Prologue

[faentasy]

PROLOGUE

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The clink of glasses, the clatter of utensils upon plates and the soft murmur of conversation flows smoothly in the warmly lit dining hall. It's a dinner party, a rather vivacious one at that, with the food flowing freely. Savory and sweet, regional specialties, refined and rustic, there's something for everyone. Omurice, chiffon cake, kimchi, sizzling porterhouse steaks—it might be more apt to call it a buffet than anything else.

Do buffets usually serve such a unique smorgasbord of food? And actually, weren't you doing something else? A free meal is usually a good thing but is anything truly free? Who are these people around you? And where exactly are you?

Whatever thoughts are racing through your mind, they're abruptly cut off by a note, high pitched G-sharp from a woodwind. All your senses return to you, though they won't tell you much. Maybe not all of them actually, if you're used to feats of heroic strength or manipulating reality or numerous other abilities. There is one clue at least, a heavy weighted paper beneath your plate, an embossed note rather than a list of courses.

"Enjoy yourselves. I'll come see you when you've had your fill. And don't try to dine and dash, huh? There's something I have—something I can do for you, after all. Besides, you've already agreed to the terms anyway!"

Welcome to your Fairy Tale.

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Comments

[biqe]

[ that face is like 60% of his canon screentime, you're asking too much ]

I know. Thank you.

[ Not going to immediately let go of that sleeve, though. You might notice his hand's a little shaky. ]

[mirrite]

[Oh, he notices, and that's exactly why it's taking him an immense amount of willpower to remain this calm. Hamelin here has earned himself a permanent place on Marcus' shit list, for better or for worse.]

You know you don't need to thank me for that.

[But he will relax almost imperceptibly, taking a slow, deep breath.]