"for the beauty of the rose, we also water the thorns."
Descendant of Loa lineage, Karliah Shango stems from masters of Haitian and the old Oyo Empire Vodou. After the nuclear wipe out, she finds herself thrown into leadership with little comprehe...
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After weeks of planning, Day of the Dead had finally come around.
The halls of the kingdom had seemingly been brought to life, festive decor lining hall to hall and room to room. In the tombs, the cement walls rattled with every beat of a drum, alongside the chants and songs sang by the people as they paid homage to their ancestors, those lost in the bombings, as well as the many young soldiers to give their lives on the line of service.
The men and women also gave many sacrifices and offerings, not only to those they lost, but to the Loa, Baron Samedi as well, as he was the spirit of the dead after all. In no time, their bodies were sheen, covered in sweat and gin alike as they stomped to the traditional songs, the spirit of Samedi awakening in both them as well as the atmosphere around them.
A floor above, the atmosphere was no different. A crowd gathered in the throne room as people danced and chanted to a beat of drums and flutes, while others basked in the food, conversing with their family and friends.
If Karliah hadn't been ridden with her thoughts, she might've been able to appreciate the festive environment. The giggling children running astray, the wide smiles on the painted faces of the many men and women, the aroma of fresh marigolds and savory food wafting through the air. She'd managed to converse with a few of the people, to those who weren't afraid to look her in the eye at least, offering her most convincing smile as they rambled on about mindless topics.
Atop of her throne, she sat looking over the people, fidgeting with the fabric of her satin white dress as she pondered upon her worries, the main concern being the witches. Cordelia's compliance was anything if unbelievable. Nagging her was the assumption that the women had to have been up to something, there was no way they were willing to lay at Karliah's feet with a single order, especially not the bratty blonde she desperately wanted to rip the head off of.
The fact that they had turned down the offer of attending the festival only heightened her suspicion. But, at the request of both Lourdes and Ali, she forced the worry to the back of her mind, or at least attempted to anyways.
"You know, I helped Mrs. Labossiere design that, the least you could do is not pick at it." Markus whined as he made his way up the stairs to the throne, fingers wrapped around his customary glass of wine.
Karliah let out a breathy chuckle as he adjusted the cape connecting to the gown, pulling at the fabric until it laid the way he wanted. With a sigh, he pulled away as he looked her over, brows tugging together as he recognized the preoccupied expression on her face.
He emitted a drawn out breath, "What's on your mind, buttercup?" He teased, leaning against the frame of the throne.
Her eyes flickered his way briefly, before she leaned into her hand, resting her chin atop her palm, "I'm just... worried, about too much all at once,"
