Blackmail Bachata

'Remember, you only get one chance to do this right or else he'll think you've drunk too much,' Cecilia snickered in his mind. He felt her words wriggle and dance on the surface of his thoughts like a lively maggot. 

'Get out of my head, Cecilia.'

'But I want to watch~ And who knows, maybe having Cecilia, coquette extraordinaire, in your mind might help you get close enough to the witch's kid.'

Jean swallowed back a wave of dizziness - Cecilia hijacking his stream of concious made it hard to think properly when she was so loud in his head. Still, he gave up protesting.

'If you want you're diary back, he needs to like you Jean. I never knew you were a heretic, and I'll let you in on a secret - so am I,' and he could feel her sneer taste like the salty caramel she was eating across the ballroom, 'But you don't see me leaving around evidence of it~ You're lucky I was the one who found your little book because I like fatter fish.' It's true that he wasn't much of a catch in the Great Game. His older sister was the heir, he was still a teenager, and the most scandelous thing he did was read. Several years back, he'd thought Cecilia had been his friend until she engineered his costume to fall to pieces at the pull of a single lose thread, and he became the laugh for the night while everyone congratulated his sister. At least no one had tried to top that embarressment - until now. Cecilia had found his writing notes. He'd been working on a story of his own... 

'I blushed when I read the part with the chantry mage, Jean,' she mewled in his mind, and Jean squirmed under the sticky heat of his cheeks against the sun-gold mask. He would get Cecilia back for this if he ever could. He pressed his mask nervously, feeling bare again in his white and gold princely attire. 'It's ok to hate me Jean, I probably deserve it, but you'll never touch me. Anyway,...' While Cecilia whispered to him what to say to Kieran, noblility, musicians, and waitstaff glanced at him, most likely, wondering why he wasn't entertaining any conversation. Tonight was his sister's birthday party, and The Great Game was in full swing. Musicians played, dukes and lords lounged with their artists, and dancers swirled to the music.

Jean had never spoken to Kieran before in any way past polite ritual - they were both boys of similar age who frequented the palace - but Kieran intimidated Jean. He was Morrigan's son if that could say it. The other teen had an edge in how he looked around a room if who his mother was wasn't enough. Jean always felt like looking at Kieran was like looking at a wild animal off its leash. 

In several minutes, Jean found Kieran. A beautiful woman was beside him speaking enthusiastically. 

'Tell Gianna to fuck off,' Ceci growled.

Resigned, Jean approached, standing stiffly, grateful that half of his red face was covered by his mask.

[color=orange]"Fuck off, Gianna,"[/color] he said, the words feeling wrong to the boy who rarely swore. Gianna looked at him surprised. She smiled innocently, and then scurried away.

Following Cecilia's internal commands, Jean cringed with shame as he took her place and leaned his shoulder into Kieran's. Nervousness shuddered through Jean at the touch, as he fought back the urge to stare only for Cecilia to to tell him to stare.

After a strangled pause, he choked out, [color=orange]"Don't you love The Game? [/color]

With a delayed, very half-hearted, extremely anxious smile.

Kieran had an untitled book in his hand. He flipped through the pages as Gianna spoke. Even if he wanted to chime into the conversation, Gianna was so eager and engaged in her own conversation, he had just let her talk. She talked way too much but it was way more effort to get her to stop talking than to just let her talk. Kieran gave a few nods and had to show that was pretending to pay attention. Kieran wore a black robe with threads of red and silver accents. His mask was a simple design but still managed to pull off an elegant design. A design that matches a raven. 

Kieran could feel himself dozing off before he heard someone tell Gianna to fuck off. A smirk crossed his face. Kieran watched Gianna scurry away to one of her other group of annoying friends. He closed his book and examined the boy next to him. Taking a moment to observe the boy, he had a feeling who this was. The two were always in the same room as each other but never actually had conversations...well until now Kieran thought. Kieran liked the prince's smile.[color=#17b529] "I thought she would never shut up....thanks for that..." [/color]

Kieran spoke with an exhausting sigh. He placed his book down beside him, a table with a goblet filled with dark red liquid.

[color=#17b529]"The game...oh How I love to watch people squirm and try to outdo each other. While everyone is busy trying to steal or kill each other one is watching who is taking the wine..."[/color] Kieran chuckled as he grabbed the goblet and took a sip.

'I love how he talks as if he's not playing,' Cecilia's purr felt like the taste of sour milk. 'Be like: 'I'm not playing either.''

Cecilia's telepathy didn't use language exactly, but feelings for direction, and Jean didn't know where her interest in talking to Kieran ended and his began. Little thoughts swirled, his or hers?: What book was that? Was it from the Imperial Library, or Kieran's own? Jean swallowed watching Kieran smile at him over the rim of his drink. Kieran sounded like he could play The Grand Game if he really wanted to. Around them, musicians whispered in the ears of ladies, and painters slipped notes to lords. Jean felt like he should be doing something with his hands, but he didn't have a wine goblet, so he clasped them together. Cecilia slapped ahold of his awkwardness, and with a startled motion, his arm stretched behind Kieran's seatback, and Jean felt tense as he leaned arrogantly back and opened his chest to the roomful of deceit. He leaned back as Cecilia molded him into the position his sister might take to gloat on a finished scheme. His arm was around Kieran's seatback and the empty seatback on his other side, and his feet were spread shamelessly to own an expanse of floor.

Despite Cecilia's puppet-stringing, she couldn't make him laugh alongside Morrigan's boy. Jean felt dread creep up his spine as he watched his arm shamelessly flirt with the wood of Kieran's chairback, his thumb rubbing loving circle's into it. He thought about his thumb on Kieran's shoulder, touching it like the chairback's end, and then, Cecilia tickled the thought and he found it hard to look at Kieran. The raven-masked man seemed like the sort of man Cecilia wanted him to be. Jean wished he could be Kieran - and not this imposter. Surely Kieran would frown, then, would get up and leave, smelling Cecilia's hand on her pawn. While one hand brimmed with coquetry, Jean's other hand's knuckles were clamped white, and inside his mind, Cecilia was beating back the little spiders of fears with her roll of tart confidence.

His eyes came back to Kieran when she was through. They locked onto his eyes. Jean's cares were all missing at this point. Some nerve in his head was pinched out. He leaned in, twisting his body beside Kieran to face him more. While he still didn't smile, his lips were no longer so fiercely pressed together between when he listened and when he spoke.

I'm afraid... I've not been watching all the people... squirm and one-up, like you, he said, and then, Jean's gaze drifted down to Kieran's book. I'm so curious - What are you reading? I never see anyone else reading at these parties.

Kieran eyes lingered on the prince. Something about him gave Kieran a sudden ease. He didn't care much for these parties but did it because he had to. He had to play the game. Kieran had to learn or shame would be the title of his name. Jean simply was engaging in conversation with Kieran himself and not as Morrigan's son. The exhaustion of trying to hold conversations and watch the entire room had placed a toll on Kieran. Was he doing it right? Would his mother approve? He could begin to feel the anxiety of dread coming if he didn't focus on something. 

So Kieran chose the prince. The faint dread that loomed inside himself halted for now.  He smiled gently as he tilted his head to look back at the book. A small embarrassed look washed over him, [color=#17b529]"Oh that book...oh it's nothing important...."[/color] Then Kieran leaned into Jean nearly touching his cheek with his lips. [color=#17b529]"Just a book regarding components and rituals for [/color][color=#17b529]specific kinds of magic[/color][color=#17b529]..." [/color]Kieran whispered his words, so only Jean could see them. 

[color=#17b529]"After a while though, it does get boring..watching and playing a game....but what do I know...I'm just a boy..."[/color] Kieran said with a grin as he took a sip of the goblet. [color=#17b529]"You want some..."[/color] Kieran offered his goblet to the prince with kindness.

Jean's smile is warm, a clever twist of an artist. He feels the stiff plastery tightness where his cheek muscles are weak. Whatever Ceci is doing, its pressing his face, folding new lines onto it, stretching him into a charm and handsomeness he was a decade yet from growing into. His glance gestures to the book. A hungry, raw taste lingers on his tongue. Ceci smooths the edges of Jeans movements, though her curiousity thrums through him.

He takes the wine like they have shared many cups before, and takes a swig.

Thank you, he hands it back in an indulgent manner.

Have you really only ever watched? he then asks, his brows furrowing, the careful articulation of his words implying the promise he could keep a secret. They are close enough to consistently only hear each other. Jean wants to touch Kieran suddenly, but it is just one more emotion in an overwhelming bowl of them that Ceci is mixing.

For Ceci paints over the anxiety that tinges his short question. She shoves a stiff and heavy corpse back into a closet, and sprays perfume on the bitter taste of poison the game leaves in his mouth. And she swats away his sister's voice scolding and hurt, as she's always trying to teach him the rules like their lives depend upon it.

"Between you and me....there have been a few instances where I have joined in. The first time was never meant to join in but I saw an opportunity. I overheard someone's conversation..thinking they were alone. So I went and plucked some flowers and mentioned the conversation to a noble who would indeed make quick work of spreading it like wildfire. It can be fun but it can also be dangerous. Sometimes these nobles can go too far....one time I felt in a little over my head and almost got myself killed...but that's another story for another time....enjoying the wine?" Kieran spoke in a soothing tone as he watched the nobles conversate in the room. His eyes then went toward Jean, a smile crossed his face as he couldn't stop staring. The prince was indeed handsome but clearly, that could never be a thing right. "It's the same old thing though....It's more interesting when you spice up the situations that causes other fires to bloom. One action causing a reaction from someone else...a simple cause and effect...or maybe the butterfly effect." 

When Jean spoke next, Cici's melodious accent came full force with his words, giving them a sing-song, flirtacious challenge.

Want to start a fire with me? Jean's mind squirmed, while Cici squished him down, her anticipation overpowering. Jean settled back, defeated, resting to admire Kieran's gentility, and the soft, reassuring way he spoke of the terrible game. It's nothing that would get anyone killed over. Just an idea I had I wanted to try out. And, well, I've always wanted to team up with you.

Suddenly, Cici dropped low in his mind. You do cute better. 

Jean came back into his body like he were balanced on a ledge, feeling all the immense uncertainty of his current situation. His hands suddenly began to quiver, which he hid by bringing them clasped behind his back. But he could do nothing to hide the great, fat, natural blush that rose to his cheeks. Too fast and on point to be from the wine. It was Kieran's doing, all for Kieran, and Cici putting him beside the other boy he had always taken small glances at when he could. 

And, it was true Jean wanted to team up with Kieran. If he couldn't quit the game entirely, the idea of playing it with Kieran made him feel safer than he ever could with Cici or his sister. (They were on his side, but when things got too inconvenient or messy, he was their favorite scapegoat too. Blame it on Jean.)

That wine's really hitting me... Jean said, blushing harder, staring vulnerably at Kieran's cup when he felt too timid to check his face, with an awkward, yet endearing, smile at the thrill of finally asking. Cici, also, smiling like a tiger in the long grass.

Kieran grinned. Interesting he thought. He told himself, he wasn't going to do anything this time but Jean surprised him. "Oh? Do you have something in mind? I might be interested and starting a fire with you..." Kieran smiled as he watched Jean's hands quiver, as he moved his hands to touch Jean's. He knew all for well his anxieties and his nerves ticks. He moved to wrap his arm around Jean's neck. "So what sort of great fire plan do you have." 

Jean side-eyed the direction he'd imagine Cici to be in, near the pastry bar, as he stuttered for whatever plan she intended. But whatever idea she had, she wasn't yanking his leash to inform him all of a sudden.

He hesitated for a good long moment, looking distractedly around the room for an answer.

I read about it in a book, Jean drifted back into the conversation, stalling. It needs an ingrediant that I need help getting? he tried, scratching the back of his head worriedly, Like an herb, I think...uh, its in the book in my quarters - the name of it, he managed to lie, looking back at Kieran shyly. Was that what Cici wanted? He swallowed thinking about what he wanted for an instant.