A fairytale of a beautiful maiden, the beloved Frost Flower Princess was supposed to be staying in the comfort of her castle masquerading as a cage to protect her from the dangers outside, imprisoned by her own brothers.
That is, until a mysterious...
* "Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. (quia peccavi nimis)"
** Fleur City - Topsy-Turvy Square
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The group reconverged at the meeting point in Topsy‑Turvy Square. Crowds swirled around festival tents, and lights twinkled like stars come to earth
"Is this where we're supposed to meet up? Everybody better be here," Grim muttered, tail flicking anxiously.
Vanitas folded his arms over his chest, pouting. "I'd rather it was just me and Mon Ange." His voice brimmed with bratty possessiveness.
Noé gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Well, sometimes we have to accept compromises."
"Noé, I could arrange that—if that ice golem of a big brother didn't butt in," Vanitas griped.
Isfrid's voice, cool but firm, cut through the tension. "And I'll gladly keep doing so, parasite," he said as Y/n, perched on his back, began to nod off, lulled by the gentle sway.
Malleus appeared then, smiling as he approached the group. "Ah, there you are," he murmured to a sleepy Y/n in Isfrid's arms.
"Did all of us actually arrive on time? Now that's a rare occurrence," Azul remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow at the assembled students as Epel and Deuce carried gifts from him.
"Ugh...Took you guys long enough," Idia rubbed his temples as he stepped into view. "The crowds have been totally overwhelming..." he says, feeling overwhelmed.
"Well, this is the central square for the festival. There are bound to be crowds," Y/n murmured bluntly, her exhaustion palpable in her voice. Isfrid, carrying her on his back, gave a soft chuckle, adjusting his grip slightly to keep her comfortably balanced.
"Yes. Unfortunately," Vanitas muttered beside them, arms folded tightly. His sapphire eyes flicked between the bustling crowd and Y/n, clearly displeased at both.
"I'm not sulking," Vanitas lied flatly. "I'm scowling with purpose."
"Purpose?" Isfrid scoffed under his breath. "If your purpose is to be irritating, then you're quite accomplished."
Vanitas opened his mouth to retort, but Trein's voice cut through the growing tension.
"Aren't the decorations impressive?" the professor asked, gesturing to the vibrant tapestry of banners and lights draped over buildings and tents. "The main event will be held on that stage. Now this festival is a particularly important ritual in Shaftlands history, said to date back to before the advent of magic..." he begun explaining about its history.
