Paradox Interluder (Usurper #2)

6.

It was a party of pretenders, like most parties were. Uhkhtar was differently spectacular, in the way they hadn't had an event like this in the region for quite some time. It didn't have the regular stench of elitism that Jessamine was accustomed to sensing. But, the masks were apparent. As a child, she dreamed of the days of having a perfectly crafted dress, dancing with strangers, getting to know people in ways that alcohol loosened their tongues. She just thought that everyone was the best versions of themselves at a party like this.

Jessamine bore her true face, while everyone wore masks like it was an invisible masquerade. On a night like this, she would have liked to pick up the mask again. However, she wore that mask for far too long, and not just at parties either. She didn't think she could put up that appearance for too long, not because she had pretended, but because she fully believed she was beyond saving. She was cruel because she knew nothing else. Caladin had been the one good thing about that mask, was that it forced an opportunity for her to take it off completely.

There was something different in the air tonight. The jewelry around her neck and wrists felt heavier. The cool breeze she always seemed to welcome held a harsher chill to it. The laughter amongst common chatter echoed like mockery instead of mere conversation. There was so much chatter, and so many thoughts lingering above them Jessamine almost had a hard time filtering them out.

Tonight, she felt vulnerable.

She still didn't feel nervous, and that worried her more than any anxious nerves would. She remembered her birthday celebrations, how her fingers couldn't stop trembling or the constant swelling of her throat begging for tears to form. And she remembered gazing up at Kaid, who's brown eyes dilated at the sight of her, and all she felt was peace. At that moment she knew she could tell him everything. He would not belittle her, parade her, demean her. No. He would've listened.

If only she had told him everything.

Maybe she wouldn't be here right now, forcing smiles at Vrah or giving false pleasantries to people she knew couldn't give a shit about her.

Those thoughts waned as she noticed Sabine's eyes constantly inspecting the crowd. She was dressed beautifully, like all of the local women here with colorful fabrics and jewelry. However, she wasn't indulging in the drinks, food, or conversations. She was scanning the crowds for something, shoulders hunched and tight. She was rigid. Yet as Jessamine slowly entered her mind, she didn't feel impending doom or a sense of knowing something would happen. She was worried that if something happened, she should have prevented it.

"Sabine, your dress looks absolutely lovely. Are the fabrics local?" Jessamine asked as she approached her.

The dark haired and skinned woman glanced up in surprise, not expecting the Empress to leave her place around Vrah to talk with some strangers. Then again, she was Shurta and held a higher position. But, Sabine still wasn't expecting this Empress to indulge in small talk. Even less, complimenting her.

"It is, yes. You look lovely yourself, Empress," Sabine nodded, her voice soft and cordial unlike the first night they spoke. Sabine supposed the Empress was rubbing off on her, but certainly not as quickly as her friends and locals whose eyes lingered too long on her.

Sabine almost had to swallow the disgust as she constantly saw the men around her glare and ogle the woman next to her. There was hopefulness in the eyes, as if they were begging for just a mere conversation with the Empress, who to them seemed like an untouchable goddess. They undressed her with their filthy minds, letting their imaginations run wild into a fantasy that was just that: a mere fantasy. These men had better luck at contracting a plague rather than even a night with her.