You can say them.
"The only beings in the time pocket were my mother, me, and a demon that hunted us day in and day out." He said haltingly, and hesitated for a moment before continuing, making an effort to distance himself from the emotions the events described carried. "It killed her one day, and since then it wears her... rotting... face. So like I said... it's a little complicated."

It did track. Demons were notoriously fucked up, and wearing the rotting face of one of their victims sounded like a perfectly demonic behavior. Feo's voice was steady, but it strained under the weight of fear. She'd heard similar notes a few times before: sometimes muffled behind his bedroom door, sometimes in hushed conversation with Sparrow, and once, after Boaz. Once upon a time, she'd sworn that he would never face such a thing again, but she hadn't known what a difficult task she'd signed up for.
"Fuck, Feo." she said.

Her reaction, though simple and on-the-nose, put a crack in the wall he'd constructed in order to broach the topic at all. It wasn't anything specific she'd expressed, just the idea that this horrendous weight he'd been holding so close to his chest up until now didn't have to be held alone anymore. That she was there right alongside him to say precisely that-- fuck. The validation was incredible, even as he struggled to keep away the memory of the demon surrounded by all-consuming darkness. If it had been Sparrow beside him, he'd reach for her hand without a second thought-- an anchor in the storm. But with Pari, it was trickier. He managed to channel the overwhelm, equal parts fearful and relieved, into a trembling sigh that came out breathier than intended. He'd wage the tempest that opening that door brought; he knew he'd have to.

"And you see this thing whenever you do your... time stuff? So every time, you see..." Pari sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. No wonder he'd freaked at the sight of Kitri's portrait. Guilt pooled in her stomach again, but she swallowed it down.

"Yeah." He whispered, closing his eyes. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing in breath. "I'm working on sitting with it."

Pari bit her lip and inhaled, then reached over to place her hand on his fist. She slowly rubbed her thumb against his knuckles before moving to withdraw. "You sit with that as long as you need to."

Her touch was steady and gentle but firm, spreading a warmth throughout his body that grounded him. Especially knowing Pari's reservations about her personal bubble, it was an immensely meaningful gesture. He rode that wave through several slow breaths as the tide subsided. "I hate this place." He broke the silence at last, speaking in earnest. "The constant threat of demons and talk of my mother and having to live up to these people's expectations about what their ancient folk hero should be. It's hard to reconcile that with everything else in my life."

"It's damn hard being placed on a pedestal." Pari agreed quietly. "And you never asked for it, never wanted it."

He cracked an eye open to cast a sidelong glance at her. "I'm sensing some relating happening here."

"Yeah, except I'm only stuck in demon land because of you." she exhaled good-naturedly.

"You're the only reason it's bearable."

Pari didn't meet his gaze, though her lips twisted into a wry smile. "You prefer my company to literal monsters? I'm touched."

"And you should be." He joked reflexively. "Because I have many options when it comes to monsters."

"Yeah, I'm sure you and Crack demon would get along like a house on fire." Pari rolled her eyes, then leaned back and looked at him. "You don't have to take the mantle, Feofil. That's not your burden."

"Everyone else seems to think so."

"Why do you give a shit? You don't even know these people."

"It's not just the Altirians." He lamented. "Kyros expects some sort of rapport to form. He hasn't mentioned it outright, but I can tell."

She scoffed. "Again, why do you give a shit? Going out of your way to do anything for Kyros is a bad move. I'm living proof."
He had apologized (in his own way, which meant he actually hadn't at all). Her cousin was remorseful, but he'd fucked her over so badly that the situation couldn't be un-fucked.

He knew better than to get into this with her. It had been the single most draining aspect of their lives the past couple of years, and the last thing he wanted to do was exacerbate it. Instead, he just gave a noncommittal shrug and shake of his head. "It's not about going out of my way. I'd have to go out of my way not to."

She lay her head against her arm, eyes glinting like garnets in the dim firelight. His expression was lined with exhaustion, blasé as he tried to be. That was just Feo, though, maintaining his composure despite every kick in the gut. His relationship with Sasha was tense, but he acted more like his father than he probably cared to admit. "I'm getting a martyr vibe from you." she deliberated, her voice soft. "You spend all your time sacrificing your time and energy for the sake of other people. You've spent your entire adult life juggling the shitshow at the palace and now you're stewing in another one."

"I can't really help it that trouble seems to follow me." He pointed out, daring a glance in her direction. In that paltry excuse for a dress, she herself was trouble incarnate.

"Don't be so passive. What do you want?"

"Some sense of normalcy back." He exhaled. It was an impossible wish. Everything had changed, surely irreversibly.

Parisa's lips thinned as she dipped her chin in acknowledgement, though... she couldn't remember what normalcy was anymore. Her and Kyros traipsing around without a care in the world? Sparrow working herself to death? Feo, Mirza, and Vic existing as background characters in their lives? But that was what he'd always wanted, wasn't it? To nap in sunlight, to lounge on a soft pillow, to be left alone. Yeah, Feofil was living his worst nightmare right now and Pari couldn't even bring herself to be annoyed that she apparently was a major part of it; after all, she'd known for a long time - since they were teenagers, really - that Kyros and Feo, even Sparrow - they tolerated her. But she'd never asked them to hang around her; they kept coming back. She hadn't volunteered to come to Altair, Feo had asked her... probably convinced by Kyros. Or maybe, she thought with some exasperation, she'd been his third choice again.
Whatever. Normalcy, in her opinion, was an overrated concept. He could pine for the past. It wouldn't change a thing.

"I guess we just have to find our new normal." He thought aloud, following it up with a mutter, "That's what my mom says, anyway. And I guess she'd know."

"Yeah, your mom can be annoyingly perky." she crossed her legs beneath the blankets, then squinted. Had something moved down there?

"Tell me about it." He almost rolled his eyes. "Most of the time it's not very helpful."

"It's not supposed to help. It's supposed to make you feel better." she pointed out. "A lot of advice is like that: completely fucking useless, but at least the words sound pretty strung together."

"Sometimes you're not looking to feel better, though." He speculated, gazing at the flickering candles on the mantle opposite them. She of all people would understand that, he figured, given her penchant for dramatic wallowing. "Sometimes you just need someone to say 'damn, that sucks.'"

"It's men that do that; they try to fix everything."
Like Kyros, trying to fix things that couldn't be fixed. "It's a waste of time for everyone involved and," she added, "It's completely selfish, which is fine, but people pretend it's altruistic. That's annoying. At least be upfront about it."

"Better or worse than empty platitudes?" He posed the question for their joint consideration.

"They're both obnoxious." she said, then froze. Her eyes flickered to the blankets. "... did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" He pulled a corner of the blanket back to look.

Something was definitely skittering down there, and Pari quickly drew her legs closer to herself, eyes round. "It's the mouse-- I think it's under the blanket. Right? Or it's a demon."

"Ew, what? No way." He threw the blanket back, not willing to chance it.

"Oh my god," she began, then yelped in terror and revulsion as a distinctly furry figure brushed along the side of her fucking thigh, oh God, it was a lot closer than she'd expected. "Oh my god!"
Her next move was reflexive, born from years of climbing onto and over various people when the need arose. Feo was her unlucky victim this time as she clambered into his lap, cursing under her breath. The floor was free real estate for the mouse; it didn't matter where she ended up as long as she was away from it. Her hands were pressed against his chest; she'd been close to him before, but now she was engulfed by Feo's arms and sweater and cocooned between his legs, and she leaned over to stare in horror at the space she'd previously occupied - now the realm of the beast.

He drew back with her form in tow, instinctively mirroring her panic, though a few seconds later his senses caught up to him. "Pari, jeez! You'd think there was a murderer in the house!"

"I’d rather deal with a murderer." She hissed back.

"It probably doesn't even bite," he moved to ease her off his lap-- currently much more preoccupied with her form pressed against him than whatever critter was running around. If she really was insistent that there was not and would never be anything between them, it probably wouldn't do to have her notice how the blood was rushing to his cheeks at her touch... and to worse places as well.

Parisa’s eyes flickered from the floor to Feo, whose face was only a breath away, and her heart stuttered to a stop. She hadn’t meant to dive into his arms. God, how mortifying — and he was doing his best to stay polite, his own gaze carefully focused on a distant point as his hovering hands redirected her to the floor, but it seemed as though her stare had enticed his. Blue met red. One of her hands was clasped upon his shoulder, the other braced against his chest. There was space between them… up until her hips and his waist. After all, she was sprawled across him. Pari’s cheeks flushed warmly and she refused to consider what else was now happening across the traitorous length of her body at the realization, at the overwhelming feeling of their legs tangled together and the lurking strength of his slim frame.

He didn't dare exhale for fear of their breaths intermingling, precluding the union of much more. Holding her gaze for any second longer would set him alight and burn him up inside-- he could already feel himself stirring in ways he was appalled to when confronted with his childhood friend. With every passing moment he felt his grip on his mental faculties slipping, a terrifying feeling of loss of control. At last, he forced himself to give her a gentle push, putting some distance between them and allowing the crisp air to rush back into the vacuum that had been created in the intensity of their touch.

When she came in contact with the blankets, notably cooler than his skin, it was like someone doused her with a bucket of water. "Shit," she exhaled, her voice stilted as she scooted away. "I-- sorry, I didn't mean to-- jump you."
Feo looked as befuddled as she felt. His pale cheeks were flush with color, making every freckle stand out. Part of her wondered at that; she'd noticed it earlier too, when she'd come close and lay her chin upon his shoulder, how he had stopped functioning. Pari might have attributed it to Feofil being Feofil; he was always been a little awkward and seemingly unsure of how to interact with her when she was between pleasant and prickly, but... there was something different about it. Different about him.

He'd told her that he would have reciprocated, back when she'd first lost her mind and, for some reason, told him that she liked him. Actually, he'd hollered it at her during their fight after she'd iced him out. She didn't recall his exact words... something like that he might have felt the same way until she'd reiterated her... what was it? Her stubbornness. Childishness. Something like that. And then Sparrow had been angrier than Parisa had ever seen her, after the engagement; those words she could remember. 'Intentionally cruel'. "Like you're cutting out his heart with a knife," Sparrow'd tearfully proclaimed, and it had taken everything in Pari not to roll her eyes. I mean, come on. Besides, how was it fair to accuse Pari of being volatile when apparently all it took for Feofil to lose his interest was one misstep? If he really liked her he should have known her impulsivity. If he really liked her, he wouldn't hold her above her flaws.

That just made it all clearer, though, that he didn't really like her - not like that, anyways. And she didn't like him like that either. They were just... two young adults stuck in a cold house, vulnerable to demons, and desperate for distraction.

"We should look for the mouse." Feofil decided then and there to give them both a hard shift away from whatever forbidden electricity had just occurred. He consciously turned his gaze away from her and to the couch instead, bending over to feign a search underneath it.

Pari gazed at him blankly as he rummaged beneath couch, fighting a bewildered laugh, which would have been totally inappropriate. It was just that - well, he wasn’t subtle at all. And neither was she. But at least she could demure her own carnal reaction to the cold.

Then the doorbell rang.

Feo almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least with a third wheel around, it would keep things reasonable. He went to the door, peering out the window for a moment before pulling it open, trying his best to appear casual, like he and the Princess of Atherdale hadn't almost just jumped each other's bones.

Krill's younger sister, Roo, was standing outside, bundled up in a scarf all the way to her red cheeks. She rubbed her mittened hands together to stave off the cold. Giovanni stood tall beside her, a cutting figure against the sun.
"Good morning," she greeted apologetically. "We cleared some of the snow from your door. Sorry to bother you so early; it's just that I'm going down to the village to check on the wards and I thought I might as well stop by and see how the house's are holding up..? Is that okay?"

"Uh," Feo glanced over his shoulder to Pari, who was very much still in her nightgown, and stalled just long enough to allow her passage to her room if she wanted to grab at least a coat or something. "Sure. That's fine."

Pari quickly bent down to grab one of the blankets, wrapping it around her shoulders like a shawl before approaching. She'd have liked to get dressed, but she didn't want to miss a chance to build her relationship with a Lumanlisc. She doubted they'd care; some of the things the nymphs around here wore were completely sheer, not to mention the topless mermaids on the coastline. Roo dipped her chin in greeting. “Morning, princess.”
“Good morning. Feo, let them inside.”

His brow furrowed a little at her command, but he did step aside to let them in, his gaze lingering on Giovanni a moment longer than it did on Roo. Something felt off about that man, but she always seemed to have him in tow, so there wasn't much to be done about it.

“There’s a mouse,” Pari explained when Roo’s eyes fell to the bundles of blankets on the floor. “We were… trying to find it.”
“Oh, a mouse!" she exclaimed, "In this cold? Poor thing, it was probably just trying to warm up.”
“Sure.” She waved off Roo’s concern. “Feo and I can worry about that later. You said something about the... wards?"
“Right! Here, there are four wards in this house and you can redo them on your own. You might need some more supplies but just let us know if you do," Roo said, her eyes round and earnest as she led their group to the basement door. "First one's down here. And before I forget, have you seen any new demons in the house? Like mice, they might sneak in to a warmer place."

"Haven't seen any new ones..." Feofil said tentatively, lagging behind as they approached the basement. If there was any demonic presence in the house, it was concentrated there, with all the ghosts of his mother's past. "Anything we should be on the lookout for?"

Her forehead creased thoughtfully. “Odd shadows or smells, nightmares, strange scratches or bruises that you don’t recall getting. Just keep your guard up for anything out of place. Even something like noticing an extra vase or a window that you’ve never seen before.”
“Oh good.” Pari said flatly. “We can take inventory of everything in the house every morning.”
“That could work,” Roo agreed, “But you really don’t need to. Most demons want to be noticed. They’ll go out of their way.”

By the time they wrapped up the fourth ward, Pari’s head was swimming and any heat she’d felt earlier had been all but extinguished. They were traipsing back to the front door now when Roo said, “Do you need help catching that mouse?”

Feofil looked to Parisa-- he personally didn't love the idea of strangers lingering in his home any more than needed to prevent a demonic invasion, but the truth was they hadn't been very successful in catching-- or rather, keeping-- it so far.

Pari looked back at him, then to their guests. “Thank you, but it’s fine. We’ll just set out some traps.”
“Of course.” Roo said. Her eyes flickered between them and she seemed to muster a breath. On the way out the door, she repeated, “Please feel free to call us if you ever need anything. And, um, you might find more supplies in the bathroom closets. Just in case you haven’t checked yet.”

Feo's brow furrowed. They'd been just fine on towels and things. "Supplies for what? The wards?"

"Just... for daily use." she said vaguely, then gave them a polite wave. "You'll see. Gio and I had better get going."
Pari raised an eyebrow at the two of them as they descended the porch steps, heading back out to the main roadway. Weird. she mouthed at Feo.

Meanwhile, Roo and Giovanni walked in peaceful silence until they were a little ways away from the forest manor, Roo struggling to keep her tongue all the while. She didn't want to gossip, but... she glanced at him out of the corner of the eye, wondering if he'd caught the same awkwardness between Feo and the princess as she had. He must have.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Feo wondered as he locked the door up tight.

"So they're screwing, right?" Giovanni said without qualms.
--
"I don't know." she shrugged, dropping the blanket and folding it over her arms. "The Altirians are weird. I'm taking a lantern to my bathroom to shower."

"Gio!" she said with reflexive admonishment, hiding her laugh in her scarf. "I don't know, but they were... there was something going on. Was I too obvious with the closet thing?"
--
"I'll be by the fire." He said. A little break from each other would do them well.

"No, what were you even hinting at? Condoms?"

"Yeah, there are... there are condoms in the house." she confirmed, cheeks flushing with color that came from beyond the cold. "It wasn't me that put them there, it was Hyquaria's suggestion. She said, you know, two young kids and..."

"Clearly it was warranted." He said. "It's a good thing you handled that and not me. I wouldn't have spared them the embarrassment."

"I know, that's exactly why I jumped in. You like needling people." she commented.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, they're both adults."

"And we're strangers. We shouldn't be interfering in anything intimate. The only reason I brought up the closet was because Altair's an awful place to have a baby."

"If she fell pregnant, they'd go home immediately. I'm sure she'd want it to be an Atherdalian national."

"Getting pregnant in Altair can be bad too." she sighed. "The hauntings don't stop for pregnancy."

"Now that's just up to them and their choices." He shrugged.

Roo tucked her hands into her pockets, kicking some snow out of the way. "Do you always consider all your choices in a given situation? I mean, before making a decision - even an emotional one."

"I try very hard not to make purely emotional decisions." He remarked. "But you owe it to yourself to consider your choices."

Roo went quiet for a moment before glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "So right now I have two choices."

"Okay..." he urged her to continue, eyes scanning the path ahead.

"I could keep trudging forward in the cold and the snow and then spend hours warding every house in the village before I drag myself back to the Hold... or I could turn around, walk home and make myself some hot cocoa. Or you could make it, if you're feeling generous." she looked at him fully, brushing away a strand of errant hair. "What do you recommend, Mr. Strategist?"

"That depends. How demon-infested do you like your country?"

“Not very…” Roo admitted with a sigh. “So pragmatic, Giovanni.”

"That's what you asked for," he quipped contentedly, sparing a glance in her direction.

Roo twisted her lips to the side pensively, her dark hair glimmering with snowflakes. “What’s the coldest place you’ve ever been to?”

"There's a mountain in Sangria called Lormirossa. I would say its peak." He replied. "But you can freeze to death anywhere cold if you're unprepared."

“Lor-mir-ossa.” she tried. “That’s a lovely name. And thank you for the tip. If I ever hike to the top of a mountain I’ll be sure to bring a blanket.”

"Why are you asking? Are you planning a trip?"

“There aren’t mountains in Altair, only hills.” she said wryly. “Wishful thinking. How about you, why were you on a mountain peak?”

"It was a training exercise." He replied easily. "Survival skills."
The truth was his mentor at the time had dropped him off at the top with no more than the clothes on his back and a "See you in town!" It had been a grueling journey back down with more than a couple close calls, but it did instill in him the drive and inventiveness that propelled him to the success he enjoyed today, so he couldn't argue with its efficacy.

"Hm." she said. "You had to survive the cold and a mountain and all the things that live on mountains? Did they give you a blanket, at least?"

"I had a cloak," he offered. "That's a wearable blanket, basically."

"Oh, good point. You know, the cloaks seemed very on-the-nose for Sangria, but I guess they're pretty versatile," she noted. "A shroud. A coat. A picnic blanket."

"What do you mean, on-the-nose?" He looked at her with a trace of growing amusement.

Roo ruminated her answer, a little stricken at being called out. Maybe she'd gotten too comfortable. "Well," she said delicately. "Sangria seems very... I don't know. Dark alleys and buildings. Lots of cobblestones. Rain. It's... mysterious."

At this, he laughed. "It's only mysterious because it's unfamiliar. The cloaks are just popular because they're functional. I'm honestly a little surprised the rest of the world isn't on board."

"That's fair," Roo conceded, her voice growing pensive. "I'd like to wear a blanket on my shoulders all the time. You could even make them out of linen. Or line the insides with fur. Do people do that in Sangria? It seems like the smart thing. But maybe it's not so cold there. And I do remember it being rainy. Would fur on the inside of your cloak in the rain be comfortable or irritating? I can see it getting damp. And you couldn't use animal fur or it would smell. And it's unethical. But faux fur exists. Though it might shed. But animal fur does the same thing..."

"Hey," Gio interrupted, knowing there would be no end to her questions. "I'll just take you cloak shopping sometime. We'll get you something nice and fashionable."

"There aren't any cloak stores in Altair," she said wistfully. "But thanks for the offer."

"There aren't any? At all?"

“No, no one here wears cloaks. It’s all floaty dresses, cotton and tulle.” she smiled. “Even in the winter. Even in the rain.”

"You'd see me in a floaty tulle dress?" He asked, deadpan.

“I think you’d look beautiful,” she laughed.

"Well... thank you." He accepted her compliment. "I would."

Back at the house, Parisa had spent an hour or so moping in her room, in the dark. Her mind refused peace, instead flickering back and forth on Feo. She'd been fighting off the recollection of his breath on her skin, his dark lashes, his hands warm against her back... and the telltale bulk that had faintly pressed against the material of her nightgown. If it had been anyone else, Pari would have terrorized them about it, but...
Her shower had been frigid, but it hadn't cooled her off despite the already-present winter chill.

... she couldn’t avoid him forever so instead she donned a dress that was possibly even more punishing than the last. Nothing too obvious; it was just a long, velvety gown with a low neck and a high slit. Pari wasn't desperate. She would just make sure that he wasn’t getting out of this shit unscathed.
Pari descended the stairs with her lantern, noting that the lights hummed electrically once in a while, growing bright, only to slowly fade and die. “Hey," she called into the shadowed manor. "Where are you?”

"Living room," she heard his faint voice from down the hall. He had gone in the complete opposite direction than she had and was now nesting on the couch swathed in the bulkiest, fluffiest blanket they had, tucked all up to his chin. His hands poked out from between the folds, holding a sheath of papers in each as he tried to sort through the documents she'd left him. His gaze did not immediately rise to meet her as she walked in, instead focused on the words that were barely visible in the candlelight.

"Made any progress on that?" she asked, languidly reaching down to drop her lantern on rim of the stone hearth.

"No..." he lamented, "It's kind of hard to see in the da--"
The sight of her had frozen the word on his lips, nearly stopping his heart. Jesus Christ, she had to have done this on purpose. He struggled to remember the word that he had been about to say, but the way that dress hugged all her curves was doing a number on his brain. It was like holding a magnet up to a credit card. He swallowed it down instead, gathering himself enough to force his gaze back to the papers. "Uhh.."

"No," she replied, strolling over to perch daintily beside him and crossing one long, pale leg over the other. Her skirt fell wayside just the slightest bit, completely unintended, painting a very succinct image of what else might lay beneath that dress. "I run hot. It's a Tyrneamitore thing."
That was a lie. She was freezing, but it was worth it. Feo looked ridiculous, just like one of the cats from that game Vera was so obsessed with, all buried under blankets. His icy eyes and sculpted features had been dim with drowsiness but he was awake now; she heard it in his voice.

"Still," he insisted, eyes glued to the paperwork. "That's not winterwear."

"No?" she leaned back on her hands, resting her head against her shoulder. "You hardly saw it, Feofil. It's velvet. It's warm."

"If you say so," he decided. "Were you going to help me with these or not?"

"How far have you gotten?" she asked, sitting up again and scooching over, but it was hard to see the papers around his many-layered blanket.

"Not far," he offered her the stack.

Pari reached around his bulk to take the stack and then settled back in her seat. She perused it quietly for a few minutes, flipping through the pages.

“Feo,” she said after a while. “What’s this clause?”

"What?" he craned his neck in an attempt to see.

She gave him a good thirty seconds to try and turn around, watching as he struggled helplessly against the blankets. "How's that going for you?"

"Well if you showed it to me, it would be going better."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing out her skirt before cutting in front of his line of sight and plopping down on the cushion in front of him. The papers in her hand blocked thin white rectangles against the emerald of her gown as she shuffled through them. "Better?"

"What am I looking at here?" He asked, eyes tracking the papers as she got them in order.

"Clause 3.12A and subheader 4.7D, do you see them? They're on separate pages." Pari said, pointing out several rambling paragraphs. "And all of clause 1.9 applies too."

His forehead creased in growing frustration. "I don't-- I can't read them when you're moving around like that. Just tell me what it says."

"Are you kidding? That would take me forever and you'd lose track." she exhaled, crossing her arms. "Do you have to be bundled up like that? This would be easier if you had a wider range of movement."

"It's cold in here." He defended, squirming around for a moment until he produced a hand from the folds. "Hand it to me."

She offered him a stack of papers that was entirely too large for one person to hold alone. "If you mess up the order they're in, you're on your own."

"No, why would you--" he moved quickly to try to free his other hand. "Don't hand me that."

"Scooch back." she said.

A flash of relief crossed his face when he realized she wasn't about to dump a stack of papers on him-- because she would-- but it was short-lived when the uncertainty of what she was going to do next replaced it. He didn't trust anything with her in that dress.

Pari stood up again but this time, she sat on the edge of the seat that he occupied so that his arms were on either side of her and her back faced him. Without breaking stride, she pulled out the papers in question, assuming a businesslike tone despite the nearness of their bodies. He was warm. "Can you see now?"

"No," he said plainly, inching away from her to avoid any contact. "Just-- get-- I'll take the blankets off."

"I thought you were cold?" Parisa asked, turning slightly to look at him. Her hair smelled like flowers and incense, and it snaked along her pale skin, glowing red in the dim light of the fire.

"I'll be fine." He wormed his way off the couch and shed the blankets. Did she actually even want to show him something, or was it an excuse to cozy up to him? If she got any closer his focus was going to be anywhere but the paperwork. "Should we spread this out on the coffee table?"

Pari squinted at him pensively, but then made a noise of agreement. She knelt down and began to lay the papers upon the table. "Don't move them around though. There's like seventy and I don't want them getting out of order."

"No, I'll be careful," he agreed, settling down on the rug. Internally, he sighed a breath of relief as the situation once more began to cool down. If he started not being able to trust himself around Pari... well, regardless of what subliminal messaging she was sending him, he was set on not engaging. She was the Princess of Atherdale and she had already turned him down. If she wanted back in-- he stopped himself halfway through thinking god I hope she wants back in-- she was going to have to ask for it. Anyway, papers. Stupid, boring papers.

"It's hard to see without the lights," Pari muttered, when there was another knock on the door. She turned to look towards it, then tilted her head back and closed her eyes in exasperation. All these damn people...
So far, during their month-long stay, a variety of Altirians had managed to not-so-subtly make their way into and around the house to interact with either Feo, the long-lost "descendant" of Kitri, or Pari, the Atherdalian princess. The Lumanliscs were better about it. Actually, she preferred them - they kept strictly to themselves unless prompted to leave the Hold, but the surrounding villages had a number of curious residents who only seemed to be staved off by threats of demons in the woods. "What is it this time?"

Feo sighed, standing. "I'll get it."
As much as he would ordinarily hate the intrusion, it was a welcome break from paperwork... and from fighting not to gape at Pari.

He opened the door to reveal a young woman armed with a ladder and a hefty box, a tool belt around her waist. She had been fiddling with the clasp but looked up at the waft of warm air, strands of blonde hair falling against her forehead. "Good morning!"

"Hello," he greeted, eyebrow furrowing. "We didn't call in any repairs."

"Sorry?" she said brightly. "English is… difficult. Do you speak Altirian?”

"Yes, sorry." He nodded, glancing back in the direction of the living room. "We didn't ask for repairs."

“Roo sent a message, said the lights were out? I can fix that. And Ghyrrie had some concerns about the structural pillars so I can take a look at that. Can I come inside?” she asked, then wiggled past him without waiting for an answer, a bright smile on her face. “Oh, hm, yes. The lights must have been blown out by the storm. I’ll change the fuses. We’ll have this place up and running in no time!”

"Oh-- uh--" he closed the door, following after her. "What do you need?"

"Maybe you could follow me? It's safer to go in pairs, even when there are wards." she suggested, just as Pari called from the living room, "Feo, who is it?" The girl's eyes widened; she turned to look at him. "Is that the princess from Atherdale?"

"Repairwoman," Feo called back and nodded in response to her question. "She's working."

"So cool," she breathed as Pari came out to lean against the wall, a vision of cream and green. She crossed her arms and nodded in acknowledgement at the girl. "We didn't call for repairs."

"I tried to tell her," Feo explained. "But it was the Lumanliscs."

"Oh." she exhaled. "Perfect." "Nice to meet you," the girl greeted, a large smile plastered across her face. "I Melat."

"I'll show you the breakers." Feo decided, moving past the two.

"Hey," Pari called after him. "You're leaving? What about the paperwork?"

"I have to go with her," he replied, only barely apologetic.

Pari thumped her back against the pillar, frowning after Feo and Melat, with her blonde hair and big, brown eyes, smiling and chattering enthusiastically at him. Where were they going? He was in a rush to lead Melat to some private corner, but Pari wasn't going to tag along after them like some pathetic third wheel, even if it meant she was left alone in the cold and the dark. Melat got to work on the breaker, nimbly switching out the fuses and testing the lights. "How are you enjoying Altair?" She prompted.

"The scenery's nice," he offered. The demons, however, were not.

"It's lovely, isn't it? Too bad most of it's buried under snow," she lamented, her voice muffled by a rod that had been firmly latched between her teeth as she tweaked with the breaker. "... and... voila! We have light." True to word, the light above them flickered for a moment before emitting a thin, mechanical whir. The bulb brightened, washing the room in a color warm and gold.

"Wow," he glanced up and cracked a friendly grin. "You're quick."

"Aw, this is easy," Melat demurred. "It'll be the structural stuff that'll take more time. How's the house been for the most part?"

"I think I'm just now getting used to all the sounds this old house makes." He remarked.

"These old houses creak and groan a lot but they have so much history, you know?" she placed her hand against the wall, looking up at the ceiling with eyes full of adoration. "This one especially. Your ancestral home. Generations of Altirians lived here, thrived here, until..."

"Why wasn't it ever inhabited again?" He wondered.

"Out of respect for your family. It was a memorial site for so long."

"Hm." He exhaled simply. "She meant a lot to everyone, huh?"

"She wanted peace. She almost achieved it..." Melat's eyes creased in sympathy. "Almost. But now you're here."